mugwump chronicles

Thoughts and Stuff - Bitting

2012-01-27T08:51:00.001-07:00

I think a lot about fair treatment to animals. What is fair and reasonable care? When is abuse truly abuse and when is it a reaction to treatment that may not be understood?

A good example came from Flyin' Horse (FH) over at the Equine Mind Meld -

"Mugs can you talk about your ideas on bitting? It seems there is so much confusion out there about types of bits to use. I know you aren't supposed to use a 'bigger' bit to correct problems but what DO people use curb bits etc for? Why don't we continue to always ride in the lightest bits or even bitless if we can once the horse has been trained to it. What is the idea behind 'moving up' in bit type as the horse progresses in training?"

There is a huge misconception of what a "bigger" bit means. Bigger has to do with the horses ability to perform with less hold, less pull and more signal.

I have seen horrific damage done with snaffle bits, halters, hackamores, you name it. Strap it on a horse's head, involve a human and the potential for disaster is always there, depending on the ignorance of the user and the usee.

It's not the equipment, it's the hands and education of the rider and the education of the horse that either causes pain or a beautiful ballet.

In order to have this conversation, I'm going to define the action behind three types of bits, the snaffle, the curb and the spade, or signal bit.

These are bits I'm comfortable discussing, but I think other riders in other disciplines can chime in here with explanations about the purpose of their bits.

If somebody wants to talk about double bitting in the dressage ring I'd love to learn.

SNAFFLE

A snaffle bit is a non-leverage bit. A ring on each side of a mouthpiece creates direct pressure from the reins to the riders hands.

A common misconception comes from thinking the broken mouthpiece, or single, double or triple-jointed mouth piece is what makes a bit a snaffle. It's not. It's all about the lack of a shank. So a mullen mouth or straight bar is still a snaffle, as long as it is on rings and not shanks.

A snaffle creates pressure on the tongue, bars, lips and sides of the mouth.

For every pound of pressure exerted from the riders hand and equal amount of pressure goes straight to the horse's mouth. So the force ratio is 1:1.

Slap a thin, rough, twisted or wire mouthpiece between those rings and you can cause as much pain as anybody. Thinking of a snaffle as "mild" can get a rider into a lot of trouble. Even a simple, smooth, jointed snaffle can cause lots of problems.

The wonderful web site, Sustainable Dressage ( http://www.sustainabledressage.net/tack/bridle.php) explains what can happen much better than I can.

"The bit folds in the mouth when you pull on both reins (as in heavy contact). It folds around the lower jaw. It acts as a nut cracker on the bones of the lower jaw. Not only that, the V-shape of the bit will cause it to go higher in the middle and cause the link to hit the horse in the palate. Now, if you thought the bars of the lower jaw were sensitive, the palate is even more so. And no tongue can protect it. Also, the more vertical (and beyond) the head, the more the V points into the palate. The firm Herman Sprenger in Germany, who specialise in horse bits, have recently studied the bit's placement in the mouth and concluded that there's not at all as much room in the mouth as previously thought."

On the flip side, a jointed mouth piece snaffle is a great communication tool. I'm talking to my horse straight from my hands to his mouth from hand to rein to the corresponding side of the bit. There's a lot to like.

CURB

A curb bit is a leverage bit.

There are two sets of shanks on a curb. The upper, short shank, where the curb strap attaches and the lower, long shanks where the reins attach.

Any bit with shanks, regardless of the mouthpiece, is a leverage bit.

Leverage is created from the shanks and the curb strap. The pounds of pressure ratio goes up depending on the length of the shank according to the following formula:

The pivot point where the reins attach to the shank are divided by the pivot point where the curb chain attaches to the short shank.

A curb with a 5" rein shank and a 1" curb shank will generate a force ratio of 5:1. So a 20 lb. pull on the rein will result in 100 lbs. of pressure from the curb's "vise grip" onto the horse's jaw.

A curb bit works on the bars tongue and roof of the mouth through the mouthpiece, the poll by way of the shanks, the chin groove through the curb strap and with a "loose jaw" shank, the sides of the mouth and jaw.

When used appropriately, a curb increases communication by taking less action from the rider to get a response. The longer the shank, the farther back the bit has to rotate before ANY contact is made, so the horse has more warning the pressure is coming. Ideally, again with the use of educated hands, the horse learns to respond BEFORE any pressure is pt on the bit.

How tight the chin strap is adjusted also increases the pressure from the bit.

So the longer the shank, the better the communication.

Of course, if you're an uneducated jackass the longer the shank the more excruciating the pain.

Different shanks and mouthpieces cause different responses.

A solid mouth piece, like a grazing bit, is made for a horse that neck reins. When the rein touches the outside of the neck the pressure from the bit causes the horse to move away from the rein. Traditionally, the bit was designed to allow the horse to comfortably graze. It rolls back before making contact so he can stuff himself. Of course we all no better than to let our little Schnookums to eat with his bit on, don't we?

A loose jaw bit swivels where the mouthpiece attaches to the shank. This allows a slight rotation before the bit engages and the shanks can be worked independently of each other. Increased communication or pain, your choice.

Jointed mouthpieces usually accompany loose jaw bit. These mouthpieces (here's where the "snaffle" mix-up happens) increase the pressure on the bars due to the nutcracker action of the mouthpiece. In addition, the joint angle is altered by the shank lever to tip the bit downward and into the tongue. These bits are a lot harder on a horse, again, in the wrong hands, than a curb with a simple, solid, ported mouthpiece.

The shanks themselves can be straight, S-shaped or curved. The straighter the shank, the less warning before the bit engages.

So a dressage horse, ridden with contact and his face on the vertical, will be ridden in a straighter shank, and a cutting horse, ridden with almost no contact at all, and with his nose extended, will have shanks with a curve or an S to give plenty of warning that a cue is on the way.

SPADE

There's a world of difference between a leverage bit and a spade. A leverage bit works mainly off pressure from the curb strap.The port is usually low and a chain is often used at varying degrees of tightness to increase pressure. The port size doesn't matter all that much since the pull of the reins on the shanks to the curb strap are what make things happen.

A horse in a leverage bit isn't taught to carry it. There's very little communication through the mouth, so it isn't necessary.

The old time cowboy needed to talk to his horse and use a rope, which is why riding one handed was so important.

The greater the horses ability to get in position quickly and correctly, the greater the chances of roping the cow, turning the herd or shooting his pistol in the air on Saturday night without nailing Miss Kitty.

All of the needed communication with the horse needed to come from tiny little adjustments in the reins, so the rope would stay neatly coiled, easy to get at, and keep every body safe in the mean time.

Small, tiny movements and pressures from the reins have to be taught, they can't be forced.This is where the spade bit came in.

The spade is considered a signal bit.The long (scary) tapering port, the spoon, roller and copper braces were all designed to encourage the horse to pick up his bit and carry it.

The seven or eight years needed to prepare a spade bit horse are intended to create a horse that NEVER gets yanked on.

We start our horses with the intention of making them communicate through whispers. The two-rein, the last phase before going into the full bridle, is where the horse has both a bosalito (1/4 or so inch hackamore) and the spade, so the rider has a place to go when the conversation needs to go above a whisper. If you need to yank, then get yourself to the bosalito. The spade should NEVER EVER be used as a punishing tool.

By the time a horse is ridden in just a spade the bit's only purpose is to receive signals from the riders hand. The horse responds to the signal, not pressure.

As far as I'm concerned, developing a spade bit horse is the most amazing, intriguing, complicated aspect of horsemanship I've ever gone for.

The reason I'm sitting out of the show pen during my five year wait to regain my amateur status is a simple one (well, other than the fact I'm really poor at the moment). I want to develop my bridle horse with no pressure on either of us. I want both of us to ride in the spade without fear and to achieve a lightness I've never created before.

This is why we go to a "bigger" bit.

The Bearable Lightness of Being III

2012-01-25T09:34:00.001-07:00

horsegenes said: I am still out to lunch on whether this type of lightness is what I felt on Mikey. I don't have any connection with Mikey and he has been through several owners because frankly he can be kind of a butt head. He is not a super "honest" horse. I do believe that the connection is part of it. He understood my body language and what I wanted for sure. I think the other part of it is the horse's ability to move "lightly". His way of going, the length of his stride and how he uses his body. The difference between a football player and a ballerina. While a football player can be agile and athletic and perform ballet moves, he is never going to have look or feel of someone with a different body type.

Her point is valid. She was riding a horse she didn't have years or months of time on. She didn't know the horse's in and outs, the horse certainly didn't know hers.

This is where the next phase of lightness comes from. Training. Lightness comes from training our horses to respond to our cues immediately, softly and completely.

I was riding with a young trainer, Devon Warren, before I met K. The first time I went out to his place I went with a friend who took lessons with him. I just planned on watching, but he wasn't going to have that happen, so he put me on one of his horses.

I had much the experience horsegenes had. The horse was amazing and so lightening fast in his responses I couldn't begin to keep up with him. He was also a sad, angry, neurotic mess.

I left that day knowing two things. I wanted to be able to ride well enough to teach my horses to be like his. I didn't want to end up making them as miserable as the one I was on.

I would say that was the turning point for me and horse training. It began a passion, (maybe an obsession) that is still with me today.

The next big jolt came after I had been riding with K for about a year. He had me ride a mare he had taken to the top 10 in AQHA Open Cowhorse at the Worlds (his first big win) and had coached his wife to ride and win the AQHA Amateur Cowhorse Worlds on the same horse, the same year.

The thing that blew me away was how straight and upright she was. When I sent her down a line she went like an arrow, in spite of me, not because of me. She knew to hold herself up, stay dead straight and hold her line through run downs, circles, stops and spins. It was astounding.

I wanted that feeling in my horses, that assurance of what to do and how to do it, no matter who was on them, including me.

"They have to know their job," K said. "If you go into the show pen and turn into a gunzel, the horse has to know its job so well it can cover for you."

I cover the road I meandered down to find these truths in my stories. So I won't drag you through each step. It has come down to a few very basic truths and the simplicity is almost ridiculous, but that's where the complexity falls in too. Because let's face it, as humans we can't ever be happy if things are too simple. We have to muddy them up.

1. Make sure your cues are accurate and honest..

Example: Keeping forward movement

Before you can ask your horse to move forward with lively movement and stay there you have to actually want it to happen.

This is an area I fail in repeatedly. While my horses do eventually weed through my unclear signals and start moving forward freely it takes me way too long to get the message across. Why? Because I'm chicken. Buck, buck, BAWK!

I first noticed it in my students and then, regrettably, in myself. If I ask for a horse to move freely with my body, but I'm actually thinking, please don't go, please don't go, then they don't go.

This is often the case with a student trying to lope and with me going down the fence or opening up across a field.

I might physically tell my horse, GIDDYUP, but my stiffness, rein grabbing, stomach clenching body language is saying, JUST KIDDING! MAYBE NEXT TIME.

This creates a horse that doubts your cues, which leads to all kinds of messy misinterpretations.

If you aren't ready to lope, then work on free forward movement at a trot.

Don't cover your nerves by bossing your horse around. Tie downs, heavier bits, tons of lateral work or stopping and backing don't create forward. They stop it.

The biggest culprit? Cuing a horse to go forward with your legs while simultaneously clutching the reins. This is the single biggest block I see in achieving lightness.

2. Understand each maneuver 100% before you try it on your horse.

   Example: Lope depart.

   In order to train for a lope depart, you and your horse have to understand and be able to achieve easily -both leads, free, forward movement, trot with even, steady cadence, leg yield at the trot, and having your horse wait to translate your cue change instead of getting upset or anticipating you.

  If you don't understand how to get these things it's your job to learn them, understand them, and then teach them to your horse.

3. Make sure your horse understands each maneuver 100% before you expect success

Example: Run down

In cowhorse and reining one of our big fancy moves is the rundown, which ends in a long, beautiful slide stop.

The biggest mistake I see made is when horse and rider only think of the stop and not what it takes to get there.

The horse needs to know how to take the line she's put on and stay there. If you have to hold her straight through the entire maneuver then you will ball things up, trust me.

When I first start a young horse we work on going straight every bit as much as circles and lateral movement.

When she can hold the line she's put on (at a walk) then we start working on distance. When she will go the length of a field, or the arena then we move up to a trot.

When she can hold a straight line at the trot for as long as needed on a loose rein, without my legs holding her in place, then we move up to the lope.

I don't worry about building speed or heaven forbid, connecting the stop to the end of the line until I know 100% she can hold a straight line.

Then she is ready to learn to transition speed up and down on that line and I don't have to worry about her fading to the right or left.

When she understands the two concepts together I'll add the stop, which I've been working on separately.

4. Understand release as a reward.

    Example: opening or closing a gate

   We're going to get into the cookie giving, horse hugging argument here again, I can just feel it.
My biggest problem with giving a horse a cookie, a pat or a clicker as a reward for correct behavior is it stops all action (see #2) and takes the horse's mind off the job at hand.

Giving a release as a reward needs to become as natural to the rider as a squeeze to create action.
A release can be given in the middle of a rundown at 25 mph and your horse will feel it, get it and prepare for the next step in your plans, if she has been conditioned from day one to understand the release as a reward.

A release is the cessation of hold. The reins relax, the legs relax, the assistance you have been giving your horse to accomplish a maneuver ends, because the horse has done what you asked.

If the horse immediately quits the action you're rewarding then you guys have still have some work to do.

So, onto our gate.

Step one. Stand by the gate. Nothing else.
Position your horse, release your cues and expect the horse to relax. Right there. Not moving one foot.
This first step can take a while.
Position, release.
Step two. Get contact with your horse. Put hand on the gate. Release.
Step three. Contact. Unlatch gate. Release.
Step four.Contact. Ask horse to side pass away and open gate. Release pressure for a split second but don't let go of contact.
Step five. Move haunches around gate while your hand stays on said gate (I'll let the gate swing with babies, they wobble at first). Release pressure only.
Step six. Side pass to close gate. Release all cues.
Step seven. Get contact. Close gate. Release.
Step eight. (very important!) Stand and relax, horse completely released until she stands.
If the horse gets antsy repeat step one.

See what I mean? By making the release an understood reward you get the horse to break down the maneuver, understand the concept and take small steps.

5. Build your base

Example: Turn to the left or right

Lightness doesn't come right away with each maneuver. When we first start teaching our horses something it can feel a lot like towing a cinder block through a mud hole.

If I want to turn my horse to the left, I will set up my cue as clearly and simply as possible. For me, that means picking up my left rein and later a cue with a neck rein.

If you have a different plan, that's fine, just make sure the horse understands each aspect before you put it in place.

I simply pick up my directing rein, make enough contact to slightly turn the nose and wait.

Eventually the little slug will turn and go. I follow the first sign of forward movement to the left with a squeeze from both legs, then release my cues.

This is my base.

Every time I feel an improvement in response, that becomes my next expectation. So the base builds and lightness increases.

6. Be consistent with all cues.

example: Simple leg cues

This is much harder than it sounds. This means your body must repeat the cue the same every time.
Another reason to keep things simple.

My horses all know, without fail, that both legs on means go, one leg off means turn to the open leg, both legs off means stop and back until I rest my legs on them again.

Until these things are forever and ever embedded in their brains I don't add the subtleties of lift, lateral work or drive.

My leg cues are clear and concise, every time. Again, as time goes on we begin to read each other and add depth and nuance to my leg cues.

This can only happen if my horse truly understands what is going on with each cue.

Lightness comes from communication. If we learn to communicate clearly then the stress begins to fall away from both me and my horse and the lightness increases. You and yours too.

Mouthy Monday

2012-01-23T12:06:00.001-07:00

I hope this story resonates with each and every one who reads this. It sure did me. We sometimes make terrible decisions or just get carried along into bad choices. The honesty and thought I read in Melissa's story is about acceptance and forgiveness. I am very impressed.

http://animageofgrace.blogspot.com/2011/06/shelly-horse-i-owe-apology-to-part-2.html

From what I remember the first year we had together was great. Shelly was 15.3 when I bought her and only 4 years old. Yes, that means we had started her over small fences at the age of 3. It was our second show season when things started to fall apart. I remember one of the first times she reared up with me. We were coming to a 3’6” fence, I’m sure I must have tensed up as I’ve always been scared of the bigger fences. Shelly came out of the corner stopped all forward motion and stood up straight on her hind legs. She landed and did it again, I remember looking back over my shoulder at the heavy wood fence rail that was just behind me. The trainer screamed at me “Don’t you dare protect yourself, this mare will never go over backwards with you, she is too smart for that. The worst thing that will happen is that you will slide off her back. DO NOT stop riding her!” At that point I wasn’t sure who I was more afraid of, my horse or the trainer. It was just a taste of things to come. Shelly and I did well, as long as the fences stayed under 3 which was my comfort zone. As soon as a 3’6” oxer was set in the arena, I would freeze up a few strides out and assume the fetal position. Shelly packed me over the big fences the first few times, but after getting hit in the mouth from me getting left behind, she was done with the freebies. It didn’t just happen at home; more often than not she would perform her airs above the ground at horse shows. What had started as rearing had now turned into a full blown rodeo routine. When Shelly’s front hooves would make contact with the ground she would launch into a series of bucks. To this day I have no idea how I stayed on her back. I supposed fear of death may have had something to do with it. A well-known trainer in the area approached me at a show; he asked me the breeding of my mare. When I told him the name of her sire, he was the one that told me of his reputation for throwing rank babies. He had one at his barn that even his Mexican groom who was a former bronc rider could not stay on.

Shelly had her brilliant moments as well. I will always remember a jumper derby that we rode in one hot July day. There were 40 horses in the class, the first round was rather technical and had some tight distances. On her good days Shelly was incredible to ride to a fence. I could take a 5 stride line and put 4,5,6 or 7 strides in whatever the trainer asked for. She was incredibly agile and could turn off one fence and be ready to jump the next from any spot I put her at. The potential was all there, and on that day I saw what she was capable of. Of the 40 horses only 8 made it clean to the second round. I remember a triple combination that was set up the middle of the arena. I’m pretty sure at one point I grabbed on, closed my eyes and just prayed. Shelly hit the back rail of the last oxer on the combination, it bounced out of the cup and landed back in. The announcer said “she’s clean, but just barely!” In the jump off we were one of only two horses that went clean, Shelly and I were a full second ahead of the other horse. That day I took home a $150 check, a new bridle and whole lot of pride. It would be one of the last good shows on Shelly.
As time went on her tantrums in front of fences got worse and worse. The fences only seemed to get bigger. At one point when I had to go back East for a family emergency the trainer rode Shelly for me. When I came back he continued to ride her, when he handed her back to me he said “If you ever get offered money for this mare, take it!” She was much better after her time in training and the fences were now at 4 foot. Shelly was jumping them with ease and we made plans to join the group on an annual trek to Canada for a show. Shelly and I were only jumping in the 3 foot ring, it should have been a piece of cake, but instead I couldn’t get her past the 3rd fence in every single one of my classes. She was back to her tantrums, I was finally done. At one point I seriously considered untacking her and just walking away right there in the middle of the jumper field. I was heartbroken, clearly I didn’t have what it took to do this.
When it came time to discuss selling Shelly the trainer pointed out that it would be a challenge. She had thrown her tantrums in show rings from Oregon to Canada. We decided to trade her for another horse. Shelly ended up in a sales barn in California, she was now 7 years old and pushing 17 hands. I was still only 5 feet tall and was lucky if I weighed 95 pounds.

It took me a few years and some distance to see my part to and to see what a disservice I had done to that beautiful mare. I’ve learned a few things along the way and am now able to see my past mistakes. Mistakes that I will not repeat with a horse again.

1. Shelly and I had no business jumping anything higher than cross rails. She was not broke and I did not have the foundation for it. I did not have the confidence for the bigger fences and Shelly knew that. I also lacked the confidence and wisdom to speak up for myself to say “I am not ready to do this”.

2. My saddle did not even come close to fitting Shelly. It was a Crosby PreDeNation that was built up in the back. The twist and pommel were very narrow and it must have sat on her withers like a vice. When I look back at pictures I can see where I did try to pad it out for her. I think the only reason I got away with it as long as I did was that I hardly weighed a thing.

3. I constantly put my agenda over my horse’s well-being. I was in a show barn and horses went to shows and jumped big fences. Shelly had a full brother that was showing Grand Prix, it was what she was supposed to do. I never slowed down to fix the situation at hand; I just kept pushing thinking that this next show will be the one where we get it together.

4. My pride got in the way. I wanted to quit, many times. I was sick to my stomach on my lesson days. I even considered selling Shelly a year before we traded her, but I was convinced that someone else would buy her and then beat me in the jumper ring. I wanted to be the one that took her to the top. The idea of someone else doing it was just more than I could take.

5. I should have sought the advice of people outside my circle. When my new gelding arrived and Shelly left, droves of people came up to me and told me how happy they were for me. Again and again people told me that they were afraid for my life when I rode Shelly. I’m talking 30 people in a 3 week time span told me this. Where were they before this? Would I have listened to them?
I believe that there are days that Grace is my apology to Shelly. Every time I step back from my agenda and do what is right by her, I carry with me my mistakes of the past. I take full responsibility for them and I only hope that Shelly was able to find a better life in California.

Melissa McDonald

animageofgrace@gmail.com

http://www.animageofgrace.blogspot.com

Tally

2012-01-20T08:48:00.001-07:00

I was riding a new horse.

It wasn't a matter of the way we got on together. We had been good for a long time.I backed off the strenuous work outs and simply wandered around the property for several days, letting her meander with minimal direction from me.

She was fun to play on. All of her fear and anger were man made. Out in the fields, left to our own devices she was calm, bold and willing.She would work her way down the creek embankment and into knee deep water without hesitation. We could scramble across a shale covered slope like a mountain goat. Blowing plastic, blaring car horns, rattling traffic signs and heavy traffic meant nothing to her. She would lope free and easy without a sign of bolting up the wide open fire trails in the National forest.

I was starting to get a glimmer.

It was about acceptance instead of tolerance.

We always seemed to share a non-stop silent conversation when we were training.

"Oh no you don't," Tally would say.

"Sure I do," I'd reply.

"Well, OK, but just this one thing, and only for you. I could change my mind any second."

"Great, now let's try the next thing."

"Oh no you don't."

I had been desensitizing her to frightening stimuli, building her trust through careful give and take and ya da da, ya da da. All the great stuff I'd been reading and learning had been working, or so I thought.

There was a trap in all of my gentle, intuitive, body language reading, open minded training. I got physical results, but I didn't truly have Tally's understanding. She had learned to tolerate touch, riding, training for maneuvers, but I hadn't gotten her to accept any of it as a way of life.

Tyler had got on and rode the tar out of her. It was simple as that. It wasn't about kindness or cruelty, reading the horse or not. It was about getting on and staying on until she accepted him as a fact in her life. Not somebody to tolerate today, but accepting the fact she would be ridden. Period.

It had worked too. She was calmer, happier and easier to ride. All her small resistances were gone. No more wild eyed jumps when I got out the same brush she had been groomed with every day. No more sucking back because I approached on her off side instead off her good side first. No more snorting, leaping jumps in the air when we crossed a shadow from the arena windows.

It occurred to me I had been catering to her quirks and fears, even if it was only to stop what I was planning in order to handle the problem she had just dumped in our way.

The Big K was eternally telling me to "Just go!" I was finally beginning to get his point.

By trying to explain every single step to Tally I had lost the original goal. To get on and ride.
Tyler had ignored the little stuff and focused on the primary. Tally had accepted the big fact that she could and would be ridden. The rest faded away.

On the flip side, I had made enormous headway with a horse deemed unrideable. Could she have come this far if she had started out with Tyler's (and by osmosis the Big K) simple, across the board training style?

When did finesse and careful thought need to be replaced with pure and simple riding?

I snapped out of my deep thoughts when Tally snorted at a nose full of No Seeums. I had more questions than answers, typical of my relationship with Tally, but I had a sudden flash of insight.

For the first time I had trusted her enough to let her go. I had become so lost in thought I'd forgotten I was even on her back. She hadn't let me down.

The Bearable Lightness of Being II

2012-01-18T17:35:00.000-07:00

So how do we blend the lightness we felt with our horses as children and the lightness we want in our training?

I think you guys hit it on the head in the comments when you talked about the companionship we felt with our horses as kids compared to the training goals we look for as adults.

Are the two really so different?

There was a key moment during my time with The Big K that started me on this line of thought, I've wrestled with it ever since.

For reasons I don't need to delve into here, I have some trouble getting on a horse. There is a split second when I'm getting mounted where I'm totally at the mercy of my horse. When you're working with unstarted colts and problem horses it's a little disconcerting to ever be at their mercy. Horses on the whole are a fairly narcissistic bunch. A snorty, broncy, spoiled brat or a half-wild pasture baby rarely feel the need to give their trainer a break.

Yet for some reason, every horse I have ever worked with (as an adult) waits until I'm safely in the saddle, with both feet solidly in the stirrups, before they give me grief. I mean all of them, from the mean paint sucker with a history of dumping every rider, every time, to the boltiest, spookiest youngster, they stand rock solid until I'm in the saddle. Then they feel perfectly at ease dishing out whatever comes to mind.Weird huh?

"I don't get why they do that," I told K one afternoon.

I had just had a pretty skittery, bolty first ride on a 2-year-old and was letting both of us air up before I got down. K was used to my nervous babbling after I rode a tough one and he slid his weight into his off-side stirrup and settled in to chat.

"This colt stood soft as could be until I had both feet in the stirrups before he blew."

"It was your lucky day."

"But they always do it."

"Do what?"

"Wait for me."

"I guess they do."

"How come?"

"How come what?"

I absolutely hated it when K baited me, especially when I was still sweaty palmed and wild eyed from the previous fifteen minutes aboard the colt.

"C'mon, K," I said, "I'm serious here."

"Ooh, are we using the 'mother's' voice?"

"God K," I swung down off my colt, just mad enough to make the poor thing skitter. I waited until he settled and loosened his cinch.

"All right, all right, don't get all wound up. I wasn't trying to tease, I meant it, why do you think they wait for you?"

"I don't know, I can't figure it out."

"It's because you need them to."

"What?"

"Somehow, you get across to the horses you work that you need them to be still. It's a clear, concise thought, the horse reads it and you get it from them."

"Then I muddy it up with all my junk and the rodeo starts."

"Perfect!"

"So how do I get the horse to work like that all the way through?"

"If we could figure that one out we could go on the road. All I know is that sometimes the horse completely gets us and when they do, they try to get along."

That conversation had me so lost in thought I walked into a hitching rail on my way to trade horses.

Over the years I have chewed on this ad nauseum. Pure expectation has given me moments with my horses, but my mind always starts jumping around and I lose it.

As a kid I expected my horse to let me ride him. I expected him to go where I pointed him. I expected him to nicker when he saw me and hug me when I needed it. He did all those things.

In return, he expected me to feed him. He expected me to know where he liked to be scratched.He expected me to listen and watch with him when he sensed a bad spot on the trail. he expected me to hang on tight and let him run when he really, really needed to. I did all those things.

Is it that simple? Does lightness come from mutual expectation, and crystal clear thought?

Following this idea has led me to ride with kind of a dual awareness. I need to know what I want, exactly how to get it and exactly how to explain it to my horse. My horse has the freedom to say, "What?" without me getting angry or unsure of myself. I need to be aware of her feet, of her breathing, of any tension or temper. She has to be able to think things through, give it a shot and immediately get a release and reward for trying.

We have to trust each other. So how do I get my horse to trust my training methods?

I've gotta stop here, my head is going to explode.

More later. Input much appreciated.

Mouthy Monday

2012-01-16T22:29:00.000-07:00

Here's an interesting tale about a girl's first horse. Talk about a diamond in the rough!

http://vehemently.wordpress.com/

My first horse was a Polish bred Arabian gelding named Lorien Fire Flash. He came into my life when I was 12 and he was 14, and he was my best friend. He’d be 27 now, and I’m not sure if he is still alive. This picture was taken the day my parents bought him for me. I was 13.

—-

I grew up in a small beachy suburb in Southern California; not exactly horse country, but there were five barns within fifteen minutes of my front door, and I consider myself lucky to have had horses that were accessible to me throughout my childhood.

When I was twelve, one of my friends who showed quarter horses bought herself a shiny new show horse, and cast her Arabian gelding to the side. He was 14, underweight, dull coated, and had a recurring colic problem but I loved him immediately. Because we were kids, my friend agreed to let me lease him for $25 a month as long as I promised to ride him at least 3 days a week. That moment was the moment I officially became a barn rat, and I was in absolute heaven.

Flash was the hardest horse I had ever tried to ride. He was ring sour, dead sided, hard mouthed, and had a bolting problem. He would throw his head up so hard and high, that he would often knock me in the face and give me a bloody nose, or knock me off balance and I would inevitably fall off. Since he was such a brat, my trainer would make me ride him in this awful gag bit, and because of that, because of me, he was impossible to bridle. He hated me so much those first few months, that he would run to the back of his stall and strike out at me so I couldn’t catch him. I think I went home crying almost every day.

The summer before my freshman year of high school, my friend put Flash up for sale and I was devastated. I told my parents of my plight, and pleaded with them to buy him, but they refused. Eventually they told me that someone else had bought him, and brought me to the barn to say goodbye. When we got there, I walked up to his stall already crying and threw my arms around his scrawny shoulders in despair, completely ignoring the huge poster that read “CONGRATULATIONS ERYN, HAPPY 8TH GRADE GRADUATION. FLASH IS YOURS.” One of my friends had to point it out to me, and of course I dissolved into a crying mess. so happy to finally have my own horse. That day is forever burned into my memory – one of the best days of my life.

Something between us changed after that. I’m not sure if it was because I felt like he was mine, or if it was because I had started high school and was lonely and consequently spent a lot of time at the barn, but I considered him my project and spent 99% of my time at the barn. The first two weeks I had him, I discarded the gag bit, and chose a nice, fat D-ring snaffle. I didn’t know how to slow him down or break him of his bolting problem, but I thought it would be a good idea if I wrapped his legs, and rode him down in the creek bed where the sand was deep. If I fell, I wouldn’t hurt myself and he could run right back up the hill to his stall.

I got up early on a Saturday and took the bus to the barn. No one was around, so I saddled up my boy, put on his medicine boots, threw the snaffle in his mouth, and we jigged all the way out to the wash. There are a lot of creek beds in California, and this one was similar to many that I have seen – a tiny trickling creek in the Summer, huge roaring river in the Winter, a sprinkling of eucalyptus and cicada, small scrubby brush, tumbleweeds, and various patches of deep, gritty sand. I found a spot big enough to lope a circle, pushed him up into a fast canter and waited for him to relax. It took two weeks of loping in the wash before I felt comfortable enough to ride him in the arena, but I have never seen a bigger change in a horse than I saw in Flash that summer.

He started to put weight on, and with the grain and supplements I was giving him, turned a fiery red in the sun. He had more energy, and his once dull eyes began to glisten. I started to see that he had a need to please personality, and that he was sometimes too smart for his own good.

To be honest, he was the smartest horse I’ve ever met and I taught him every trick I could think of. He could bow, hug, take carrots from pockets, kiss, smile, dance with me, do tempi changes (I didn’t ride dressage and I called it skipping haha), spin a circle all by himself if I said “circle” and wiggled my finger, and I could ride him bareback and bridleless. We did everything from Western Pleasure to 3′ oxers to reining patterns to team penning to gaming. He hated cows, and would pin his ears at them and snake his neck out to bite them, but his cow sense was awesome and he could cut just as good or better than any of the cutting horses at our barn. Everyone thought he was a really refined quarter horse, and when I told them he was an Arabian, they would laugh and wait for the punch line. Naturally, when it didn’t come, they would stare in disbelief saying, “Really? An Arab? REALLY?” And walk away shaking their heads and chuckling. My favorite thing to do was practice our reining pattern; I loved to go fast, and I think he did too. When it came time for the run-down, he would switch leads like a race horse, drop his head, and drive into the bit. I didn’t even have to pick up my reins to stop him, he would just sit his butt down on a low-pitched whoa, and slide through the dirt forever.

These are the things I dream about now – finding him somewhere, wherever he is, and bringing him home with me. I’ve had two other horses since then, and I have never met another with his courage and heart. Some have come close, but you know what they say – in your life you will have one horse that you know was made for you, and I know, deep down in my heart, that he will always be my one.

DixieAnne

2012-01-13T10:43:00.000-07:00

What in the world was I going to do with this horse?

The big dun mare had problems way beyond my experience. It was like she was a marionette with her strings cut.

I insisted on an evaluation from the vet.

He had me trot her around (I use the word trot very loosely) until I was as wobbly as she was.

DixieAnne wasn't lame. She wasn't sore. Her feet actually wore evenly. She didn't seem to be progressing, so he ruled out most illness. She was bright, alert and pretty happy. He finally came down to "undiagnosed neurological issues, probably due to injury."

Now there's a big fat heap of nothing.

We discussed her breeding. She was heavily line bred back to Poco Bueno. He was known to produce a lot of pacing quarter horses. Te vet wondered if this was part of her problem.

"This is not what I would call pacing," I pointed out.

"Mmmmm, no, me neither. There seems to be kind of a pace in there somewhere though."

"You know, if we're going to blame this on breeding we could go way back."

"What do you mean?" the vet asked.

"From what I understand some of the dinosaurs were so big they had more than one brain distributed in various parts of their bodies. So one brain could work one part and the other would work another."

"Uh, I'm not getting your point."

"DixieAnne might have more than one brain rolling around in there."

"I see," he began to laugh.

"...and they're fighting."

"It's as good as anything I've got, good luck with this one."

If that was all he had then I guess it was time to roll up my sleeves and get to work.

The first few weeks I planned to just ride around on her, thinking, feeling and generally being very confused. I tried to figure out what was actually happening with her. Which led us directly into teaching her some manners.

DixieAnne was a big galoot and had no interest in personal space. She was easy enough to catch, I have to give her that. I would walk into the broodmare pen and she would come shuffling, waddling, swaying over to me, on me, over me. All I had to do was stick out the halter and she would slap her face in it. Then the music would start and I'd start doing a pretty fancy impersonation of a clogger trying to keep my feet clear while I buckled her in.

DixieAnne would push into her halter, shoving at me with her head and cuddling up as close as she could. Her tongue would begin to wag, foam would start flying and she would lip me in wild affection. During the entire display of undying love she would wing those wonking feet in closer and closer to my own.

"She sure likes you," Marilee said.

Maybe so, but I felt more like the poor weenie guy that gets picked on by the outlaws in a spaghetti western than Roy and Trigger.

"C'mon little feller," DixieAnne seemed to say. "Ah think it's time for you to dance." Her feet were every bit as effective as any bad man's Winchester.

I ended up doing sort of a reverse Ray Hunt. I didn't teach her to join up, I took my longe whip with me and taught her to join the hell OFF.

I would go to her pen and drive her away from me. When she moved off a few feet I'd relax the pressure. When she moved in I put it back on her. There could be no steady pressure with Miss Dixie, she would immediately lean into it. I had to flick my whip, tap my fingers, kick her in the butt (very short kicks mind you), anything but give her a place to lean.

When I haltered her I would send her off the second I felt weight in my hands. When I saddled her I would move her three or four steps away from me every time she leaned into the pressure of the cinch. As I swung on board I would hang on her side and bump with my knee until she curled her ribs away and stepped away agin.

It took the butt of a crop to get her to truly understand that when I said off, I meant OFF! Always an optimist, I would give her the gentle touch I wanted her to respond to, followed with a firm bump with the end of the crop, followed with a steady poke, poke, poke until she would finally shift away.

As long as I never let her slide and always made her move at least three or four steps from me, things progressed slowly. If I let her go even an inch, it was like we were starting completely over.

When I rode her it was more of the same. Nothing worked on DixieAnne the way it should. Her head bobbed up and down and to the side. She shuffled, she jerked, she popped in the air. She couldn't hold a line or a circle. She was amazing.

One afternoon we were wandering around the arena. I would lift one rein and wait to see what happened. Bump, bump, bump, eventually she would turn and her nose would drop a bit. I switched to my leg. Bump, bump, bump, she didn't respond. Bump, bump, bump. She stepped in, she stepped out, she came into my leg and then tripped as she stepped out.

I had felt something though. I emptied my mind, and deepened my seat. I stated relaxed and simply focused on her crazy movement. I went back to bumping between hand and leg.

There. I felt it again.

DixieAnne had two, separate, different responses between shoulders and hind. She wasn't one crazy unit. She was two off balance ones. I shook my head. She really was a dinosaur. It certainly seemed DixieAnne was working off two brains.

The Bearable Lightness of Being

2012-01-11T16:58:00.001-07:00

There have been some interesting points brought up here and over on the Equine Mind Meld page, about lightness in our horses.

I'm talking about how they ride, not how much they weigh BTW. Or how much I weigh, either. For me lightness comes through the entire horse, through all of me, and joins into an instantaneous awareness and response to each other.

This is the goal I work towards, with every horse, on every ride.

My thoughts about lightness started back with my first horse Mort. He wasn't all that well trained, I didn't know what I was doing and he didn't feel obligated to tell me much. What we did have was time. Endless hours and years of experience together. I rode bareback most of the time and got tough enough to spend all day in the hills and not start to ache until the sun began to sink behind Pikes Peak.

We swam, we jumped, we ran, we walked (once in a while) and the togetherness, combined with our breakneck approach, combined to create a rhythm between us. One that kept me firmly anchored on his back and Mort able to tell the difference between a squeeze from my calf to make a turn and a grab from my legs to keep myself astride.

I certainly never thought about our relationship as one of lightness. If you ever tried to hang onto Mort in the spring when his blood was up you'd understand. It was a lot like water skiing behind a barge. There were plenty of waves to knock me over, enough power to about rip my arms out and absolutely no control of direction.

We still had lightness. He would always stand stock still while I lit a cigarette (please don't tell my mom). He would trot and lope with, what I swear was, just a thought from me. We could be flying through a field and I could guide him through rocks or trees with barely a shift o my weight. I could feel where he was going by a muscle twitch and tell what was coming by the flick of his ear. This, to me, is lightness.

As an adult I went and got all trainerly. I learned to expect a response to each action, I learned to create action, where my seat bones should be place, what parts of the horse separate parts of my body controlled.

I walked into a world where I could take my horsemanship and the horses I rode further than I had ever imagined possible.

I also became clunky and unsure of myself. I had to relearn timing, find a new feel, everything was new and awkward.

My horses eventually became loaded with tricks and buttons, but none of them had the instinctive lightness I had shared with Mort.

As the years went by and I became more technically advanced I kept going back to the feel of Mort.
Sonita, bless her non - conforming heart, and I eventually got there. It was through her I started to really think about training horses. Why was I doing it? What did I want for me and the horses I rode? I wanted to compete. I wanted knowledge. Most of all I wanted the lightness I felt with Mort in all aspects of riding. Not just once in a while, not at my horse's whim, but I wanted that near mind reading experience at all phases.

So, I started looking for it. I'm beginning to think I'm closing in on it.

I know developing extreme lightness takes time.

It takes practice and deep thinking.

It takes dissecting what we learn and truly understanding the purpose behind it. Then strategically using what works.

I'll be exploring this over the next few posts, I'm going deep on this one. After our story telling of course.

Trail Ride

2012-01-10T10:06:00.002-07:00

There's a few things you can see in here.

One: How I check and release as I ride. When you see my hand come up I am making contact with my hackamore and sending her forward with my legs. It's a reminder I'm there, asking her to move forward, gather herself, or all three.
When my hand drops I've gone neutral, although sometimes I'm still giving her leg.

When we're moving forward without hesitation I take leg pressure off too.

Two: You can see how crooked I can get, any time Modonna goes to the left of the screen it's because I'm leaning right. I've got a lot of leaning in my post and sitting the lope to work on, but it's better than last summer. At least I'm finding my center again instead of just hanging out there.

She bucks in here....can you find it?

I'll post again in a month or so and see if I'm any straighter.

I promise I'll eventually upload some decent music.

http://youtu.be/W_NFbpd1rEs

Mouthy Monday

2012-01-09T08:30:00.000-07:00

Beckee shared one of those great moments we all hope to have with our horses. It seems to me it's these pictures we hold close, much more than ribbins, buckles or trophies.

I just visited Beckee's blog and it absolutely broke my heart. Everybody needs to go read this. She is Horsaii to the max, that's all I can say.

http://beckless.wordpress.com

Connecting with Nature

by Beckee Milton

My horse moved from a suburban boarding stable to rural Coolville, OH when I came to Ohio University. It was new world for us. We had an enclosed arena like we had known for years, but now we had over 1000 acres (some fenced and some open) that we were permitted to explore. There were trails in some places, many wooded areas, and plenty of open fields for running. I’d had my ten year old gelding since he was two. I broke Alibi myself and taught him everything since I was 14. It was a green horse/green rider situation, but we were lucky to have flourished with each other.

Alibi is a true Quarter Horse with an athletic body, elegant head and neck, and plenty of heart. He is bred for Reined Cowhorse, but with bloodlines that don’t lend him to being a top horse. He is so much talent and athleticism that I wish a better trainer could have had owned him and done more with him in a specialized discipline. Together we’d gotten AQHA points in Western Pleasure, Hunter Under Saddle, Reining, Showmanship, Halter. Him and I have done A-rated Hunter/Equitation, he jumps up to 4’6, and we’ve competed through Second Level Dressage. I couldn’t have asked for a better horse as my partner. He’s always been so willing to listen and learn, although he is more than happy to show me his sassy side when he isn’t enjoying his job.

He is an arena baby to say the least, but definitely not barn sour or arena sour. I am a strict mom with many rules, but Alibi knows if he follows the rules that he gets privileges other horses don’t. For example, he is permitted to be loose in the aisleway if he stays out of the way, doesn’t bother the other horses, and doesn’t wander far from the loose hay. He knows that if he is easy to catch, he is allowed to graze in areas that aren’t fenced in. I think that it is because of the things I taught him and my strict but nurturing love that he is very attached to me.

Before moving to this new barn, Alibi had never been on a trail ride. At least not one that meant I couldn’t see the barn. He was scared of every little thing the first couple of times we went out. He’d spook if the wind blew too hard or a shadow changed unexpectedly. The cows were an endless source of spooking, bolting, and bucking. It was all very frustrating for me and I had trouble being strict while letting him explore and learn.

It was our seventh ride alone on the trails. Alibi was excited to be going out, his head was up and he was walking briskly. It was early May; warm enough for a t-shirt, but the mud was just a little too slick for a full out gallop in the open areas. Alibi was awake, but listening for the first time when I asked him to pay attention. We had been going for about six miles, just wandering and only staying on the trail when the hills were too steep to climb or descend without assistance. I was in an area I had never explored before, but I trusted my horse and he was relaxed and looking around at his surroundings. I let him pick his path through the woods, ducking under low branches and generally just trying to remember where I was in relation to the barn so that I could eventually get back.

I was daydreaming about my classes, stressing about finals and all my work when suddenly I realized that Alibi seemed to be heading in a specific direction, picking his way precisely to some location unknown to me. We were deep in the woods, no sunlight through the trees in front or behind me, but the creek was running about thirty yards to my left. Alibi would stop, listen, and then step carefully forward for a few yards. I sat quietly and let him figure out where he was going. He stopped one last time, surged ahead and we broke through a thick group of trees into a small clearing where he finally stopped for good.

Brush had grown up around the clearing and the creek, previously thirty yards my left, ran through the edge of the clearing. However, that isn’t what had drawn my horse to this place. Grazing in the clearing were a doe and two quite young fawns. The mother stopped grazing and looked at us as we broke through the woods, uncertain whether to shepherd her children away. As we stood, still and quiet, the doe gave us one last glance and resumed grazing. I gave my horse his rein and let him start grazing too; as he went, he inched closer to the fawns. He has always been fascinated by other animals and eventually was within range to be noticed by the fawns. They didn’t even hesitate once they noticed us and came running, bucking, and ready to play with my horse. He was overjoyed and spun around to leap and play with them as well. I found myself clutching my saddle to stay on as he played. The doe immediately noticed my horse’s behavior, squealed and ran the fawns off in huge bounds through the woods. I sat in stunned silence while my horse looked longingly after the deer family. Eventually he walked to the creek, took a drink, and then turned and walked back the way we had come.

Mort, Me and the Upper Rio Grande 50 Miler

2012-01-06T08:48:00.000-07:00

I stood off to the side and stayed out of the way while Cindy fretted over her gelding.

I wanted to be consumed with concern over the Saddlebred, but my thoughts weren't much under control.

SHE was supposed to know what was going on. SHE was supposed to have the mega-trail horse. Mort might be skinny but it wasn't MY horse standing in the creek with his eyes shut, his lower lip sagging and his respiration out of control. MY horse was chewing on my hair and looking at me with that, "C,mon. let's go see what's around the corner!" look in his eyes.

I turned my back so Cindy couldn't see my face. My eyes burned and my teeth squeaked with the effort it took to hide my anger. I didn't want to hurt her anymore than the day already had.

We ate lunch in silence, both sunk deep in our respective gloom. After lunch I saw Cindy go check her horse and then speak briefly with the veterinarian. He gestured to a group of riders sitting together on a log, deep in an animated conversation punctuated with occasional outbursts of laughter.

Cindy headed over and was soon deep in conversation with a deeply tanned woman in a baseball cap. The woman looked over at me and then scrutinized Mort. She got up, stretched and then sauntered over to the vet. He flipped through his clipboard and showed her one of the pages. They both turned and stared at my horse again. My stomach flipped and I put a protective hand on Mort's neck.

It was bad enough I was done with the ride, but now somebody was going to yell at me, I just knew it.
By the time the woman walked up to me I was stiff with righteous anger. Endurance races stunk. It wasn't my fault Cindy's stupid horse couldn't hang. Now I was going to get chewed out for something. Somehow her horse going belly up was my fault.

"Are you Janet?" The woman asked me.

Her voice was kind and even, so I risked a quick look and peered up through my bangs at her. Her face was brown and white squint lines streamed from the corners of her friendly brown eyes. She looked pretty old, maybe not as old as my mom, but at least 40. I gave her a quick nod.

"I hear your sponsor had to pull from the ride," she said. "If you want, you can come along with me. You and your horse look pretty fit, and the vet said he has a heart beat as slow as an elephant's."

"Is that a good thing?" I asked her.

"What, riding with me or a heart like an elephant?"

"Both I guess."

"If all these horses had a heart rate like yours we wouldn't need vet checks. As far as riding with me, well, you'll just have to find out. I'm about to head out, so if your break is up why don't you saddle up and come on over."

I saddled up Mort and noticed my hands were shaking. Was it excitement? Maybe. This lady was riding with a small group of riders that seemed to know their stuff. I was going to look like such an idiot. Mort was skinnier than any of their horses. He would easily be the rowdiest. I was going to start hearing all kinds of comments about how bad he was, I was sure. But I really, really wanted to finish the ride.

I decided to put on my "polite for the nuns" school face and ride it out. If they didn't decide I was completely useless maybe I could hang until the end of the ride.

Mort thumped me a good one with his head and jolted me awake. I was standing there daydreaming and my new sponsor and her friends were all mounted and staring at me in a friendly/impatient/puzzled kind of way. My face flamed red and I swung into the saddle and trotted over to them.

"I'm Jenny," the woman who had taken me on said and leaned over to shake my hand.

Each of the ladies introduced themselves. They were relaxed and goofing with each other. Their horses ranged from Arabs to Quarter Horses to varying mixes between the two breeds. They didn't seem to be in much of a hurry but they sure were having a good time. I didn't understand how they could be so relaxed. this was a race wasn't it? Maybe it was because they were so old.

I fell in with this odd assortment of riders and caught on pretty darn quick they had been riding together for years. Feeling very much the outsider I steered my jiggy horse to the outside and resigned myself to a long, slow afternoon.

Ouch!

2012-01-04T06:41:00.001-07:00

The exchange in the comments over Alexis' look back at the horses who had influenced her past seems to have struck a nerve, or two, or three, or six.

I have to be honest, I was torn.

Our story sharing is important to me and I love the acceptance we give each other. By being open to different outlooks and not slamming each we have gotten some incredible input and the ability to peek into each others lives.

Here comes the "but..." you knew it was on the way, I'm not called Mugwmp for nothing.

I have to admit, I cringed and said "ouch" when I first started reading Alexis' post. I felt, at first, it was very anti-trainer. As you guys know, I, um, am one of those,uh, er, trainers.

As I kept reading I realized she was simply talking about how she learned and the strengths she developed from having to do things on her own. Alexis made it clear she did the best she could with the tools she had.

Her story was a good reminder to me how important it is to have to figure things out for yourself and "just ride." Trainer dependency can be extremely destructive. It can close our minds to new and different ways to do things and make us distrust ourselves and our horsemanship. It can undercut the very reason so many of us began riding in the first place, to be free on an animal we admire and love.

I spent the majority of my life on horseback just figuring things out. I had no money for lessons, I barely had enough money for hay. I supported Mort completely off my babysitting earnings. I get poor, trust me.

I also had a fierce desire to compete. Can't help it, it's hard wired into me. I started with gymkhanas and then was snagged by the lure of the "morning events" at the day shows. Trying to break into that world on my whack-a-do gelding was almost impossible.

Enter trainers. I never sent a horse out for training. Because I "just rode" the idea was a crazy one as far as I was concerned. To be honest, I still feel that way. I want my life with horses to entail me taking us as far as we can go together.

But I sure couldn't learn how to compete where I wanted to without help. I needed the help of trainers. I write about the trainers in my life pretty extensively on this blog and I wouldn't be where I am, good and bad, without them.

Which brings me back, in my very windy way, to the comments following Alex's post.

One of the many things I learned over at FHOTD was to appreciate a good argument. I hated the meanness, the personal attacks, the insults, it drove me crazy. I had no idea there were so many miserable people in the world.

What I did enjoy was the thread of discussion I could pick out of the childishness.

There was some spirited discussion that went on, the arguments challenged the posters and myself, brought in new thought and got people thinking. Well, got some thinking, there was a lot of wasted space over there too.

I would love to see some of that over here. We could skip the nastiness and get right into the challenges.

How do we do that without stomping on each other?

I don't think Aegle was trying to cause problems, just start some back and forth. The kind of back and forth that could make this blog a lot more fun if we keep it honest and kind.

I sure don't want to run off potential new readers by slamming them into the ground.

I really would appreciate some feedback here. How do we invite discussion without getting hurt feelings?

Could it be as simple as..."That seemed insulting," or ,"are you bashing me or asking a legitimate question?"

How about, "Ouch, that was hurtful, did you mean it that way?"

We could counter each other by asking questions. How about, "Did you ever wish you could spend time with a trainer?"

I would love to ban any sentence that begins with "You should have...."

Instead try sharing experience, "For me, going to a trainer helped me speed things up."

Am I on the right track here?

Let me know. Say what you think. No swearing, preaching or attacking. Can we handle it?

Mouthy Monday

2012-01-02T07:46:00.000-07:00

Alexis shared a glimpse into three horses which shaped her life in the horse world.

I spend most of my days chasing my two kids, trying to take care of all of our animals, making my best attempt to be a good mother and a good wife. I try not to let my mind wander away from the everyday routine, but once in awhile I catch myself drifting off into a memory. My memories of horses long gone, of horses that taught me more than any book or video ever could have.

Yes, there's something to be said about learning techniques from a more experienced trainer, but there's nothing in the world that can replace learning things first hand through trial and error. It gives you a better feel for your horse, not to mention strengthens your own reflexes and timing. There are some things that can't be taught--only learned. That sounds paradoxical, but it's true.

A long bodied, fat paint gelding taught me to FEEL the difference in a right lead and a left lead. He was a heel horse, he was supposed to go in his left lead, it was ideal for a team roping horse. I was 9. I wanted to run barrels...to turn the first barrel on the right side of the pattern and be quick, a horse needs to be in his right lead. It wasn't easy, and even as young as I was, I did get frustrated. But through several summers of riding bareback, just spending time on my horse, I figured it out. It wasn't something that someone showed me, or anything that someone told me either. It just **clicked** one afternoon.

A long legged, long headed sorrel gelding taught me how to be humble. I was riding horses for a good friend of mine, a gal with the trucks, trailers, horses and everything else I could only dream of.
I was mounted on horses that cost over five figures almost daily( a fortune to me!), I was in heaven!

A girl came by one day to show her string of barrel horses to the boss lady, and the boss lady wanted me to take a few of them through. She'd hurt her back recently, which was the cause for my present employment. I'd been there early that afternoon, and had looked through most of what had been brought in. There were only 4, and one stood out to me. He packed a famous brand on his left hip, it was known throughout the barrel racing world as the mark of a winner....my mouth watered. I already knew I wanted him for me, but didn't think there was any way my parents could afford him.

One by one, I took the horses through the pattern, boss lady watched, asked what I thought, then visited with their seller. We saved the one with the brand for last, I could feel my palms getting damp as I walked up to slip his bridle on. He was above and beyond anything I'd ever ridden; at least in my mind he was. Sort of like going from driving a go cart at home, to going to a big track and getting behind the wheel of a Nascar stock car. He was quiet, calm, everything felt good. He warmed up easy, went through the pattern as quiet as a lamb, then took my breath away when I took him through full speed. He was my dream horse...and then the other boot dropped. He had egg bar shoes on, was rumored to have navicular, and would occasionally duck the first barrel.

My parents did manage to buy him for me, and I never had a bigger reality check than I did after we owned him. I worked my butt off to get him in shape, to keep him sound, rode several hours a day, never left the barn it seemed. But when you have damaged goods to start with, it's hard to piece it back together. We'd do great for a few runs, then it would all fall apart again. His mind and his body had been pushed far beyond what he deserved. He tried, Lord knows he gave me what he could. I learned to recognize what was fair to ask of him, and what was just out of the question. He eventually went on to become a trail horse, then a kid's horse, both of which amazed me to no end. He was the definitive "point" in my life, the horse that taught me to step up and RIDE. Not train, not pick and pull and over analyze, but to swing a leg over and screw down...or get left behind.

A little blue blooded sorrel mare taught me one simple lesson....I don't get along with mares. End of story. Hers was another story of being exceptional, then being punished as a result of her excellence. When a previous owner realized they couldn't ride her, and couldn't sell her because of the issues they'd given her, they did something deplorable. The insured her sky high, tied her solid in a ramshackle trailer, then did their best to end her life. How she lived through it, heaven only knows. Live through it she did, despite their efforts.

She was distrustful, gorgeous, bred to the hilt, and a walking time bomb. The slightest things would set her off, she'd fly backwards and do her best to escape her present situation, no matter who or what was around. My dad and I managed to get past most of the snarls in her mind, I was able to compete on her a little. She just couldn't handle the pressures of hauling, no matter how careful we were she had a meltdown every trip. We sold her to a girl who was desperate to use her as a broodmare, only to find out a year later that she died in the process of foaling. It seemed like a cheated end for such a talented horse, but then again she was happier in that last year than she'd ever been. Turned out to pasture, no riding, no hauling, no fear. She taught me what type of horses I wanted to make, and reinforced the things I didn't want to put a horse through.

Those three horses are etched into my memory, they made me who I am today. My kids may never spend hours and hours in the barn the way that I did, it's their choice if they choose to or not. If I have to go to baseball or soccer games instead of rodeos, I'm OK with that. I will always hope in the back of my mind that they'll put down the ball or bat, and go pick up a halter instead. Dedication, perserverance, sure, sports can teach those things. Things that any kid can learn through trial and error on any given day.

The lessons learned from asking an 1100 pound animal to trust you implicitly, and being honored by earning that trust....that's something a kid can't learn from a ball.

Tally

2011-12-30T07:55:00.000-07:00

My cell phone rang while I was pulling saddles from my last three rides.

"Hey Janet? This is Tyler."

"Still alive I'm guessing," I said.

"Who, me or your mare?"

"Well, I can tell you are, how's Tally?"

"She's doing just fine, you coming out to ride tomorrow?"

"I am."

"Well I guess I'll see you then."

Tyler was every bit as much as a sparkling conversationalist as the Big K, they were certainly a good fit. My mood was high though, if it had been bad news I knew he would have gone into a little more detail.

That night I couldn't get Tally off my mind. She never left my thoughts as I drove home, she hovered in the corners while I asked my daughter about her day, chatted with my husband and got dinner going. I really needed to sell her, my board bills were killing me and I wanted to move my 3-year-old up to the main barn. Maybe she was truly coming around. Maybe I'd be able to find somebody who would want to buy a 14 hand, muscle bound, hammer headed, Foundation bred mare with a bad rap. Sure, why not? She was everybody's dream horse, wasn't she? I sure knew how to pick them.

Except she could be somebody's dream horse, I knew she could. There was a willingness to her, sometimes a softness in her eye that went straight to my heart and it was impossible not to admire her quick athleticism and strength. What in the world would I do if I was the only one to see it in her?

The next morning broke clear and windless, so I beat feet to load up Sonita and drive the hour and a half out to the Big K's. It was a perfect day to see how Tally had fared.

The miles flew past as I drove the narrow two-lane roads from the mountains to the plains east of the Springs. I was excited, hopeful and nervous, more than likely I was darn lucky not to run into or through anything I shouldn't have. When I pulled into K's place and parked I realized I didn't remember a single second of my trip.

Tyler and K were rocked back in two battered folding chairs, enjoying the sun like a couple of lizards on a rock. Tyler waited until Sonita was unloaded before he came over to chat. K stayed in his chair, giving Tyler time to talk to me one on one.

"She's going pretty good, I think you'll be happy," he said.

"Did she give you any trouble?"

"The first time I rode her out was pretty wild, but nothing like that first ride. Do you want to take her for a spin?"

He had a barely suppressed smile on his face and I could tell Tyler was proud of the job he had done.

"You know what? Why don't you ride her first and let me watch her go. I know she'll let me ride her." Neither one of us mentioned the fact I had never had her outside the indoor at my barn. We both knew I didn't have any other place to go except straight up a mountain and I would quit training before I admitted to the thrill of fear that had gone through me every time I had thought of leaving the safety of my arena. I was still a little uneasy at the idea, but Tyler had the makings of a good trainer, he didn't call me on it, he just smiled and went to get Tally.

He brought her out and she led quiet and calm. She pricked her ears when she saw me, but didn't knicker or tug on the lead rope.

I had Tyler saddle her with my rig so I could ride when he had finished his demo. Tally rolled her eye towards me when he tightened her cinch, but she seemed content enough. He bridled her with the same simple O-ring I rode with and led her to the middle of K's football field sized outdoor arena. K came and stood beside me as I rested my chin on top of crossed my arms and slipped one foot on the bottom rail of the arena fence.

He swung up with easy familiarity and trotted her out for a few circles. Tyler was a big guy, but Tally carried him handily, her strong back raised enough to keep the saddle skirts an inch or so off the saddle pad. Her neck stayed level and she powered along at a steady pace.

He asked her to stop in the middle and she parked it without a fuss. When they loped of she was flying at a good clip withing two or three strides.

"Whoosh," I said, "he's really got her motoring along."

"That's the speed she needs to be at," K said. "See how solid she is?"

K was right. Tyler was riding on a loose rein, completely relaxed in the saddle. Tally's feet beat out a solid rhythm and looked broke and happy, the faster speed suited her.

Tyler rode her through five or six circles each way, changed lead a few times and asked her to stop.

I headed towards them while she aired up.

"She looks good," I said.

Tyler stepped down and handed me the reins. "She's got a great feel," he said, "she could turn out to be quite the horse."

I made sure I had my game face on and stepped into my stirrup. Tally stood still as I swung up and turned her head to give my boot a friendly sniff. She felt the same as always.

I walked off a few strides and asked for a lope. She moved out quick and fluid as she always did and we were flying around the arena within seconds. I gathered my reins and she dropped into the slow and easy canter she maintained at home.

"Janet!" I heard K shout. "Let go of that mare's head!"

I made sure I was breathing and fed her some rein. Tally, bless her pea-picking heart, stayed at the same speed.

"Janet!" K shouted again.

Meet my Maker or tick off the Big K for hanging on my horse? I shook my head a little and clucked to her, touching her with my heel. She jumped forward, but this time I made myself stay loose. Tally sped around the arena, smooth as could be.

It was wonderful, it was exciting, she was a little engine chugging along the tracks, but there was no tension, no worry, just enough speed to make you know you were going somewhere.

"There you've got it!" K called out.

My smile got bigger and bigger. This horse was such a blast. Tyler still stood in the middle of the arena and we flashed past him. I caught his eye and he smiled back as big and broad as the possibilities I felt opening up for my crazy little mare.

Knots

2011-12-28T04:02:00.001-07:00

Good morning everybody.

I always love it when I wake up with a horse training problem rattling through my head. I sometimes wish these problems would wake me up a little later, but I don't seem to have sorted out that particular little issue.

Many of you already know I have a tendency to take a single, clear, concise sentence or thought shared with me from a trainer I have ridden with, a book I have read, or a conversation with another horseaii and run a whole training approach off it.

I woke up today thinking about knots.

The Big K and I were sitting on our colts after a lesson, letting them stand with their butts to the wind. We had developed the habit of losing ourselves in conversation after we rode. Sometimes it would start in the middle of a lesson, once in a while we would get going in the tack room and end up sitting in front of the stove, lost in theory, question and answers and beer and never even mount up.

It probably has something to do with why K and his wife eventually asked me to move my barn in with them, we used the whole day when I came out for a lesson and I often ended up riding his colts anyway.

On this particular day we were talking about knots.

"When you start a colt, their mind is a blank slate," K said. "We teach them by creating a knot for them to untie and then giving them the room to sort it out."

He gave me a visual by bringing his inside rein up in the air to tip his colt's nose in and blocking the outside shoulder with the other rein. He didn't shift his weight, use his legs or cluck encouragement. He sat quiet and calm and waited.

The colt swung his hind end around, confused and a little irritated about being pulled out of his conversation with Loki, my sweet filly.

The colt became slightly anxious, then I could almost see the possible answers to his problem clicking through his brain. He rocked back, stepped around with his front legs to the inside and K immediately released him. The colt relaxed, shifted back over to Loki and began contemplatively chewing on his bit.

K shrugged and looked at me with his even, blue-eyed gaze. He waited for me to untie my own knot.

"I'm thinking the key here is to make sure each knot is easy enough for the colt to untie so he would have success," I said.

"There you go, protecting the baby again," he smiled at me to let me know he wasn't getting after me.
"If the knot is too easy then you are going to take away the challenge. Don't be afraid to push, just make sure there is a way for your colt to get to the answer."

'What if he can't find it?"

"Do you give up just because you don't find the right answer the first time? Or do you try again and again until you understand it?"

"So I need to create the desire to figure out a solution."

"There you go."

I've used this short conversation as the base of every horse I've started, be it a colt or a problem horse, or just one I'm riding, ever since.

A combination of success and frustration, with each step applying to the one before has helped me create horses that are curious and interested in their work. It has helped me as a rider and trainer, because I've had to develop patience, strategy and a true understanding of what I'm asking for and why before I ever present it to my horse.

Knowing where the feet are, all six of them BTW, how they function as far as movement goes, how to time a release, when to help, when to wait, all of these aspects of riding have come in to play based on tying knots.

I've made plenty of mistakes while I've sorted this out, but because I don't hurry my solutions and horses are such a forgiving lot, I've been able to muddle my way ahead.

This morning I woke thinking about my own knots, the ones I make for myself and the ones presented by the world.

We create the knots, good and bad, for our horses, but we don't have that kind of control with our own. So many of the blocks in front of us when it comes to horsemanship, are created by outside forces.

Recognizing how those knots create the person we are is the key. How that in turn effects how we relate to our horse could be the key to better training.

If I have a big tangled mess in my head and my instinct is to shy away from it, I can bet you the bank it will show up in my training. I'll find myself ducking a problem I really need to handle.

My sticky shoulder-rib issue is a good example. Do I want to give my horse the knot of completing a maneuver in spite of my own crookedness? Maybe. It will only work if I admit that I'm crooked and understand why. Then I can help my horses work out the steps they need to compensate for my problem.

It's much easier to avoid the whole issue and simply demand my horse do as I say, or abandon the problem and say,"We're not good that way."

Thing is, I won't solve my problem. Not only that, I'll create more. I'll teach my horses to rush, to resist, to ignore, or worse, to panic or fight.

Then I'll have very neatly put myself into the position of disciplining, whispering, or trying to understand the emotional trauma my horses went through in their past lives and no longer have to confront my own weakness as their rider.

If I acknowledge my problem, then find a way to let the horse compensate for it we'll both be ahead.

In my immediate tangle, I'm experimenting with large, clear cues with my legs. An open leg forces me to get back and out of the way. It's not pretty, but it is a clear invitation for my horses to untie the knot I've presented. How to cleanly finish a turn through my crookedness.

Have I solved it? Not entirely, but by untying my own knots I'm finding I can keep it honest with my horses.

Hey! Anybody interested in a book club?

I'll reccomend some, you guys certainly can by emailing me at jhuntington@cowhorseart.com We'll decide on which one to read, maybe one a month or so and then discuss it here on the blog, or over at Equine Mind Meld (which I'm loving BTW, you guys are very smart).

I'm thinking they don't have to be strictly about horses. The books could be about understanding human nature, writing technique, anything that leads us back to horses, horseaii and stories.

I have two books I'm interested in right now, "The Sociopath Next Door" by Martha Stout and Mechanically Inclined: Building Grammar, Usage, and Style into Writer's Workshop by Jeff Anderson.

What do you think?

Mouthy Monday

2011-12-26T15:01:00.002-07:00

This exciting story comes from spazfilly at http://spazfilly.blogspot.com. I'm thinking there is an awfully fine writer here.

...............................................................................................................................................................

The easiest thing to forget about the ocean is that it can be heard long before it can be seen. Even from our campsite on the other side of the dunes, the rush and roar was a soft and insistent push on the senses. I heard it as I hoisted myself up onto the back of my four-year-old Thoroughbred gelding, settling in as he sidestepped a little, flicking his ears toward the sound of all that water, more water than he'd ever seen until just two days ago when we arrived. I was so proud of him when he walked into the water on the first try, even though he swayed when the first wave receded, like he might drift out to sea while my father's dunskin filly danced on the shore, unwilling to try out this strange place and its slippery, shifting footing.

We stepped off at a brisk walk toward the dunes, my father in the lead. Following behind, we were a shadow, my horse's black coat soaking up the flat light from the overcast summer sky. Hooves sunk deeply into the sand as we climbed the low rise of the dunes, sparse, wispy grass giving way to miles of beach. The sound of the water washed away the presence of the few other wanderers out for a morning walk clothed in warm sweatshirts and braced against the breeze that felt more October than August.

My horse's nostrils flared, taking in the salt air. It wasn't his nature to frisk, but I felt him alert beneath my legs. He was soft, watching the people and the birds, sidestepping a bit of driftwood here and there, but always flicking an ear back to check that I was with him. I patted him on the neck. Good boy. And then something happened that I should have expected from years and years of preparation. Dad abruptly stuck his heels into his filly's sides and she shot forward as though her tail was on fire. In that moment, a rush of memories came over me.

When I begged for a horse at six years old, Dad made a jar with a picture of a horse that we used to save up with the promise that I could have a horse at 11 if I still wanted one. I went to horse camp for a week and then got a hot, reactive four-year-old Morgan that we had no business owning, but I brushed the barbed wire out of his tail and made him mine. Dad helped me muddle through. He pored over horse books and tried to teach me about animal psychology and how to train animals. He walked down the trail with me, trying to help me not be scared of the horse that shied and jumped at invisible monsters. He eventually bought his own mare after enduring a great deal of preteen disapproval from me at the way he liked to gallop down the trail on my horse, who would come back foaming with sweat but still jigging and pulling at the reins.

There were many times we trail rode together and he took off through the woods with no warning, leaving me to cling to the mane of my wild little horse, white-knuckled until he stopped or I was thrown, whichever came first. Blackberry brambles, mud, creeks, and wild tangles of grass were all places I made crash landings. One time I clutched the pommel of my saddle, crying as he chased my horse around a round pen with a whip because I was afraid to go faster than a trot. My horse whirled through the pen at a canter trailing clouds of dust in his wake. I remember only the pure survival instinct of clinging to my horse's back and waiting for it to end. Stumbling back to the barn, I shook and cried. He left me there, driving home to tell my mother to "go pick up your daughter." I remember his disgust, and insistence that if I were a boy, no one would think he expected too much of me. For him it was about speed, about fearlessness - about the rush of flying through the woods and over any obstacle in his path. I was cautious by nature and because of that I failed him. I hung back. The words "trail ride" soon dropped my stomach into my boots every time I heard them.

Through it all he was, in his own way, trying to share something with me.

But things were different now. I sat on the back of a horse I trained myself, a horse who kept walking as Dad's filly bolted, though I could feel his heart beating through the girth. There was only a moment of hesitation before I put my heels to his sides, crouching low over his neck. He moved out into an easy canter, seeming surprised when I nudged him gently again. We were arena babies, destined for circles and finesse, not for speed. An extended canter was our Mach 10, still carefully regulated down the long side of the arena, each stride measured in the steady rhythm of a rocking chair. On the beach his strides willingly lengthened into a gallop, the snorts of his increased breath echoing over the sound of the waves rushing up to shore. I slid my hands further up his neck, clutching handfuls of his mane and urging him onward, to which he responded with yet another gear, and I learned what it meant to ride a descendant of the great racehorses Man O'War and Bold Ruler. The filly wasn't far ahead now. I could hear her hoof beats slapping against the wet sand, her tail flying out behind her, a black flag.

Our speed tore the air from my lungs, wind tears streaking back into my hairline. They were tears of pure speed, of going faster than I ever imagined as I clung to the back of a thousand pound animal bred for just this - for the beach falling away beneath us as we passed my father, passed people who pointed and stared until it was just us, me and my dark horse a northbound blur caught up in the unbridled joy of togetherness and freedom.

It was finally my turn to be in the lead.

Mort and Merry Christmas

2011-12-23T08:00:00.000-07:00

The heavy clouds had lifted during the night and bitter cold had laid claim to the snow laden ground below.

When I looked out the window, the thermometer showed the temperature hovered just below freezing. I could just see the horses, their shaggy winter coats were puffed out and glittered with a fine shower of ice crystals. They bucked and spun, rearing up at each other in a goofy mock battle, rowdy with the cold and the clear blue sky.

Their play was irresistible. I slid my bare feet into my boots and pulled a jacket over my pajamas. I eased the basement door open and shut it behind me with barely a click. My parents were upstairs and sleeping at the other end of the house, but raising six rowdy children had honed their hearing to razor sharpness, it wouldn't take much to wake them.

I wanted to be alone with my horses and delay the chaos of holiday togetherness. My freshman year of college, and first time away from home,was proving to me how much I still needed my family, but it was my horses, especially Mort, that I had missed the most.

When I slid between the corral rails the horses bolted. They tore up the hill, digging with their front feet, hinds pushing dirt and snow and their tails flagged in fun.

The three of them crowded together, Murray, the flighty Arab, Oakie, my goofy yearling Paint and Mort, playing wild mustang.

He blasted a warning snort at me and I squared off. I spread my feet and bent my knees, my arms spread wide and my hands open.

Mort charged down the hill,leaping in a zig-zag pattern with lightening speed, the other two came racing behind him. He snaked his head and his mouth opened with deadly intent as he approached. He skidded to a stop in front of me with his ears flat against his head. His eyes were wild and steam blew out of his nostrils.

"HA!" I shouted and stood upright, my hands in the air. Oakie and Murray spooked and spun away.

Mort arched his neck and we faced off almost nose to nose.

He blasted me with another snort and snot showered on my face, freezing as soon as it hit. When he reared up to his full height I stepped into him, ducking his front feet and slapping him on the chest.

"HA!" I yelled and stepped to the side as he came crashing down.

He whirled and shot back up the hill, crazy with fun.

We were getting in position for another round, snarling and snorting like two WWE wrestlers in the ring, when I heard a door open with a bang somewhere behind me. Oops.

"Janet! Knock it off! You're going to end up with a hoof planted in your head! Good God!"

I ran for the barn, if I fed and chopped ice it would give Dad time to cool off and hopefully see the humor of the situation. Mort and I had been playing our game for years, it was as inevitable on a cold winter morning as the ache in my fingers from an old case of frostbite.

Poor Dad had about had a heart attack the first time he had seen it and was pretty bent. But jeez, you'd think he'd have gotten over it by now.

I filled up the feeders and gathered up their buckets. A good hot mash was in order for today. It was Christmas after all. I headed to the house, whistling the alto part to the Hallelujah Chorus and banging my buckets in time.

Merry Christmas!!!!

To Smack or Not to Smack, That is The Question

2011-12-21T06:59:00.004-07:00

Becky brought up a good question in the comments the other day.

She wrote: I really expected Tally to get more of a spank for her beady little shark eyes and deliberate attempt to hurt a rider. Would it have been useless, since she was so quick to anger? Is working them really hard really enough of a discipline? When to pick a fight head-on and when to let it go is something that's really confusing me nowadays.

This is a valid point. I am not a believer in making my horse my best friend, at least not on the same plane as I would a human.

With another person, my friendships develop over time. They are made up of give and take, acceptance of each others foibles and flaws and a healthy balance of power. We need to be of enough interest to each other to want to develop and keep the friendship going. I have the choice of keeping or walking away from any human friendship I make.

Life may dictate a human friendship, but I create my friendships with horses. There is a balance of power in my relationship with horses and it definitely leans to my side. I have recently snagged a phrase from ...Kel?, "benign dictatorship," it sums up my approach to horse training nicely.

Horses don't walk in the barn door wanting to become friends and for the most part, neither of us have the choice of walking away. They come in looking for food and then they begin looking for their place in the herd. If I am going to be part of their daily life, then I will become part of the herd. So the battle of muscle and wits begins.

Horses work off of a hierarchy. There's the boss horse, the bottom horse and all the stuff in between. There are enemies, friends, best friends and so on in the herd, but they all behave according to the laws of the pecking order. New relationships begin with the establishment of power, then friendship happens, not the other way around.

I want to be at the top of the pecking order. Period. So there can be various levels of war waged, or simple clarifications, depending on the horse.

If you watch horses in a herd establish themselves there are some basic maneuvers.

The attack with teeth and striking front feet (Charge!).

The kick with the hind feet (Get AWAY)

Running away (Uncle!)

Then there's the passive aggressive portion of herd life.

Getting into each others space (made you move, ha!)

Cutting in line (Hay in the feeders, water in the tub)

Who gets the best grass (wait, I want that)

Who gets to chase who (your friend's not here, your ass is mine)

Dealing with each of these pieces in a way the horse clearly understands puts me quickly on the top of the heap. By understanding the motivation behind each behavior I can keep discipline quick, simple and fair.

I'll go through each one and my response to the situation.

If a horse comes at me (Charge!) I will step in and try to make them think they are going to die. This is the most blatant form of aggression a horse displays and I want to squash it hard and fast.

John Lyons has always maintained you can whomp on them as hard as you want for three seconds, then you need to quit. This is about the time it takes for a horse to make its point to another horse.

I have to be honest here, I'm not coordinated enough to get the job done and keep an eye on my watch. So I go by body language. If a horse is coming at me with teeth or front feet I yell, raise my arms and charge. I will nail said horse with a crop (preferred "teeth") my lead rope, my feet, whatever I need to get my message through. I don't stop until the horse backs off (Uncle!). Then I completely quit. If I'm angry I walk it off, I make sure I've gotten rid of any grudge before I start in again.

There is training that follows this, but I'm sticking to discipline for this post.

Next comes kicking. From a full barreled two legged power thrust to a cow kick when I try to pick up a hind leg or hit a tickly spot, the idea is the same (Get AWAY). my response is, "Not only no, but HELL NO!"

It's vital for my horses to know I can go anywhere I want and touch any part of them I need to. My horse can let me know they are uncomfortable with where I am by stepping away from me, then I'll decide to either respect the request or continue on. My horse cannot kick at me, ever. If it's a double barrel kick then I will respond in kind, with a longe whip becoming my hind legs. I'll whack that kicking sucker until he moves away from me, then I'll immediately stop. Again, I don't continue with training until I'm sure I'm back to the benign portion of my dictatorship.

If I'm dealing with a cow kick I'll slap the offending leg, just once, again with the crop. Then we start over. I've never had this approach fail me.

Now we get to the tricky part (Uncle!). I reward a horse that moves away from me by releasing pressure. In Tally's case she was definitely running away, but she was using it as a form of aggression. She had to have learned the behavior somewhere and it had to have been taught to her by a rider.

Have you ever watched an old cowboy movie where a horse is jumped by a mountain lion? The horse jumps and bucks and screams and if that doesn't work, he runs. Running is a last resort in the horse wars. If the horse happens to knock the mountain lion off his back by running under a tree, he sure isn't going to waste time bucking and jumping the next time. He'll head straight to the tree. The idea is still the same though, running is the last chance a horse sees for an escape.

Tally wasn't screaming Uncle, but she sure wanted to get away. I couldn't let her muddle the situation by worrying about her temper. She needed to find out it was a lot less work to let the rider stay on her back and that no harm would come to her if she did. She didn't understand that people weren't mountain lions. Hitting her would have only strengthened her position.

A more subtle version of Tally's behavior would be a horse that sucks back and pitches a fit when I approach them while tied. If they are really scared, I'll stand quietly until the horse does too. No soothing words, definitely no screaming and I don't back up. I just stand quiet. If the horse comes towards me I'm back to trying to kill it, as soon as it backs away I'm quiet. This usually makes sense to the horse and goes a long way to curing a horse that pulls.

If it's a horse that sucks back because it's a rotten, spoiled booger head, then I'll step in, scream and yell and wave my arms around, while he's pulling. As soon as he settles, even a hair, I quit. Make sure you have a very sturdy rope, halter and tie rail before you try this one, it gets wild. It also works.Again, if he comes toward me I'll thump on him until he gets away from me.

Then we get to the passive aggressive part. If a horse crowds me it's a modified version of "Charge!"
While you won't get hurt by having your space stepped into, the horse will file the small victory away and remember to be even pushier next time. Plus, I know they think it's funny and they laugh at us with all their friends.

I don't usually hit them for this, I raise my hands and snarl, stepping into their space until they back off. I will slap them on the chest with my reins or lead rope, or kick them in the hoof to move the feet if I have to, but normally it doesn't take much.

Shoving their butt into me is a watered down threat to kick. I drive them off.

Walking in front of me through a gate, racing past me when I'm leading them or asking for a stop on the ground, snatching food from my hands, all of these are versions of behaviors that can escalate into danger for me. How do you translate them?

I have mentioned using crops and longe whips as discipline. I also use my reins. I rarely use my heels or spurs and it's even less to get me hauling at their mouths.

A whip drives a horse forward and away. I use it for just those things. My reins do the same.

Spurs and heels are for cues, lift, right and left. I don't use them for forward.

The bit is for communication. If I'm jerking my bit I'm just screaming and yelling, I'm also adding pain. This doesn't help anybody.

I will set my spurs into a lazy, bored, or just ignoring me horse and drive them into my hands. I'll set my hands hard enough to make them feel like they're getting rammed like an accordion. Call it a pissed off half-halt if you will. I'll repeat it until said horse is alert, lively, soft and sorry.

My main form of discipline is more work. If my horses want to ever see their dinner then they'll comply. By building on this premise from day one, they're usually pretty quick to respond after I've pushed them into their tenth or eleventh circle at high speed.

So those are the basics of my benign dictatorship, hope it clears up a few things.

Tally

2011-12-16T10:40:00.004-07:00

When I wheeled into the Big K's my stomach was jumping.

This was a big test for Tally. There was going to be no bail-outs on this ride.

I had called the Big K earlier in the week and asked him what it would take to get him to ride her.

"I'll see if Tyler will ride her," K had said."I'm not particularly fond of that mare and I sure don't plan on getting busted up over her."

"I don't know if it's fair to put Tyler up there."

"You think it's fair for me to crawl up on her but not Tyler? He's the help."

"Good point," I conceded.

"He's younger too."

"You're right."

"He bounces, we don't."

"True."

"He'll think it's fun."

"I get it K, I get it."

"He's cheaper."

"Oooh, you're right K, Tyler's the man for me."

K was right, Tyler was more than a little excited when I asked him to ride Tally. She seemed to appeal to everyone and the general consensus was, 'if Mugs would just step up and ride the hair off her,' she'd be a good horse.

If Tyler could get her ridden down for me he could call me chicken as much as he wanted.

I let him tack her up so he could size her up. I was relieved to see he was approaching Tally like a professional. He wasn't cocky and he wasn't nervous, he got her ready like he expected her to be good, but kept an eye on her.

Tally relaxed into his confidence. Maybe this was going to work.

Tyler led her towards the big outdoor.

"You might want to ride her inside, at least the first time out," I called.

"Okay." Without hesitation, he headed for the indoor arena.

They might want me to step up, but Tyler took me seriously. He wasn't used to seeing me this wound up and my time on Sonita had proven I wasn't easily unnerved.The Big K and I followed on foot. I closed the arena doors while Tyler tightened his cinch.

"Give me a sec, Tyler," I told him, "I'm going to close the doors by the cattle pen."

"Do you think she'll jump?" K asked me, with a worried look on his face.

The gates to the cattle pen were only about a foot higher than the one she had cleared with Crystal.

"I'd feel better if we closed the big doors," I answered.

"I'll get them then" he said and crossed the arena to close the doors.

Tally stood quiet, at ease enough to cock her hip. She looked around when K slid the doors shut, but didn't seem concerned. K stopped and talked with Tyler for a few minutes. I wandered over to pick up on what he had to say.

"Stay deep and don't over ride her."

Nothing new there.

Tyler looked at me, a question in his eyes.

"She's going to try to jump out from under you at some point, she's quick and nobody else has been able to catch her. Once she starts running she really gets going."

"OK, I'll be ready."

He gathered his reins, put his foot in the stirrup and gave an experimental bounce or two. Tally's head came up, but she didn't step away, so he mounted in one smooth motion.

Tally took one step, two, Tyler stayed relaxed and open to her.

I saw it coming.Her eyes went hard and small, I finally understood what Kathy meant went she talked about "shark eyes." I froze as I watched her hind legs step deep underneath her.

K saw it too, there was no freezing on his part.

"Tyler, here it comes," was all he had time to say.

Tyler automatically deepened his seat, pushed his feet father into the stirrups and relaxed his back. Tally bolted forward, leaping into the air in anticipation of a pull.

When none came she shot forward and they were off. She blasted around the arena, once, twice, three times, her legs churning and her speed increasing with every stride.

"Son of a gun," K muttered and gave me a quick glance, "you weren't kidding."

Tyler picked up his inside rein in an attempt to guide her and Tally finally had the fight she had been looking for. She launched into the air again, shaking her head at the contact from the reins. Her balance was off and she teetered for a second with only one hind leg on the ground. Tyler threw his weight into her shoulder and the other three feet crashed back to the ground. Without missing a beat she was running again, this time careening out of control.

She ran straight into the wall, turning at the last second, intent on slamming Tyler's knee into the support beams. Tyler cranked the outside rein and lifted his leg out of the way, he blocked her turn just enough to make her hit with her shoulder instead of him.

She bounced off without thought and raced around blind, the only thing stopping her was when she would hit another wall with a resounding clang.

"Let her head go and find your middle!" K shouted.

My admiration for the young man grew when I saw him loosen his hold and rebalance himself. I couldn't believe he could even hear K, much less be able to let her go.

Tally settled back into her flight around the arena once she had her head back. Tyler found her rhythm and just rode. The dust was so thick it was getting hard to see them, but the pounding of her hooves told us she hadn't begun to tire.

Finally Tally began to slow. They flew past us and a wide grin flashed across Tyler's dusty face. He had her.

"Great, you're doing great," K called, now try and circle her."

Tyler picked up his rein again and this time Tally responded. They galloped a big, loose circle, by the time they made their third loop she had her head down and was working like she should. By the fifth she was chuffing her contended train sound and her eyes had gone soft.

"Wow, she does look good," K said to me.

I went to the bench on the wall and let my knees collapse. My hands were shaking and there were tears in my eyes. I was embarrassed to no end. K gave me a small smile and turned away so I could pull myself together.

"Now that you've got her, let's make her work," K told him," we'll see what Janet has been teaching her."

"Come through the middle and ask her to change," he said. Tally switched her leads in a single smooth and fluid stride. So it began.

The Big K and Tyler put Tally through a solid workout. As her focus shifted more and more to Tyler he stepped up the game. I held my breath when he asked for his first stop. She parked it sweet and solid.When he let her rest for just a split second before he put her back into her lope, the surprised look on her face made me laugh. She wanted to quit.

They stopped some more, then spun, then loped out and did a few turns on the wall. When all opinion was wrung out of her and Tally had given herself completely over to Tyler's legs and hands, K finally said, "OK, let her stop."

Tally stood with her head hanging and her eyes closed. Her sides heaved and the sweat poured off her. Her neck and flanks were covered with foam. I had never seen her so tired. I wanted to step to her head and rub on her, but K stopped me with a look. He knew me way too well.

"That was some amazing riding," I said to Tyler. "What do you think?"

"I think she's fun," he said. Sweat was running down his dusty face making rivulets of mud. his breath was deep but even and his hands were steady. Only a little twitch in his stirrups betrayed the adrenalin still running through him.

"I can ride her for you if you want."

We made our deal and I left her in Tyler's care.

Get Bent

2011-12-14T16:51:00.000-07:00

Before I get started, does anybody know how to combine my Networked Blogs with the Google Followers? It's driving me a little crazy....

Back to Horseville...A few posts ago I was writing about holes. Finding holes in my training or my riding and being able to fix them in order to correct a myriad of mistakes.

What happens if the holes turn into a a giant black swamp thing that swallows you and your horse whole and threatens everything you've ever learned and believed in?

I don't know either. Because I truly believe you can fix just about anything if you can find where the problem starts and deconstruct the mechanics that put it in place.

What do you do if your problem comes back to a core issue that can't be fixed? Like a sluggish back leg that links back to a stifle area, or a stiff poll that is caused by damaged vertebrae.

How about when it's the rider with the permanent issue?

I discussed briefly finding out I was crooked. There were some good tips on straightening up, but the truth is they were a little depressing, because my "hole" is not only permanent, it's progressive. Once I found out what was going on I confirmed the situation with my doctor and then went to fretting about it.

Once I got over the fretting I began to think things through. My physical changes haven't taken away my experience or knowledge. I still have plenty to work with. I still have the feel I've spent so many years developing. It was my feel that made me realize I was in my horse's way and start to track down the issue.

So what do I do about it?

I approach the problem as I would any horse challenge, break it down to the basics and build back up.

I remember that horses are among the kindest and most forgiving animals out there. If I can clearly communicate my needs, a good horse will try to accommodate me.

Horses are much better at accepting new approaches in their relationships with the people who ride them than the riders are.

I have two primary problems. My seat bones no longer distribute my weight evenly in the saddle and my right shoulder is curled forward and down.

These are the issues I have to accept.

The first thing I have done is to begin an exercise program to slow down my crookedness. Walking and yoga seem to be the best for my particular issues. I walk up and down an extremely steep bluff by my house. It has really helped my strength and balance.

The yoga hasn't begun yet. But I think it will help with my straightness.

The next thing I've done is work on ways to clearly communicate with my horses in spite of the problems I'm creating for them.

I have started back at the walk and worked my way though their gaits, turning, stopping and circling while really reaching for the feel of my horse and how she is responding to me.

I have found if I sit lighter in my seat so I'm not communicating as much with my seat bones and use a clear and exaggerated, leg on, leg off cue I'm getting much closer to solving some of my problems. I also am creating pre-cues for both me and my horses that get us ready for my next weight change, or the change in my hip alignment when I pull my shoulder out of the way.

This is a highly personal approach. It can't be taught, it has to be figured out through careful thought and experimentation. I think anyone can do it though.

It takes an honest evaluation of yourself, an understanding how your "holes" are affecting your horse and working out an alternative.

My last thought is this. My horses can jolly well suck it up and figure out what I need, in spite of me.I feed them, vet them, care for their feet and emotional well being. If I need the Primadonna to take a fence turn with me floating out to the right, as long as I've set her up to be able to complete the task at hand, she'd better do it. Dang it.

The young woman in the video is a Para-Olympic competitor. If that kind of riding can't shut me up and put me to work, nothing can.

If I feel myself fading into a big fat pity party, I can remember a few things. I want to ride no matter what. Teaching myself and my horses to get along in the world in spite of ourselves is nothing more than a training challenge. And you know how I love those holes.

So lets give ourselves a break. If we can'tbe perfectly straight, if we can't get the feel we think we should have, then find a new way. It might turn out to be a better one.

2011-12-13T11:11:00.001-07:00

Mouthy Monday on Tuesday

This letter made me feel just great. It's wonderful to know somebody on the other side of the tracks heard me.

My only suggestion to Beth is, next, get rid of the twist completely and try a smooth snaffle.

Thanks for making my day Beth and please call me Mugs...I'm finally shed of the "Mugly."

Dear Mugly,

First off I know this is an extremely late reply to your post on cavessons in FHOTD, but I’m a college student and finals are coming up, so I’m sure you can understand why it’s late. I’ve been a long time reader of your blog , but I've never posted before, but your post about cavessons caused an epiphany of sorts for me. I also used to read FHOTD, but I could no longer stand the mob like mentality of FHOTD. So I switched to you, and your ideas always leave me assessing my own riding/training. FYI this is a rather long e-mail, sorry!

Before I begin, I’ll give you a little background on myself and my horses, which happen to be half-Arabians *insert comment about Arabians here*. I ride just about every discipline, but my main focus is Saddleseat and the hunters * add another comment about saddleseat*. I own two horses, one is a National Show Horse(Arabian x saddlebred)aka Jack, he’s the hunter. The other is my Saddleseat mount, an Arabian x hackney mare, a very opinionated mare at that, but her work ethic is unbeatable, she will go for hours if you ask her too. She’s also the one I always have trouble with when it comes to hardness in the mouth, which I formally attributed to her being a Saddleseat horse, those double-bridles are a lot of hard-ware in their mouth. The national show horse is a wimp and I ride him in a slow twist snaffle, and he’s pretty soft compared to her. Bonnie, the mare, I have to ride in a hard twist snaffle, both are always ridden in cavessons. I’ve ridden my way up from 4-H, up to the Arabian circuit and have done pretty well considering. I’m a ‘do it yourself’ kind of girl, at shows I do all the grooming, feeding, and saddling, I won’t pay someone to do what I can do myself. Call me frugal if you want, but that’s the way I was raised. But most importantly for our purposes, I do all the training, which at first, was much to the annoyance of my barn owner, but now she ask me to ride horses for her. So that makes me feel pretty confident that I’m not totally screwing up my horses. At the barn I keep them at, it was highly suggested *cough*forced*cough* to me to use a cavesson, all the time, every single ride, and those suckers are cinched up tight too. I never questioned their uses and their purpose until now.

A few days after I read your post about cavessons I went out to the barn and no one was there, so that little hamster in my brain started to run. As I was getting out my mare, magically, one neuron fired to another and I thought “hey why don’t I try riding Bonnie without a cavesson?” As I tacked her up, I couldn’t help but think about what a crazy idea this was, there was no way I would be able to ride the entire time without a cavessons, it would just be one big pissing match. Since I thought I was already in for a fight, I decided to put her in a slow-twist copper snaffle instead of her usual sharp twist, what can I say I’m a glutton for punishment. As I walked her out to the arena I sighed as I swung my butt up into the western saddle, grumbling “this is going to be fun” to myself. I wondered why I ever thought to try this. I mean, I like Mugly ideas, but she only rides quarter horses, not Arabians! They’re totally different! All of these reasons of why it wouldn't work ran through my head. So I gathered by reins, geared up for the ensuring fight, and waited for her to bust through my hands and stick her nose out. But to my complete and utter shock, she gave to my hands and went off quietly, soft and willing in my hands.

I’m pretty sure I had to scrape my jaw off the arena floor; my mare hadn’t been this soft since those first months of training. Being the pessimist that I am, I figured that she would only be soft at a walk, so I pushed her into a trot, and I got the same lightness and ease as I got at the walk. I didn’t get it; she was soft in my hands, she didn’t gape her mouth, she wasn’t evading my legs or hands, she happily moved off my legs and seat, she was being perfect.

I just could understand it, was this really my horse? The heavy, touchy mare was gone; instead I had a happy, soft horse. I pressed my outside leg into her for the canter, which normally is freight train time for us, but this time she just flowed into it. I was doing lead changes, stops, pivots, side-passing, backing, anything I could think of to see if it was just a fluke. But it wasn’t, my mare was soft; she was soft in a slow twist snaffle, which is something she hadn’t been in two years. My gelding was the exactly same way, soft and happy.

A little side note, but I tried this idea on a mare who has a habit of flipping over when she feels trapped, which is often, I'm crazy I know. She's heavy in the mouth as my own mare, and when she feels trapped watch out! Its like a nuclear explosion. So I removed the cavesson, but a simple snaffle on, again wondering if I was headed for an early grave, but again it was like someone had sprinkled her with fairy dust, she was fine. She didn't feel panicked or trapped, I amazed me to think that something as simple as removing a cavesson could fix the problem of flipping, that a a good crack on her butt! She's been fine ever since I loosened/removed the cavesson. So Mugly I though you should know that you saved a good horse from going to an auction, and most likely the slaughter house.

So long story short, it worked, it really worked. (Sorry it was so long!) To be honest I kind of laughed when I read your article, and thought to myself “yeah right, come ride MY horse, she’ll show you!” Well I guess she showed me! Thank you for opening my eyes to what my horses have been trying to tell me, they don’t need all that hardware to perform. It wasn’t my horses being nasty and hard just because, they where looking for an escape from the pressure of the cavesson. Looking back I was just being lazy. I won’t say that I won’t every ride with a cavesson again, because, well that’s a lie, I simply apart of the world I ride in. But now I know that I really don’t need it, and that my horse doesn’t need to either. You got a person who shows Arabians to change their mind about cavessons, whats the world coming too?!

So here’s to you Mugs, thank you for showing me that just because everyone else thinks something works or is right, doesn’t mean it is.
Sincerely,
Beth
P.S
The picture is of my two horses, the bay is the mare, the paint is the gelding

DixieAnne

2011-12-09T07:40:00.187-07:00

It was my first "real' training job.

I was the official trainer and riding instructor at a small boarding and breeding barn in Green Mountain Falls CO.

The couple that owned the stable was friendly, outgoing and opinionated. The Chief and Madge were strong believers in the foundation lines of quarter horses and students of primitive color. They stood a buckskin stallion and bred for color.

The look of their horses was a familiar comfort and they were patient with my lack of experience in the current show world. I was good enough to run a small group of students, could start a nice colt, work with a rank broodmare and was more than willing to learn the ropes from the young trainer that was preparing their stud for the IBHA show circuit . We seemed a good fit.

One of my first duties was to work with Madge and her mare DixieAnne.

"DixieAnne is a special case," the Chief told me. "She's a well bred mare, with plenty of Poco Bueno top and bottom. She seems to have some problems with her way of going. Madge is extremely fond of her and wants to show her, but they've got a long way to go before we can put them in the ring."

Madge came into the barn with a proud strut, leading a coarse, large boned mare with a pretty face and a bright expression. The mare's shaggy winter coat hid her so-so build, but her extreme cowhocks were a standout no matter what the season. Her tongue was in constant motion. It worked busily around her muzzle, reaching for the shanks of the mechanical hackamore, wiping out her nostrils, or just wagging back and forth, slinging a steady stream of slobber.

"This is my DixieAnne," Madge shouted. Her wizened, monkey face lit up as she slapped the pale dun mare's neck. "Isn't she something?"

I took a sip of my coffee in order to delay making any comments that could end my job before it had really started. I scrambled to find some suitable compliments. DixieAnne didn't seem bothered by Madge's habit of hollering every word that came out of her mouth. She even seemed to enjoy Madge petting her with the same enthusiasm, whacking her hard on the neck, shoulder and butt while cutting loose with her air horn praise, "Good girl, DixieAnne, good girl!"

"She seems like a nice, level headed horse." I managed.The mare stepped into me and used her bony head to whack my hand so hard she flipped my cup of very hot coffee back into my face. I was saved from being burned by the spit bath that covered me. The malicious gleam in DixieAnne's eye told it wasn't the first time she had played this little prank.

"Ha!" Madge cut loose with a pleased belly laugh."Isn't she something? I've always said, if DixieAnne came from a litter of puppies she'd be the funny spotted one."

"Uh, yeah, could you maybe back her off a step or two?" I asked. "Why don't you crawl up there and show me what she can do."

Madge led DixieAnne out into the arena and I watched her mount up. The mare stood with all four feet planted while Madge dragged herself up, but the tongue never let up. She rode off quiet and willing.

The Chief stayed with me in the center of the ring. DixieAnne had the weirdest hitch in her getalong I had ever seen. She wasn't limping, she was kind of rolling along, loose jointed and relaxed, yet all four legs were completely out of sync. She weaved and wobbled between the reins, every bit the stagger of an old drunk with one too many under his belt. Madge gathered up her reins and got ready to trot.

"Wait til' you see this," the Chief said with a grin.

DixieAnne wan't trotting, she had sped up her shambling walk, head bobbing first, her tongue began running over her muzzle even faster and foam began flying before she broke into a true, lateral pace. The pace had none of the flow of a Foxtrotter, the strides in the back were shorter than the front and her front legs moved out slightly out of sync with each other.

"What is she doing?" I was in absolute awe.

"We sure as hell don't know," Madge bellowed, "but let me tell you, it hurts!"

"We bought her as a broodmare," the Chief told me, "so her way of going shouldn't have been a problem, but then Madge took a shine to her and decided she wants to show her."

I had nothing. My mind refused to acknowledge what my eyes were seeing and my ears were hearing.

Madge brought DixieAnne up to us and yelled "Whoa!"

DixieAnne stopped a foot from my face and went in for the head butt. I was on to her now and jumped back before she got me. The Chief and Madge laughed with delight.

"Get on her and give her a whirl," the Chief said.

"You've got to feel it to believe it!" Madge shouted.

I was relieved when, other than a few friendly swipes of the tongue DixieAnne stood quiet while I adjusted my stirrups. There were manners in there somewhere.

We rode off at a walk and I couldn't believe what I was feeling. Everything moved out of sync, from the head bob, through her shoulders and hips to her legs.

When I asked for a trot the pace was bone rattling and my back began to seize in protest. After a few laps around the arena I sucked it up and cued for a lope.

I almost fell off.

I was riding an old hay truck, stuck in second gear, down a steep hill.

"Good God Almighty," I said. The Chief and Madge were laughing so hard they had to hold each other up.

We tried the other lead and I got more of the same. At least she was consistent.

I finally asked her to stop, well, maybe begged her to stop, and she parked it very nicely.

"What exactly do you want me to do with this horse?"

The Chief was suddenly all business. "Why, train her of course. Teach her to walk, trot and lope like she's supposed to."

"I'm going to need to have regular lessons too," Madge shouted. "I'm planning on cleaning up at the IBHA shows!"

My life flashed before my eyes.

Larry Trocha and Keeping It Honest

2011-12-07T07:56:00.001-07:00

Anon said : Mugs - speaking of Larry Trocha what's your take on him? I have always wondered. I have been reading his stuff for awhile and mostly dig the guy. Do you have any personal experience with him?

I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT TO ADD THESE

Part of why I did the Larry Trocha spiel was to share these videos.

His colt starting is very similar to mine, except I don't do the longe line part. I'll get somebody to pony me sometimes.

Notice there's none of this lope the first ride stuff? I like that too. I have loped my first ride, but only if that's where the colt chose to go.

I like the way he gains control using turns on the fence. It seems more productive than my way of bending in circles. That little horse is already using his hind end.

-Smoke, 3rd time saddled:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&feature=endscreen&v=7-fQuJwcUHg

Smoke, being ridden on lunge line:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&feature=endscreen&v=JdoUOWD5Lqc

Smoke, firt ride with NO lunge line:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WU5DjlsslsI&feature=related

Smoke, the 7th ride:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TgomApAZKQI&feature=related

I also wrote a "Horse Training Tips Insider" newsletter about the "Time Frame"
of training a colt.

You can read it here:
http://www.horsetrainingvideos.com/horsetraining-timeframe.htm

I have been a supporter and promoter of Larry Trocha for many years.

When I first started training horses "officially" I was in way over my head. I was riding a bad tempered, poorly handled stud and the only thing I knew about the events I was supposed to ride him in, or stallion management, was that I didn't have a clue.

I was working with a competent trainer, but I felt like a complete gunzel and desperately wanted some more input.

I read every book and horse magazine I could find, but it wasn't enough. One day I read an ad in a magazine for a free training video. A cutting trainer in California, Larry Trocha, was offering a free video called "How to Slide, Stop and Spin."

Free was in my budget so I sent away for the video without any high hopes. How good could it be for free?

I was delighted. I completely understood his approach and was able to apply a lot of what he said to what I was learning with the trainer.

When tax return time came around I looked at his video packages and couldn't quite find what I needed, so I called Trocha training stables to see what it would take to get what I needed.

Larry answered the phone, which kind of threw me. "It's a slow day and the gal who takes care of the business side of things is off today. How can I help you?"

I told him the situation I was in and he helped me put together a great video package. Before we finalized the deal he asked me what my background was. I told him I had studied Monte Foreman's training methods under Mike Craig and had spent one long summer cleaning stalls for Monte in exchange for one, 8 hour day riding with him.

He laughed and said, "That sounds like Monte."

I asked if he knew him and it turns out he was a student of his.

No wonder I got all his concepts about rhythm and timing! We got to talking some more and it turns out we were both there the same summer. I was shoveling and he was riding. He was one of those kids who kept his horse there and rode with Monte daily. One of the kids I was so jealous of I would have spit if I hadn't been choking on my own bile.

The tapes helped me immensely and as the years passed and I finally became competent, I still bought his videos. I've used Larry's tapes for cow work and hackamore training. We have emailed back and forth occasionally and although I don't know him, he's always come across as a friendly, accessible guy.

I would kill to actually ride with him someday.

Larry and I don't train the same, but he's as close as I get to somebody you can buy a video from. I think he's easy to understand and honest in his opinions. I also get the impression he doesn't give a rat's ass about public opinion, he just wants the horse to get trained and for everybody to stay safe.

So here's where I make a slick segue into my next subject - keeping it honest.

One of the biggest traps we trainers fall into is trying to keep everybody happy and to act like we know all the answers for every situation.

Just because I know how to start a colt and train a cowhorse does not mean I can watch a rope horse go and understand why the horse had a slower time than the one before it. Beyond, 'it runs out of the box and the rider catches the cow,' I'm ignorant. I could no more help that rider improve his score by watching his run than I could teach a Mahout how to cheer up a grumpy elephant.

If I keep it honest I could help a roper with horsemanship skills, trouble shooting and behavior issues. I could help limber the horse up and teach him to take both flipping leads, if that's what was wanted.

If I was smart I would get the roper to help me build a loop, explain the difference between a good run and a bad one, why they ride long in the stirrup and what's different between their roping saddle and my cutter.

This still wouldn't make me an expert, but I would have an idea of what was involved in the sport and could provide better training if I got a rope horse in to work.

The next side of keeping it honest is to find my "holes." I just love finding holes. I found a great one this past summer while I was out riding with the Big K.

I have been having a heck of a time with the right side of my horses. From the nose, to the rib, to the haunch, Madonna and Odin have been slow, stiff and sticky. Fence turns were slow and awkward to the right and smooth to the left. When I was cutting, Madonna was stopping short on her cow to the right and kind of slinging herself through the turn.

I knew it was me, but I couldn't figure out where it was. I had friends and family watch me ride and nobody could see anything. My hips were straight and my legs were even. I rode looking through her ears like I was supposed to.

I emailed and called the Big K but he couldn't figure it out either. It was really frustrating.

Then I went to visit K at his ranch.

Five minutes into our first ride he said, "Why Janet, you're crooked."

"Not!"

"Yes you are."

"Where?"

Turns out my hips and legs, head and neck are even. But my right shoulder has begun to curl in and has also dropped a couple of inches. Kind of like I'm looking to the left, but I'm not. This was causing me to very effectively block my horses right shoulder.

"I wonder what caused that?" I said.

"I don't care, just quit doing it," Mr. Communication replied.

If I had fallen into the easy trap of hiding my weakness it would have caused me all kinds of problems down the road. Hiding a problem I'm having from my clients (back in the day when I still had clients) and especially from myself, can only hurt my horse's performance, physical ability and mind.

I'll use my weird twist as an example. If I had been dishonest with myself I would have blamed my horses. I would have rammed and jammed on them and forced them to work their way through my weakness. They would have eventually done what I said, but it would teach them to tune or what I was saying to them with my body.

Why listen to any of my cues when they only meant something one way? I would have ended up relying on hands and spurs more and communication less. This creates resentment on both our sides and eventually is how horses are labeled untalented, difficult or sometimes, dangerous.

You also can't get in the money riding that way.

Over the years I have learned the hard way to keep it honest with my horses. I've paid my price for thinking I had the answers when I didn't, and by learning to ask for help, I've started to get the answers to quite a few of my questions.

I just love finding holes.

Mouthy Mondays

2011-12-05T07:39:00.001-07:00

We seem to have a few new readers. Yip!
I thought I would explain some of the Mouthy Mondays guidelines, as a refresher for a lot of us and as new information for those who are interested.

I love stories. I like telling them, sharing them and hearing them. Mouthy Mondays is your chance to share.

It's all about the story here. Please don't duck out on telling us a good tale because you're afraid of your ability to write. This is a conversation and and if there is an argument or criticism from the readers it will be about content or opinion, won't be about how it's presented.

The only editing I ever do is to break things up into easy to read, short paragraphs. I hit spell check too, in case you forgot. That's all.

I have never had to edit the comments before, although I may have spammed a malcontent or two, but I'll start if the comments take a turn to the fugly, er, ugly. We disagree, argue and discuss here, but we don't attack. Ever.
Let us know who you are, give me your blog or site address and we'll make sure to post it.
So feel safe and please share. We can't wait to read your stories.

This story comes from Kelly.

***********************************************

I first got on a horse at the age of 6. His name was Ginger and he was beautiful. Though I didn't ride with him long (we moved country) I rode on and off constantly from that time, but somehow I never became properly "into horses" until I reached the relatively late age of 17.

This was also when I realised that for all my years of riding I was, essentially, rubbish.

I was looking for activities to boost my University application and a local stables for disabled riders needed volunteers, so I started to work there. This was the first time I'd really spent time looking after and getting to know a small group of horses. I grew to know each little quirk and character. I became steadily more and more obsessed with them. As a lucky bonus for my volunteer work one of the girls who was training to be an instructor used to give me the odd free lesson so she could practice her lesson plans. One day she came out with the words that changed my riding forever "Haven't you been riding since you were like 6?" "Yeah?" "It's just that, well, you really should know a lot more than you do".

I had had my suspicions that the stables where I rode wasn't great, it wasn't easy riding in a group of 13 riders in a 40x20m school, not to mention how often it happened that you would be introduced to a lovely but naughty horse to ride, spend lesson after lesson hitting the dirt and climbing back up, working on this horse with all your heart for the 60minutes you had with him, only to find a few months down the line, when you really thought you were getting somewhere, that the horse was sold and you were to ride a new green thing that they'd bought.

My new school was worlds apart, I'd never actually seen an instructor get on a horse and ride before. Nor had I ever had a lunge lesson. For months my instructor tore apart what I'd been taught; I knew how to sit a buck, I was eager and confident to canter and jump, but I knew none of the basics, the only way I knew to communicate with the horse under me was with huge ungainly kicks and unnecessary yanks of the reins. I was put on horses that knew better, horses who were trained well beyond any standard I'd ever ridden, horses that could teach me.

Then, one lesson, I was introduced to Bottom.

Not the most attractive name for a pony, not the most attractive pony either. He was a scruffy looking chestnut, and he was the most sensitive horse I have ever met. Not his mouth, that was fine, but to weight aids, you could not even glance the wrong way without sending this boy off course. Honest to god I'd be surprised if we spent more than 5 minutes of that first hour together actually going where we were meant to go. Were I more confident in my abilities I probably would have thought him an incredibly naughty horse, but by this point I was quite used to the fact that everything I thought I knew about riding was wrong. Yanking on the right rein and collapsing at the hip had always managed to turn the horses at my old stable right, but Bottom started walking sideways....to the left. I came away from that first lesson determined to figure him out. Up till now I had been merely sitting on horses, but there was a whole world of "real" riding that I didn't know yet, and Bottom was my key!

My instructor was kind enough to put me on him for pretty much every lesson for the next year or so, at first improvement was slow, but gradually I learned to feel where my weight was going, I got a feel for when I wasn't quite centred, when to put more weight onto this seat bone, or into that stirrup. I also learned that he had a wicked buck when he wanted to, and how to make sure he was listening enough to me so that I wouldn't have to experience said buck.

Some time later my instructor decided to hold a small informal dressage competition, open to anyone from our stables. I had never competed in anything before but I decided this was as good a time as any. A year before I would have thought completing any level of dressage test on this wobbly little pony was impossible, I was nearly right, he suddenly decided there were horse eating monsters in the corner of the school (yes, the same one we rode in every Thursday night together) and that the judge would appreciate a show of his jumping abilities...over her foot, which happened to be just sticking into the edge of the school.
Despite it all we placed second; "a good ride on an obviously difficult pony"

There it was; "a good ride". My good ride.

I still don't own a horse, I still spend far more time than any reasonable 22 year old should reading up on horses and dreaming. But one day it will happen. And when it does I'm sure I'll have just as much to learn and relearn as I did 5 years ago!

Good Morning! Or What I Learned at FHOTD

2011-12-02T08:54:00.000-07:00

Whew. I am so glad to be home!

I missed you guys so much.

My stint in over at Styx...I mean FHOTD taught me a ton.

Some bad, some good, all of it a definite benefit for our blog, Mugwump Chronicles.

I've been immersed in the world of snark long enough I might as well purge myself and talk about the bad first thing.

Writing over there was a lot like herding ADD, rabid, feral cats. Trying to dodge all the infected claws made me start to want to bite back. I'm not that kind of writer, horseman or person.

I was continually amazed at how so many readers were intent on dissecting my presumed bias, my writing style, my lack of education (how the hell did they find out I never made it past the 2nd grade and the only training background I have is from Earl Bob's Fourth Generation Parreli Video School?).

It got to where I was throwing in a bone of contention just to see if anybody could read past it to find my real point.

Although it was amusing, at least to me, I was pretty disheartened to see how few actually figured out the direction of my posts.

My life training horses has changed me on every level. I became kinder, more thoughtful, more open to all aspects of life. I'm nice to dogs, kids and people with different perspectives.

I know many an old cowboy who can't spell worth a damn who can train circles around me and most of those who think they know horses. As you guys know, on this blog, I have always wanted to hear from everyone with a story to tell or some training advice and have never allowed any criticism of how they might string a sentence together.

Part of my reasoning goes back to my opinion that horse training isn't rocket science and the education needed to truly become Horsaii doesn't come from books. It has paid off and we've always gotten wonderful input over here from people from all walks of life.

The sheer anger emanating from so many of the posters really threw me. How can you be successful in centering yourself with your horse and not have it seep out to the other living, breathing beings around you? Serial killers start by burning ants with a magnifying glass and build from there. Just sayin'.

What did I like? The discussions in the comments. They would start by screaming and bashing and jumping up and down. Then a few people would start to defend me.

Then the personal,back and forth bashing would commence.

After the slap fest died down an actual conversation would begin. This is where I loved it. There were great ideas and thought provoking insights, there were people who began to look at different aspects of things and intelligent discussion.

That is the part I would like to see over here. I'd like to have more conversation with you guys, more arguments, more opinions. I don't see why we can't and still avoid the fisticuffs.

While Cathy was heading FHOTD I steered away from her subject matter, just as a courtesy. Now, I see no reason to hold back from expanding our horizons. The slaughter debate, bad training methods, current breeding practices, all of these things interest me and I'd like to be more pro-active in writing about them.

Being a typical Mugwump, I can't just come out throwing my opinions around. I'd rather do the research, present both sides and learn from you guys. So I'm looking into adding a current events page. We'll cover the good, the bad and the WTH? parts of the horse world.

It will be in addition to, not taking away from our old format. I have to admit, while it's kind of scary over there, those posters kept me on my toes. I think I was needing a kick in the butt and some new insight to keep the Chronicles fresh and exciting.

Also, I want to get the Equine Mind Meld up and running. We'll present a training question and get input from everybody, different approaches, different ways of untying the knot. This has been a personal pet project of mine for a long time and I'm ready to start playing with it.

Because I'm a complete computer boob, I'll be asking you for help on getting all this stuff set up, but I think it will be worth it.

There are some great people who read FHOTD. I hope some of them stop by and join in on our kinder, gentler sight.

I'm looking forward to a new site design, hopefully with easy to read and cruise additions. Any ideas on how we can expand and grow are welcome.

I can't tell you how nice it is to be able to barf on the keys again and tell you anything that comes to mind.