The Gift of Disobedience

"The horse is a mirror.  It goes deep into the body.  When I see your horse I see you too.  It shows me everything you are, everything about the horse.  I try and face life for what it is.  There's heartache, but its a good thing.  I'm trying to save the horse's life and your life too.  The human is so good at war. He knows how to fight.  But making peace; boy, that's the hardest thing for a human.  But once you start giving, you won't believe how much you get back."
                                                                                - Ray Hunt

Truer words have rarely been spoken.  I have had this quote in my head for several days, thinking it over and marvelling at its depth and insight.  Twice this week it has brought memories to mind with such clarity I knew I had to write about it.

Having a voice...
The first instance was when I read an article recommended to me on Facebook.  I clicked on it with some interest as the title mentioned 'Uncoachable Kids' but it was clearly an article about horses. The author was a dressage trainer and rider with a lengthy riding background and accolades to her name. It discussed her conclusion that, based on her experience most horses go through a period where they are indeed, un-coachable.  She described several younger horses and their resistance to the training that seemed to flair up, from refusing to go forward, to rearing and tail swishing, the list was a healthy description of what any person would consider negative behavior.  Her conclusion, though, was to me the biggest puzzle to it all.  She said she clamped her leg on, and pushed through it.  Now, I'll be honest I didn't save the article so there's probably more here.  But her conclusion bothered me, more so after reading numerous comments by people relieved to hear they weren't the only ones experiencing all these issues.  (A few, actually a number, commented that there were other ways to address these problems.)  Her conclusion, that horses can be un-coachable, or must be pushed through these behaviors to avoid becoming un-coachable, struck me as short sighted.  But this was just the first instance....


Silencing the voice....
A while back, I was at the barn working with a new horse.  While there a rider was working a horse in the arena as well, and I ended up witnessing another incident that springs to mind when reading that quote. The horse was quite pretty, but while they went around I observed the rider constantly wiggling (half-halting? Is that what it is now??) the reins to keep the horse very very low and very behind the vertical. The trot was rather slow, and uneven, and the effort the rider was making to keep it going showed when they leaned back and drew their leg up, the spur pressed into the horses side. If the horse did go more forward, head lifting slightly, it was quickly 'half-halted' down.  The neck of the horse had an awkward twist, and its mouth fought against the noseband to grind and gap, looking for relief.  The rider pulled up and asked a friend riding another horse how it looked. They commented it could be more forward, but 'at least the head was down'.  Even while talking if the horse dared to move or change its neck position it was quickly set back into place and told to "stop being a brat!", even getting a smack at one point.  I was told later that this horse was considered 'difficult' and despite being well on in years was just not advancing. The riders spurs were matted with hair....

When you stop listening....
At what point did we stop caring about what horses have to say? Why is what Ray Hunt said so profound? Shouldn't it be common sense? Why do we as humans feel its ok to treat horses, animals in general, like this?  Because we buy them? In a day and age that finds slavery abhorrent I find it amazing we miss it when its right under our noses.

"People have to learn that whatever the horse does is right.  You're the one who got into his life.... he didn't get into yours.  It's amazing what the horse will go through to satisfy a human being."

 -Ray Hunt

Amen, Ray.
I'm not saying horses are perfect. There will be genuine times of disobedience.  These times need to be handled with a firm, but fair hand. It corrects and then releases and rewards.  It creates a dialogue, a relationship between horse and human.  They become respectful friends and partners. They become dance partners. The horse is allowed, as a free being, to have an opinion.  An objection to when work feels hard, something hurts, or they just don't understand.  A slave is silenced.  A slave's hands (mouth, neck) is strapped down, bound closed, made powerless and voiceless.  A slave is told their opinion doesn't matter, their feelings don't matter, they don't matter.  And slaves are eventually driven down into obedience, becoming voiceless and resigned to it.  Horses eventually give up not because what we do to them is ok, but because we are relentless and they are smart enough to know they cannot fight our ego.

My Gift of Disobedience
My mare Anja taught me this.  She was a big, bold, outspoken young filly when I got her.  At 2 and 3 when I started doing basic training with her she was often incredibly reactive, easily distracted and prone to temper tantrums.  I was told I had to nip this in the bud, be tough, teach her to submit.  Now, I was and always have been very pro ground manners. Horses are big and powerful and have to live in our world so they need to learn to maneuver in it. But even these must be taught with the same care and precision and strength of character that teaching someone a new language requires.  Because isn't that what they are doing?? So yes, I was firm and didn't allow her to walk all over me.  But I was her translator to a new language, and I tried to always explain what was expected before getting firm.

Under saddle Anja could lock up and resist, or spook with amazing speed for such a massive horse. She was athletic, smart and agile. The voices telling me to be firm collided with reality of an intelligant, powerful animal.  I quickly realized that if I wanted to survive and thrive with my new girl I had to approach it differently.  So I did.  I began to work on the ground more, playing with her, teaching her to do different tricks, what I view as 'conversing' with her.  I still rode, but the play time taught me what she enjoyed doing, what she found easy, what she found hard, and what worked for getting her attention.  From there I applied it under saddle.  It was a long, slow journey,  filled with mistakes and some frustration, but instead of an angry dangerous horse I had a horse I could redirect when she got stuck.  And Anja taught me that resistance, disobedience is a gift. If you see it as communication, as a redirection, it will open up other strains of knowledge.  Yes, sometimes horses are naughty.  But mostly they are open, generous and loving. They daily take my breath away.  Anja is 12 now, and the difference in her is amazing to me.  She is my partner, and we love working together.  It is not perfect, but I am so happy with her progress.

You don't have to believe me.  But Ray's kinda hard to ignore....







 

Teacher #2: Royal Blue; Because Its Whats Inside That Counts

My Royal and I pre Surgery

Royal Blue
I was given Royal the Autumn before I lost Cajun.  He had just turned 4 and had come off the track with an injury that necessitated stall rest. He was at my then farriers barn, and after 3 months off I was asked if I would take him.  He seemed sound now, and he was free.  I was told he was extremely quiet but, ugly.  Maybe I could sell him down the road as a kids horse?  I agreed to take him, and he was delivered to my farm on a cool fall day.  He stepped off the trailer and I fell in love.

Why?  I have no idea.  He was little, maybe 15 hands at the wither?  He was all angles and points- 3 months spent on stall rest had shrunk his muscles and left his already small physique looking wasted. He had no topline, so his neck looked upside down and impossibly short.  He had this incredibly long, low back and sky-high withers that made him look like a 30 year old rescue.  And he was plain brown, all dull and dusty, with only a smudge of white on his forehead.  And grumpy!! He may have been quiet, but he stood with his ears pinned and his nose wrinkled like he had just bitten into a lemon.  Oh and he cribbed! Man did that horse crib!!

But those eyes! Something in those deep black eyes just got to me.  I knew within seconds of meeting his eyes that this was something special.  I also had an inkling when I put him into his stall one day, and he was in a rush to escape the cold. He tried to push past me in the doorway and I asked him to stop, back up and wait.  He tossed his beautiful little head at me and began to PIAFFE on the spot right there!  Not a tense western jog you sometimes see people brag about and think "um...Do you get what a piaffe is??" no, no my friends! He arched his neck, tucked his bum and piaffed.  And he met my eye and seemed to say "See? I'm pretty special, don't let this exterior fool you."

I took Royal to the barn I was leasing and began training him.  Right from the get go he was fun.  He had all the ex-racehorse issues that are normal- he liked to lean on the bit, his neck was stiff like a board, and bending?? Ha! Whats that??  He also had something I have come to realize is far more important then anything else; he had brains and heart.  He tried everything I asked of him, and he tried his heart out.  Slowly he began to lengthen his neck out and reach into the contact.  He began to bend.  He had a MASSIVE trot.  He may have stood 15 hands but he trotted like he was 17 hands, and man you better be ready for it because it took skill to ride.  His canter...Oh it was delightful, still one of the best I ever rode.  One day after a particularly good ride I got off and hugged him around his now muscular neck.  Instead of grumpy faces I now got nuzzled and with tears in my eyes I said to him "I promise I will always take care of you.  You will always be mine.  I will do anything for you, you are a gift".  I don't know why I said it, I honestly just blurted it out.  But those words would come to mean so much to me.

Royal improved at a steady pace.  He was my steady eddy, my guy I could ride through anything, very uncomplicated and very different from Cajun.  But he had his own quirks.  He continued to crib like a pro.  He also hated the extreme cold and the extreme heat, and bugs.  He would have been perfectly content living inside all the time.  He didn't particularly like other horses either.  He preferred to be left alone, and I often let him wander from paddock to paddock as he liked.  A good 6 months into training I began to notice some problems, a pattern really and I couldn't figure out what it meant.  My first ride of the week went awesome, my second went ok, but he was a little stiffer, and my 3rd ride was not good at all.  After a day off it started over until the 3rd ride when he was stiff, grumpy and his rhythm was all weird.  Something was up.  But he was sound on the lunge, the vet and farrier could see nothing, and after a saddle fitting appointment, his tack all fit well.  I analyzed video of my rides, I had people watch me work him, and I tried different techniques.  One day I did more stretchy work, one day I rode him up, and I even tried a half seat at canter.  The pattern not only continued, but slowly got worse.  Other things were popping up to.  Always a sensitive little guy, he occasionally got tummy aches when the weather changed, or when the bugs were bad.  But it was always mild, and he got over it quick.  But it began to happen more frequently and he often seemed genuinely uncomfortable.  I knew something was up but was at a loss.

Our second year together brought many changes.  I had lost Cajun, and had moved to a different leased barn.  Royal had made Cajuns passing bearable, giving me something to love and focus on. But as Spring turned to Summer Royals condition deteriorated.  He coliced more often, and my good rides were happening less frequently.  His bad rides were now full of resistance, his tail swishing and he was beginning to refuse to do things he always found easy. He felt lame and I felt lost.  The vet could find nothing wrong during a lameness exam, but later that day when I rode Royal he was off again.  Was it me?? Was it my training?  Finally during one ride the answer came out.  I asked Royal to trot and after 3 steps he bucked.  Hard.  Royal NEVER did that.  I jumped off, completely stunned, only to have Royal stretch out, and pee.  Blood.  Pure blood.

It took a urine test and 2 ultrasounds to realize that Royal had a massive bladder stone.  It would bounce around in his bladder when he was ridden gradually causing him pain.  As it grew, it took less time to cause him injury.  By now he was very ill, colicking daily and not wanting to move at all. The only cure was surgery in a city more then 8 hours away and costing several thousand dollars. What could I do?  I had promised him. I had to do this for him, he had given me so much.  Thankfully my parents decided to help me out, and I sent my sick little baby off for surgery. By the time he left he was so miserable I was scared he wasn't going to make it.

But he did.  And he came home to me 3 weeks later.  It took a few months for him to fully recover but he did that too.  He was like a new horse!  I rode him regularly, and his training progressed like never before.  He started canter half pass on my front lawn 8 months after his surgery, we played with canter pirouettes, and we even worked on piaffe half steps.  The only trouble he had was with the flying changes to the left- the side his massive scar was on.  The surgeon warned me about scar tissue and how it could interfere with his movement at some point.  Still he did them, we eventually even got 3 tempis and could do canter zig zags with changes. I just had to really set him up for them and he was sometimes a bit late.  He was such a beauty with his muscular topline and his brilliant red coat. He still had his high withers and his long back but I thought he was stunning.

I cannot describe those rides to you.  He felt huge, 17 hands as we flew around on the grass in my front yard. I just thought things and he did them.  He made me feel special, light as a feather and floating on a cloud. It all sounds cliche, but it was so true.  I often had tears in my eyes, loving every minute of being with him. I could feel his happiness, and he could feel mine.  I loved seeing him every morning and hugging him goodnight at the end of the day.

I lost him 2 years ago this spring.  He coliced, and it was bad right from the start.  He threw himself down so hard his head began to swell. I had to end it, end his pain. The vets think he had so much scar tissue it broke off and obstructed his intestine.  He was 15.

I remember one time after his surgery I took my Royal Blue to a clinic.  Leading him into the arena the clinician saw his long back and high hip and began to discuss how limited he would be.  As I tightened the girth and climbed aboard I thought I could see Royal smirk as he looked at me.  "Who is this guy?? Who does he think he is?" he almost seemed to say.  I warmed up Royal and began to work, and suddenly the clinicians voice had stopped.  We worked thru Royals skills, he flowed around that arena giving it his all. The clinician called me over for a break and laughed. "I am so sorry!  This horse is not limited at all! What a cool horse!"  I swear Royal nodded.  See, I never let Royal know he was limited.  Who said he was?  Just because he wasn't perfect?  Because he wasn't a million dollar warmblood?  Royal knew exactly who he was, and that I believed in him and that made him unstoppable.

He taught me to never judge any horse by how they look, or what you think they can do.  Give any of them a chance and they will usually blow your door off.  Most horses are held back not by any physical ailments, although I know that is a reality for some.  No, most are held back by their riders focusing on their weakness, on what they are not instead of what they are.  Good training should improve the horse and keep it sound.  It should be something that strengthens them and lifts them up not wears them out.  Royal taught me that. I wasn't perfect, but neither was he.  It worked.

Royal and I at the only show I took him too. 

Royals death knocked the wind out of me.  I headed into a depression that lasted months, that sucked the joy out of me, and left me a grieving mess.  But slowly, God lead me out of it.  I struggled, but He understood my pain, and brought some amazing things into my life.  Royal was a gift from God.  And he was taken because he had taught me the lesson he was sent to teach me.  And it changed my life. I was given more gifts instead, not too replace Royal, but to remind me.  Life is not perfect, and it can hurt.  But only by feeling the hurt can we feel the joy as well.

The Teachers. Teacher #1: Cajun, The Human Whisperer

This post has been a long time coming, and I feel the need to explain why.  I have sat down to write it several times, but each time I closed up my laptop with the excuse that I had things to do, and that the summer was to short to sit in front of a computer screen.  I'm partially right.  This summer has been very busy, as summers usually are, filled with lessons, horses to ride and fun outdoor things to do. But there are always those rainy, stormy days and why didn't I use those days to continue the story? Well, because this part of the story is the more emotional section and I didn't know if I could take it. As happy as many of my experiences with my horses have been, the sad times-far fewer though they may be- have been life altering.  Do I really want to reopen those wounds??

I guess I do!  I feel the need to suddenly, so whilst the spirit moves me I figured I should get my butt in gear.  So the next few posts will be spent introducing the different horses in my life and their impact on me.  I'm not bringing up every horse I have ever met or worked with.  That probably would take all summer and who has the time?  Instead I am going to share with you the big ones, the ones that I owned and shared my life with and how they changed me.  I will go in a somewhat chronological order, although obviously some things will be skipped over.  My biggest motivation to rehash this is I want to set the stage for the blog posts I want to write next.  I want to eventually delve into my current training, the set up of my training farm now, and my future goals.  But this foundation needs to be laid first, so lets get started with my first teacher.

Cajun (aka: Mesmerized) 

Cajun was a tb mare I bought in my early twenties.  I had been leasing a older horse that I rode and trained to use to get my coaching certificate thru Equine Canada.  That accomplished, his owner informed me she was moving away and taking him with her.  I was happy for him as it meant a life of retirement, but now horse-less I knew I needed to find another project.  I found Cajun at a nearby barn where she was being sold to cover unpaid boarding bills. She was 12, very pretty, but had been left sitting in the field for 2 years.  Before that I was told she had been a low level hunter, used occasionally in lessons, and was quiet.  Perfect! She fit the bill, as I could train and show her to help grow and advertise my newly found teaching business and I could use her in lessons as well. A win-win! The day I tried her out was cold and snowy and I had to walk her to the neighbouring indoor arena.  She was a little jumpy and pushy, but hey, I thought, 2 years of doing nothing will do that to a girl. She was fairly steady under saddle despite the arena being dark and creaky, and the seller was willing to budge on the asking price (she had bills to pay!) so I went ahead and bought her.

It is always true that the worms really do come out after the rain.  The day I led Cajun into the barn I was working out of several boarders greeted me with "Ohhhh... You bought THAT Cajun..."  and sad little smiles.  The stories then came fast and hot. She was a terrible hunter, had taken to stopping (oh the horror!!).  Used in lessons?? HA! Not that spooky mess, she was a CHESTNUT mare for heavens sake.  I gulped and looked over at me new life partner with a bit less optimism.

It turned out they were mostly right.  Cajun was quirky.  She pulled back the SECOND you tied her up.  She spooked at everything.  Good luck getting her into a trailer! Even the sight of a jump in the arena made her toss her head and refuse to walk towards it.  The first month of my training her was all ground work.  I did manage to improve the tying situation, and she even began loading without a fight.  But man, she was spooky, even on the lunge! Anything would set her off, and even after you got her past something she may decide, 3 calmly executed circles later, that it was indeed trying to kill her again.  Under saddle her improvements where slow but steady.  She was a lovely mover with lots of energy, but touch the reins or ask her to bend? No thanks!  She threw her head up, and flung herself sideways. As I got better at anticipating the sideways action, she choose to go backwards, swinging her head side to side. I read books and magazines and watched videos and came to realize Cajun had issues with contact (from her past?) that affected her whole body.  I kept working at it, both on the ground and doing gentle exercises under saddle.  We improved enough to go to our first show that fall and ride a training level test.  Cajun held it together, and did pretty good, scoring in the low 60's and even getting a ribbon.  I was happy but I knew we needed to keep progressing to get past her issues.

Worrying that my youth, unsteadiness and inexperience was causing or encouraging the problems I decided to take some lessons with an instructor (I will call her Coach M) I had known since my early teens.  She wasn't a dressage coach per se, but she had lots of experience with many different disciplines. She had helped me get my coaching certificate, and was now expanding her business into the lower level dressage arena, so why not?  I needed some advice! A few lessons in however I realized it wasn't just me, and it wasn't just Cajun, and Coach M might not have any answers.  The lessons consisted of trying to 'fix' Cajun by "driving her into the contact" and telling me over and over again how bad Cajun was and how my riding wasn't good enough.  Ok, fair enough, I was just a 21 year old, which in dressage terms equals 'infant' but even I could tell this training tactic wasn't fixing anything.  Cajuns reactions got even more violent, at one point causing Coach M to yell "what the hell is wrong with her??".  That fall I made some huge changes.  Thanks to a massive shoulder injury I obtained cleaning the boarding barn I was teaching out of, I ended up losing my position there and all my students.  I was also asked to take my mare and go, and my list of students was handed over to, you guessed it, Coach M. I now had no income, a bum shoulder and no place to ride.

I ended up leasing a barn and arena not far from the previous place.  I moved Cajun, along with my other new horse and a few loyal clients, and started from scratch.  I was actually very happy, as I got to care and handle my Cajun girl all the time, and I felt like our relationship deepened.  She became happier, less spooky, and our training improved even more.  I studied classical authors and explored different methods trying them on Cajun. We spent an amazing winter together, and I knew come spring first level would be well within our abilities.  

 But my frustration hit its maximum the weekend of our first show that spring. The issues began in the warm up where she did her head tossing and run backwards, but this time also she bucked.  She was genuinely upset, and I did what I could to calm her.  Our name was called all to soon, and my heart sunk as instead of halting and saluting, we were flying around the ring backwards.  Defeated I excused myself, and lead her back to the barn.  After some thought I decided to shake it off and not get angry.  Cajun was upset and me getting frustrated wasn't going to help, it was only going to make communication harder.  My new plan? Just get her out and try and get her to relax.  I gave her an hour to relax and chill and then I took her out and led her around the show.  I put her away again and then took her out and lightly lunged her.  I repeated that the remainder of the first day and all morning the next.  By the time I needed to warm up she had been out and about seeing the sights so much she was bored.  And it WORKED!!  The second day of the show she was a super star, and we even got a ribbon! I was elated!

Coach M wasn't impressed.  She met me at my barn for a recap of the weekends adventure, and let me know what a let down I was.  She glared at me and said "You accomplished nothing at that show." Her sage advice?  Next time the mare even hinted at refusing to go forward I was to pull out my whip and beat her.  I am sure my mouth was hanging open as she spoke those words, but the last ones stunned me even more.  "You embarrassed me" she hissed.  I don't remember what happened after that, what she said, or when she left.  I felt like I had been slapped across the face.

I sat down and analyzed everything she had said, everything that had happened at the show.  And after much thought and many tears I came to an important conclusion.  I didn't care what she thought. I didn't care if I had embarrassed her.  This wasn't about her, it wasn't about me.  It was about that pretty red mare, that mare who had been through some shit and was trying to figure it all out.  My self esteem, my ego didn't matter.  What mattered was I loved that mare, and she was trying her heart out to grow and learn to trust me. She was truly joyful now, both to be around and to ride.  I was getting somewhere with her.  I needed to trust the process and myself.  I truly felt like Cajun was telling me what she needed and I needed to listen to her.

I stopped taking lessons with Coach M (MUCH criticism followed that move) and began to just work on myself.  I videoed myself and picked it apart.  I went to clinics, I read books and watched training DVDs.  And I continued to show Cajun all summer.  Our next show wasn't perfect, but by our third and fourth show we were on track.  She no longer hesitated going into the ring.  She was lovely and soft in the arena and she was the calm, relaxed horse in the warm up ring!  We won hi point at 3 shows in a row.  I was so proud of her!

I rode all the next winter with 2nd level in our sight.  She was like a new horse, my little rock star! She was my buddy, and I loved her more then I had let myself love a horse in a long time.  In early spring I attended a clinic where we did very well and got the thumbs up for trying out 2nd level.  The show was a few weeks away, but I was so excited to have fun with my girl all summer.  The Monday after the clinic I gave her the day off.  I put her rain sheet on, turned her out in her field and went for lunch.  I returned to the barn an hour and a half later to find her dead in the grass.

Cajun taught me an amazing lesson.  Listen to your horse.  Hear what they are trying to say.  Those silly spooks or resistant head tosses aren't them being jerks.  They are trying to say things to you in their language.  LISTEN!  If they know you are on their side, doing whats best for them, trying to make their lives better they will do ANYTHING for you. It is YOUR RESPONSIBILITY to know what is good training, what is bad, and what is harmful.  They bear the brunt of it.  I lost her, but I can look back on our time together with such joy because I know she was happy.  She taught me to listen. And because I listened, she gave me her soul.  Oh, I still miss her, I am crying as I type this.  But I honestly have no regrets!

Cajun winning Hi Point 1st Level.  She did that 3 shows in a row.

So...Now what??

I ended staying only 3 months at Coach T's.  And while you probably read that story and wonder if I got anything good out of the experience I have to tell you I really did! But on returning home I was exhausted and drained, and spent the rest of the summer recovering.  I really questioned whether I really even wanted to ride again. The reality of the dressage world hit me, and hit me hard.  These changed my hopes and dreams, and awoke me to another reality.

1) Money counts.  Big time!  Oh I know, you want to tell me its just an excuse, just something us poor girls cry out from the sidelines, but isn't really true! You just need some pluck, some hard work, a can-do spirit!  Anyone can make it!  HA! Yeah right!  First of all, lets all acknowledge that, no matter what type of riding you do, it's expensive.  Even owning a horse in your backyard to trail ride on is a costly endeavour.   Once you start showing, the tack, the clothes, the trailers, the memberships....yeesh.  A car is a cheaper investment.  There's board and vet and farrier, all the more involved if you have a show horse.  And let's face it, if you wanna ride against the big boys, you can't do it on Charger the trail horse.  At Coach T's they wouldn't even look at a horse unless it came from Germany, had an all-star pedigree, and cost as much as my house.  Seriously.  Nothing North American bred.  That attitude might be changing, but it doesn't translate into cheaper prices.  And if you want to REALLY compete, you can't have just one mount!  Along side the Prix St Georg trained star, you need to have an up and coming star.  And maybe a third slightly lower level trained pony that you can pull out when ol'Superstar tweaks a tendon and is off for a year.  If you don't come from deep pockets, you can try for sponsorship, although these can be fickle.  I saw more then one heart broken young rider get a letter from their sponsor telling them the well was dry.  Average income earner?  Good luck! Hope you have a secret horse supplier no one else knows about!  Most of us have jobs we have to work, and don't get to train daily with a top trainer.  But oh no, money means nothing....

** Oh I can hear you all now!  "She's so negative! So and so made it to the Olympics and she didn't have money or sponsors! "  Sorry,  so that one person did it!  Every once in a while they let one of us sad poor girls into the inner circle to keep us all hoping, showing and buying sparkly breeches.

2) Its a nasty place to be.  I stood on the sidelines, I heard all the inner gossip, the stories floating around from one barn to another.  It wasn't pretty! It was ugly and competitive and just plan nasty. Those big fancy barns with the velvet carpets and diamond studded horses were not peaceful, horse filled retreats. No! The people (mostly women) riding and training there were aggressive, harsh, and they were not going to be pushed around.  One minute they loved a certain barn and trainer (oh, the gushing! oh, the infinite declarations of love!), the next they had packed up and moved on leaving behind a mess of stories and frustrated barn staff.  Yup, the fickleness of it all still surprises me.  But it was considered normal, and was in itself almost a sport.  I grew tired of it all very quickly.

3) It's not really about the training.  Ok, it kinda is.  Some of those trainers I watched at the show were good.  Even Coach T was amazingly knowledgeable, and gave me so much great advice.  And he even really liked my riding!  But when you're in the ring, so much can be hidden.  So many flaws, so many glaring issues can disappear with a certain type of riding. Although you warmed them up over bent and tense, the show ring was a different story. A good trainer would easily get beat by a flashy show trotting horse that looked like it constantly passaged everywhere.  It was all about expression and flair; good basics and flowing horses didn't matter.  An expressive front end hid the flaws of training.  It was all very interesting to sit back and take in, but in the end who paid the cost?

4) People ride for many different reasons.  They show, they spend the money, for many different reasons.  Some love to be competitive, some love to show off fancy horses in sparkly breeches, some honestly want to show off their horse and training.  But different reasons present different pictures and some are all sparkle, no depth.  It was easy to see who's motives were more honest then others. But in the end the picture I came back with was dressage was big business, and I wasn't sure how my world and it would ever fit together.

By the end of summer I realized it wouldn't fit together.  That world was out of my league, and I honestly didn't want to be there anyways. That summer was the first time in my life I dreaded going to the barn.  I didn't look forward to my lessons.  I just plain didn't want to be there! So I spent the remainder of the summer at home staring out my window at my horses.  I rode my tb on my lawn, I watched Classical Dressage videos, I read books by Anja Beran and Phillipe Karl, and I tried desperately to find my way back.  And it was during those times that I realized that horses were a journey.  The part I didn't like about my whole experience was that they made the destination the sole focus.  It was an idol that they sacrificed everything for.  For me, it was about the riding, the training, but also about so much more.  I wanted to know each horse, I wanted them to teach me. I wanted it to change my life, to shape my life.  I wanted horse to be more then just ribbons and money and sponsorships.  Not that all those things can't help or can't be a part of it.  But I didn't want it to become the reason behind everything. I wanted to help train horses and people in a way that showed it could be done gently with a happy horse and rider.

I emerged from that summer feeling more focused, like I had a mission.  I couldn't change the dressage world, that world didn't interact with mine in a decisive way.  But I could change the way I saw it, and the way I rode and handled my horses.  I could teach and ride the classical way, no matter who frowned on it, and help along anyone else who had the same ideals.  I would try and learn from my horses and let them be my teachers.

In my next blog post (or 2) I'll introduce you to the horses who changed and shaped my life. My teachers.

Little Greyson says Hi!

Livin' the Dream? Part 2

The lesson began long before I put my foot in the irons. As I tacked up my horse, a 6 year old Trakehner x who was 17 hands and pretty grumpy, I was watched closely by the assistant trainer, K. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until I bridled the big snarky mare.  She resisted the bit strongly, and when I finally convinced her to open her mouth I felt a strange groove on her gums. With a quick glance at K I decided to ignore it- she was openly glaring at me and checking her watch- and I buckled up the nose band and flash.  I stepped back for final inspection and K moved in to look at the bridle.  She immediately pointed to the noseband and said "Tighter!" I was a little surprised but I stepped forward, and did the noseband up another hole.  I wasn't sure if I had misjudged it - I was always taught the 2 finger rule, about having room for 2 fingers between the nose and the leather.  Maybe I had done 3??  But K shook her head at me. "Tighter!"  I did it up another notch realizing the whole '2 finger rule' was now null and void.  K sighed heavily, pushed me out of the way, and grabbed the strap.  Placing one hand on the mare's muzzle to brace, and holding the strap in the other, she pulled until the mare's cheeks bulged out and then quickly did up the buckle.  Turning to me she said "It must be TIGHT!! If not they can resist!  They might even buck!" and she walked off leaving me standing with the mare.

Once in the arena I was given side reins and showed the "proper" way to fit them.  The horses nose was pulled back behind the vertical, evenly on both sides.  I was amazed at the tension on the side reins! The mares cheeks were already bulging beneath the straps and now her head was crammed against her chest.  I was then ordered to lunge her, which by their definition was to make her go on a relatively small circle, and drive her until all the fight was out of her. I was once again in a state of shock.

Over the course of the next few weeks I learned that this was the norm. Before every ride each horse (regardless of age and training) was lunged in short side reins for at least 15 minutes to drive any resistance out of them.  Once they were sufficiently tired we slapped a pair of draw reins on to ride with - to this day I hate those stupid draw reins with a passion!! Even after all this preparation work to wear out the horses the amount of resistance was amazing! Despite tight nosebands you could hear the horses grinding their teeth against the contact - never a good sign.  And so many times they would try and shake their heads to free themselves from the tension or the draw reins! The riders' driving seat and legs combined with the noseband/draw reins created such tension many horses took to rearing or stopping all together.  This was considered a normal training issue, and the reason we were told to always wear spurs and carry whips. Some horses just went slower and slower until they were spanked forward into relentless hand, and ridden until they were slick with sweat.  These fancy horses still did all the tricks- tempis, pirouettes, half pass and piaffe.  They were athletic! They could pull it off!  But the amount of work it took to get it, and the lack of softness or even joy in the movements was glaring.

The grooves in my mares mouth were also the norm.  These were formed from years of pressure of the bit on the horses' delicate gums.  Once a week a "training bit"- aka a twisted wire snaffle, another torture device - was used to lighten the obviously heavy horses.  This often lead to the creation of fresh grooves, or even bloody mouths.  When this occurred we were told to switch back to the other bit for a day and coat the horses cheeks and tongues with Vaseline. Several of these expensive animals had tongue injuries, or would hang their tongues out after riding.  With the nosebands so tight their cheeks bulged as their tongue was forced back into their mouths to avoid the painful pulling bit. I have never seen so many horses refusing to go forward, rearing up in protest in my life. And yet this is not the only place it happens. To this day, a driving seat and a harsh rein make me shudder!! If your horse is refusing to go forward off the lightest aid, please stop and consider what you are doing!!

Trail rides were allowed once a week during nice weather but these were just opportunities to school the horses out in the open. So many came back slick with sweat, panting and covered with whip and spur marks.  Within a few days I began to dread the barn. Although Coach T had tons of experience and was honestly a lovely rider, I felt like anything I learned was being drowned out in all the negativity.  His philosophy was explained to me one evening after a lesson: Dressage was now big business.  These horses were all owned by sponsors who paid a lot of money for them and expected great things.  They were bred for this.  They must be pushed. There was a new way to ride and train that got a horse to Grand Prix much quicker then in other times.  Yes, there were casualties, many actually.  But the ones that made it were the strong ones worth the money and time. My goal, he informed me, was to find someone to sponsor me, to buy me these superstar horses, and to show as much as possible.  It was the goal of all us average income (poor) riders, and it was reiterated by K and the other girls at the barn many times.

But who were the casualties?  These ones that weren't strong enough to make it?  I was shown several pictures of previous show horses who were now (at young ages of 12-14) either lame or "crazy".  One who had been the up and coming super star who was now retired.  He began freaking out at shows, and it escalated until he couldn't even be taken into an arena without furious shaking and sweating.  He was now a trail horse.  One lovely 4 year old mare broke down a mere 2 months after coming out of quarantine.  Her lameness has stuck with her.  Another 5 year old was on stall rest for another issue, that never really went away.  He was sold off as a low level hunter.  A number became "crazy" and were sold off to who knows where.  So many horses made unsound, so many made angry at humans and our training.

Was this an isolated incident? Was I just at a dressage barn from hell? Unfortunately it was far more normal then I ever dreamed.  I was at a week long show with the barn, as a groom and assistant, learning the ropes.  Being back stage, and considered a mere nobody, has it perks.  I stood with the other workers from other barns and countries and listened as they discussed the horses that were ridden in front of us.  I saw several Olympic horse/rider combinations, several riders I had previously only seen in magazines.  And the stories I heard only helped me realize I didn't belong in that world.  That I simply didn't have it in me.  Not all these trainers were horrible.  Not at all! But the part that hit me was how it didn't matter in the show ring. The tortured horses at the barn I was at won as often as everyone else's.  They were given top scores, and the judges praised the wonderful "classical training".  Oh, if only one of those judges could have felt the grooves in the superstar mouth! If only they saw the injections, the medications that kept them going.  If only these wonderful, forgiving animals could speak!  I felt such enormous guilt.

So I packed up and headed home.

Livin' the Dream? Part 1

The event that has had the biggest impact on my riding life was the summer I spent in another province as a working student.  I was in my early 20's and had been told repeatedly (and somewhat loudly) that if I really wanted to grow as a trainer, and become a serious high level rider I needed to become a working student at a successful training barn.  As a rider with very limited means, but a wealth of experience 'behind the scenes' at local stables this would probably be my best and only bet. I agreed, and eagerly sent off several applications along with videos of my riding to a few dressage trainer I knew of.  I received back a number of positive responses, but the reality of the cost of travel (goodbye dreams of riding in Germany) and the cost of living in the states (one women wanted me in Colorado that weekend-I received her email Thursday...) put a damper on my excitement.

Feeling a little discouraged I decided to attend a local clinic with a Canadian rider who came very highly recommended.  I'll call him Coach T.  Watching other peoples lessons with him I was impressed by his solid explanations, his tough stance on contact ("Half halt RELEASE! No, REALLY RELEASE!") and his stressing of how the horses biomechanics effects the way we ride them. He was also one of the few coaches I had seen who understood that 'forward' was not about speed, and he told almost everyone to slow down.  YAY!  During my lessons I found him tough but fair, catching many on my weaknesses ("Shoulders back!!") but also being pretty darn positive.  I was happy, and the three days flew by.

At home on Monday I sent him an email thanking him for the help and asking for his advice.  He responded with a job offer, saying he liked my riding, and if after a 2 month trial I decided I liked the situation I could stay on for a year, moving up to assistant trainer. Again, I was beside myself.  The next few weeks were a blur, as I prepared to leave.  My farm, horses and dogs would be cared for by my ever supportive parents (this was before my arena was built, a much simpler time) and I would eventually send for my mare Anja, now just 2, to be started with me once I was settled over there.  Within 2 weeks I was packed up and on my way.

I arrived at Coach T's brand new facility just as a new batch of horses were coming out of quarantine. I spent my first day there being told every horses name, age, breeding and current level of training.  I was thrown right into work, with very little explanation.  There were 2 other girls around my age who were also working students, plus a younger one who came for the summer only.  A third girl I saw hanging around was a sponsored Young Rider hopeful who's new horse had arrived only a month before. Her horse was a Grand Prix schoolmaster straight from Holland and (as she proudly informed me) 'probably worth more then your whole farm back in Manitoba'.  I rolled my eyes at that one, but he really was a lovely boy, with the sweetest temperament. Someone back in Holland had taken very great pains to train him properly.

Diving into the work, I found out we were in charge of grooming and saddling every horse that was to be ridden (close to 20 a day), of warming them up, and riding the ones we were assigned.  Coach T was extremely fussy about turnout-horses had to be brushed to perfection, tack was cleaned and polished after every ride, and we had to be dressed in a crisp polo shirt, dark breeches and shiny black boots with spurs.  My first day was a whirl wind, but as I feel asleep that night I figured all the blurry details would come into focus the next day when the real work began.

The next day did indeed allow for better focus and observation. I was surprised to find that the horses rarely went outside.  There were 5 small but adequate paddocks beside the arena that sat mostly unused.  If the weather was nice, the horses were allowed out to spend 30 minutes outside in those paddocks by themselves, grazing. Any contact with a neighbouring horse was prohibited, a rule enforced by an electric wire that ran around the top of the fence. Horses had to be lead out with a chain over their nose, and halters always stayed on.  Each horse wore boots on all 4 legs, plus bell boots on each hoof.  If a horse appeared to want to play, buck or run, we were to run out there and prevent it, bringing them inside before any such things occurred.  If the weather was bad, all horses were hand walked twice a day for 15 minutes in the arena.  I ventured out beside the arena one day leading one of the star youngsters who almost never left his stall.  I felt sorry for him, and wanted him to see more then the view the small window in his stall afforded him.  He was good at first, but eventually all the stimulation a quiet field on a hot summer day contains led to a rearing fit.  The barn manager and head assistant (I'll call her K) laughed as I put him away.  "Silly boy, doesn't he know going outside is a privilege not a right?"

That seemed to be the basic consensus with everyone at the barn.  The horses spent all their time either locked in their stalls behind iron bars, being hand walked, or being lunged/ridden.  Freedom outside, with no human telling them what to do was basically unheard of and considered unneeded. These were not back yard horses, I was told countless times. Theses were superstars, worth far to much to be allowed to do anything that might lead to an injury.  The unfortunate side affect to this was that they all cribbed or weaved, which led to electric wires being run on the inside of the stalls. Some were incredibly grumpy, with several biting the bars on the stalls when you would walk by. Others stood at the back of their stalls starring at the wall. The younger ones often took to jumping around and bucking, kicking the walls, or running small circles.

Outside time at my farm

I felt an overwhelming pity for them but then, hey, who was I? Just a nobody from Manitoba.  This was how it was done, I was told.  This was how it was in Germany.  This was just the facts of having high end horses.  I sighed, put my head down, and tacked up my horse for my first riding lesson.

A little Clarity is a Good Thing

I re-read my last post and just wanted to clarify something.  I'm not completely against showing.  I'm really not!  I have done a fair bit of showing in the past and still do show occasionally.  For me, though, its been a battle to justify the expense vs the rewards, and also a real dislike of being in the spotlight. As well, I don't really care what the numbers on a test sheet say, although I do enjoy reading the comments.  I realized many years ago that my true joy lies in the everyday training I do quietly at my farm. I find the dressage tests unimaginative, and I hate having to be so accurate in the movements! I know, I know, its good for me.  But as I tend to be one of those free spirited, creative types, it sucks the joy out of me faster then a surprise math quiz.

I've spent the last 4 days riding and enjoying my ponies, despite the rather frigid weather.  Yesterday, after braving the brutal wind that pushed the temperatures towards -25 all morning my working student A and I decided to head inside and watch horse videos and clean tack for the remainder of the afternoon.  We ended up watching Anja Beran on YouTube as she presented her training ideas in a symposium to a large audience in Germany.  The highlight of the video to me was when a women entered the ring riding a lovely Lipizzaner stallion.  It was explained that he was 30 years old and still did his dressage work on a daily basis.  They then rode around the ring doing walk-canter transitions, tempi changes and at the end a beautiful piaffe.  He was lovely, proud, and soft, and so sound in his movement I would have put his age at 15 rather then 30.  I was so excited!  Its how I hope my horses will be when they reach that age- I'm not Anja Beran, not even close, but I pray I can have such a positive impact on my horses!

I think thats why I often squirm away from showing.  How can we expect our horses to stay sound and have the amazing longevity of that stallion, when the majority of horses we see in the ring are over ridden and tense?  Strong contact and driving seats are the norm, and we wonder why there are so many horses getting hock injections? or needing chiropractic care? Or having major training issues?  I see so many horses being ridden who's hind legs are uneven, with one snatching off the ground and the other bearing more of the weight.  The enormous flicking front leg movement is drooled over, but how is the stress of the horses weight slapping the ground affecting its long term health? If your horse is so heavy on the reins it causes your arms or back to tire or be sore, how does the horse feel?  A bigger bit and draw reins may solve the problem in the short term, but what happens when that stops working? 

We must do better, we owe the horses more then this!  I am FAR from perfect, I am no high earning trainer and I don't want to sound too full of myself. But I feel that we as horse owners are responsible for these animals well being.  Not just now, but in the future as well. If showing is what you enjoy, thats fine, but winning a ribbon shouldn't be our marker of success!  

I spent a summer working at a very successful dressage barn in another province.  I went there expecting to be in awe, to learn by being immersed in a dressage rich enviroment. I chose an instructor with whom I had taken clinics with and considered classical.  What I got was a crash course in modern dressage and the new horse industry economics. I came home disillusioned and lost.  But that is a story for my next post.  As well, I will also introduce my horses, and discuss their training.  I also feel a need to delve into my past horses, and how they shaped my training philosophy.  I hope you tune in!

Josh and I showing (and winning) at second level Spring 2015

So What is Your Training Philosophy? Glad you asked......

When I decided to go into the 'horse biz' 16 years ago, my only caveat was that I would only allow myself to do this IF I could follow one principle: Do no harm.  I stood in front of a mirror and stared into my eyes and thought long and hard about this step I was about to take.  I was young, but I had seen enough to know that the horse world was a scary sometimes dangerous place.  Thanks to a youth spent working off lessons and board in a number of barns I had seen behind the curtain, and knew the truth of the horse world.  Could I do this, could I make a living in this industry without becoming everything I didn't want to become?  That was the heavy question I needed to answer.

My belief has always been that I don't own my horses.  I have a strong belief in God, and I believed He created this world.  I believe everything He created is His.  I have these horses on loan, for a short time, but they aren't mine to do with as I please.  The Creator who designed them is their owner, and because of that I must treat them (and every other animal I 'own') with great care and respect.  I have been entrusted with someone else's property.  Because of this strong belief I have studied hard to find a path that allows me to respectfully train my horses.  I wanted the training to be a partnership, one that both want to be a part of.  Not a boss/employee situation, and definitely not a master/slave relationship either.   

It meant I had to study their anatomy, to know how different methods affect the horses body and well being.  Because make no mistake, every moment you are in the saddle has an affect on the horse.  A horse heavy on the forehand, or off balance and crooked is slowly wearing out its body, overburdening parts of it.  This inevitably leads to lameness or at the very least damage to joints and also stresses the horse mentally.  Think of a person lifting weights with poor form.  It takes a huge toll.  Instead, allowing the horse to reach into the contact using gentle bending and lateral work, keeping the horses shoulders up and body very straight promotes good posture and healthy joints.

I choose Classical Dressage because I liked the ideas behind it.  The idea of respect for the horse, the knowledge to ride in a way that works with their anatomy, the idea that the training goes beyond just riding but into your whole life.  The people who inspire me have never won a ribbon in a show ring, and don't care to either!  The idea that the training can improve the horse physically and mentally really appeals to me.  And I have seen it work over the years.  One of the biggest mistakes riders make is focusing on the head and neck and not the balance of the horse.  Presently you see horses made very round in the neck (either by strong planted hands while riding or draw reins) and driven strongly into the contact.  These horses tend to be very expressive in front but if you watch the hind legs they often drag or take awkward uneven steps.  The amount of tension in the horses body is amazing, and the riders have to ride with that same tension to hold the horse up.  Trust me, I have ridden it! But thats a story for another day. By contrast training a horse classically has allowed me to ride many horses with very light contact, enjoying a soft connection and a relaxed swinging gate.  The lightness of the movement, the amazing feeling of ease of movement thanks to the balance is something I work for everyday.  I have been criticized by many for not making my horses rounder, for not driving them harder.  My only response to that is based on my research and my experience this is the way I want my horses to go.  I enjoy how willing they are, how excited they are to work everyday.  My horses go forward lightly and freely, which makes me feel like they must be happy.  And I can sit in the saddle softly with a deep but never pushing seat and enjoy the ride without feeling exhausted at the end.  

Lunging/play time!

There is also a playfulness that comes with that.  Looking at my horse as a partner means I spend time with them on the ground, both lunging and playing with them, which allows them to express themselves.  They get to show me how they feel that day, or maybe show off to me.  I have found that they are extremely generous, often offering very difficult movements on their own without me asking.  Those are the moments I truly enjoy.  Quiet, gentle, patient work that progresses over time keeps their minds calm and happy.  I have had my share of difficult horses, and this method is the one I have found works the best to improve the horses outlook.

Well, there you have it.  Maybe after reading this you are wondering more about specifics, wondering exactly how my horses really go.  Maybe you think I'm full of crap!  Thats cool,  its a free country and you can ignore me if that makes you happy.  However if you are curious stick around.  I'm going to go back and show you my journey to this point, and give you some specifics based on the horses I have ridden and horses I currently ride.  

My Introduction Letter

 You're probably wondering why another blog?  Better still, why another horse blog?  There are tons of them out there, just try googling 'Horse or Equestrian blogs' and holy moly, you'd think every horse person had a case of writers itch, desperately wanting to share every detail of their otherwise average life.  Yeah, its true. It is probably the number one reason I hesitated and stalled on even starting all this.  Well, that and the fact I find putting the tumble of words in my head onto paper (or screen) a huge challenge.  My mind tends to start leaping down a million bunny trails by the end of the first paragraph and, well, reining it in has never been my strong suit.

So, why then?  Hmm, honestly its hard to explain.  For me, the biggest reason is over the last 16 years I have worked as a 'professional' (yes, there is the " but it will become clearer why as we go on...) horse person, and I've seen shit.  Pardon the language, but I can't seem to find a better word to describe it.  I've been through shit, good and bad, and I feel the need to put it down, to try and make sense of it.  I also wanted a place to air my ideas and methods, that explains my philosophy and gives me a place to talk it all out.  Not exactly ground breaking, but hey, maybe it will be entertaining.

I'm not an amazing writer- I love to read, and I do honestly love to write.  But I am one of those individuals who tend to see my own strengths and weaknesses pretty clearly, and I know my writing is weak.  But still, I'm hoping you will grant me a little grace, and stick around as I try and put my thoughts out there as honestly as I can.  This isn't an ego trip either, by the way.  I am pretty hard on myself, so I know theres not much for me to brag about.  But still, I feel like someone out there (is there anyone out there??) might learn from my experience, or maybe feel a certain connection to my ideas.  Heres hoping anyway.

Anja and I doing our thing at the Walter Zettl clinic

Heres a little info about me before I begin.  I'm 30 something, female, married with a teenage step-daughter, owner of (currently) 2 farms.  Ones kinda for sale.  I have 4 horses, 1 Great Dane, and several cats.  I started riding at 10 and knew immediately that this was what I wanted to do.  I was born into your average middle class family, limited funds and all, and slowly worked my way through many different situations until I became a horse owner and riding coach.  I am not wealthy, I do not have sponsors.  I have made my way working hard and riding what I could manage to afford. Showing was a luxury I have often lived without.  I live in a very cold, harsh area of Canada not known for its horse industry, and yet despite our relatively small numbers, we still manage to have as much drama as bigger communities.  Ah, the joy.  About 12 years ago I fell in love with Classical Dressage, and its been my passion ever since.  My hero's include Phillipe Karl and Anja Beran.  I actually attended a Phillipe Karl Clinic in Toronto several years ago, and actually met him!  My dream would be to someday ride with them, and have them say "nice job" at the end of the lesson. Hope springs eternal.  I also had the opportunity to ride under Walter Zettl, and had an amazing time! He really helped validate my training philosophy, with lots of positive feed back.  I do also try and take regular clinics, with teachers who share similar ideas.

Well, thats it! I hope you found my first post, my introduction letter, interesting enough that you'll stick around and read more!