Better trot

I am warming up, I have just asked Gally to trot, and since he is not making much of an effort I dig a spur in. Bang. Like a flash we end up on the opposite side of the arena, heading for the jumps. I've lost a stirrup, but that doesn't worry me at all. We go over two jumps, and the horse keeps rushing forwards, seemingly terrified. I bail.

I get back on and take a solid contact on the rein, and ask for a more serious effort. Everything is fine. The rest of the dressage work goes very well. In fact, I start to notice a real improvement in the trot. It's like it has body and soul, and makes me feel quitely confident about Sunday's horse trials.

So why the outburst at the start?

Photos from Pony Club: Sabina and Tornado

Riding by herself - reins and all.

Lining up.

Leading practice.

Waiting for instructions.

Photos from Pony Club: Gally

Getting ready at the float.

Warming up in the jumping arena.

Going over the grade 5 jump.

Going over the grade 4 jump.

The patting trick

So, here we are, at pony club, and I need to get Gally on the float all by myself. I walk him up the ramp, he looks in, then quickly retreats backwards.

I go and grab the dressage whip, and we have another go. This time, when he retreats back I am quick to follow it with a few quick flicks of the whip, until he takes a step forward again. The ears go back and teeth come out. I sigh.

I lead him up the ramp again, and this time rather than using the whip I give him a few pats. He puts his head down, and walks on all by himself. Magic.

Pony Club

Sabina is off to pony club today. With entourage fit for a queen. Car, float. On the float Gally and Tornado, washed and in their summer rugs. On the car, a bike. In the car, mum and dad.

When we get to the Drouin Pony Club grounds, I quickly saddle up Gally and take him cross country. He goes really really well, and I am almost ready to start jumping the level 3 jumps. Yay. Just need a bit more "click". Pete, Sabina and Tornado (still in his rugs), watch.

Then it's Sabina's turn. Pete helps her to saddle up her pony, helmet on, mum fills out the paperwork and hands over appropriate cheque, and she's ready to ride. While we're in the lesson, Pete quickly gets the bike off the roof, and rides back home.

Meanwhile, in the arena, Sabina is riding all by herself (holding the reins and all), together with about five other little girls. During the trotting, I run alongside her, and just slow Tornado down a touch. Then we practice getting on and off. Of course, with that many beginners in the class, there is a lot of standing around. On the hot sand. In the hot sun.

"Mama, this is boring", Sabina says. "I want to go and do my own thing, and let Tornado do his own thing."

Deep down I laugh. Tornado does too much of his own thing. That's one reason we're here.

We go back to our float for a lunch break.

"Mama, I want some ice cream", declares the flushed, tired, thirsty, hungry little girl.

"I didn't bring any ice cream".

"Mama, you have to bring ice cream", she flares, "go and get it RIGHT NOW!"

I sigh, a deep, mother's sigh. I am saved by a marzipan bar, and we get enough sanity that Sabina is willing to wash her hands and face in a cool bucket of water. Then she has a drink, and we're back to the happy child I am used to. Relief. She is even willing to give back the marzipan bar, and eat a proper lunch. Yay!

In the afternoon, we go for a mock hunt. Basically, we go around the cross country course, walking over a couple of tiny little logs, looking for a hidden parcel or two. Well, maybe the logs are not so little. Tornado gets stuck on one such little log, his belly resting on the jump. It's very funny. Maybe we should have gone in the non-jumping field?

All is well. The parcel is found, and in it is a bag of lollies. We all enjoy a sausage sizzle, a drink and lollies.

"Did you enjoy the day?", I ask on the way home.

"Yes", Sabina responds enthusiastically. "But mama, I need a bigger pony!"

"Oh." In the lesson, Sabina was on the smallest pony. Everyone else thought he was awesome, but obviously she doesn't see it that way. "I'll get you a bigger pony when you learn to canter."

"Ok", she says, "can we learn today?"

Gally's secret

For months now I have been putting up with poor ground manners from Gally. Biting, cow kicking, being restless at the hitching rail. Even breaking away. Not wanting to get on the float. Not wanting to be caught. I've only managed to get bitten once, but I must admit that getting up at 5:30am to get Gally from the paddock, was not something I was really looking forward to.

I had solicited advice from every single horse person who crossed my path. The advice varied from growl, smack, get on with it, wait, ignore it, knee him in the guts. I appreciated the advice, and tried it out, but the behaviour was just getting progressively worse.

I want to stress, that at all times the riding has been going really well, and progressing at a pretty good rate.

It's a pretty terrible predicament to be in, especially when one is aspiring to be a horse trainer. Add to that years of "you've got no talent to be a hrose trainer" comments from my mum, and you are just about ready to give up, or sell the horse, and try with another one. After all, all the other horses I own or am in charge of seem very very happy.

The problem with giving up on Gally is this. I believe that you get what you asked for. And before I even heard that Gally was for sale I asked to become the best horse trainer in the country. Yes, that was the honest to goodness wish. No half measures. So I believe that Gally is here to be my teacher. He has already taught me heaps about where and how you need to sit in the saddle, and now he is trying to teach me another lesson.

Today at the hitching rail he is just unworkable. The ears are back and the teeth lash out in every direction. He is restless at the rail. I get my jumping whip and smack him on the backside, then keep tapping him gently on the backside, while I calm down. He calms down. He relaxes. The head comes down, and ears go forward.

I breathe a sigh of relief, put down the crop and get the brush. The ears go back and the teeth come around again. I use the brush as protection against the bite, and with my free hand start patting. Gally calms down, and I can proceed with brushing.

Holy bananas! That's it! Gally's secret. Patting. Not stroking. Patting. Patting for everything. Patting to say "calm down, it's okay", as opposed to "good boy for trying to bite me". Leadership in action. Wow!

Sleepy head

I got up to the farm really late last night.

I wake up at 11:40am!!! I quickly do my sums. If I got up right now and went riding, I would just be able to get a ride in. That's assuming I can catch my horse in 1 minute. Forget it.

I slowly amble out of bed, and make french toast.

What's missing?

Today, dressage. It was supposed to be jumping, but I haven't had time to bring the jumps up from the amphetheatre. And I can't be bothered schooling in the amphetheatre because I suspect the grass is too long. What a lame excuse.

Anyhow. Here we are. Walk. Trot. Canter. Canter? The canter is awesome. Gally is travelling forwards, and he is just starting to pick up his head and carry himself. This is how it's supposed to be.

So what is missing in the walk and the trot? It's actually hard for me to say what is missing. What I do know is that I have been training the paces differently. In the walk and the trot I have been training Gally in accordance with my coach's instructions. In the canter, I followed my intuition.

In the canter I have not worried at all about whether the horse is on the aids. I have just focussed on driving him forward, and sitting well, enjoying the canter, keeping a long rein and staying in control. And here it is. The horse is on the aids of his own accord.

So now I feel I need to go back to the drawing board in the walk and trot, and ask Gally for the same things as in the canter.

And where does that leave my coach? Do I change coaches, or do I go back to her and tell her about my experience? Schooling without a coach is not an option. The whole coach situation is very frustrating. I just can't seem to find a coach who is close by and who I can truly trust and work with.

Put Gally away and get Crownie.

She goes well, but once again it's obvious that the canter is better than the walk and the trot. I don't need her to tell me that anyway. I know. I can feel it. By riding Gally forwards and on a long rein in the canter, he has taught me exactly where and how I am supposed to sit. And when I sit like that, the canter just works. I guess I need to take the same approach in the walk and the trot and see what happens.

Improving the canter

Gally and I ride out and this time I take my dressage whip with me. We take Invert track into the valley, then follow the valley floor at walk and trot. We continue at walk along another road, then we turn left into H Tree Road.

The beauty of approaching H Tree Road from this side is that it goes at a steady incline, and you can pretty much canter the length of it. 2km.

We take up the canter. Gally is happy enough to bowl along, but after two hundred metres he returns to trot. Enter girl determined to canter all the way. We resume the canter, and my legs are working over time to continue the action. As the track goes steeper up hill, I urge my horse on, at the same time working the reins a bit to get his head off the ground.

By the time we reach the junction with the track to YeSlabAttackInn, I am exhausted and gladly return to the walk. Gally shares my point of view. In fact, isn't it time for a snack? He eyes off the tufts of grass amongst the trees. I kick him on into an active walk.

We also have the luck to pass a few puddles. Most of them are tiny, but Gally eyes them off with significant suspicion. I am very tempted to push him closer to the puddles, but manage to stare into space and ignore them. And slowly, Gally starts to relax, and walk past the puddles with greater ease. Towards the end of our ride we need to walk along a little ridge between two bog holes. Gally sees the road home, and walks along the ridge with confidence.

So good!

My daughter has just started school, and today I get a morning to myself. Riding time! Yay! This just feels so good.

I bring Gally in for some dressage. I do my normal warm up with a loose rein walk and trot. Then I progress onto some more walk and trot with contact. Then onto canter. It appears to me that something is starting to happen. Something good.

For starters, it feels like Gally is getting the idea of going forwards. I no longer have to kick him on every two strides to get action.

For seconds, he is starting to go into the bit out of his own choice. This is a bit of a hit and miss affair still, but it's definitely starting to happen. This is totally different to driving the horse into the bit. Sure, I can do that. But on this horse, it just doesn't feel quite right. Instead, it is more about suggesting that he could take up the bit, and then he does. (I "suggest" by doing the standard inside leg to outside rein, followed by asking the horse to flex with the inside rein. But I use very little force.)

That track

A couple of weeks ago I started investigating a track with Gally. Today, I get up early and we ride off into the second plantation, to investigate the track fully.

I have since looked at the map in more detail, and have secret hopes that the track crosses the creek and returns to the first plantation.

After yesterday's experience, I have every intention of taking the whip with me. But the day is so windy, that I decide to leave it behind. I will regret this later.

The track meanders beautifully along a ridge. Then we come to a huge bog hole. There are tracks to the left and right of the bog hole. We take the track on the right, and at the very end it meets up with the bog. Sure, you can pass without getting a hoof wet, but you have to get really close to the big black pool. Gally is convince there's a better way. Like maybe just going home.

I stick my spurs in, and he very quickly starts going backwards. Now, what was it about that whip? I keep my spurs on until he takes the smallest step forward. Then I take a break, and snap myself a little twig. It's like a fly swat against a gun. We fight this battle for a while. Eventually, I win. Sort of. We make it past the bog hole. But not exactly where I wanted to go. Gally prefers to bush bash, than skirt the bog. This will cost me.

However, the upside of the experience is that Gally finds another gear, an extra spark in his step, some extra zest for life. All of a sudden, he is interested in the ride. He wants to do the odd trot when the track is even. He is willing. It's awesome.

As much as I am overjoyed with my horse and his new found attitude, I am disappointed in the track. We can see the creek below, but the track makes no effort to cross it. Rather it meanders alongside, teasingly getting closer and closer to it.

Eventually it comes to the creek's edge. The creek is a mere dry bed. It's not even remotely wet. It would be dead easy to cross, right here, right now. But the track makes no attempt. You can cross at your own peril and bush bash your way home. I look at the typical Australian bush, self similar and dense in places. Not without a map thanks.

I return to the track, which meanders up the hill and crosses a tributary. On the other side of the tributary it goes up steeply. I am willing to go up the track, but should it lead to nowhere, I am not really willing to come back down it. We turn around and head home.

Gally, realising we're heading home, gets an extra spark in his stride, and bravely trots and canters over some tricky terrain. I actually have to slow him down in places. The bog hole causes us many issues, but we get past it eventually. Then we canter on. Slowly I release the reins until I am just holding onto the buckle. Then I sit back and enjoy the most wonderful canter I have ever had in my life.

Forwards!

Gally and I go into the haying paddock to do some dressage. The warm up goes well. The work is mediocre. And I am not happy. And why is this horse just not going forwards?!

He hasn't been worked for two weeks and it's all just fallen apart. Having said that, the canters are actually quite good. But once we've finished the canters, stop. One big fat stop.

Recently I've been riding without the whip, to ensure that I am using my legs and seat, but today I bitterly regret that decision. My legs have done all they can, and now I am in need of the whip, and it's not here. Argh!

I put Gally away and get Crownie.

Crownie, hasn't been ridden for at least three weeks. In comparison to Gally, she goes brilliantly. And even without any comparisons, she goes competition ready.

Later in the day I have a good think about my ride on Gally. Going large around the imaginary arena, a few 20m circles, couple of changes on the diagonal. How boring! What was I thinking?! Gally might not be going like a Grand Prix horse, but that doesn't mean we can't do some interesting exercises. Sheesh!

Long Ride

I take Gally for a long ride in the state forest. We make it as far as the second plantation, and I start investigating a side track. The track is gorgous, weaving gently through the forest. I run out of time to investigate fully, and turn for home, with every intention to come back soon.

Along the way we enjoy loose rein walks and trots. Gally's stride is relaxed, and somewhat resigned. Like a young child who has just resigned themselves to wandering these tracks for ever. So he is somewhat taken aback when finally we see our home. He trots purposefully up the hill.

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.

Cross Country Training

I meet Jen and Kris at Drouin pony club, we saddle up and do a quiet warm up.

"I want you to shorten your stirrups", says Jen.
"I've already shortened them 3 holes", I respond.
"I want you to shorten them another 4", says Jen.
"4?!", I gasp.
"Ok, try 2 for size", Jen smiles, "But long term, honestly, aim for 4."

Kris is in the background nodding her head in encouragement, making it sound like it's a really good idea. I do as told, and go for a test walk, trot and canter. Wow! Feels great!

Then we do the first jump, a little log. Gally's approach is good, but then he ends up 4 metres right of log, having made no jump in the process.

"Take him right back to the log, make him do it, and next time, don't let him run out", says Jen.

The shying seems to be a common theme as both horses shy, and stop. There is a good excuse, if you're looking for one. The grass has been mowed, but tufts of it still grow freely at the base of all the jumps. This does look scary and confusing. Both. But as a rider, you've got to stop making excuses for your horse, show some strong leadership, and get him to jump.

This is actually quite hard as 1000 scenarios race through your mind. Horse might stop, cat leap, take it long, short or high. And the only answer is confidence and leadership. Imagine you were the alpha horse, and you were trying to drive another horse over the jump. What would you do? You would bite his backside until he did what you wanted. Enough said.

There's no water in the water jump, yet Gally has a problem with it. It takes a fair bit of driving to get him into it, but once he's done it once he is just fine with it.

We test out the bank. It's made of tyres, well filled with soil, but nevertheless a bit soft at the edges, and not my favourite. The drop causes Gally some consternation, and when he finally drops down I jab him in the mouth. Not good. And then it dawns upon me. Unlike Princess, when Gally does a jump, he won't take off at a hundred miles an hour afterwards.

Next time down the bank I allow him a loose rein. He hesitates, then drops down with ease. The loose rein means my upper body has nothing to lean on, and out of necessity, my lower body kicks in, and flows perfectly with the horse. This is it, the "aha" moment I've been waiting for. I've had the feeling of balancing with my lower body before, but I've never quite understood what makes it tick. It's been a bit like rummaging for a torch in the dark.

From now on I ride totally differently, and the next couple of logs flow nicely. Onto a little enclosure, tall grass in the middle. The tall grass makes the horses stop right in their tracks. Great practice for that lower body balancing act. Then onto some black tyre jumps. They flow, and we tackle the grade 3 jump as well. I am actually very tempted to try the grade 2 jump, but I keep that to myself.

Then onto some pink and yellow tyres. They spook Gally, and I am supposed to be growling at him as an aid to go forwards. "I can't hear you!", comes from behind. It makes me laugh. Gally goes forwards and over the jump.

Finally we finish up, hose the horses, and lie down in the grass swatting the odd fly, muscles throbbing gently. I call Pete and tell him to the casserole in the oven. Dinner is as good as ready.

Believe what you read

Still the same problems - catching, brushing, saddling. I have decided that smacking doesn't work. So in order to not have to deal with the threat of teeth I tie a bailing twine from the headstall to the tail. Yes, I actually attach it to the tail. (A western horseman trick.) Then I work on the other side, using a gentle glove rather than a brush. This works very well as Gally yields to the pressure of the twine. Then we ride out to the state forest. The ride is great.

Upon my return I dig out a book "What your horse wants you to know: What your horses' bad behaviour means, and how to correct it" by Gincy Self Bucklin. The book is sorted by topic - kicking, biting, nipping, etc. I start reviewing what Gincy has to say about biting people, difficult to catch, biting while doing up the girth. Very last of all I look up biting while being brushed. (Last! This should have been my first topic! Not to mention that I should have looked up this book at least a week ago!)

Gincy's take on biting people, is that horses do it in anger, usually because they are uncomfortable. A lot of thoroughbreds are more sensitive, and genuinely don't like a hard brush. Learn to take a hint! If your horse is biting you in anger, it might be because he is unhappy about what you're doing! Use a different brush, use a different technique. Adapt!

The other thing I learn from Gincy's book is about doing up the girth. Apparently, you're supposed to pull down on the saddle first, and this should create enough slack in the girth, that you can easily do it up on the next hole. Hmmm ... interesting.

Rainy Riding

So, there was hard riding, easy riding and today is rainy riding. Arghh. Wet horses. Wet saddle. Wet breeches. Everything is wet wet wet. And by the end of the riding I am cold cold cold.

Easy Riding

Today I try easy riding. Just for comparison.

The difference between hard riding and easy riding is that in easy riding I try to give the horse fewer corrections. I still correct, but I give the horse a lot more freedom. A lot more freedom of rein, a lot more freedom in how fast or slow he walks. A lot more freedom to make a mistake.

He still ends up sweaty at the end, though not as much. And I definitely feel like it's an easier ride. However, when I dismount, he is no longer keen to follow me around. When I open the gate out of the arena, he takes a bit of prodding before he will swing around, and he snaps at me a couple of times with his teeth as I take the saddle off. He appears to have little respect for me.

So what is correct? The hard riding? Or the easy riding?

I know that Anna (my coach) would say that the "hard riding" is correct. The easy riding feels more Pat Parelli style. But of course Pat would say that the horse is bored and that I need to build some imagination.

And I am stuck in the middle. Because I am looking for that partnership with the horse. Hard riding makes the horse respect me, there's no doubt about it. But I feel like I just about have to carry the horse. Whereas easy riding feels nice, but of course the horse doesn't seem to respect me.

I don't really care what the right answer is. I just wish I had the time to work all this out for myself.

Hard Riding

In comparison to all the problems I have on the ground, the riding is going brilliantly.

I always give Gally a nice warm up, where I keep the rein as loose as possible, and I do walk, trot and canter. A loop of the arena or two, on each rein. During this warm up I just focus on getting the horse going forwards.

Afterwards we get down to business. I shorten my reins, and drive him into the bit. I ask for lightness, and flexion. Once I am happy with the walk, or I feel the horse is getting bored, then I progress into trot. In trot I introduce 20m circles, and once again drive, drive, drive. Finally I will do some cantering, going large in the arena.

Throughout the entire process the main focus is drive forwards, then straightness, then lightness. This has me working very hard with the legs, heels and spurs. It also keeps my hands pretty busy, as opposed to jerky. The hands are busy correcting the horse. If the horse is travelling well, the hands stay still.

After each of these sessions the horse is sweaty, and I am hot (and sometimes sweaty). When I dismount the horse stands still, and almost follows me out of choice to the hitching rail. At the hitching rail the horse stands still, and allows me to take the bridle off without any nodding or rubbing on the rail.

Riding Time

For the past three days we have been busy with Christmas festivities. For three days I wasn't even really aware whether my horses still exist. But today I go out into the amphetheatre paddock and call out "Come on up!". The horses, eventually, trot into the red rum paddock and I go in to catch Gally.

Uh uh. Nope. He trots off. I do the Monty Roberts thing, and soon enough he stops and lets me approach. I can pat him, but the minute I try to touch his neck, he tries to bite, and trots off. Eventually I do catch him, but I realise that I have a serious problem. My horse is not happy about something.

He doesn't seem happy during brushing. He doesn't seem happy during saddling. He seems unhappy when having the girth done up. He does walk forward when I try to mount, but the riding goes well. And after the riding he is as happy as larry. He follows me around, he is relaxed. He still puts his ears back when I undo the girth, but everything else is good.

I leave the headstall on him, and put him out in the paddock.

Riding partnership

Today I take Gally out to the state forest for a ride. He is now getting much better at going forwards, and I decide to try a track that last time caused us a lot of grief.

He hesitates at the top of the track, but then ambles down it. Half way along, the track becomes quite steep, and Gally is visibly concerned about it. I let the reins out and just hold them at the buckle. His head goes right down to the ground, as he sniffs the path. Then, slowly, he walks down the hill. Every now and then he stops again to sniff the path, then he continues on.

Throughout the entire descent I just sit there, in amazement, holding the reins at the buckle and not doing much else. I have a feeling of partnership. I have asked to go down this hill, and the horse listens. I entrust the horse with my safety, and he takes care of me.

This is what horse riding is all about to me. It is this sort of feeling that attracted me to horse riding in the first place. And to eventing. It is this type of feeling that I used to get as a keen teenager, when riding horses during school holiday camps. I used to go over 1m cross country jumps, and I used to feel totally safe. I used to go over 2'6" showjumps, bareback, not holding the reins, and feel totally safe.

Yet, somewhere along the way, I lost this feeling. And I have been searching for it ever since. And at times horse riding felt like just another job. Or worse, like a battle. At odd occasions the feeling would return. But it was only a fleeting moment. Not long enough to understand what I was missing, or why.

And finally, here it is. That feeling of partnership. After banging my head against the wall for years, not only do I hold this feeling in the palm of my hand, but I totally understand what makes it happen. The next challenge is to reproduce it with every horse I ride. The other challenge is to take it with me into the dressage arena, the cross country course, and the showjumping ring.

In the meantime, Gally and I arrive at a shallow ditch filled with water. I cannot resist the temptation to practice the "water jump", and this is perfect. The ditch is a mere 10cm deep, about half a meter wide, and about 5 meters long. Gally requires heaps of encouragement to step across the little moat. He doesn't even need to get his hooves wet! But it's still a very scary leap for him. We get across, then we come back. Then across again. After about 5 tries he steps across it calmly and without hesitation. Enough.

We head home.