dpony
05-07-2007, 11:28 AM
I've simply got to share this with some folks who will understand.
My horses live a pretty quiet and sheltered life. I don't do a lot of trips off my farm, and they don't get exposed to many challenges. Gone are the days of schooling shows, recognized shows, events, clinics on frequent weekends. Now, we do a couple of horsemanship clinics each fall and spring and otherwise putter around my farm, mostly in the arena. Having my own farm has limited my travels, and at my age, I'm happy to have it this way.
I did a lot of trail riding as a youngster, and its the one thing I've missed. I originally bought my good gelding when I burned out on dressage and wanted to go back to the trails, but found out after the fact that he had some issues in going out by himself, as well, which were only made worse by my own growing timidness due to some physical issues and just getting cautiously older. A couple of attempted trail rides with friends resulted in major meltdowns on my gelding's part, and I was clueless (and subject to some misguiding) on how to help him. Something just wasn't working.
At one of my first cow-working clinics a couple of years ago, there were large canvas curtains hanging around the covered arena. My gelding was completely freaked, and I thought the curtains such a hair-brained idea that I became angry as a cover for my real feelings, and was no help to him whatsoever. The clinician mentioned, in his subtle, take-it-or-leave-it way that the problem might be my issue, rather than the horse's. A bitter pill to swallow, but the evidence--everyone else's young horses handling the situation apparently with no issues--was difficult to argue.
So, this has been stewing for a long while, and I've struggled to school myself to stay more present for my horse and to begin to put those important finishing touches on our partnership so that we can overcome the external issues and I can help him through the meltdown triggers. It was really as simple, and as complex, as closing the circle on our mutual trust. I started riding on windy days, and trying to just not let it bother me. I started to experiment with a more understanding and less insistant way to help him past little challenges. I started to trust my understanding of who my horse is, and to let go of those old shiboleths about "the horse must ..."
I feel we've gotten to a pretty good spot, and that it was time to test it out. I felt I needed some trustworthy trail companions, a good "babysitter" to make sure we didn't set ourselves up for failure.
A close friend invited me to go on a ride with her on a new, less experienced horse, and another friend riding an older horse that I was promised was a capable babysitter. We met at the other friend's boarding facility. Close friend's young gelding is a bit wound up, but he's basically a good guy, just not been around much. The babysitter was having some issues about standing still around our trailers. Neither of these women practice the kind of horsemanship that I do, in fact, they look down on it somewhat, but they are both accomplished riders and good friends.
So, we head out into the woods. Five minutes in, first fork in the trail, one fork goes back to the boarding barn, the other up a steep, rocky path, and it had rained the day before, so also muddy and slick. Babysitter had not done her homework about the best trails for a younger horse, besides which babysitter horse decides he wants to go back to the barn. This is a real potential monkey-see, monkey-do situation--one horse starts arguing with its rider, and the new guy could easily loose what little confidence he has. But leading up steep, slippery, rocky trails had been one of my guy's triggers for a meltdown in the past. I was pretty sure we were past that kind of issue, but we had never been tested. Meanwhile, my good friend's new horse is getting just the wrong kind of introduction to the exercise, so I took a deep breath and asked my guy to take the lead. He paused a couple of times to ask if I was *sure*, but replied promptly to my reassurances, and up he went. The expedition was back on track.
A little later, the young horse was behind me--both of the other warmblood horses had much scopier walks than my QH--and he was a little nervous and kept bumping into the back of my guy. My guy is normally a dominant type and doesn't brook much nonsense from others, but he stayed with me; I didn't react, so he didn't react.
Toward the end of the ride, we came back into the field where our trailers were parked. Going back to a place of relative security had been an issue with my guy--he really worries about new situations--and I was concerned about whether he'd be comfortable going back past the field and onto another trail, especially since he was now getting tired. We get to the edge of the field, and the babysitter decides he doesn't like the transition in footing from the grass to the sand and gravel road. The young horse decides he must have a valid argument, and also hesitates. This had historically been another of my guy's triggers; he stops to ask what the issue is, I say there isn't one, so he goes ahead. The road itself crosses a small land bridge over a culvert; bridges had been another issue in the past, and he's really worried about it (meanwhile, the other two are behind us, still trying to get off the grass). I catch myself just as I start to get pushy and instead soften, reassure, think "partnership" instead of using force, leader instead of dictator. Across the bridge we go. At the other side, I stop, (take a deep breath and give lots of rubs) ... and my friend asks us to come back across the bridge and lead the other horses across! I've just overcome several years of mutual terror, and I'm supposed to do it again, including going back into the field where the trailer is parked. Sure, whatever.
So, we do it. No big deal at all. We walk back over, escort the young horse across, and the so-called babysitter finally decides he might survive if he joins us after all.
I know this seems ridiculously trivial to those of you who trail ride a lot and use your horses in your work on a regular basis. But I've spent the past several years recovering from a really bleak period in my horsemanship, brought on by physical issues both for myself and the horse I was riding previously. Anyone with a solid seat could have stuffed my horse through the things that became issues for us, I used to do it all the time in my younger fearless days, but I also feel that kind of riding by previous owners is part of what made him the way he was.
Anyhow, it's a real sense of accomplishment to have clawed and scrambled myself back toward a real partnership with this horse, and I am so, so proud of him!
My horses live a pretty quiet and sheltered life. I don't do a lot of trips off my farm, and they don't get exposed to many challenges. Gone are the days of schooling shows, recognized shows, events, clinics on frequent weekends. Now, we do a couple of horsemanship clinics each fall and spring and otherwise putter around my farm, mostly in the arena. Having my own farm has limited my travels, and at my age, I'm happy to have it this way.
I did a lot of trail riding as a youngster, and its the one thing I've missed. I originally bought my good gelding when I burned out on dressage and wanted to go back to the trails, but found out after the fact that he had some issues in going out by himself, as well, which were only made worse by my own growing timidness due to some physical issues and just getting cautiously older. A couple of attempted trail rides with friends resulted in major meltdowns on my gelding's part, and I was clueless (and subject to some misguiding) on how to help him. Something just wasn't working.
At one of my first cow-working clinics a couple of years ago, there were large canvas curtains hanging around the covered arena. My gelding was completely freaked, and I thought the curtains such a hair-brained idea that I became angry as a cover for my real feelings, and was no help to him whatsoever. The clinician mentioned, in his subtle, take-it-or-leave-it way that the problem might be my issue, rather than the horse's. A bitter pill to swallow, but the evidence--everyone else's young horses handling the situation apparently with no issues--was difficult to argue.
So, this has been stewing for a long while, and I've struggled to school myself to stay more present for my horse and to begin to put those important finishing touches on our partnership so that we can overcome the external issues and I can help him through the meltdown triggers. It was really as simple, and as complex, as closing the circle on our mutual trust. I started riding on windy days, and trying to just not let it bother me. I started to experiment with a more understanding and less insistant way to help him past little challenges. I started to trust my understanding of who my horse is, and to let go of those old shiboleths about "the horse must ..."
I feel we've gotten to a pretty good spot, and that it was time to test it out. I felt I needed some trustworthy trail companions, a good "babysitter" to make sure we didn't set ourselves up for failure.
A close friend invited me to go on a ride with her on a new, less experienced horse, and another friend riding an older horse that I was promised was a capable babysitter. We met at the other friend's boarding facility. Close friend's young gelding is a bit wound up, but he's basically a good guy, just not been around much. The babysitter was having some issues about standing still around our trailers. Neither of these women practice the kind of horsemanship that I do, in fact, they look down on it somewhat, but they are both accomplished riders and good friends.
So, we head out into the woods. Five minutes in, first fork in the trail, one fork goes back to the boarding barn, the other up a steep, rocky path, and it had rained the day before, so also muddy and slick. Babysitter had not done her homework about the best trails for a younger horse, besides which babysitter horse decides he wants to go back to the barn. This is a real potential monkey-see, monkey-do situation--one horse starts arguing with its rider, and the new guy could easily loose what little confidence he has. But leading up steep, slippery, rocky trails had been one of my guy's triggers for a meltdown in the past. I was pretty sure we were past that kind of issue, but we had never been tested. Meanwhile, my good friend's new horse is getting just the wrong kind of introduction to the exercise, so I took a deep breath and asked my guy to take the lead. He paused a couple of times to ask if I was *sure*, but replied promptly to my reassurances, and up he went. The expedition was back on track.
A little later, the young horse was behind me--both of the other warmblood horses had much scopier walks than my QH--and he was a little nervous and kept bumping into the back of my guy. My guy is normally a dominant type and doesn't brook much nonsense from others, but he stayed with me; I didn't react, so he didn't react.
Toward the end of the ride, we came back into the field where our trailers were parked. Going back to a place of relative security had been an issue with my guy--he really worries about new situations--and I was concerned about whether he'd be comfortable going back past the field and onto another trail, especially since he was now getting tired. We get to the edge of the field, and the babysitter decides he doesn't like the transition in footing from the grass to the sand and gravel road. The young horse decides he must have a valid argument, and also hesitates. This had historically been another of my guy's triggers; he stops to ask what the issue is, I say there isn't one, so he goes ahead. The road itself crosses a small land bridge over a culvert; bridges had been another issue in the past, and he's really worried about it (meanwhile, the other two are behind us, still trying to get off the grass). I catch myself just as I start to get pushy and instead soften, reassure, think "partnership" instead of using force, leader instead of dictator. Across the bridge we go. At the other side, I stop, (take a deep breath and give lots of rubs) ... and my friend asks us to come back across the bridge and lead the other horses across! I've just overcome several years of mutual terror, and I'm supposed to do it again, including going back into the field where the trailer is parked. Sure, whatever.
So, we do it. No big deal at all. We walk back over, escort the young horse across, and the so-called babysitter finally decides he might survive if he joins us after all.
I know this seems ridiculously trivial to those of you who trail ride a lot and use your horses in your work on a regular basis. But I've spent the past several years recovering from a really bleak period in my horsemanship, brought on by physical issues both for myself and the horse I was riding previously. Anyone with a solid seat could have stuffed my horse through the things that became issues for us, I used to do it all the time in my younger fearless days, but I also feel that kind of riding by previous owners is part of what made him the way he was.
Anyhow, it's a real sense of accomplishment to have clawed and scrambled myself back toward a real partnership with this horse, and I am so, so proud of him!