Racing a Shadow

                                                by Laura Crum

            A boy and his horse—racing their shadow on the ground. I love this photo. Not because its such a great shot in any technical way (it isn’t), but it captures a unique feeling. It reminds me of my own childhood on horses…and helps me to understand what’s really important (at least to me), in my life with horses today.

            The photo is of my twelve year old son and his twenty-four year old horse, Henry. Long trotting down the arena on a sunny November day. I snapped the shot from my own horse, Sunny—one reason it is not all that sharp. At the time, I didn’t even realize what my kid was doing; I just thought, look how free that old horse is trotting, and clicked a photo. It was only when I looked at the picture that I realized that my son was looking down at his (and Henry’s) shadow. It just makes me smile.

            Something in the captured moment speaks to me. Of an old horse who is still sound and free moving, not to mention as bombproof a riding horse as ever lived, and a young boy who is still in the magical space of childhood, both of them sharing a feeling of freedom and fun. This, exactly this, is what I meant to bring to my child through horses.

            To this end I have avoided formal riding lessons, though I’m capable of teaching them and have taught others to ride. I have not steered my kid towards competing at any horse sport, though I have competed at several events myself. If my son had shown a desire to pursue and compete at something (horse oriented or not), I would have honored this with my support. But he has (so far) expressed no strong desires in this direction, and I have to admit I am relieved.

            Because though I know there are positives in competition, and there can be much fun as well, I also know the negatives. I competed for many years at cutting and team roping, and I strongly believe that ALL horse sports (and every competitive sport) do, in certain ways, detract from the gentle magic that can happen when we are not focused on improving, achieving, and competing with others. When we ride for the pure fun of riding and enjoying our partnership with a good horse…well, all I can say is that a peace and tranquility become part of the experience. An acceptance of each other’s strengths and faults. A letting go and enjoying the moment. A freedom, pure and simple.

            Freedom from focusing on just the right form, freedom from judging our own performance, freedom from being critical of our horse. Freedom from wondering if we are doing better” or “worse” than someone else. Freedom just to enjoy being on a horse, racing our own shadow.

            For those very many of you who compete at some horse sport or other, I totally understand, after twenty years of competing myself, that one can compete on a horse and still remain centered in enjoying the moment, free from over-pressuring oneself and the horse. It can be done, and many of you do it. But there are very many who do not have the strength of mind and clarity to do this. Competition is a seductive thing—the drive to “improve” can easily become the very narrow negative need to win…to prove oneself better than others. To validate oneself in the eyes of the world. And yes, you see this in all disciplines, as far as I can tell.

            What I wanted for my son was something different from this urge for achieving goals and validation. I wanted him to ride free of the need to prove anything to anyone, just enjoying the partnership with his horse. I let the horse be his teacher, as well as his friend, and I gave them many, many hours together. On the trail, at the beach, gathering cattle, in the arena. I seldom corrected my kid, or gave him direction…only when it was truly needed. And Henry has been the best teacher my little boy could ever want.

            So, no, my kid, for all his hours of riding, does not have a very correct “form”. He does not know how to pick up the correct lead. (As an ex rope horse, Henry prefers the left lead, so we lope him in that direction in the arena.) My son has a good seat and knows where to be when gathering cattle, he can urge his horse through a creek or mud crossing, pop him over downed trees on the trail, and duck accurately for low, solid limbs as we trot or lope up a steep hill. He can open and close a gate from his horse. He has waded with Henry in the surf. Both he and his horse are troopers out on the trail, not intimidated by fairly daunting obstacles, and not complaining or weakening as the ride goes on for hours.  In that sense, my kid is a good hand. But I’m sure he (and Henry) would not win a ribbon in any horseshow class on earth. And I’m fine with that.

            Perhaps the day will come when my son will want to compete at something. Maybe he’ll wish he got started when he was young, as all very strong competitors seem to begin very young. Maybe he’ll blame me…why didn’t you get me started roping or cutting, it would have been so easy for you to do…etc And all I will be able to say is some version of this blog post. I thought I was giving you a better thing.

            I’m not sure I’m right about this in any overall sense. It’s just my own inclination, and my feeling about this particular child. I’m sure if my son had been very keen to learn to rope or cut cattle, I would have taught him. If he had longed to pursue any sport, I would have helped him. And I still will, if this comes our way in the future. But for now we are still, both of us, just racing our shadows. Having fun with our horses to no purpose but the fun.

            So how about you? Do some of you ride solely for fun, as we do, or are most of you happy to be focused on some goal, whether it be a fifty mile ride you want to complete, a dressage level you aspire to, or a year end buckle you are striving for? And I am happy to hear why others think that being involved in competition is the greater good. Fire away.

            

I Need Advice

by Laura Crum

So today I have a question for everyone who has ever taught a kid to ride. I haven’t done a lot of this. I’ve given the occasional lesson to the occasional child, and I’ve certainly supervised many beginners on horseback, but I have never been in charge of a kid’s steady progress from being a beginner through intermediate to advanced. Until my son came along.

The way I have taught my son to ride is based on the way I’ve taught him in general. I am a homeschooling mom and I am using the path called “unschooling”. At this point I can hear the collective gasp. Perhaps many of you are now feeling that I’m part of the evil empire. I have slowly become aware that many folks consider someone like me to be at best misguided, and at worst positively diabolical. Let me point out that I feel the same way about those who deliver their innocent children into the jaws of the public school system and abandon them there. But perhaps a horse blog is not the place to discuss this subject.

The fact is that “unschooling,” or learner led learning, has worked very well for me, both when teaching my kid to ride and teaching him to read (he is a voracious reader reading well above his grade level, in case you were wondering). With the riding, this has amounted to (mainly) giving him a completely reliable horse and providing him with lots of opportunities to ride. I let him decide what he wants to do on any given day. If he’s struggling with something, or I see the horse needs a correction to stop him from developing a bad habit, I’ll intervene and give my kid some advice and direction. At times I have had to ride the horse and “straighten him out” (this is very rare). Certainly I intervene if I see something developing that isn’t safe (though Henry is such a good horse this really hasn’t come up). But mostly my son just rides his horse and enjoys it. We trail ride, we gather cattle and drive cattle, we ride in the arena at the walk, trot and lope. We have fun.

This way of learning to ride is quite different from the formal lessons I was given as a child. I well recall a succession of demanding riding instructors who frequently insisted I do things that I felt were over my head and ride horses I was afraid of. I remember how scared I was, often to the point of tears. I think if I had not been so passionate about horses and riding, those formal lessons would have put me off the whole business for good.

My son has never been passionate about horses the way I was/am. Horses are a part of his life and he really enjoys them, but it has never been lost on me that if he were hurt or badly scared or seriously over-pressured, he probably would not want to ride again. So far, I have been able to prevent this from happening. Largely by giving him such a reliable horse to ride and being present and carefully observing every single moment he is on his horse. And letting him decide what he feels up to doing. The net result is many, many happy shared times on horseback. So far, so good.

My little boy has spent his whole life on/with horses. From six months to five years he rode in front of me on my horse, from five to seven he rode his pony, Toby—first on the leadline, then independently. From seven until now (he just turned eleven) he has ridden his steady, reliable Henry—on the trail, on the beach, on gathers…etc. Despite the lack of formal lessons and the fact that my son is a gentle, sensitive kid, inclined to be too passive rather than too aggressive on a horse, my boy has developed a good seat and can make his lazy horse mind him. He is a pretty strong, confident rider at this point. And therein lies the problem.

Lately we have had some fresh cattle at the arena where we ride. These are cattle that need to be trained to run down the arena and go through the chutes—before they can be roped. And this job has fallen to my son, who vastly enjoys it.

Henry, who used to be a rope horse, knows exactly how to run down the arena after a steer. My son is an effective enough rider that he can ask the horse to drive and the horse will obey him. The net result is that my kid, for the first time in his life, is blasting down the arena in a hand gallop, rather than a long trot or a lope.

No, Henry is not running away, he isn’t even going full speed. But its still pretty fast. And no, my son is not really completely in control; he just isn’t used to going that fast. I trust Henry not to buck or bolt or do something stupid, and these things are not happening. Henry chases the steer down and pulls up at the end of the arena, just like he’s supposed to. Both horse and boy are enjoying themselves. But I am a little bit freaked out.

What if, my mind keeps shrieking. What if Henry stumbles or even falls, what if my son just loses his balance, what if he comes off? Going that fast the odds are he could get hurt. The last time one of our friends came off in that same arena in the middle of a roping run he broke six ribs.

Part of me says my son is ready to do this. Part of me trusts his judgment and thinks that if he feels threatened by the speed/lack of control, he’ll pull the horse up. Part of me knows he has a very good seat and won’t come off easily. But part of me knows what he doesn’t know—how unpredictable the whole business is—and realizes he can’t really make accurate judgments with his degree of experience. Sure, he thinks he’s doing great, but he doesn’t realize the potential downside and might not protect himself enough. The biggest part of me just wants to prevent him from getting hurt—or even, God forbid, killed. Yes he wears a helmet, no that won’t prevent you from getting killed. The last kid I knew of who was killed on a horse was wearing a helmet. She broke her neck.

OK, maybe I’m paranoid. Kids my son’s age are jumping cross country courses and making actual team roping runs—for real. This is a lot tougher stuff than just running a steer down the freshly groomed arena at a hand gallop. Maybe I’m just way overprotective. I’m not sure.

So far I haven’t said anything, other than reminding my kid to shorten his reins before he kicks Henry up to the gallop after a steer, and telling him to be sure to stop the horse if he feels out of control. I applaud what a good job he’s doing with a big smile on my face. I try not to dampen his joy with my worry. And I am proud of him. He’s doing great, learning new skills, and he feels confident. He’s getting a lot of well-deserved praise from the ropers, which is good for him. But the thought of my little boy getting badly hurt because I allowed/encouraged this activity really bothers me. I’m pretty darn sure I wouldn’t think it was worth it. So am I making a good choice here?

Today I’d like to ask what others think. Have you taught a kid to ride and seen the young child progress to doing pretty dangerous stuff? Where do you draw the line? What is appropriate? I’m sure the parameters are going to be a bit different depending on the individual child, but how do you as parents/instructors decide what is a reasonable risk and what isn’t? Clearly if I wanted to avoid all risk I wouldn’t put my kid on a horse—horseback riding is a notoriously dangerous sport. But then, if I wanted to avoid all risk we wouldn’t drive our car anywhere either. And then, of course, we’d die of some odd, unpredictable disease. I get it that risk is part of life. But there are some risks that I think are just dumb—such as putting a young kid on a green horse, or anything less than a truly reliable, solid-minded babysitter. I would not choose to take that risk. But there are still these gray areas—like galloping Henry down the arena after a fresh steer. Where do I draw the line between acceptable risk versus unacceptable risk? What guidelines do I use? I’m not sure I know.