I'm just dropping by to let everyone know that I just spent two days at a Conrad Schumacher dressage symposium. It was the single most educational and incredible experience I've had in my 30 years of riding dressage.
I took 60 pages of notes and will be posting them here in future blogs. So stay tuned.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
The First of Many Crossroads
by Mary Paine
Hi Everybody,
The last time I posted I was in a mild (OK, maybe not so mild) panic over reaching the deadline on my current work in progress, a contemporary fantasy titled The Grimoire. I'm happy to report that despite a bout of positional vertigo, the manuscript is moving forward again. I have three new scenes completed and a rewrite of a chapter, but the pace still isn't fast enough. I'm hoping by the next post (assuming my vertigo is tapering off) I can claim at least three additional chapters completed. Keep your fingers crossed for me as the deadline to have the manuscript ready for the conference I'm attending is the third week in May!
I may be at a professional crossroads, but my daughter is at one as well. I'm hoping the members of our Equestrian Ink family will weigh in on this one. It's a problem shared by many people in the horse world. My daughter is now seven and completely horse crazy. She has firm plans to become a veterinarian and though many kids change career plans by the time they reach adulthood, in this case I believe she's serious. Her unwavering dedication to animals has sustained itself since she was a toddler. I bought her an enormous dollhouse and she named her toy horses 'The Doll House Friends' and they took over the house!
She's done very well at walk trot, but recently, although she still loves animals with all her heart, she's expressed an interest in new areas of sports. She wants to try softball, tae kwon doe, soccer, and cheerleading. What she hasn't yet figured out is that there are only twenty-four hours in a day. To let her try all the new areas she wants to explore she will have to take a break from riding.
I've had friends share several different opinions with me on this. Some say that it might be best to wait until she's older and stronger with more leg to advance in her riding anyway so this is the best time to explore other options. Some friends have questioned whether she's too young to begin jumping, although I've seen many children her age in short-stirrup cross rails classes through the years. The mom in me pictures her going head over heels, literally, so I'm leaning toward waiting on cantering and jumping, but I might be overprotective.
I know some parents continue their children riding every year, but limit the hours riding or the number of shows attended to make sure there is balance with other activities. I've talked with parents who have a different opinion on the matter. The say if horses is what the kids love, then the kids have to realize the hours involved and that they may need to forgo other activities.
Personally, I'm in a quandary on this one & hoping for some more of the good advice Equestrian Ink authors and readers have been gracious in sharing in the past.
Happy Riding, Everyone!
Sincerely,
Mary
Hi Everybody,
The last time I posted I was in a mild (OK, maybe not so mild) panic over reaching the deadline on my current work in progress, a contemporary fantasy titled The Grimoire. I'm happy to report that despite a bout of positional vertigo, the manuscript is moving forward again. I have three new scenes completed and a rewrite of a chapter, but the pace still isn't fast enough. I'm hoping by the next post (assuming my vertigo is tapering off) I can claim at least three additional chapters completed. Keep your fingers crossed for me as the deadline to have the manuscript ready for the conference I'm attending is the third week in May!
I may be at a professional crossroads, but my daughter is at one as well. I'm hoping the members of our Equestrian Ink family will weigh in on this one. It's a problem shared by many people in the horse world. My daughter is now seven and completely horse crazy. She has firm plans to become a veterinarian and though many kids change career plans by the time they reach adulthood, in this case I believe she's serious. Her unwavering dedication to animals has sustained itself since she was a toddler. I bought her an enormous dollhouse and she named her toy horses 'The Doll House Friends' and they took over the house!
She's done very well at walk trot, but recently, although she still loves animals with all her heart, she's expressed an interest in new areas of sports. She wants to try softball, tae kwon doe, soccer, and cheerleading. What she hasn't yet figured out is that there are only twenty-four hours in a day. To let her try all the new areas she wants to explore she will have to take a break from riding.
I've had friends share several different opinions with me on this. Some say that it might be best to wait until she's older and stronger with more leg to advance in her riding anyway so this is the best time to explore other options. Some friends have questioned whether she's too young to begin jumping, although I've seen many children her age in short-stirrup cross rails classes through the years. The mom in me pictures her going head over heels, literally, so I'm leaning toward waiting on cantering and jumping, but I might be overprotective.
I know some parents continue their children riding every year, but limit the hours riding or the number of shows attended to make sure there is balance with other activities. I've talked with parents who have a different opinion on the matter. The say if horses is what the kids love, then the kids have to realize the hours involved and that they may need to forgo other activities.
Personally, I'm in a quandary on this one & hoping for some more of the good advice Equestrian Ink authors and readers have been gracious in sharing in the past.
Happy Riding, Everyone!
Sincerely,
Mary
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Michael Barisone . . .
by Kit Ehrman
I have to admit, the day kind of got away from me. I’d think about what I might write in the blog and never came up with a topic I liked, so I’m turning to the past. After I stopped riding my horses over fences, I switched to dressage and loved it. I used to smile to myself when acquaintances, generally non-horsey folks, would ask me why I was “still” taking riding lessons when I had horses and knew how to ride. What I love about riding, and dressage in particular, is that you never stop learning.
I had the privilege of watching Michael Barisone give a dressage clinic near my home many years ago and thought you might find my notes interesting, especially those of you who ride dressage.
Michael and Neruda
Chronicle of the Horse
On the Bit . . . Basic Softening
Keep the inside leg on, steady outside rein, sponge the inside rein. If sponging the inside rein is not effective, flex to the inside and give, flex to the inside and give, flex to the inside and give, all the while keeping the inside leg on and a steady outside rein.
If they are leaning 10 pounds in the mouth, you have to use at least 10 pounds of pressure in the leg to get over the resistance in the jaw. If they think you’ll hold them, they’ll lean on you. If they lean, sit, use the inside leg, and vibrate the inside rein. Or sit, use inside leg, flex a little to inside, then give. You can also try moving the bit left, right, left, right, with inside leg on. If they get behind the bit, take the contact the push with leg. When the horse is soft, it is his bit. When the horse leans, say “Hey, it’s my bit.” and get it back with a steady outside rein and a vibrating inside rein, or a left, right, left, right movement of the bit (not the head). The minute they get heavy, use your inside leg and slide the bit, or flex left, then right. The outside rein helps control the shoulder. Keep a straight line from the elbow to the bit. As soon as the head comes up, correct immediately. Don’t be slow to correct. Let your shoulders be soft and keep elbows close to the body.
Half Pass/Trot
Do the diagonal. At X, start half pass by aiming at the letter. Aim front of the horse at the letter and push haunches to the outside (like haunches in), always keeping the front of the horse straight.
Canter Work
To be straight in the canter, always ride a slight shoulder fore, then the horse will be straight. Canter depart--count down to the canter, 10, 9, 8, 7, . . . 1, canter, all the while building the trot but keeping on-the-bit frame with the horse soft in his mouth with as much self carriage as possible. At canter depart, put inside leg on at the girth, sponge inside rein, steady outside rein, deep seat, slide outside leg back, squeeze with inner leg at the girth also. If the canter is too fast, hold with both reins, then give, hold with both reins, then give, hold with both reins, then give until you get the pace you want, always keeping the inner leg on. When cantering, don’t let him quit. He must know that he has to canter until you ask him to change gaits. “You should be able to get off and get a cup of coffee and come back, and he will still be cantering.” If he breaks, push him into the canter immediately. Don’t worry about how nice the transition is because you are teaching him not to change gaits unless you ask. In the canter, sit heavier on the outside seat bone. To slow the canter, as you feel your seat drop with each stride, close outside rein.
Fine Points
Always ride deep into the corners. Look ahead, not down. When you take with the reins, always give, even if you don’t get what you want, then repeat. Do not hold the mouth with pressure. They can’t lean if you don’t give them anything to lean against. Always think soft. When riding a circle, corner, or figure, both reins should be slightly to the inside, guiding the horse’s forehand around the circle. The inside leg keeps the horse out on the circle. The inside rein is a slight open rein. Do a little flexion, then give, little, flexion, then give . . . Keep the outer rein against the neck. The inside rein points towards your inside hip. Teach the horse to go from release, not from the push. If you ask him to go forward, and he doesn’t, use the spur. If he still doesn’t go forward, remove leg and boot him with it. Eventually he will respond to the release because he knows what’s coming. Ask nice, if you don’t get a result, ask again. If he still doesn’t go forward, clobber him with the aid--but let him go forward by softening the reins.
Here's a 2008 ride by Michael. The horse is Pasop, and it's his first Grand Prix:
to be continued . . .
Happy riding and reading,
Kit
www.kitehrman.com
I have to admit, the day kind of got away from me. I’d think about what I might write in the blog and never came up with a topic I liked, so I’m turning to the past. After I stopped riding my horses over fences, I switched to dressage and loved it. I used to smile to myself when acquaintances, generally non-horsey folks, would ask me why I was “still” taking riding lessons when I had horses and knew how to ride. What I love about riding, and dressage in particular, is that you never stop learning.
I had the privilege of watching Michael Barisone give a dressage clinic near my home many years ago and thought you might find my notes interesting, especially those of you who ride dressage.
Michael and Neruda
Chronicle of the Horse
On the Bit . . . Basic Softening
Keep the inside leg on, steady outside rein, sponge the inside rein. If sponging the inside rein is not effective, flex to the inside and give, flex to the inside and give, flex to the inside and give, all the while keeping the inside leg on and a steady outside rein.
If they are leaning 10 pounds in the mouth, you have to use at least 10 pounds of pressure in the leg to get over the resistance in the jaw. If they think you’ll hold them, they’ll lean on you. If they lean, sit, use the inside leg, and vibrate the inside rein. Or sit, use inside leg, flex a little to inside, then give. You can also try moving the bit left, right, left, right, with inside leg on. If they get behind the bit, take the contact the push with leg. When the horse is soft, it is his bit. When the horse leans, say “Hey, it’s my bit.” and get it back with a steady outside rein and a vibrating inside rein, or a left, right, left, right movement of the bit (not the head). The minute they get heavy, use your inside leg and slide the bit, or flex left, then right. The outside rein helps control the shoulder. Keep a straight line from the elbow to the bit. As soon as the head comes up, correct immediately. Don’t be slow to correct. Let your shoulders be soft and keep elbows close to the body.
Half Pass/Trot
Do the diagonal. At X, start half pass by aiming at the letter. Aim front of the horse at the letter and push haunches to the outside (like haunches in), always keeping the front of the horse straight.
Canter Work
To be straight in the canter, always ride a slight shoulder fore, then the horse will be straight. Canter depart--count down to the canter, 10, 9, 8, 7, . . . 1, canter, all the while building the trot but keeping on-the-bit frame with the horse soft in his mouth with as much self carriage as possible. At canter depart, put inside leg on at the girth, sponge inside rein, steady outside rein, deep seat, slide outside leg back, squeeze with inner leg at the girth also. If the canter is too fast, hold with both reins, then give, hold with both reins, then give, hold with both reins, then give until you get the pace you want, always keeping the inner leg on. When cantering, don’t let him quit. He must know that he has to canter until you ask him to change gaits. “You should be able to get off and get a cup of coffee and come back, and he will still be cantering.” If he breaks, push him into the canter immediately. Don’t worry about how nice the transition is because you are teaching him not to change gaits unless you ask. In the canter, sit heavier on the outside seat bone. To slow the canter, as you feel your seat drop with each stride, close outside rein.
Fine Points
Always ride deep into the corners. Look ahead, not down. When you take with the reins, always give, even if you don’t get what you want, then repeat. Do not hold the mouth with pressure. They can’t lean if you don’t give them anything to lean against. Always think soft. When riding a circle, corner, or figure, both reins should be slightly to the inside, guiding the horse’s forehand around the circle. The inside leg keeps the horse out on the circle. The inside rein is a slight open rein. Do a little flexion, then give, little, flexion, then give . . . Keep the outer rein against the neck. The inside rein points towards your inside hip. Teach the horse to go from release, not from the push. If you ask him to go forward, and he doesn’t, use the spur. If he still doesn’t go forward, remove leg and boot him with it. Eventually he will respond to the release because he knows what’s coming. Ask nice, if you don’t get a result, ask again. If he still doesn’t go forward, clobber him with the aid--but let him go forward by softening the reins.
Here's a 2008 ride by Michael. The horse is Pasop, and it's his first Grand Prix:
to be continued . . .
Happy riding and reading,
Kit
www.kitehrman.com
Monday, March 23, 2009
When Common Sense is Amiss at the Barn
The past month has been an exciting time for my eight-year-old as she prepares for her first dressage rally with The Pony Club coming up this Sunday. She has memorized her test, practiced it on foot nightly in our living room, set up her Breyer model horse dressage arena and had her models do the test, and of course she has ridden Monty daily and they look beautiful doing the test.
So, we were very excited last Thursday to have a good friend of ours who is also a grand prix level dressage rider and instructor come over to our barn and give her a lesson. The pony and my daughter warmed up and things were going well. They did the test a couple of times and then...
A guy with a horse and a dog is what happened... The guy decides to turn his horse out into the back arena, behind the dressage arena, about a hundred or so feet away. My hunter jumper trainer sees this and starts to walk over there to tell him, "Hey, we have a little one in the arena, can you hold off on the turn-out." But he wasn't fast enough. Not only did the guy turn the horse out, he proceeded to chase after the horse, arms flying in the air and the dog in tow, jumping and barking. See where I am going with this, right? Monty spooked, jumped over the arena (Kid stays on), he's going pretty darn fast and headed toward a good sized jump, which he swerves around and she comes off. I run to my child, pony takes off (heads straight for a stud horse--of all the horses in the barn) and my hunter jumper trainer comes unglued at the guy in the arena chasing his horse. Of course the man felt awful and was sorry and he isn't the most horse smart guy, but come one--doesn't common sense dictate here? You can see a child in an arena taking a lesson, it's dusk, they were down on the end closest to the turn-out--ay, ya, ya!
Fortunately my little one was okay. She did have a little bump on her forehead (thank God for helmets). We iced it and she did get back on the pony and do the test again. I was very, very proud of her. I was also very, very, very happy that she wasn't really hurt. I was also extremely angry that what happened was completely avoidable. Well, as of this week there is a sign up in front of the turnout arena that states "No turnouts when riders are in the dressage or jump arenas."
How about any of you? Any no common sensers at your barn? Love to hear the stories.
Cheers,
Michele
P.S. Check out my new book trailer for my tween book "Zamora's Ultimate Challenge," and visit my http://www.adventuresnwriting.blogspot.com/ and learn how your child and you can win a trip to San Deigo, Ca and visit the world famous zoo, Sea World and a chance to be a character in my next children's book.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Dannyboy
By Laura Crum
The last colt I ever trained is standing out in my sixty acre field right now, a retired pasture ornament. Fourteen years old this coming spring, Danny is arguably the most talented horse I ever owned, and certainly the one I got the least use out of. In some ways his story reminds me of the line from an old blues song, “If it weren’t for bad luck I wouldn’t have any luck at all.” And yet, in a way, Danny was and is a lucky horse. Here’s his story—see what you think.
My uncle, who used to breed Quarter Horses, both bred and raised Danny, so I’ve known this horse since he was born. Like Plumber, another horse I bought from my uncle (see “The Horse With Two Left Feet”, August 08), I was taken with Danny from the time he was a small colt. Interestingly, both Plumber and Danny were their respective dams (two different mares) firstborn colt, and I have heard many old timey horsemen say that the first colt out of a mare is often the “special” one. In any case, the two horses I own that came from my uncle’s breeding program are both firstborns.
I had good reason to be interested in Danny. His dam, Sugar, was a promising barrel horse who had been seriously injured in training—my uncle had traded a gentle older kid’s horse for the well bred and talented mare with the intent of using her as a broodmare. Sugar’s full brother was an immensely talented and successful barrel horse; the owner, a huge name in that business, had turned down big bucks for him. I had watched this horse run at the Salinas Rodeo and was really impressed. Danny’s sire was my uncle’s new stud, who, though quite unproven, had bloodlines that I liked. And Danny was a solid bay without a white hair on him, which has always been one of my favorite colors. The little bay colt had a bright, curious, calm eye; I just thought he looked like a good horse. My uncle let me name him, and I chose “Dannyboy”, which seemed to fit.
Well, Danny grew up, as colts do. He was a well-made horse, with a big, plain head and an exceptionally nice, kind eye. He seemed quiet and sensible. He looked like he’d be able to move well. My uncle had him started the fall of his three year old year by a woman who worked on a large cattle ranch and started colts on the side. She put thirty days on Danny and my uncle brought him home.
I was there when the colt arrived back at my uncle’s place and was unloaded from the trailer. “How’d he do?” I asked.
“See for yourself,” my uncle said. “Go ahead and ride him.”
Now this was ten years ago, and I had not yet given up riding green horses. So I climbed on Danny and rode him around the arena for awhile. He seemed like he was started pretty well, though he wanted to crowhop when I kicked him up to a lope and didn’t seem to know how to hold the lope in a circle...at all.
I rode back over to my uncle and said, “He’s got real smooth gaits and I like the way he moves. She sure didn’t teach him how to lope a circle.”
My uncle laughed. “She only has a bull pen. No arena. Once she can get on em, she just rides em around the ranch. Mostly at the long trot. That horse has never been in an arena and I’m sure that’s the first time anybody ever loped him.”
Well, OK then. I asked my uncle what he planned to do with the horse and he said, “Sell him.” He named a resonable price, and to make a long story short, I bought Danny. For no other reason than that I liked him. I had plenty of horses to ride, but no green horses, and I thought I had time for one more project.
I rode Danny a few more times as a three year old, enough to teach him to lope a circle. Then I turned him out for six months in my sixty acre pasture. I brought him back in as a four year old and rode him for several months. I taught him to collect, to watch a cow, to have a rope thrown from his back and stop a slow steer, to pull a log…etc. The stuff I would routinely teach a young rope horse. I liked him. He was a little lazy, very athletically capable, smart, sensible, calm and overall easy-going. I never could get him over the tendency to crowhop a little, usually when I first loped him. It was unpredictable; he’d do it some rides and not others. Sometimes he’d just hump his back. He never bogged his head; he wasn’t hard to ride. If I over and undered him he scooted forward out of it. If I yelled at him he usually quit. As they say, he couldn’t “buck your grandmother off.” He certainly never even threatened me. But, he did have this quirk.
I turned him out for another six months on grass that winter, intending to start roping on him next spring, when he was five. But….I got pregnant. I was thrilled. But I also knew I would not be riding Danny.
So, I made a deal with my team roping partner, who liked the horse. I would send Danny to a trainer we both knew and liked in the spring and have this guy put thirty days on the horse and get him going good. Then my partner could start roping on him in the practice pen. My partner had ridden Danny several times in the past and was quite comfortable with him. We all thought it was a good plan.
The following summer, as planned, I took Danny to the trainer. The trainer rode him for thirty days, complimented me on what a nicely broke horse he was and said he’d had no problems. I asked if the horse still crowhopped and he said not to speak of. No problem.
I brought the horse home and my partner started riding him and getting along with him fine. That was the thing about Danny. Everybody liked him. He was an easy horse to like.
By now I had a baby. My partner was ready to start heading on Danny in the practice pen. He’d heeled on him a little, stopped cattle on him, logged him, done all the stuff to get him ready. Danny was doing great. I was up at the roping arena, holding my baby and watching, as my partner ran down the arena and headed a steer on Danny. Before my partner even went to the horn, before the horse was asked to pick up the weight of the steer, Danny started bucking. My partner kept on with the run and yelled at the horse, confident that he would stop. He always had. But Danny put his head down and bucked harder. He bucked my partner off (hard) and bucked all the way down the arena with an empty saddle.
Fast forward here. After I’d hauled my partner to the emergency room, seen him diagnosed with six broken ribs and admitted to the hospital, where he struggled for a week with pneomonia, I was ready to be done with Danny. Yeah, I liked him, but I didn’t need him. I had a baby; I already knew I wasn’t going to be riding a horse that had even a snowball’s chance in hell of bucking like that. My partner wasn’t going to ride him any more either. I had no use for him. I hauled Danny to a cowboy friend of mine and told him the horse was his. He could keep him and ride him or sell him. And I told him exactly what the horse was.
My friend could ride a horse that bucked. He took Danny to the team roping practice pen and made a run on him. Or tried to. As soon as he threw his rope the horse started to buck. And my friend sat up on him and rode him. I don’t mean tried to get his head up or discourage him from bucking by whipping him, which is what most of us, including me, would have done. I mean sat up there, gave him his head and kept spurring him, encouraging the horse to buck as hard as he could. Danny kept bucking, getting higher and higher but staying straight. My friend kept spurring. This went on for awhile. Eventually Danny gave up bucking and started rearing. As those of you who are familiar with roughstock know, this is a sign that a horse is defeated.
From then on Danny got better. No, he didn’t give up bucking altogether. But it became manageable. He could be spanked or scolded out of it when he tried it. He began to be a very effective rope horse. And everybody liked him. Despite his “quirk”, in every other way Danny was a kind, cooperative, willing horse. My cowboy friend thought his bucking was an odd form of cinchieness, something the horse couldn’t help, like being ticklish. In any case, in all other ways he was great—fast, strong, good minded…etc. My friend was offered plenty of money for him but chose to keep him and rope on him. Danny was ready to compete on…..
Part 2 of this story will follow next time. (I type with one finger, and I’m tired.)
The last colt I ever trained is standing out in my sixty acre field right now, a retired pasture ornament. Fourteen years old this coming spring, Danny is arguably the most talented horse I ever owned, and certainly the one I got the least use out of. In some ways his story reminds me of the line from an old blues song, “If it weren’t for bad luck I wouldn’t have any luck at all.” And yet, in a way, Danny was and is a lucky horse. Here’s his story—see what you think.
My uncle, who used to breed Quarter Horses, both bred and raised Danny, so I’ve known this horse since he was born. Like Plumber, another horse I bought from my uncle (see “The Horse With Two Left Feet”, August 08), I was taken with Danny from the time he was a small colt. Interestingly, both Plumber and Danny were their respective dams (two different mares) firstborn colt, and I have heard many old timey horsemen say that the first colt out of a mare is often the “special” one. In any case, the two horses I own that came from my uncle’s breeding program are both firstborns.
I had good reason to be interested in Danny. His dam, Sugar, was a promising barrel horse who had been seriously injured in training—my uncle had traded a gentle older kid’s horse for the well bred and talented mare with the intent of using her as a broodmare. Sugar’s full brother was an immensely talented and successful barrel horse; the owner, a huge name in that business, had turned down big bucks for him. I had watched this horse run at the Salinas Rodeo and was really impressed. Danny’s sire was my uncle’s new stud, who, though quite unproven, had bloodlines that I liked. And Danny was a solid bay without a white hair on him, which has always been one of my favorite colors. The little bay colt had a bright, curious, calm eye; I just thought he looked like a good horse. My uncle let me name him, and I chose “Dannyboy”, which seemed to fit.
Well, Danny grew up, as colts do. He was a well-made horse, with a big, plain head and an exceptionally nice, kind eye. He seemed quiet and sensible. He looked like he’d be able to move well. My uncle had him started the fall of his three year old year by a woman who worked on a large cattle ranch and started colts on the side. She put thirty days on Danny and my uncle brought him home.
I was there when the colt arrived back at my uncle’s place and was unloaded from the trailer. “How’d he do?” I asked.
“See for yourself,” my uncle said. “Go ahead and ride him.”
Now this was ten years ago, and I had not yet given up riding green horses. So I climbed on Danny and rode him around the arena for awhile. He seemed like he was started pretty well, though he wanted to crowhop when I kicked him up to a lope and didn’t seem to know how to hold the lope in a circle...at all.
I rode back over to my uncle and said, “He’s got real smooth gaits and I like the way he moves. She sure didn’t teach him how to lope a circle.”
My uncle laughed. “She only has a bull pen. No arena. Once she can get on em, she just rides em around the ranch. Mostly at the long trot. That horse has never been in an arena and I’m sure that’s the first time anybody ever loped him.”
Well, OK then. I asked my uncle what he planned to do with the horse and he said, “Sell him.” He named a resonable price, and to make a long story short, I bought Danny. For no other reason than that I liked him. I had plenty of horses to ride, but no green horses, and I thought I had time for one more project.
I rode Danny a few more times as a three year old, enough to teach him to lope a circle. Then I turned him out for six months in my sixty acre pasture. I brought him back in as a four year old and rode him for several months. I taught him to collect, to watch a cow, to have a rope thrown from his back and stop a slow steer, to pull a log…etc. The stuff I would routinely teach a young rope horse. I liked him. He was a little lazy, very athletically capable, smart, sensible, calm and overall easy-going. I never could get him over the tendency to crowhop a little, usually when I first loped him. It was unpredictable; he’d do it some rides and not others. Sometimes he’d just hump his back. He never bogged his head; he wasn’t hard to ride. If I over and undered him he scooted forward out of it. If I yelled at him he usually quit. As they say, he couldn’t “buck your grandmother off.” He certainly never even threatened me. But, he did have this quirk.
I turned him out for another six months on grass that winter, intending to start roping on him next spring, when he was five. But….I got pregnant. I was thrilled. But I also knew I would not be riding Danny.
So, I made a deal with my team roping partner, who liked the horse. I would send Danny to a trainer we both knew and liked in the spring and have this guy put thirty days on the horse and get him going good. Then my partner could start roping on him in the practice pen. My partner had ridden Danny several times in the past and was quite comfortable with him. We all thought it was a good plan.
The following summer, as planned, I took Danny to the trainer. The trainer rode him for thirty days, complimented me on what a nicely broke horse he was and said he’d had no problems. I asked if the horse still crowhopped and he said not to speak of. No problem.
I brought the horse home and my partner started riding him and getting along with him fine. That was the thing about Danny. Everybody liked him. He was an easy horse to like.
By now I had a baby. My partner was ready to start heading on Danny in the practice pen. He’d heeled on him a little, stopped cattle on him, logged him, done all the stuff to get him ready. Danny was doing great. I was up at the roping arena, holding my baby and watching, as my partner ran down the arena and headed a steer on Danny. Before my partner even went to the horn, before the horse was asked to pick up the weight of the steer, Danny started bucking. My partner kept on with the run and yelled at the horse, confident that he would stop. He always had. But Danny put his head down and bucked harder. He bucked my partner off (hard) and bucked all the way down the arena with an empty saddle.
Fast forward here. After I’d hauled my partner to the emergency room, seen him diagnosed with six broken ribs and admitted to the hospital, where he struggled for a week with pneomonia, I was ready to be done with Danny. Yeah, I liked him, but I didn’t need him. I had a baby; I already knew I wasn’t going to be riding a horse that had even a snowball’s chance in hell of bucking like that. My partner wasn’t going to ride him any more either. I had no use for him. I hauled Danny to a cowboy friend of mine and told him the horse was his. He could keep him and ride him or sell him. And I told him exactly what the horse was.
My friend could ride a horse that bucked. He took Danny to the team roping practice pen and made a run on him. Or tried to. As soon as he threw his rope the horse started to buck. And my friend sat up on him and rode him. I don’t mean tried to get his head up or discourage him from bucking by whipping him, which is what most of us, including me, would have done. I mean sat up there, gave him his head and kept spurring him, encouraging the horse to buck as hard as he could. Danny kept bucking, getting higher and higher but staying straight. My friend kept spurring. This went on for awhile. Eventually Danny gave up bucking and started rearing. As those of you who are familiar with roughstock know, this is a sign that a horse is defeated.
From then on Danny got better. No, he didn’t give up bucking altogether. But it became manageable. He could be spanked or scolded out of it when he tried it. He began to be a very effective rope horse. And everybody liked him. Despite his “quirk”, in every other way Danny was a kind, cooperative, willing horse. My cowboy friend thought his bucking was an odd form of cinchieness, something the horse couldn’t help, like being ticklish. In any case, in all other ways he was great—fast, strong, good minded…etc. My friend was offered plenty of money for him but chose to keep him and rope on him. Danny was ready to compete on…..
Part 2 of this story will follow next time. (I type with one finger, and I’m tired.)
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Happy Trails....
By Laura Crum
Recently Jami posted here about trying to decide between showing and trail riding. I commented that I had made that choice long ago…it is the trails on the ridge across the road that call to me, not the show ring (not that one actually needs to choose; it is, of course, possible to do both). My own situation right now is even more frustrating (or so I think) than Jami’s. I am quite clear what I want to do with my horses and quite happy doing it. Unfortunately, I am unable to ride the trails, at least for the moment.
Those of you who read this blog know that my son’s horse, Henry, colicked at the end of January and had to go to colic surgery to save his life. (See my post “Colic” Feb 09). Between Henry’s rehab and the fact that it rained most of February, I didn’t manage to get on a horse for the entire month. On top of this, when I do go out on the trails, my son is always keen to go with me, and I don’t have the heart to go for a ride when his horse is layed up and he can’t come. This has resulted in my riding Sunny (my own trail horse) in the arena (sporadically) this month, in an effort to keep him in shape, while I continue to give Henry his rehab regime. For those who are interested, this includes three small meals a day, antibiotics twice a day, hand walking and grazing for half an hour twice a day, stall cleaning twice a day, changing the dressing on his incision once a day. Between Henry’s care and my hours at the computer desperately typing book number 11, which is supposed to be turned in the end of this month….well, I just don’t have much time for any kind of riding, let alone trail riding.
This has been really frustrating for me, as I spent all of last year riding the trails on the nearby ridge, well, some would say obsessively. I was out on the trails at least twice a week all year, and riding in the arena another two or three days a week. So, I spent a lot of time horseback. Going an entire month without once being on a horse came as a big change. Maybe I’m having a form of withdrawal.
All I can say is that by the end of February, with my corrals knee deep in mud, my horse activities confined to rehabbing Henry (which involved a fair amount of hand walking him in a downpour), and the many hours I spent in somewhat frantic efforts to type an entire book with one finger, I was in a sorry state. So, what happened? My husband showed me a photo he took near the end of January, of the last trail ride my son and I went on before Henry colicked.
There we are, my little boy and me, on Sunny and Henry, our two good bomb proof trail horses. We are at a place where we let the horses air up after a steep climb. It’s a peaceful shady flat, a pleasant place to rest on a warm afternoon. My husband was hiking with us and took the photo when he caught up to us there.
Do we look relaxed and happy or what? Janet has posted on her mugwump chronicles blog about how she is always thinking about training her horses when she rides on the trail. Not me. As much as I admire the thought and desire to improve that goes with that attitude, I am so much lazier than that. I think you can see by this photo that I spend my time on the trail in a happy daze, watching the landscape go by, enjoying the green world. I am, as Janet said once, the quintessential hippie chick on horseback. I live in Santa Cruz California, after all.
And for those who are interested in such things, my son does ride in Ugg boots, which have no heels (so do I), but his stirrups have tapaderos, which prevent his foot from slipping through.
You can also tell that I don’t waste much time fussing with grooming. Both horses are hairy and Sunny’s white mane is, well, not white. But I took one look at this photo and almost burst into nostalgic tears.
I so miss being out there on the trails, cruising along the ridge. I revisit all the favorite spots in my mind—even more so as the book I’m writing has a long passage that involves these very trails. I think about the next section of trail after the resting spot in the photo, and how it is steep and leads to what we call the “Lookout” a clearing high in the hills from which we can see the whole Monterey Bay. I think about the long, gentle sloping trail we take on the homeward trip, and how we call it the “pretty trail” because it looks so idyllic, with broad leaf trees waving graceful branches overhead and wildflowers on the fringes. I miss it all. I don’t know when we’ll get back there.
For the moment, I’m focused on rehabbing Henry successfully so that we can use him again. And yes, so far, he’s doing well. I try to keep Sunny at least a little bit legged up. I wait for the weather to improve. And I struggle to finish this damn book. That’s my horse life these days. I hope the rest of you are doing better.
Happy trails (some day)—Laura Crum
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Went to the Show
There was a NRCHA sanctioned reined cowhorse show in my neighborhood today. Being recently retired and having decided to stay off the circuit for awhile, I was a little ambivalent about going.
I've been avoiding the shows and the people involved in them for many reasons,
one of which is having to decide if the sport I've been so heavily involved in is fair to the horses I love so much. I took a good friend with me, a former client who hasn't been showing either. We stood by the rail, looking around and feeling a little awkward.
It wasn't long before I heard a friendly, "Well hi there Janet! Where have you been?"
I turned to see a fellow competitor coming up with a big grin and a friendly pat on my arm. For Colorado cow folk, that's the equivalent of a bear hug.
I explained that I've quit training and am now a writer for a small town paper and was congratulated in earnest. It turns out most of my fellow trainers are happy to hear I've escaped. I guess I'm not the only one who thinks horse training is a crazy way to make a living.
My friend Kathy and I settled in to watch the show. The non-pro bridle class was up and running. In two-and-a-half more years I'll be considered a non-pro again, as long as I'm not tempted to start giving lessons again or take one last horse in for training. I haven't known if I was ever coming back, but I was pretty interested in the class in front of me.
I saw an awful lot of people I didn't know. In the months since I've been gone there's been a big jump in the people showing cowhorse. The economy hasn't hurt this show circuit much.
People kept stopping by and saying hello. I felt more at ease by the minute.
I saw a couple of horses I was really impressed with. Some nice, solid geldings who knew their job and took their fairly green riders through the pattern and down the fence with ease.
I saw a couple of sharp, confident riders on some pricey horses. They were as tough as anything I rode against in the Open classes. I watched the owner of the last ranch I worked at take her 11 year old stud horse down the fence. They looked a little rusty, but I was happy to see he was sound. His chronic quarter crack must be staying healed, thanks to my shoer and his barefoot trims. People thought we were nuts when we showed this horse barefoot in the front with sliders in the back. Seeing him take that cow down the fence happy and sure, made me feel pretty good.
"Do you wish you were riding?" Kathy asked.
"I don't know, kind of," I answered.
"Me too," she said.
It was bittersweet though. I want to get out there again. But I realize I'm not ready. I quit because I saw too many horse snap from being pushed too hard. I quit because the life I led was breaking me down as sure as it was so many good horses.
I'm just now starting to really formulate how I want to train my horse. I think I've figured out how to be competitive and still have a sound and happy horse to ride. Much of my theory revolves around not being in a hurry. In making sure I complete each tiny step in a way to build on the next.
I still have some thinking to do. I have a lot of riding to do. Most of it won't be in an arena either. But I'm starting to think I will go back. In a couple of years.
Before we left I visited with a bunch of folks I used to consider friends. I even managed a conversation with somebody I hadn't been able to talk to for quite a few years.
He seemed genuinely happy for me and glad we were talking.
It was a pretty good day. It gave me lots to think about and made me eager to ride.
I can't wait to get my horse and head out. But I can't imagine doing anything but saddling up and heading out a mountain trail. I want to trot up a few hills and daydream about showing again. But for now, I guess that will be enough.
I've been avoiding the shows and the people involved in them for many reasons,
one of which is having to decide if the sport I've been so heavily involved in is fair to the horses I love so much. I took a good friend with me, a former client who hasn't been showing either. We stood by the rail, looking around and feeling a little awkward.
It wasn't long before I heard a friendly, "Well hi there Janet! Where have you been?"
I turned to see a fellow competitor coming up with a big grin and a friendly pat on my arm. For Colorado cow folk, that's the equivalent of a bear hug.
I explained that I've quit training and am now a writer for a small town paper and was congratulated in earnest. It turns out most of my fellow trainers are happy to hear I've escaped. I guess I'm not the only one who thinks horse training is a crazy way to make a living.
My friend Kathy and I settled in to watch the show. The non-pro bridle class was up and running. In two-and-a-half more years I'll be considered a non-pro again, as long as I'm not tempted to start giving lessons again or take one last horse in for training. I haven't known if I was ever coming back, but I was pretty interested in the class in front of me.
I saw an awful lot of people I didn't know. In the months since I've been gone there's been a big jump in the people showing cowhorse. The economy hasn't hurt this show circuit much.
People kept stopping by and saying hello. I felt more at ease by the minute.
I saw a couple of horses I was really impressed with. Some nice, solid geldings who knew their job and took their fairly green riders through the pattern and down the fence with ease.
I saw a couple of sharp, confident riders on some pricey horses. They were as tough as anything I rode against in the Open classes. I watched the owner of the last ranch I worked at take her 11 year old stud horse down the fence. They looked a little rusty, but I was happy to see he was sound. His chronic quarter crack must be staying healed, thanks to my shoer and his barefoot trims. People thought we were nuts when we showed this horse barefoot in the front with sliders in the back. Seeing him take that cow down the fence happy and sure, made me feel pretty good.
"Do you wish you were riding?" Kathy asked.
"I don't know, kind of," I answered.
"Me too," she said.
It was bittersweet though. I want to get out there again. But I realize I'm not ready. I quit because I saw too many horse snap from being pushed too hard. I quit because the life I led was breaking me down as sure as it was so many good horses.
I'm just now starting to really formulate how I want to train my horse. I think I've figured out how to be competitive and still have a sound and happy horse to ride. Much of my theory revolves around not being in a hurry. In making sure I complete each tiny step in a way to build on the next.
I still have some thinking to do. I have a lot of riding to do. Most of it won't be in an arena either. But I'm starting to think I will go back. In a couple of years.
Before we left I visited with a bunch of folks I used to consider friends. I even managed a conversation with somebody I hadn't been able to talk to for quite a few years.
He seemed genuinely happy for me and glad we were talking.
It was a pretty good day. It gave me lots to think about and made me eager to ride.
I can't wait to get my horse and head out. But I can't imagine doing anything but saddling up and heading out a mountain trail. I want to trot up a few hills and daydream about showing again. But for now, I guess that will be enough.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)