[MustangKnight]

 Owner       >>> Rondell
 Name                >>> Sam
 Gender         >>> Gelded Male
 Adoption Price         >>> 5 red/brown pets
 Training         >>> [Fully Trained][+2]
  =====
  . willing
  . agile
  . timid
  . delicate

 [Discipline >>>>> ]
 [Shows Entered > R: 2 W: E:]
 [Shows Won >>>> R: W: E:]

 [Ej > ] [Ep > ]
 [Eh > ] [Ws > ]
 [Wp > ] [Wt > ]
 [Rf > ] [Rs > ]

[Rondell]

Sam's Training - First Touch

0______________________________0

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, there was a vacant plot of land that I was in the habit of cutting across. It was between my home and the town where I did my shopping, so it seemed like the most logical thing to do in order to slice an already long trip nearly in half. Now. This land was mainly a single large field, entirely fenced in and dotted by trees of various sizes. There also were a couple of outbuildings at the far end, but I never went anywhere near those. I had no reason to. Thus I had no clue weather the place used to be a dairy, a horse farm, a FARM farm, or what. To be perfectly honest, I never really wondered, either. I only cared about the place insomuch as I watched to be sure the path I was taking wasn't too muddy, and to be sure no one was around to care that I was passing through.

Then, one fine morning in the late spring, I discovered the hard way that my shortcut was no longer viable.

I was returning from town with a heavy sack thrown over my shoulder. Inside: my shopping for the week; Milk, eggs, fish-sticks, broccoli, excreta. As the day was getting on and I still had plenty to do when I got home, I made the snap decision to return the back way rather than walking along the road. When I reached the fence that enclosed the vacant pasture, I hefted my bag over first, then prepared to climb over myself. I didn't notice any signs. I didn't notice any fresh paint. There was no indication of anything having changed in my little corner of the world. Until, that is, a huge brown shape came charging straight at me from behind a large oak several yards off. I was so surprised that I lost my grip on the fence and fell flat on my butt with a muffled thump!

At first I thought my attacker was a horse - A huge, very ticked off horse that had broken loose from elsewhere and wound up this field for reasons unknown. I could deal with horses. In this area, they were a dime a dozen. But as the animal neared the fence, tossing its head in agitation and letting out a lout bray, I realized that I had been utterly, horribly, and inconceivably wrong. The thing confronting me wasn't a horse at all. It was a... a...

...I had no idea what it was.

Was I dreaming? Had the grocer laced those free cookies he'd had sitting on the counter with some hallucinogenic substance? Or had Dr. Frankenstein and his malevolent margarine moved in next door? I sat there on grass and stared for what seemed like an eternity, my mouth hanging slightly open. The thing before me was unlike any creature I'd ever seen (which is something, considering all I've seen in my life). While its body was, overall, very equine, it had hands - a feature not generally seen on quadrupeds - a long snake-like tail, and... and... I squinted, trying to focus on the creature's face. No eyes. It had no eyes. At least, none that I could see.

The animal had stopped slightly off the fence-line, and was pacing back and forth before me with its ears pinned flat against its skull and its tail thrashing. Every so often it would take a few dancing steps backward, those long fingers gripping the ground almost delicately, before it rushed the fence again and resumed its route. It was giving off some seriously conflicting body language right now! I had the vague idea it wanted to run away and hide. At the same time though, it appeared to be alone, felt threatened, and wanted to make sure I didn't try to climb the fence again. Thus, it was being forced to take a stand it didn't want to take in order to be absolutely sure a possible threat was kept under control. It was afraid. Of me. But not terrified.... Slowly, I began scooting backward. I knew good and well that animals in this state were nothing to trifle with. I had to be careful. I needed to give this thing its space before it snapped and started trying to get to me - fence or no fence. Given the look of those hands, I didn't think climbing would be a problem for it! Heck, it could probably even undo a GATE if it wanted to! Trying not to laugh at the absurdity of my situation, I kept moving inch by inch, foot by foot, until I'd scooted myself into a bush which grew on the edge of the forest which abutted the field on two sides. It was slim shelter, but it was better than nothing, and at least I'd put some distance between me and it.

Though the absurd image of myself sitting in a bush made me want to laugh again.

Gradually, the creature slowed its uneasy pacing and came to a halt. It just stood there; its nostrils flaring, its ears flicking back and forth. Once, it stomped the ground with a back foot. Or should I say slapped? Smacked...? The thing had hands back there too. I could see them, through the screen of leaves which barely hid me. And if I could see it, it could surely smell me. Maybe even hear me breathing. I was reminded of how quickly and easily the thing had zeroed in on me earlier, and the laugh I'd still been biting back died in my throat. Eyeless didn't mean blind - I knew that better than most.

The bush didn't seem as safe as it had only a moment ago.

With one final snort and a flick of its tail, the creature lowered its head and crept forward to examine the bag of groceries I'd abandoned just on the other side of the fence. Until now, the canvas bag had been sitting there as neat as you please, just waiting to for me to collect it. One brush of the creature's nose later found its contents were scattered willy-nilly on the ground. As I watched silently, doing my best to become one with the forest around me, the creature nosed each of my purchases in turn. Then it zeroed in on the box of fish-sticks. Before I could even begin to wonder what it was doing, the thing had torn open the box and was busily munching away. Once it had polished THOSE off, it started in on a package of ham.

I could feel my jaw dropping again. This thing was carnivorous?! I... wha...

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

This huge nervous thing with hands and no eyes was NOT going to vault this tiny fence and have me for dissert!

While it was good and distracted by my groceries, I got my butt into gear and all but ran back to the main road, and from there, back into town. I had questions. I wanted answers.

0______________________________0

Several months later found the monster in my own field, happily laying in the sunshine and taking chicken nuggets one-by-one from my hand as I leaned against his side and watched the clouds. Fate is funny like that. I'd learned a lot in the previous weeks, and spent plenty of time with the monster.

I also no longer used that pasture as a shortcut.

As it turns out, the place had been bought by an Agency of some sort whose primary function was to import, train, and re-home animals from a faraway planet called 'Vashta'. When necessary, this Agency also rescued and RE-homed these creatures. Like my monster! He was a creature known as a Neravontii, and he'd been taken form a person who'd been breeding said creatures irresponsibly for sale on the black-market. My monster and the others, while they waited their turn on the auction-block, were well taken care of (on a basic level), yet allowed to go feral in the fields. Several had escaped. The Agency was prompted to intervene. The discovery of the operation was made. As the agency was still very new and very small and trying to find its feet, they'd purchased the land next to mine as a temporary home for some of the Nera they'd suddenly found themselves unable to house at their main facility. I hadn't known because they hadn't told anyone. They'd wanted to keep the whole mess under wraps! My stumbling into the middle of it had kind of messed things up... especially once I went blabbing my adventure around town. Now the secret was out, and the Agency had more help than ever. They'd been worried about nothing - people really seemed to like the Neravontii!

Goodness knows why.

I sighed and fed my monster the last chicken nugget. He gulped it down, then brushed my palm with his velvety nose, looking for more. It had taken a lot of love and a lot of patience to get us to this point. Not to mention a lot of bribes. The guy down at the store had had to special-order a truckload of chicken nuggets, just for me. Everyone in town thought I was going to open a restaurant or something! But no - I was just tossing them to my monster, luring him closer and closer and closer... until, on one sunny day not too long ago, he'd surprised me by creeping up close and trying to pull the sack of nuggets from my hands. We weren't exactly BFFs from that point on, but it marked a major turning point in our relationship. The very next day he'd done the same thing, and the day after that, he'd brought his head back up after finishing the spilled nuggets and started snuffling about my person for the ones he knew I kept hidden in my pockets. It'd been the first time he'd willing made physical contact with me.

I gave my monster a good pat on the neck and spoke to him softly, assuring him that he'd gotten the last of the nuggets for now. After a moment to think it over he decided I was telling the truth, and stretched his neck and head out on the grass in front of him, totally at ease and unconcerned with the world.

I felt much the same.

0______________________________0

[Rondell]

Sam's Training - First Saddle

0______________________________0

I'd never ridden a Nera before, and I wasn't quite sure I wanted to. I'd ridden horses, sure. I was fine with horses! But Nera.... well, let's put it this way: all the horses I've ever ridden have been broken to saddle before I've tried to hop on their back! Yet the Agency doesn't offer training services. Nope. Each and every Nera owner is expected to train their animal themselves. From scratch. Thus, when I first got him, Sam (as I'd taken to calling my monster) had never even SEEN a saddle, much less worn one! And here I was, a clueless nobody, expected to slap one on him, hop up after it, and do laps around the arena! I was at a loss. A total loss. How the heck would I be able to do this without making him hate me again?

Before ever even buying tack[i], I spent quite a bit of time chatting up various people at the agency. Everyone, actually, who seemed as if they could offer a poor greenhorn a few solid pointers. And from them, I learned plenty. Like the fact you had to go [i]slow. The actual process of breaking a Nera to saddle was nothing like it was in those old western movies I'd seen, unless I wanted to build up fear instead of trust, a desire to avoid consequences in place of partnership. Thus 'breaking' wasn't even the right word for what I'd be attempting! I also got a few book suggestions. Which forced me to renew my lapsed library card so I could go and check them out. And once I had the books, I naturally needed to read them...

I wasn't delaying, ok?! I was just... making sure I was very, very prepared!

And in the meantime, I kept hanging out with Sam.

All the books I ended up reading were designed for budding horse trainers, yet the Agency people said that the concept was very much the same. Get the animal used to the weight on their back bit by bit. Get the animal used to the saddle. Get the animal used to the saddle on their back. Then start worrying about the girth. The buckles. The finishing touches. Simple, right...?

As suggested, I started small. When I fetched Sam out to give him a good brushing, I began leaving his lead on and laying it across his withers as he stood in the crossties. Just to get him used to the feeling of there being something there. The first time I did this he fidgeted relentlessly, even going so far as to twist around in an earnest attempt to get a hold of the lead so he could remove it. At which point I freaked out and took it off for him, so he didn't end up hurting himself. The second time I did it, Sam seemed to take a bit longer before he got to the 'GET IT OFF!!' stage. Or maybe not. It could have been nothing more than my hopeful imagination. The third time was more of the same, though, as was the fourth. And the fifth. After a whole week of pestering my poor Nera with his lead and getting nowhere, I gave up and switched tactics.

Now I enlisted the help of an actual saddle pad - the very one I'd bought fresh and new, just for Sam to wear with the bright, shiny saddle I had hanging in the barn. It was slightly off-white and soft to the touch, made of some faux fur-like material. According to the the Agency, who'd supplied it, it was just the thing for all stylish Nera to wear nowadays! I had doubts about this, of course. The thing looked more like someone had found an old shag rug in the basement and decided to put it to use by carving it up into little bits and selling them as saddle-pads. Not that... the Agency would... DO that... but... whatever. As long as the pad did the trick, I didn't much care what it looked like! And do the trick it did! Being as light and soft as it was, I had Sam ignoring it lickity-split!

From there, I started adding weight.

Said weight came in the form of ball bearings. I had tons of them laying around the house for... reasons... so it was a simple enough matter to put a handful of them into two little fabric bags, tie the bags onto either end of a bit of rope, then gently lay the rope across the saddle pad with the bags hanging down on either side of Sam's spine - much like a pair of stirrups. As Sam gradually got used the contraption (which took a month in and of itself), I added more and more ball bearings to each bag. After a week or so, I got to the point where I couldn't shove any more balls into either of the bags, so I added a second set. I was methodically trying to approximate the weight of a saddle, you see - somewhere around 25 pounds; 30 on the outside. Just to be safe. As I was using 1-inch bearings (six of which weighed roughly a pound), this meant that I needed a total of 180 bearings, minimum, to accomplish my goal. Only 90 on each side of Sam. I had to keep things balanced!

I also had to work slowly, only adding a pound or two each day so as to minimize the stress I was putting on my gelding.

In the end, because I couldn't get more then 20 of the little boogers into one bag no matter how hard I tried, I ended up with five sets of bags slung over the saddle pad, the last of which was barely full. It was a slightly awkward setup to be sure - far from elegant. Yet, ultimately, it didn't have to be elegant any more then the actual saddle pad had to be. It did the job, and that was that! Thus, as I led Sam around the arena with 30 pounds of weight on his back, I couldn't help but admire my cleverness. I thought I was doing rather well for a first-timer! Now all I needed to do was introduce the actual saddle.

Once I was absolutely sure that Sam was wearing his new weights well, I gave him a free day. That is to say, a day where he got to frolic in the field without the daily training session that had become out wont. Sort of. After turning him out and watching as he flailed about like an excited foal, I returned to the barn and got the saddle, which I then hung on the paddock fence. Sam was nowhere in sight when I did this. He'd vanished into the far reaches of the paddock.

I came back to observe the result of my experiment just before dark. Sam was waiting for me near the gate, as per usual, covered in dust and tossing his head excitedly. Also per usual. It was dinnertime, and he knew it! As I slipped into the field and clipped on Sam's lead, I squinted in the fading light, trying to spot the saddle. It wasn't on the fence where I'd left it. Sam seemed to sense I was distracted, and gave my shoulder a nudge as if to say 'Hurry up! I want food!'. I couldn't help but laugh. "Alright, I suppose it's only fair! I'll feed 'ya THEN come and look for the darn thing."

Which is just what I did.

I found the saddle easily once I had nothing to distract me; a dark shape against the green grass in the quickly fading daylight. Sam had pulled it from the fence and then managed to move it several yards out into the field, most likely whilst playing with it. The thing certainly didn't look new anymore! No-sir-ee-bob! One of the stirrup leathers had been bitten nearly in half, a seam near the seat had been torn, and the leather of it was just generally covered in scuffs and scratches. I was lucky it wasn't worse! As I retrieved it, I sighed loudly. Most of the marks would buff up fine, but the stirrup leather had to be mended (more likely replaced) and that seam sewn up before I tried using it to ride. And it hadn't been cheap! Lesson learned. Never leave a Nera unattended with a saddle. Or... anything, probably. They'd just think you'd given them a new toy....

The next morning found me lunging Sam in the bull-pen while the saddle waited for us on the rail. I'd buffed it as best I could, but in the end, I'd given up and simply removed the left stirrup. There was nothing to be done for it. Hopefully the people at the Agency would understand and cut me a break when I called up to order a new leather for it. A discount would be nice. Though I'd settle for their not laughing at me. At least I'd managed to patch the seam? Not that the gelding cared - he was content to go around and around in the lazy morning sunlight, ignoring the saddle completely. He'd had his curiosity satisfied yesterday, for better or for worse, and no longer had any interest in the contraption.

After a couple minutes I had Sam change direction, and after a couple minutes more I had him stop altogether. I then reeled him in and exchanged the lunge-line for his his lead. I was beginning to get nervous. I knew good and well that my gelding could be a bit prone to spooking, not to mention overreacting, so didn't quite know what to expect at this critical moment. All I could do was cross my fingers and roll with the punches. I attached the end of Sam's lead to the fence with a special knot - one that would hold firm unless jerked sharply to the right, at which point it would come undone. I had no clue what it was called, but someone I'd known ages ago had taught me to tie it, and I used it now in case Sam freaked out and needed be be separated from the fence in a hurry. That done, I applied the saddle PAD then turned around and slipped the saddle itself from the top rail. It felt like lead in my arms. The heaviest thing in the world.... Even though, objectively, I knew It only weighed 15 pounds.

I could see Sam's ears swivel around to focus on me. He was curious! He'd never seen me carrying the saddle around before (I was pretty sure), and doubtless wondered what I was doing. When I began to lift the saddle toward his back, however, some of his curiosity turned to nervousness. He shifted his weight slightly and gave a little snort, prompting me to lower my burden, shift it into the crook of one arm, then give him a reassuring pat on the neck with the hand I'd just freed up. Once he'd calmed down, I hefted the saddle again. This time I was actually able to set it into place on his back. Before I took my hands off of it though, Sam snorted loudly and tossed his head. He didn't like this at all!

Instead of forcing him to do something he didn't want to do, I removed the saddle from Sam's back and put it back on the fence. I then took a metaphorical step back. Instead of trying again right off the bat, I switched over to the lunge-line again and allowed the gelding to burn off some of his nervous energy by running in a circle. Which he did joyfully. In fact, I let him go until he burnt out completely and stopped on his own. Only then did I bring him back over to the rail and try a third time.

I met with slightly more success this go-around! I was able to place the saddle and count to ten before Sam began to show signs of unhappiness.

0______________________________0

Over the course of the next couple weeks I slowly but surely got Sam into the rhythm of wearing a saddle. At the same time, I slowly but surely figured out exactly how the heck all those straps and buckles were supposed to meet up. So we learned together! All things considered, the gelding did amazingly well, too. He he only snapped at me twice; both times while I was fighting with the girth. Indeed, he hated the girth! it wasn't until many days after I'd tightened up everything else that I managed to gain the last few notches on it without having to dodge a swipe from his tail! Conversely, I hated the fancy tail doodad the most. Simple as it was, I kept getting the fabric caught in the buckle, or the straps twisted, or everything all inside out and backward. The thing I really loved about it was that the entire time I was standing back there trying to sort it out, I kept worrying that Sam would grow impatiant and try to kick me. Nip me. Or... fart in my face. Which seemed to make my fingers that much clumsier. I got there in the end though.

Obviously.

Thus, many (MANY!) long weeks after starting out, I was able to lunge my fully-tacked gelding without noticing any real difference in his gait or posture. He seemed perfectly at ease! He'd accepted his new burden. And best of all, we were still friends!

0______________________________0

[Rondell]

Sam's Training - First Saddle

0______________________________0

I'd put it off as long as I could, even to the point where I'd gone and ridden Curare - whom I'd gotten at least a month after I'd gotten Sam - before I'd even fully toyed with the Idea of hopping onto the gelding's back. I just never seemed to get around to it. Either I had other things to do, things that kept me away from my Neravontii, or the weather decided to turn unpleasant enough for the three of us to just want to hide in the barn all day. Sam in particular has developed a fondness for hiding in the hayloft when it's cold out. Not only are there plenty of mice hiding up there for him to snack on, but it's plenty warm too, especially once he's curled up in a massive pile of straw. I think it's sweet. And I really didn't have the heart to drag him down only to subject him to my hopping into the saddle. So I just let it be. And be. And be...

Until finally there came a warm day. Comparatively anyway. And Sam came down from the hayloft all on his own. I mean, he came down on the cold days too, but he never went further than his stall and his feed bucket before crawling right back up there! On this day though, it was nice enough for him to be waiting just inside the barn door when I showed up in the morning, and he pestered me with unusual persistence until I let him out into the paddock for a good run, Curare close behind. They both seemed thrilled with the chance to stretch their legs properly for the first time in what seemed like forever. And, quite honestly, I could hardly blame Sam for his enthusiasm. In fact, as I leaned on the paddock fence and watched him dart back and forth with his friend, I wished I could join them for a good romp in the sunshine. It was such a lovely day, and the breeze was refreshing rather than chilling. But I had to remember that there were other things to do - things that were best done on a day like today when everyone's mood had taken a turn for the better. So, with a sigh, I tore myself away and set about getting ready for Sam's first ride, as I had for Curare before him.

I.E. - I dug around in the shed and broke out the bagged-up ball bearings.

Once I'd hauled all 20 sets over to the arena (For those keeping track: that's 40 bags total. At 20 balls per bag and six balls per pound, that means I have a total of 780 balls for 130 pounds, 65 on each side of Sam. The last two bags are only half full), I washed my hands under the spigot by the barn and decided to break for breakfast. By the time I'd finished and trucked back out to the paddock, a smile on my face and my belly full of waffles, Sam appeared to have burnt himself out. The gelding was lying in the grass near the back fence. He'd sprawled himself out full-length in the sunshine, and could be heard snoring. Loudly. Every so often his left ear twitched. At my approach Curare, who'd been curled up in the vicinity of Sam's right hip, got to her feet and stretched luxuriously. Her movement caused Sam to wake up with an irritated grunt. Curare totally ignored him in favor of shaking herself and trotting over to see if I'd brought them any scraps. As it turned out, I had! A duck egg for each of them.

Leaving the green-splashed mare to her gleeful crunching and slurping (eggs are her absolute favorite food ever), I walked over to Sam and keeled at his side. He greeted me with a sleepy shake of his head. The formalities taken care of, he promptly flopped his huge skull in my lap and began nuzzling at my pockets in search of his treat. I couldn't help but laugh. "Alright already, you lazy bum! Gettoff! You're gonna knock me over!" Indeed, I was having trouble staying upright. Sam could occasionally forget how big he was! Hurriedly, yet still grinning widely, I pushed the gelding's nose away with one hand while I fished the egg from my pocket with the other. I then held it out. "Here." Instead of taking it though, Sam lipped at the egg for a second then gave it an experimental nudge, causing it to roll right out of my palm and onto the ground with an audible crack.

For a moment we both just sat there, staring at the fallen egg as goo began to ooze from the new fissures in its shell. Behind me, I could hear Curare let out an excited bray, followed shortly by her footfalls as as she began to head over. Then Sam was on the egg in a flash, scooping it up with his long tongue and pulling it into his mouth.

"What'd you go and do that for?!" Curare's shadow loomed over me, then her head came down to sniff at the grass where the egg had been only a moment before. Apparently she found a bit of shell, because I heard her crunching on something. From Sam, there was no reply. I just chuckled and shook my head. "Neravontii...."

Can't live with 'um, can't live without 'um.

I shifted sideways a bit, getting away from Curare (who was now doing a second sweep of the ground in case she'd missed something) so I'd have room to stand up. Which I then did. I left Sam for a moment to get his halter from the fence by the gate, where I'd hung it this morning, then came right back. Sam spotted me and snorted.

"Come on, my man. We have work to do."

When he pretended not to hear, stretched out an arm and began chewing at an itch on his wrist, I bent down and slipped the halter on anyway.

Several minutes later found us on our way to the arena.

------------------------------

The gelding knew something was up, and he wasn't sure he liked it. After all, this was the first time I'd saddled him up in a couple of weeks! Kept shifting his weight from foot to foot as he waited for me to put his tack on. He settled right down though when I attached a lunge-line and began putting him through his paces, which pleased me to no end.

Once he was trotting easily I brought him to a halt and went to fetch the first set of bags. To begin, I chose the half-empty set. I figured that since he'd never had weight in his saddle before, it would be bad to just stick him with a full 8-pound set right off. The 4-pound set would give him less to stress over. And, if it turned out I had to empty the bags a bit, so be it. I was willing to work at Sam's pace. There was no way I was going to hop into that saddle until I knew he'd carry an extra 130 pounds of weight with no objection!

Hefting the bola-like arrangement of ball bearing bags, I watched my gelding for any signs of uneasiness. As I stretched the rope over the seat of the saddle and settled the two bags on either-side of Sam's back, I saw nothing to to indicate that he was more than mildly annoyed. Indeed, he slapped the sandy ground with a front foot as the full weight of the bags left my hands. He was familiar with the ball bearings though - both on the ground and on his back - so he didn't consider them a threat. They were just four pounds heavier than he was used to.

Extra weight in place, I lunged Sam around for a bit, then reeled him in, switched the line around, and got him going in the other direction. Four measly pounds is really nothing to an animal of his size and strength, so he adapted easily enough.

Pleased as punch with how things were going so far, I decided to press my luck a bit. I reeled Sam back in a third time and took the four pound set of bags off his back - which the gelding seemed to appreciate. I then went over and swapped them out for an eight pound set. Thus I was upping the extra weight Sam was to carry by four pounds. Bags in hand, I returned to the gelding's side and patted his neck. "Doing swell, my man; doing swell!" And, I amended mentally, I know you will continue to do swell! Even if you don't take eight pounds today, there's tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after...

Without further hesitation, I lifted the eight-pound bags into place.

As the weight came to rest on his back, Sam shifted uneasily and slapped the ground. As before. This time though, he also added a backstep, as if he were trying to walk out from underneath the bag on his back. I caught hold of the lung-line before the gelding got it into his head to go any further. "Woa there - it's OK my man! It's OK..." As I spoke, I gently pulled his head down and began stroking his nose. "You're fine." I also gathered the excess lunge-line up into a little bundle, which I held in my left hand. Once the threat of Sam bolting off had passed, I took a hold of the un-bundled section of line with my right hand and, using it as a lead, walked him around in a slow, small circle. I didn't want to actually lunge him just now. Yet neither did I want to take the bags off without giving him a chance to settle down.

Once we'd reached the place we'd started, I freed Sam of the ball bearing bags and let them fall onto the sandy ground with a muffled thump. That done, I rubbed the Gelding's neck affectionately before leading him out of the arena, back to the barn, and giving him a good rubdown. We'd done enough for today. That tomorrow I'd been thinking about earlier would come soon enough, and I'd use it to do more. But Sam coud spend the time between now and then doing whatever he liked to do out in the pasture.

------------------------------

Over the next several weeks I slowly got Sam used to carrying all of the bags - I had added four pounds at a time, swapping a full set of bags out for the half-full set of bags as necessary, building the weight up slowly day by day and giving him time to adjust at each stage. He was now schlepping around enough weight that he may as well have ME on his back! Which... was totally the point. Now all I had left to do was hop up there myself! But even the tamest Neravontii have been known to flip out at this point. So I found myself hesitating.... again, I found other things to do. Made excuses. Worked with other Nera.

I couldn't help it!

What finally spurred me into action was the passing thought that, if I didn't do something with Sam soon, he may get complacent and start backsliding. After all, once a Nera was trained, you could ride them anytime. It was simple, easy, and fun for both Nera and rider. I took Curare out at least twice a week! But tacking up a Nera, loading a bunch of weights onto them and standing in one spot for ages and ages while they ran circles around you was... not something one did for larks. It was effort. It was tedious. You didn't do it if you didn't have to. Thus, I hadn't been working with Sam. I'd reached the critical point and just... stopped. Which was downright stupid. Putting this off wasn't helping anyone.

So I bit the bullet.

Saddle in the arena. Halter at the ready. Nerves steeled. Time to fetch Sam and Get going.

After fetching the gelding from the barn where he'd been dozing in his stall (it was chilly out today, but not cold, so he hadn't vanished into the hayloft), I tied him loosely to the arena railing and started saddling him up. I don't know why I chose to do this in the arena instead of in the barn, but I did, and Sam didn't seem to care. He just stood there, waiting patiently. As always. He didn't have to wait too long though, as I was pretty fair at doing all of the buckles by now. It took me a fraction of the time to get everything securely fastened now as it had compared to the blue eon it had taken the first time I ever tried to mess with a Neravontii saddle!

How far the both of us had come... Yet we still had a bit further to go.

I lunged Sam for a bit to let him warm up, then brought him over to the mounting block. Time seemed to slow. I'd done everything I'd been able to do to prepare for this. It was pretty much up to Sam now. With a deep breath, climbed atop the block and steeled myself to climb aboard. Of course, the instant Sam realized that something was up, he tried to walk off. And when I tried to catch him, he tried to run off. I ended up stumbling off the block and nearly falling on my face while Sam headed for the other arena in a puff of dust.

Collect gelding, lunge him more, reset.

Take two.

Sam danced forward again, but I was expecting it. I had a grip on the reigns so I kept him under control. After a bit of soft-talking and a whole lot of reassuring pats, I got him lined up again. Carefully, I leaned forward and, instead of putting my foot in the stirrup, I put my palms on the seat of the saddle and pushed down. This caused Sam to move again, and though I tried to keep him from running off, he was determined! I felt myself overbalancing. Next thing I knew, I was lying across Sam's back like a sack of grain, bouncing about unceremoniously as the gelding let out a bellow of dismay and headed for the hills. Somehow, I managed to keep my wits and sit up just enough to swing a leg over the saddle, seating myself properly - though backwards. This then allowed me dismount relatively safely - though clumsily. Leaving Sam riderless. He continued galloping for a few seconds after I left my back before slowing to a trot, then to a brisk walk. He was clearly still agitated, but having me off of him helped immensely. Out of deference to his mood I didn't try to approach him. Instead, I sat down on the arena floor right where my feet had hit when I'd slipped from the saddle, and waited for HIM to approach ME. In his own time. On his own terms.

It took him a bit, but he eventually did.

He also let me lead him back over to the rail, where I'd left the lunge-line. There was no WAY I was letting things end on such a sour note! Though I wasn't going to work him for long. I just hooked him up and let him run a couple laps to burn off more of his nervous energy. Afterword, I untacked him then and there, leaving he saddle and bridle hanging on the rail while I popped his halter on and led him back to the barn for a good rub-down.

We'd try again tomorrow. Hopefully the clumsiness would have worked its way out of my system by then.

0______________________________0

[Rondell]

Additional Art

0______________________________0