In which we formally introduce Rocky, and he takes baby steps

I'd like y'all to meet Rocky.

 Rocky is a homebred Arab, born at Fish Creek Farm, and made from parts found hanging around the place.  He's five years old now, and starting to learn how to do his Real Job.

Steep learning curve:  Rocky can't eat and walk at the same time.  Yet.

Rocky has been handled his entire life, and his training has been very slow and gradual.  


Prior to starting endurance training with Patty, Rocky spent a bunch of time in the arena learning basic dressage.  In the arena, he learned to carry a rider, to walk/trot/canter, to turn, and to reverse.  He can collect himself a little bit, and he can extend a little bit.  He doesn't lose his cool when the rider swaps diagonals, or zips up a jacket.


But he had never seen bicycles before.

"Quick!" Patty said to the nice man on the bicycle.
"Hand him a cookie!"

 We didn't even make it out of the trailhead parking lot when Rocky's learning curve started shooting skyward.  First the bicycle, and then

The man in front is walking at least 7 dogs on leashes.  

 DOGS.


Even Ariana gave all those descended-from-wolves people her full attention.  Rocky often sticks close to Ariana, who seems to know so much more than he does about the wild world.


Before we swing up into the saddle, Rocky needs to learn one more skill:

"Pony stays OUTSIDE!"

 the porta-potty.

"I stay outside."

 Porta-potty skills are actually pretty important, as Patty learned the hard way many years ago:  her old (now-retired) endurance horse spent his career in terror of porta-potties.  I can only imagine how inconvenient that must have been!


Finally, out on the trail:

Rocky is actually pretty brave about leading the parade

 It's good to let the baby horse set the pace; as long as he's willing to move forward, he can go slowly enough to see everything that he needs to see.

He's not very coordinated yet--his feet land sort of randomly when he trots.

 Rocky depends on his rider for reassurance, but he also checks in with Arianna pretty often.

"I'm doing this right, right?"  

 Besides, he thinks she's pretty coolio.

"Whoooo, mare germs!"

 Time to test the retention:  does he remember what the wheely things are all about?  YES!

"Hey...any of you guys gots a cookie?"

 Swampland horses also need water skills.

"Walk in the puddle.  Gotcha."

"Oh hey.  DRINK the puddle, too!"

 Rocky's only big bobble so far happened when Meagan's horse Rhythm farted.  We were trotting up a big hill, with Rhythm in front, Rocky on the inside, and Fiddle slightly behind on the outside.  When Rhythm made the noise with her bum, Rocky's brain froze up.  His back feet slid under him, his head went up, and he clocked Patty in the head, whiplashing her neck.  Yowch.


(I'm pleased to report that Fiddle did NOT react.  Not to Rhythm, and not to Rocky's bobble.  Can we credit the removal of hormones?  I think we can!!!)




We made sure Patty wasn't concussed, fed her a few ibuprofen, and finished the ride with the knowledge that muscle relaxers and a therapeutic laser were waiting at home.  She'll be fine.


Here's one more skill that baby horses need to learn:

Tripod horsey gets a snack break

Because otherwise, who will take pictures of Gigantor?

"Foooooooooooooood!"

Good boy, baby horse!