More about being friendly

So, how do you make friends with a horse? And what is the friendly game?

Well, you make friends with a horse by playing the friendly game. The friendly game is basically a session of stroking, rubbing and scratching in different places, in such a way that the horse finds it enjoyable, and friendly.

For most horses that are well broken in, a normal brushing session is sufficient, in principle. And, this is what I have managed to get away with so far. However, during my standard brushing sessions, I have never observed the horses reactions. Or rather, I have never taken any action based on the horse's reactions.

Princess was notorious for having days when she would pace left and right along the hitching rail. I just used to work around this, sometimes saying nasty things under my breath. Now, notice that Gally and Princess had this special connection - like attracts like. It's just that with Princess you could get away with working around the problem. With Gally, not so. He doesn't pace along the hitching rail. He stands very still, but he turns and bites you as fast as lightening. This made me so uncomfortable, that I had to find a solution.

The difference between ordinary brushing, and playing the friendly game, is that you observe how the horse reacts, and adjust your touching accordingly. If the horse puts his ears back you might change your stroking into scratching, or if the horse has stood very still while you stroke a sensitive area, then you might stop.

The friendly game makes a world of difference with Gally. He basically stops biting and kicking. He also becomes more willing to work for you under saddle - this is where the friendly game has exceeded my expectations.

Personally, I find the friendly game much more interesting and satisfying than brushing. I have always brushed my horses thoroughly - much to the amusement of some. But I did find it boring. Which probably created my "just get on and ride" attitude. The friendly game is a way of interacting with your horse, that is (in some ways) just as much fun as riding. So all of a sudden, I am in no hurry to get on any more, because I am having fun on the ground! How cool is that?!

The Mistake

Pretty much from the time I have owned Gally I have realised that I make some fundamental mistake when catching him. I've always been able to catch him, but some of his antics have indicated that he doesn't have much respect for me on the ground.

I have asked various people for help, but nothing has helped. What I really wanted is for someone to observe me as I catch him, but I didn't exactly ask for it in those words.

Because of these problems, I have been very strict recently to lead him properly. That is, to be just in front of his shoulder, to not let him rush past, and if he stops to give him a gentle flick of the rope behind me. And this has worked really well.

Today Gally is in a particularly steep part of the paddock when I approach him. I am too lazy to walk right down to his shoulder and I clip the lead rope on while standing in front of him, then pull on the lead rope. He resists. I pull harder and eventually he takes a step forward. As he does so, I feel his respect for me melt away into nothing. This is the fatal mistake.

For some bizzare reason, the action of pulling on the headstall can get him to yield, but it does not build any respect. Whereas when I stand next to him, and flick him with the lead rope, as though it was my tail, he is much happier to respect me, and follow me out of respect.

I used to have a similar problem with Princess, but she was a lot more timid than Gally, and it was easier to "ignore" her.

Sold!

The couple arrive with two primary school aged daughters.

Princess hasn't been ridden since our TTT Horse Trials at the end of May, but she's still easy to catch. I saddle her up, and ride her in the haying paddock. Despite the long break, she feels awesome. Just awesome. Not a thing wrong with her, all forward, and responsive enough to the single rein. I walk trot and canter her, and all paces feel very good. Am I on the verge of keeping her? Yes. But a decision is a decision, and you've got to stick to it.

The prospective buyers like what they see, and the lady rides Princess in the round yard. She has a good walk and a good trot. She stops, all smiles. "She's lovely". I suggest she ride her some more, I would prefer she have another ride, but they seem satisfied.

Back at the hitching rail we discuss details of gear, price and feeding. Later in the day I drop Princess off to them. They live just 20 minutes down the road, in a lovely valley, state forest (all burnt) out the back. They have a pony, a shetland apparently, but he looks more like a minature fresian. Gorgous. He sees Princess, neighs out, his eyes glaze over with love and admiration, and he does a quick loop in the chook yard, adding in a couple of pig roots along the way. Princess is likewise suitably smitten. He might not be a tall guy, but he is all prince and royalty to her. I set her free in the paddock. She goes off to investigate the boundaries, head carried high. Every couple of minutes she comes back to her knight and nuzzles his nose. I gulp.

On the way home, the empty float seems to rattle more than usual. We stop at Piglets for a babycino and a cappucino.

Horses for courses

So apparently I am intending to do Penninsula Horse Trials with Crownie. Why Crownie, and not Princess?

Good question.

Because of the challenge. Crownie and Princess are two very different horses. And a good trainer can train all types of horses. So, lets not stuff around. By taking on the challenge of trainnig Crownie, I am proving to myself that it's my methods that work, and not the horse's talent.

Because the horse needs a rest. Truth be told, on our last three outings (including the event) Princess did not want to get on the float. Physically she was fine, but mentally she wasn't coping. Now, she's had four weeks of holidays, but this may not be enough. She may need two or three outings before being taken to another event. And there just isn't enough time to do that.

Because I am sick of the racing game. Let's face it. Holding Princess under control in open countryside is REALLY HARD WORK! And I am sick of it. And I need a rest. Phew! Glad I got that out of my system. And what if competing on Crownie is much much easier? And she enjoys it more? And I get a better placing simply because the horse is coping mentally? Isn't it worth a try?

If Crownie ends up not coping mentally, then I'll know there's a problem with my method. And I won't blame the horse. Because at the moment, when I read the judges comment on my dressage test "Rider should relax more", I feel like soothingly saying to the judge "You get on and show me how!!!".

Wandin - Day 2

It's almost 7am and foggy. Very foggy. I get ready and have breakfast and start saddling up my horse. We're the first cross country combination to present for gear check. That's because all the other people own sane horses.

It's still really foggy, and I'm careful not to wander too far away from the showjumpers. Safety in numbers. And the visibility factor. If I wander too far away no one will see me if I fall off.

Princess is uptight. Better than in the dressage, but not as calm as before the showjumping. I try various ways to settle her, but in the end I realise. She knows she's here to do cross country. And she is ready to give me 110%. She will do every single jump. I just have to set her up.

"Five, four, three, two, ONE! Go! Good Luck", calls the starter as I trot out of the gates. I can barely make out the first jump in the fog. Oh, there it is. Good old Thomas the tank engine. Princess tugs. I let her go and we are clear over the first.

Picket fence. I slow her down the hill. She glances, then jumps. I gaze into the fog. Fence three, where are you?

The little brush fence. Piece of cake.

The ditch. Coming into it, I'm telling Princess "it's the ditch, you're scared of ditches, slow down". "I'm good. I know this ditch. I'll cruise over it", she answers. She's right.

Another rider passes. Amazingly I stay in control.

The back of the tractor. Coming towards this jump I feel Princess' eyes shifting from one jump to another not sure what's next. Finally, I focus on it. "Just let me go", she screams at me. I am scared. She leaps over it.

The big brush. I'm scared again, but I let her go. She flies.

The chute. "I want you to do the chute", I say to her. "That thing? No way", she says 6 strides out. "Yes way". "Ok" and she jumps it.

The dog. Cruising.

The seat. "Watch out", I say. "I see it", she responds. Clear.

The cavalletti. "Ok, we're going to angle this one", she nods. Easy peasy.

The eyes. "Just think it's a showjump and aim for the middle". Done.

The water. "Now slow down, just trot". She hesitates for a microsecond, then she trots through the water. The crowd cheers.

The drop. "Ok, ok, just walk". The crowd is trying to help with their soothing words. She slinks down the bank, then pops over the log, then takes off. "Whoa!"

The zig zag. Done. And to my most great surprise she doesn't take off for the float. I turn her around.

The photo jump. Excellent. And now I let her fly through the finish flags.

My eyes well up with tears as I jump off. My horse. My little horse. You did it. Not just did it, but did it like a pro. You little beauty. I give her a little hug and many many pats.

In the vetting enclosure it's a real battle to slow her down to a walk. The vet comes over and checks her heartbeat. Too fast. 5 minutes. He comes over again. Still too fast. The sequence repeats itself two or three times. Finally, "She's right on the limit", he says. "I can see that she's fit enough, but she just seems to be very excited. If you went to Werribee you may have problems with the vet check. I recommend you give her more exposure to this." I gaze at him, then whisper. "She's 18". He shakes his head and walks off.

I settle my horse in her yard and return to watch some more cross country. And I feel even more proud of my little horse.

The competition is far from finished, but I must start heading home. There are other responsibilities to attend to. Like dinner with the in-laws.

When we get home, I put Princess in the haying paddock with Crownie. She goes for a good roll, then puts her down to eat the grass. Crownie gazes at her "you look like you haven't seen any grass for a week", she seems to say. Then she nods knowingly at me. I get their food ready.

The sun ebbs towards the horizon, and the mares have finished their food, when I walk in with a rug for Princess. I expect her to be impossible to catch, but instead she trots over and stands still as I fasten the buckles. We understand each other. The job is done. Time for a holiday.

Wandin - Day 1

It's 6:10am in the morning, pitch black, all good, except that the horse won't get on the float. Finally she relents. As we drive through the farm gate I remember that my membership card is neither signed nor stamped.

We arrive at Wandin. It's already a bustling living equine town. Tents, floats, trucks, yards, and of course horses. I find our allocated yard, put Princess in it and go to the events office. I take out my cards, careful to hold the membership card well out of view. I smile at the lady over the counter, and hand over my horse trials and dressage cards. "And your membership card", she gazes at me over her spectacles. I hand it over, straight away owning up that it's not signed. "I'm sorry, but you can't compete". "No, you don't understand. I'm a working mum. Work, child, running the house, running the farm, training a horse. It's an honest mistake", my brain screams at her. But on the surface I smile as kindly as I can and explain "Look, I am a paid up member, my club president signed off my entry form, we must be able to do something." She nearly kills me with her gaze, but in the end senior personnel gets involved, phone calls are made to my club president, and club secretary. The club secretary says she's on her way with the stamp. "You must have your membership card stamped and signed, both, by 4pm today, or you will be disqualified", says the spectacled lady as she hands me my number. Phew. I race back to my horse.

Now, what time is it? I was supposed to start my warm up half an hour ago. Great. Wide open spaces, sweeping views, and only 20 minutes to warm up Princess. They must be joking. I'll be lucky if that horse goes into the arena at all.

I pass the gear check, only because the gear check lady is scared that Princess might stand on her. Then I do circles. Lots of them. Little ones, medium ones. Careful to put pressure on one rein at a time. Just try and keep her head down, try and relax her. As I'm about to start my dressage test, I murmur something about the market to the next competitor.

The dressage test goes well. We follow it pretty much to the letter, and the first canter is actually really good. I don't care what the judge will say.

The minute we're out of the arena, Princess starts freaking out again, and she trit trots sideways all the way back to her yard, ambulance ambling along behind.

Back at the yard I unsaddle. My girlfriend joins me with her two year old daughter and we forget the mad horse while we go and get a coffee.

We walk the showjumping course. It's brilliant. Ten jumps. It sort of spirals to the right for the first half, then takes a sudden turn left, and spirals that way before finishing off with an S. But there's nothing hard about the distances. So it will be rider errors that will bring people to grief. Not horse errors. Brilliant, I say.

My dad catches up with us, and it's time to saddle up. In the showjumping warm up, Princess starts having flashes of calmness. Now there's a new concept. The jumps help to focus her attention, and she becomes calmer on her approach. A few more jumps, and she's calmer on departure as well. We're ready.

I trot into the showjumping ring, and present myself to the judges. The bell rings. We set off. I'm working overtime to ensure she jumps the first jump. As a result we have a rail down at jump two. Then I realise. This horse is going to jump everything for me. All I need to do is set her up. I do my job. Princess does hers. The rest of the course is clear. Cheers all around.

What a relief. Back at the float we get quite jovial. But can't rest on our laurels. Time to walk the cross country course. Grade 3 have just set off across country, and we "ooh" and "aah" between jumps.

The cross country course is resonably inviting to start off with. But in the middle it puts up a few challenges. The back of the little pretend tractor is very square and solid. The brush fence is high. The chute is also square and solid. The dog is narrow. The seat looks intimidating. The combination should be jumped at an angle. Then there are the eyes. The water is an easy drop, but should be approached slowly. The drop and the log demand respect. The zig zag is on the way home, yet afterwards one must double back and jump the narrow photo fence.

All sorts of things go through my mind, but above all "I should be doing this course on Crownie!".

The phone rings. It's the club secretary. I run to my car. The card gets signed and stamped, both. Then it's off to the events office. The spectacled lady looks kindly at me and smiles, as she inspects the green card, oozing with fresh ink. She crosses my name off the black list. (The list is not short).

The sun starts setting, my friend and father leave for the day. Princess is not eating or drinking, her fur is matted with dried sweat. Her sides are sunken in. I jump into her yard and give her a pat. On the other side of the driveway I spot a little patch of grass. We walk over and after a good look around Princess puts her head down to eat the green juicy stuff. Later, back in the yard, she eats her dinner, and I brush all the sweat out of her coat.

The rest of the day is spent putting things in the float, and getting the car ready to sleep in. Then shower, and off to dinner. The eventing crowd is a friendly bunch, and I feel very welcome when I sit down next to some people. Turns out, they are almost my next door neighbours!

Finally, I bed down in the car for the night. I gaze at the stars through the back window, and go over the cross country course again, and again, and again.

The night before Wandin

I groom Princess till she's shining bright. I trim her mane till she looks like a seasoned eventer. I wash her tail till it's silky smooth. I put the horses in the Red Rum paddock and give them a feed.

I pack the car, ticking every little item off my list. Sabina and I have a disagreement about the blue lunging whip. She's convinced she needs to go fishing with it tomorrow.

I set 2 different alarm clocks. Just in case. And I apply my meditation lessons and calm myself down. It works. Amazingly well.

Tomorrow starts the end of the first step in the journey.

Gaining control

When Princess is in the arena, I have little trouble keeping her in control. So we need to venture out, in order to challenge ourselves. We head for the state forest.

Out here, she challenges me frequently, and I need to be strong in my seat and position to retain control. We head down into the valley, then canter up Stanley Vale road. Then walk down Mason track. As we head in the direction of home, Princess definitely wants to increase the pace. I resist. She shakes her head. I give her a longer rein, but the second she speeds up I shorten it again. Then loosen it. We play like this for a while. Truth be told, I'm a bit over this game.

Cross country lesson

Will arrives, and I follow him into the massive paddock that is "Little Wandin". We circle Thomas the tank engine for warm up. Thomas doesn't blow a puff, but Princess regards him with considerable suspicion. "All right", calls out Will. Nothing quiet about this guy when he's teaching. "Sit up! Look up! Sit UP!!!". We go over the logs that are Thomas's carriages: grade 5, grade 4, grade 3. "I want you to look up more. You tend to look down on landing and it crushes you. Look up!"

We go onto a little picket fence, garden bed in front of it, going downhill. Wow, all levels of difficulty built into the single jump. The jumping space is actually flat, but the approach is down hill. Princess stops, and I turn her immediately away. "Wait!" calls out Will. "If they refuse, let them just sit there. This is so small she can walk over it." "Sorry Will", I circle up the hill then come at it again. Princess stops, jumps, and I land a bit funny on her back. "Look up!" I could have predicted it. Subsequent tries go smoothly.

We do a bank up. Then a bank down. "Just walk to it", calls Will. "And lean back". The horse slinks gently down the bank. Wow! Feels good. "Ok, now do that again, then onto the log." I shake in my boots, but it's actually a lot easier than I expected. Doing it from walk is definitely a good idea. No need for any faster. Cool stuff.

Then onto the ditch. Grade 5, grade 4, grade 3. The grade 3 ditch is followed by a solid double bar jump. Princess is so focussed on the ditch, she gets a huge surprise when she sees the double bar. I am determined that she won't stop. The front legs go over. For a second or two we're suspended, the horse's belly sitting on the fence. The hind legs go over. "Go again. Look up!". I keep my legs on. Ditch. Two strides. Jump. Huge. I get unseated and land on the neck. I can't manage to grab on anything useful and end up on the ground. Damn. There goes a bottle of champagne. I get back on. "This time really look up!", cries Will. "See those power lines, I want you to keep looking at them no matter what happens!!!". I follow instructions to the letter and feel a huge impact of the massive leap on landing. But I'm good. I'm looking up. We travel.

Next up - ski jump. "I want you to trot into it", calls Will. "Remember, you are in control. You make her trot." The ski jump goes well, but the take off and landing are on the verge of out of control. "You can't let her take off", explains Will. "It's good that she feels confident over some jumps, but if she gets worried you will come unstuck. You must be in control. All these jumps can be done from a standstill. Go slow. Make her listen." He couldn't be any more clear. This is exactly what Anna has been telling me too.

"She's a bit of a doer", calls Will, "not a thinker. She just wants to do it. She's not thinking of what's coming until she's on top of it. Then she reconsiders, then she thinks. That's too late. She needs to think about it earlier. When you take control and slow her down, she'll start thinking a bit more. You must always be in control." He nails it.

We do a few more logs. Will is keen to continue, but I'm getting weary. More emotionally weary, than physically. Although I have every right to be physically weary. "How old did you say this horse was?!", he calls out as Princess and I canter up the hill. "18!" "Can't see it one bit!", he shouts back. "Ok, lets go and do water."

Water. Spectator's delight, competitor's fright. "Just walk her into it", says Will. She walks in without hesitation. "Ok, now trot". Good as gold. "Too easy! Do it a couple more times. That's all there is to it. Grade 5 just walk in and out. Grade 4 just jump down this little bank. You're good."

We walk back to the car, catching up on family gossip. One thing becomes really clear in my mind. I am just as out of control as all those other adult riders. And this is just not the way to do cross country.

Triple bar

I set up a triple bar jump in the paddock. It's simulated with logs and tyres, but it looks pretty much like the real thing.

I do my normal warm up. Then I practice cantering down the hill. I only go half way up the hill. The aim is to get a good downhill canter going, and not to get out of control. We have another 4 or 5 weeks to get right to the top. The canters go reasonably well.

Then I commence my jumping. Trot poles, cross rails, barrells. Then the triple bar. I point Princess at it and aim right for the middle. She jumps. Good. We come at it again. Then, what's this feeling I'm getting? Is that the horse not racing at the jump, but actually waiting for me to give the signal? Yes, it must be. Two strides out from the jump, I give the signal. She stretches out and sails over it. Wow. So smooth. Such partnership.

The click

I jump on Princess with eagerness, ready to try out the theory of self preservation. The formula here is firstly to feel if the horse goes into preservation mode, and then give her every reason to decide that she doesn't need to be in self preservation mode. Slow her down, reassure her with hand and voice. Praise her. Tell her with body and voice that everything is ok.

I also set up a picnic table jump. Our challenge for today.

Warm up, jumping warm up, then the barrells. Self preservation mode. I coo and gently slow her down. It seems to be working. Another jump. All is going well, we do the picnic table. She sails over it. We try it a couple of times and then I make it more difficult, plus I raise the height of another jump. She's starting to get tired now, and every now and then I get that typical self preservation mode. I tell Princess its ok (with body and voice) and she comes back to me faster than normal. It's excellent.

A couple more jumps, I think to myself. Then, something unbelievable happens. The click. Not the sound, the feeling. At take off. A real spring up. A real "try". Wow.

The Refusal

I've been doing jumps made up of poles (with tyres on the side as jump wings) with Princess for a while now, and it has been going well. No refusals, and generally clear. Today I set up two barrells on their side. Bit narrow, but I really can't be bothered dragging out another barrel.

I start off with dressage, then go on to jumping, starting off with trot poles, cross rail and then an upright, as per normal. Once the upright is going well, I head for the barrels. Three strides out, I feel the horse gazing at the barrels, and already deciding whether to dart left or right. In fear of a catleap I do too little, and she succeeds in darting right. A refusal.

I feel the fear. The little voice speaks up saying that maybe this jump is just too risky, we might fall off, blah blah blah. I do a circle, letting the little voice have his say. This is important. The little voice must finish speaking. Then I allow the competition voice to speak up. "You need to do this jump in order to compete. Period. How are you going to do it?" I strengthen the leg and my resolve and give it another go. Another refusal.

I get angry (but not vicious). This time we're going over. I do a circle. The little voice is quiet. We're right at the jump, the horse gets no choice but to go straight, so strong is my leg and seat. My hands support. A moment of hesitation, then cat leap. Cat leaps are never nice, and I jab Princess in the mouth on take off. Finally she does what I want, and she effectively gets punished for it. Great. This will cost me.

The little voice speaks up again "See, dangerous. You could have fallen off." I glare at the little voice, and come again at the jump. Refusal. The price you pay for jabbing your horse in the mouth. Another circle, and this time a flowing jump, I fold with the horse and release the reins. Beautiful. I feel the horse breathe a sigh of relief. I snort with her in agreement. Prrr. Prrr.

We do two more jumps. Both brilliant. Mission complete.

Shorten and lengthen the rein

When I am preparing to transition from trot to canter, I shorten my reins. At that point, Princess tends to rush forward into a fast trot. This is not what I want, so I thought I would spend some time just in trot, shortening and lengthening my reins. The aim of the exercise is for her to realise that shorter rein does not always mean canter, and she should stay relaxed.

I am trotting. I shorten the rein. Princess rushes forward. I ask her to slow back down to the trot we had a second ago. And here, the use of the reins becomes clear. Outside rein to control rhythm and tempo, inside rein to ask for flexion. Outside rein acts first, and continues acting, saying slow down. Inside rein acts second and intermittently asks "look inside the circle". Outside leg determines the size of the circle, inside leg says "bring the hind leg underneath". The outside aids are constant. The inside aids are intermittent.

The minute I have a nice soft horse on this really short rein, I lengthen the rein again. The trot largely stays the same, although possibly more engaged. This proves to be a superb exercise. We repeat it three or four times. It actually feels like fun! By the third or fourth time, the horse no longer rushes forward when I take up the rein. I ask for canter and get a very responsive transition, and a superb quality canter.

Relax the canter

Yesterday I went to watch cross country at the Tonimbuk Horse Trials. I walked away with a glaring message "get your horse to relax in the canter".

I jump on Princess, do a warm up and ask for canter right. This is her good side. I can feel that she's walking a fine line between almost being relaxed, and wanting to bolt away from me. "Relaxed" does not mean long rein, with head drooping between the knees. In fact, I have her on a very short rein, but her body feels almost relaxed. Almost. I encourage her to bring her right leg more underneath itself. She yields. It feels nice. I ask. She yields. Softer still. I look up. We're cantering on a 10metre circle! Wow! Job done. Back to trot.

I ask for canter left. The bad side. Here, she feels on the "bolting" side of that fine line. But she's not too far from the fine line. I try and fiddle, but I'm not sure that I'm getting anywhere. She's not bolting off, so I can't be doing too much damage, but I'm obviously not doing that much good either. I go large and just try to maintain what I have. Then back to trot.

Push me

I'm up at 5:40 and riding by 7am. It's an overcast, windstill day. I take Princess for a walk in the state forest. It's been a while since I've been out with her, and she lets me know her fears. She gets into it soon enough, and we have a really enjoyable ride. In fact, she's so relaxed by the end, that I'm holding the reins at the buckle!

I put her away and grab Crownie. We start on some dressage. Crownie, being a long horse, requires quite a lot of strength to get going in dressage. You have to work quite hard to get those back legs stepping underneath. I get some fantastic work, but the minute I stop applying the strength, it all starts to fall apart. The horse stumbles or loses a leg.

After 20 minutes I am exhausted. I do a halt and look at my watch. 20 minutes is just not long enough. I pick up my reins and do some more walk and trot. My muscles are screaming at me. I am wishing for a coach, that could be right here, right now, to push me through this. After another 7 minutes, I succumb to my weakness.

By midafternoon I'm kicking myself for wussing out.

Shorter rein

I arrive at Anna's bubbling with excitement. Over the Christmas break a lot of things she's been trying to teach me have suddenly all come together and I am really really keen to tell her about it.

She listens patiently as I relay my discoveries to her, while Princess walks around the indoor arena. Anna nods her head and punctuates the conversations with "yes's". Yes, yessety yes! I've got it. (And I will write about it here in a series of entries). "I feel like I've had a real breakthrough", I say to Anna. "Now I can't wait to see what I can learn next", I finish off.

"Make the reins shorter, and half halt", says Anna. I do as she says, and the horse almost stops in her tracks. A walk that was running, and fast, all of a sudden turns into a "thinking" or "contemplating" type of walk. The energy is still there. But the horse is not trying to "get somewhere" anymore.

The walking is going well. "Now, shorten your reins, and trot on". I do as instructed. Once the trot is going well, Anna starts preparing me for canter. "Shorten your reins, and ask for canter". Shorten your reins?! But they are already short?! But I do as I am told. My hands feel like they are half way up the horse's neck. The canter comes. The reins feel about right. I have to work pretty hard with them to keep the horse going at the correct pace, on the correct circle, and relaxing. (Remember the entry on "strength"?). If they were any longer, I wouldn't have enough power.

We come back to the trot. "Lengthen the reins". We come back to walk. "Lengthen the reins".

To sell or not to sell?

Sooner or later every aspiring rider comes up with the same question - will this horse take me to where I want to go?

And I am not talking "from point A to point B" here. I am talking in terms of competitive ambitions.

I ask Anna. "I think you will outgrow her within the year", she muses. "If I sold Princess, what would I be looking for?", I quizz. "Ha!", laughs Anna. "Something not too old, not too young, going at least Elementary level". She gazes critically at Princess as the horse walks around the indoor arena. "A lot depends on how much you are willing to spend", she trails off. "What about height?", I ask. "Huh?", Anna looks up at me, as though she's in another world. "Oh height. 16.1hh is the maximum I would consider. Small horses struggle to get the marks in competition, but they are much easier to learn on." I nod. I can't help but notice that Anna is fully pre-occupied with Princess though. More so than normal.

Then half way through the lesson Anna chooses to ride Princess. She's ridden her once before, but now another dimension to Anna appears. She disciplines the horse, and makes her get on with the job. She walks, she trots, she canters. She does small circles, large circles, shoulder in and quarters in. She rides with real zest and audacity, the likes of which I haven't seen for a very long time. She gets ... well ... serious. Princess still pretends that it's all too hard, but Anna just keeps asking. I feel full of attitude.

"Jump back on and have a feel", she says as she hops off. To me, the horse doesn't really feel that different. But I do. I have now seen how much "cootash" Anna gave that horse, and I do the same. The lesson becomes punctuated with "yes" and "good". We do a final halt. Anna looks up at me. "Sell", she says.

Dangling the bit

Spring is here and Anna is super booked out. I am very lucky that she's happy to have me at 8am.

We start off in the walk. Princess is striding out. Another time, and an instructor would have been happy with the "active" walk. Not Anna. "She's running in that walk", says Anna. "You must slow it down". Small circle, shoulder in, volte, shoulder in. Then bingo, the walk slows down. Almost a touch lazy. It feels like the horse is listening. Wow.

"Now maintain that feeling in trot. If you lose it, come back to walk and get it back", instructs Anna. We go forward into trot. It feels nice and steady, but quite powerful. Sort of like you could easily do a nice jump over an obstacle. "Now keep the soft hand soft, and make the hard hand soft." I do my best. "Now feel like the bit is a carrot, and you're dangling it in front of the horse, and with every stride, the horse has to reach for the carrot." I do. The hand is merely there holding the lightest contact, while the horse is gently playing with the bit as it strides forward. It feels so correct.

We practice this in rising trot for a while. "When you rise, snap out of the saddle. You're sitting too heavy", adds Anna. In my mind, sitting too heavy translates into being really nasty to your horse, and I feel terrible. I also feel quite tired, which doesn't help. Then a phone call comes in, that a horse is lame, and hence the 9am lesson is cancelled.

Anna asks for canter. Here we're not ready for dangling the bit yet. The horse is still rushing and running away. "You are so used to being taken for a ride", says Anna, "you have to get the horse to slow down, and then drive. Even in canter."

Finally. at 9:30am we finish up. I'm nackered. "You're lucky the 9am cancelled", says Anna. I know I'm lucky. It's these strokes of luck that will get me to where I want to go. But right now, I just feel exhausted. I smile wryly.

Cinderella

The haying paddock (a.k.a the arena) is locked up for hay. So from now, till the harvest is in, I am pretty much forced to ride out.

I put the boots on Princess, and off we go. Must be spring or something, because she is really quite a handful.

Then, on the canter home, I hear a funny noise. Sort of like a puff, puff, puff. I glance down. The boots are off. Three of them. I mean they are still attached to the legs by the gaiters (thank goodness for that), but they are off. I'm ropable! And, Princess being what she is, it takes me 5 minutes to detach the boots, and another 10 minutes to hop back on. I make her stand there, while I fume.

Back at the big shed I inspect the boots. They're not designed to be cantered in, upside down. The metal bits which hold the wire are bent. Two boots are okish, but one is bent to an unusable state. I'm on the verge of crying, and on the verge of putting shoes back on my horse. Obviously, in our rocky terrain, I need those little pins to keep the clip closed.

Bewildered

Here I am, at Anna's once again. Sunny day, sand menage. We start with walk, a few circles to the left, a strong half halt when changing direction, a few circles to the right. Engage the hind quarters through the shoulder-in, quarters-in, or the volte. Then halt. And there it is. The feeling of the horse fully on the aids and working into the bit. The halt is perfect. Full of impulsion from behind, and void of resistance. I sit in bewilderment. I had doubts whether this horse could actually do it.

We go on in trot. "Every time you feel her rush forwards, make the circle smaller, engage, then make the circle bigger" advises Anna. Aha. I get the purspose of the concentric circles now.

Sitting trot. The horse is egnaged. "Now drive", says Anna. I drive. And there it is, that "on the aids" feeling again. Wow. In my bewilderment I lose it all. Anna tsk tsks, and instructs on. I feel embarrassed and ecstatic at the same time.

Onto canter. We work on preventing the falling out. It's hard work on the muscles, and after a few circles I feel tired. Princess feels me ease off, and takes advantage of it. I work harder and re-engage the horse. At one point Anna's comments diminish. I'm riding well. The canter is still a far far cry from the walk or the trot, but I can feel a hint here and there, that it too will come good.

I cannot believe we've come this far.