Glories on the Horizon

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About a year ago, I started looking for a riding instructor.  I had made a decision that I was going to learn how to ride a horse and I was determined to stick to it. I think it must have been one of those sleepless moonlit night sorts of things, when you gaze out the living room window and your imagination runs wild. Grandiose thoughts take over your brain:  why, with enough work and the right instructor, I could be eventing within a year. Or at least stay mounted at the canter.

Or maybe I wanted to learn to ride because Napoleon rode horses. Here is a famous painting depicting Napoleon crossing the Alps:

Fantasy

Ha. It’s fantasy.  The reality was closer to this:

Reality

Napoleon was a bona fide military genius, of course. Can’t take that away from him. But he was also a bona fide marketing genius.

My riding experience thus far has been closer to this Goofy video.  The video is something like 8 or 10 minutes long, worth every second of course, for the deeper truths it tells. The part on how to post at the trot has special significance to me. But you can skip it if you don’t have the time. We all kind have an idea of what Goofy is all about.

Goofy How to Ride a Horse

Anyway, my experience at Karin’s Horse Connection has been something between Bonaparte’s magnificent white charger myth and his practical mule reality. It’s been mostly work, but there have been moments of glory. At least this kind:

One Kind of Glory

In the fantasy painting, we see Napoleon point upward. This was to symbolize victories to come. Here, in true Napoleonic fashion, I raise my spoon to future equestrian glory.

If nothing else, it’s been a lot of fun so far. Karin’s Horse Connection is very fun place to learn about horses and how to ride them.

More on that next time.

Yeah, I made it to Rolex all right...

Bonus Animals

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One of the great things about being an equestrian is bonus animals. These are the guys that hang around the periphery of horse life – most typically minor predators such as dogs & cats, but other things too.  Horsepeople are a kind of subset of animal people and it all sort of goes into one pot. So to speak.

In addition to companionship, bonus animals have obvious practical use in a barn setting. The cats keep control on the vermin and dogs are great early warning systems against bear attack.

I like using cats as a point of reference while riding in the indoor arena.  It helps me think ahead and stay in control.

Okay, we’ll change directions and trot after we pass the cat.

Not too long ago, we got a chance to experience some great bonus animals during a visit to a place I call “Laurie’s House”.  It should have an official name and maybe it does.  Laurie’s House is a very old, very well maintained farmhouse east of Grand Rapids.  The house is museum-like in its preservation and is well documented with records and photos of the original owners, which Laurie shared with us on our visit.

The outside part of the property was the most fascinating part. Almost surreal. It sits on the top of a riverbank overlooking dozens of rolling acres.  It was beautiful – even for February.  I would like to go back when all the foliage is out.  I’m afraid that right now I don’t have any photos that would do the place justice.

We came to see these guys of course:

But it was the bonus animals, that really got my attention.

Here is a pack of minor predators in action. That’s a deer leg in that dog’s mouth.

Welcome to life in the country.

These were especially interesting bonus animals:

Laurie and some of her bonus animals

It’s their eyes, I think. They are just so aware and expressive.  I was half-expecting this one to say something to me.

The straw in the mouth visual reinforces the causal, laid-back country feel to the place, don’t you think?

Oh yes, we’re going back.

Second Nature

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Lesson #21 is turning out to be a repeat of Lesson #20.  I’m riding Charley again, the morning is beautiful again and I just want to ride and not work again. Karin is giving me plenty of time just to freelance around the arena. I wish Charley would bolt, jump the fence and take me into the woods for a ride.

Not really. I’m sure he could bolt and jump the fence. But I’m equally sure that by the time he got to the woods I wouldn’t be there for the ride.

But a pleasant jaunt down a woodland path does sound nice. For now, I have to settle for taking the Morgan to “A”.  And then turn the corner and direct him to “H”. I have nothing against letters. It’s just that I prefer the trees.

I know I can’t go out there yet. I have stay and work in this equestrian laboratory. The formula isn’t strong enough for the woods and I have to perfect the elements.

This doesn’t stop my mind from wanting to drift. It’s that kind of day. I would just as soon let Charley make the decisions so that I could just coast along.

I think about when I learned how to type in the 8th grade. It was done through drill and repetition: “h  h  h  h  h … a  a  a  a  a”.  It was as if we were teaching each of our fingers what letters they would be responsible for.  After a time, the brain to finger connection got so strong that typing words and full sentences became second nature. Now, I can sit at the keyboard and without looking down, my fingers go right to the correct letters and I am able to focus on the words I want to say and on the ideas I want to express – not on what my fingers are doing.

What I want is to relax. What I need is control. They aren’t mutually exclusive, of course. In fact, there is a synergy between the two and they eventually meld into one thing. But first, the elements have to become second nature.

So on to “H” we go, Charley. I say it with my legs.

 

Good Moods

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For Lesson #20 Karin gave me the choice between Maree, the little Quarter horse and Charley, her Morgan. She must have been in a good mood, because Charley is her baby.

I took Charley.  I was in a good mood too. Charley is a good mover. While it’s still early in my equestrian career, I’ve been at this long enough to know that when you’re in a good mood you want a good mover.

Charley was in a good mood too. He had just finished his breakfast and was very much looking forward to going outside. He was on the cross ties with a saddle on, people were around, one of them had a helmet on and no doubt he was able to add all this up.

The reason for all these good moods was obvious. It was a gorgeous morning, warm and sunny.  Part of this bizarre chunk of summer that got dropped in between our Michigan winter and our Michigan spring.  Outside was the place to be.

It was our first lesson in the outdoor arena in several months. Karin warned me that Charley might be a bit exuberant at first.

“We can do some cantering, but do you mind going on the longe line?”

Mind? I demand it!

“Sure, Karin, I guess that would be okay.”

“Good.  First, walk him around the arena a bit and just enjoy the morning.”

Really, this is always my favorite part of the lesson. The relaxed, low pressure communing between horse and rider.  And nature. She was in a good mood too.

As Hiliary snapped photos of the three of us, she suggested that I might really like trail riding.

“I’m sure I will H. Just gotta up my skills a bit first.”

Karin put us on the longe line and we trotted and cantered.  I think Charley was enjoying it and probably would have galloped given half a chance. I was working hard enough that I had to take off my sweatshirt. A short sleeves ride in March. Wow.

Both Karin and Hiliary attempted to provide some instruction, but I was having too much fun to listen.

I can “up my skills” next time.

Stretching Truths

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Hiliary came with me on Lesson #20 to take photos.  H is a Physical Therapy Assistant and whenever I complain about being sore after a lesson, she says things like:

“You should work your bi-deltoids and interior flexors more. And if you’re going to ride horses, you need to stretch out your maximal incisors of the upper tarsal. And don’t bounce.”

So before we left the house for Lesson #20, I asked her about stretching again. I wanted to behave responsibly.

Groan. Sigh. Groan again.

Hiliary got to our house a few minutes early and planted herself on the couch in the Semi-Fetal It’s Too Early For Conscious Thought position. I had been scrambling around the house, getting ready for my lesson, having already eaten two breakfasts, posted on the blog and downed four cups of coffee.  I had been up for three hours.

“C’mon H.  C’mon. Just show me a couple of things. Just five minutes…”

Hiliary pushed herself up off the couch and cupped her forehead in her hand.

“Oh… all right… all right.”

She spent the next ten minutes demonstrating basic stretching exercises, reminding me each time not to bounce.

I’m not sure why I bounce when I stretch. I think maybe it’s because it seems unnatural to me to take all the trouble getting into a position and then not do anything. Or maybe it was the four cups of coffee.

When we got to the barn, we resumed stretching. I tried to remember not to bounce and did my best to hold the position for an appropriate amount of time.

Karin saw what we were doing and, as instructors are wont to do, took advantage of the teaching moment.

“Here, use this.” Karin pointed to a mounting block near her barn desk. Then she demonstrated a different sequence of stretching, but no doubt going after those same interior bi-upper flexors Hiliary had been talking about. There’s more than one way to skin a cat. Although, it’s never been entirely clear to me why you even need one.

Karin pulled out her balancing board. “Have you been using this?”

“As a matter of fact, I haven’t, Karin.”

“Didn’t you read the book I gave you?”  She was referring to Ride Right with Daniel Stewart.  Apparently balancing board exercises are in this book. How could I explain to her why Bubba to the Rescue took priority over Daniel Stewart?

“Yes, I’ve started it.”

“You’ve read a quarter of a page, probably.”

Actually, that was a little generous. I haven’t gotten past looking at the photos of the people yet. I get a little distracted, wondering who these people are and what’s happened to them since the picture was taken. I hope they’re all okay.

Anyway, we worked on the balance board for a bit. I sort of like it. Karin threw stuff at me while I was on there.

There was nothing systematic about any of this. Nothing like a list of things that I could use as a routine part of my program.  Maybe I’ll get that from Daniel Stewart’s book.

But I tell you what: it was enough. For the first time since I started riding last June, I was not sore after my lesson.  And I wasn’t sore the day after my lesson. Nor the day after the day after.

This stuff really works.

Next time, I’ll tell you about Lesson #20. It was a good one.

Bubba the Educator

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I had four horse books lined up to read this winter: Ride Right With Daniel Stewart, Centered Riding by Sally Swift, Horses I’ve Known by Will James and Bubba to the Rescue by Jennifer Walker. I’m not sure what I’ve been doing all winter, but spring is here already and I’ve only got to one of these. And that would be the Bubba book.

As you may have surmised, Bubba to the Rescue is a kid’s book. I’m thinking pre-teen age bracket.  So, I presumed that out of the four books, I would learn the least from this one. However, I did not take into account that when it comes to the art and science of equestrianism, I am actually at a pre pre-teen level. Maybe even a pre-pre pre-teen level.

The main character, Leslie, is a teenaged girl who has horses. For a pre-teen, there is nothing cooler in the universe than a teenager. And for horse crazy girls, there is no cooler teenager than one who has her own horse.

All the stuff you would think belongs in a book for girls in this age group is there: school, boys, boy problems, making up with the boy, a BFF, a fight with the BFF, making up with the BFF, Christmas dance drama, cliques and a mean girl. But the book also deals with heavier adolescent issues such as dealing with a loss of a parent, serious injury to an animal and even touches – ever so lightly – on the subject of abusive boyfriends.

Even with all of that, Bubba to the Rescue is definitely a horse-centered book.  Walker laces the narrative with all kinds of solid equine information and examples of good horsemanship. We learn the proper way to tie up a horse.  Leslie and her friends wear helmets when they ride. They check the girth before mounting.  They allow their horses to cool off after a long, hard ride before putting them in their stalls.  We learn first aid for burns. We learn the signs of colic, why it can be serious and how it’s treated. We learn the difference between riding saddle seat and riding hunt seat.

Anyone can write a book or movie script and throw horses into the milieu as interesting decorations. And the result – much to chagrin of knowledgeable horse people (I hear them complain all of the time about this) – is misleading impressions or downright inaccurate information.  That’s the last thing horses need from us.  Most of the suffering domesticated horses experience under our care is due to just plain ignorance.

Jennifer Walker is obviously a real horseperson.  Her ability to seamlessly weave all this education into an entertaining story is why I’m going to get all the books in this series and save them for the day when my grandchild is ready.

Now let’s see if Daniel Stewart and Sally Swift can teach me something as well.

For more reviews and info on Bubba to the Rescue, check out Jennifer Walker’s Virtual Book Tour.

Jennifer Walker

 

The Routine Again

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A few technical problems kept me from posting for the last two weeks.  I didn’t like not doing it. And I had to postpone my riding lesson with Karin the week before. Didn’t like not doing that either. But, I’m back up – on both the horse and computer – and I declare the routine reestablished.

For Lesson #19, I found myself on Krystal, Karin’s Percheron-Thoroughbred. I think she’s around 19 years old. Krystal is a good girl, but from what Karin says, this was not always the case. She was quite a handful for her previous owner. She was pushy and ill mannered (the horse). And she rarely related to members of her own species without her ears being pinned straight back. Krystal was a surly adolescent who needed structure and discipline.

                          Krystal

When Karin took Krystal in, she quickly established some boundaries with the horse. She also provided Krystal with a consistent routine which included pasturing with the same group of horses every day. With this stability, Krystal’s more obnoxious habits disappeared and Karin discovered Krystal’s Inner Sweetheart.

Karin and Krystal have a breakfast meeting

Krystal was very patient with me. Which was good, because I was more than a bit rusty after the lay-off. I was bound and determined to keep those heels down, no matter what else went on. The problem was that too much else was going on.

I got Krystal to trot without any problem. But I couldn’t keep her going because I kept inadvertently pulling back on the reins. Mainly because I was obsessed with my heels. Krystal naturally took this as “stop trotting” now. We repeated this pattern several times. And my feet came out of the stirrups altogether on more than one occasion. We just couldn’t get in sync.

There was no sense in me getting angry and frustrated with the horse. It would be like thinking there was something wrong with your car’s engine because the vehicle slows down as you apply the brakes. Imagine the conversation with the mechanic:

“Um … I think there’s something wrong with my transmission.”

“Why do you think that?”

“The car slows down when I apply pressure to the second gas pedal.”

Yeah, there’s something wrong with your transmission, all right. “No problem, I can take of that for you for $800.”

The Old Krystal would have rubbed me off on the arena walls. But she’s a good girl now and just kept trying.  Although, we did end up in the middle of the arena too many times for my tastes. She seemed to gravitate toward Karin, whom she no doubt believed to be a better driver than her current one. Horses are attracted to people who know what they’re doing.

Rusty or not, it was good to get back in the saddle again. The word “routine” suggests something mundane and uninspiring. But I think of a routine as an organized and comfortable place where we can work on establishing good habits and eliminating the bad ones. The glory comes later.

Krystal would agree, I think.

Jamie Gives a Lesson

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As I scaled the heights of Mt. Samson (we used the mounting block), I had Hiliary’s recent riding videos of me very much in mind. If nothing else, I was going to keep those heels down. Or try to.

I hope she was telling me to put those heels down...

Jamie was there to help. And help turned into a lesson. Which is good, because I need all the lessons I can get.

We tried this once, a long, long time ago. I recall being on one of Jamie’s horses and having everything from Xenophon to George H. Morris presented to me in less than two minutes.  I felt like an old Star Trek computer that short-circuited and threw sparks and made smoke because it was receiving data too fast from some super-speedy alien computer. I dismounted with a headache.

The instruction begins.

Jamie has come a long way as an instructor.  The average male brain is capable of processing only one instruction at a time – at the very most – and this has to be repeated multiple times.  Language can be such an annoyance to us and it takes a moment or two before we realize that the irritating noise that is buzzing around in our ear is actually a form of communication intended – sometimes – to help us. I think she picked up on this over the years.

My main problem on Samson was that I kept bringing the right rein across the top of his neck to turn him to the inside.  Jamie told me to stop it.  “He’s a dressage horse, Dad.”  I was instructed to use my outside leg to cue him.

So, I dutifully used my right leg to cue him for the turn.

And then, on the next turn, I brought the right rein across his neck.

Jamie told me to stop it.  And I did.

Then on the next turn, I brought the right rein across his neck. Again.

Jamie told me to stop it. And I did. Again.

Then on the next turn, I brought the right rein across his neck.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Finally, I glanced down to make sure it was my right hand that was actually doing this and that my arm was still connected to my body. It was maddening.  The Errant Hand and his accomplice, The Arm were doing what they wanted and were ignoring what my brain was trying to tell them. They just weren’t list…en…

…ning…

Ah… so that’s what’s it like.

Apparently The Errant Hand was putting up some form of last-ditch resistance.  A bitter-ender representing the final vestiges of male incorrigibility.  The Hand was listening to my ego and not my brain.

I think I was enjoying that 19 hands of elevation just a little too much.

I thought Jamie might jump up there, grab a leg and drag me off Samson, but she was very patient.  She calmly repeated the instruction as if each time was the first time. And the few instances when I managed not to bring my right hand across the horse’s neck was cause for celebration:

“Good job, Dad.”

“Now you’re getting it!”

“Way to use your leg!”

It was a good lesson.

A Very Big Horse

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Last week, Jamie came up from Florida for a few days and as expected, we did something horse related. Wherever us horsepeople go, we always try to find something horse related to do.

In the old days, before I began my equestrian career, I did my best to stay at the periphery of such activities, observing, maybe taking photos and never missing an opportunity to make a smart-assed remark – and then writing them down and selling them.

These days, I’m a participant.

I’m glad too. Because one of our horse-related activities this time was a visit to Tim and Karen Leenhouts’ barn.  We’ve known them for a long time and Jamie and Karen are good horse-related pals from way back.

I’ve always enjoyed visiting the Leenhouts’ barn. It’s like my instructor Karin’s set-up: organized, well maintained and lots of room for the horses.  Pleasant, but not pretentious or so sterile you’re afraid to touch anything.

The night before we visited, Jamie told me that Karen said I could ride “Sam”.  This sounded fine to me, I’ve never rode a horse named Sam before.

“Sam” as I was to discover, is short for “Samson”. And there’s a good reason why they call him that. Actually, there are 19 good reasons why they call him that.

Here is what I saw when I walked through the door at the Leenhouts’ barn:

I was sure that the horse had to be standing on something.  Hokey Pete, he was a big one.

Jamie didn’t waste any time: “Want to ride him, Dad?”

Hell, yes.

Again, in my non-equestrian days, this would have been a sort of a challenge/joke.  And I would have responded with a one-liner that left little doubt in anyone’s mind that the answer was “absolutely not”.

But now, nine months into my equestrian career, I simply said, “Get off. My turn.”

After the obligatory ground walk/conversation and foot comparison, I ascended.

He was a very good boy.  I was glad about that.

Jamie provided me with plenty of instructions on how to properly ride this magnificent horse.  I’ll tell you about that next time.

 

An Equestrian Grandpa Prepares

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Andy and Hiliary have provided photographic confirmation of our New Equestrian To-Be.  It’s a good picture, labeled for our convenience so that you don’t have to turn it sideways or upside down to see what’s going on.

Now it’s time for me to get to work.

First, I get to name the baby. Andy & H said I could. I think I’m going to pick “Ndamukong Suh”, after the Dear Old Packer Stomper himself.  That way, we’re covered whether Baby is a boy or a girl.

For that First Baby Equestrian Toy, I hopped over to Millbrook and as expected, I was greeted with a plethora of choices. I liked this one, but at this stage, I think it’s a little early to put that kind of pressure on the child:

I’m not sure what this thing is. I didn’t like it:

And their living conditions are horrific:

Wandering into the Children’s Section at Millbrook, I found this stuff:

 

 

I finally settled on this guy.  Or maybe it’s a girl, I don’t know. Like The Baby, there are simply no discernible gender features to go by.  Yet.

The tag says “Douglas” but all the tags on these animals say “Douglas” and that’s crap. All horses – even stuffed ones – should have their own names.

I will call him/her, Ndamukong Suh. Because, honestly, I don’t think Andy and H are really going to abide by my decision and I feel a need to name something after him. And Jenny is simply refusing to have any more babies.

I know, I know.  I see the poor conformation and questionable soundness too.  Not only that, but Douglas/Ndamukong Suh appears to have no mouth.  Despite these deficiencies, I am not returning him/her to Millbrook.

He/she can stand watch over the Unnamed Baby while the One-Armed Riders will serve as escorts when the time comes.

I can’t wait.