Little Miss Bossy

I ride Gally into the state forest. We take the first turn to our left, and half way down the hill he stops. Kick, kick, kick. Nah, not moving. Kick, smack, kick kick. Two steps forward. Kick kick smack. One step back. Sheesh. I sit in frustration, sweating, and heaving.

Eventually, I concede defeat, get off, and walk him down into the valley. I mount up and we ride on. Not for long though. Gally stops again, and after more kicking, smacking, sweating and heaving I am forced to get off. This scenario repeats itself a number of times.

But it's not all bad. I get a couple of trots and canters. The trots are rushed, but the canter is just magic. And when a wallaby jumps out in front of us, Gally barely blinks an eyelid. I also have a chance to experiment with my seat during Gally's absolute refusal to move. Lean a bit forward, lean a bit back. Let of go of the reins. Smack on the shoulders, behind the leg, on the backside. During all this he barely lifts a leg.

In summary, I would just say that where other horses would pigroot, rear or shy, Gally just becomes the passive aggresive.