Miscellaneous
What a wonderful Saturday today was. I had no set schedule, and took a leisurely trip down to the barn for a ride. I haven’t been riding much at all, but with this three day weekend and some new juice in my enthusiasm I figured it was a good day to start my training regimen for this season.
I should have started earlier, but home chores kept me from riding in earnest. But now the grass is growing well and is mowed, the vegetables planted, the plants fertilized. Everything is fresh and clean so now there will be more time for riding.
My horse seemed pleased to see me and gave me that familiar and adorable nicker in greeting. I opened the stall door, gave him some much wanted baby talk and scratched that special place on his crest. I slipped on the halter and he happily clip clopped to the cross ties.
He stood like a gentlemen so he got a treat. I then began the three step process of brushing him. He was dusty for sure, and some hairs on his loins still seemed to be shedding. He had a mud spot near his poll on one side, and one gaskin was muddy too. I took out my small round rubber curry and lightly began to do soft circles around his body, paying special attention to the itchy spots like under his mane. I focused the brushing as a masseuse would pay attention during a massage, watching his reaction to what I was doing and if he liked it or not. If he seemed to like the brushing in one spot I’d linger, until his body language told me to move on.
After the once over with that brush, and because he stood like a gentleman and didn’t lift a leg, he got a treat. Next, I went to a mitt which has sheepskin on one side and cactus cloth on the other. Starting with his poll, I gave him the once over with the cactus cloth side. I could see that he was starting to shine.
When I needed him to move over I practiced using my energy to do it. He did well. He remembered.
Again, a treat for he’d stood just as good as for the first round of brushing. Now the third round, the softest bristle brush you can imagine. I brushed him methodically, a flick of the wrist propelling the dust into the air and off his coat. When I was done, he was deliciously shiny. I stepped back and admired him. Such a handsome boy!
Other than his bit of a Budha belly his muscling didn’t look too bad. He kind of looked butch and I was happy with that.
I finished up the rest of the grooming, though I did have to walk away once when he lifted his leg to me after the brushing hit a tickley spot on his belly. After a few minutes I came back, and his Thoroughbred brain was so starved for attention that he once more stood like a champion. When I was done, he got a treat and my wonderous praise.
He likes that kind of babbling praise a lot. He gets this “I’m adorable!” look on his face which I find terribly endearing.
I tacked him up and could tell he really wanted to get a move on it. He was anxious to be off the crossties, anxious to work.
I put on my helmet.
We stepped into the indoor and I clumsily climbed the mounting block, swung a leg over and got on. He then almost scooted off in a most energetic walk. I know this walk. It’s “spooky walk”. It’s the walk he does when he is looking for an excuse to be silly and to get frightened from silly things like the dirt.
The indoor had jumps strewn about. The rails were all down but not neatly piled, more like someone tossed a bunch of toothpicks around that fell randomly about.
I needed to focus him, I could feel him building energy inside. I began to walk him over the rails as if I was doing a pattern. I tried as little as possible not to use my hands but rather my seat, weight and legs. Some of the turns to get from one rail to another were extreme, others not so hard. I took him back and forth over them at the walk, each time using the reins less and less. By the time I’d finished the sixth set of varying patterns his focus was mine.
I then started my work, walking circles, shoulder fore, baby half passes for a couple of steps, A lot of changes in the walk from long steps to more collected steps.. More should fore, haunches in, square halts; we took our time and I tried to concentrate on riding the back end, imagining lifting the forehand and being light on the bit, my body finding his and moving together. I worked hard on not getting in the way. Nice and quiet and relaxed. Good.
I was very pleased with our work. Way more than I had expected. I was proud of him and I let him know it. He liked that!
I then moved up to trot and he was very forward and willing. I kept him in a longer frame which pleased his demeanor. Lots of changes within the trot and a ton of trot walk trainsitions. He was nice off my leg and other than the occasional locked jaw he was great! And even the jaw thing softened with just a little attention from me with my leg.
I however, caught myself looking down for the diagonal and I made this loud grunting noise in disgust. Hadn’t I just written about how hard I worked to get passed this habit?! So I sat some trot, then lifted by feel. Wrong diagonal. That’s right, I have to wait until it feels right, then wait one, then rise.
I tried it again and nailed it. Good. I worked on it for the rest of the ride going in and out of transitions.
By the end of the trot work he was started to get that semi floating feeling. I worked a few minutes in that state then called it quits, even though we hadn’t cantered. The canter is the gait where he’s most likely to fall on the front so rather than fight it I opted to just wait until tomorrow. Get that little bit more so he can balance himself better. Gymnasticize him just a bit more tomorrow and we’ll be fine.
This was a good start. I am pleased.
This is a silly light fluffy piece. I was inspired from two sources. First, by the very excellent web site called “The Carrot” where they wrote of Rolkur Barbie.
I highly recommend this site for a good laugh, and a hefty helping of sarcasm and wit! I love this site:
http://horseslovecarrotsandbute.blogspot.com/2010_05_01_archive.html
The second source is a friend with whom I was speaking recently. She was telling me the story of someone she sees at shows, and has nicknamed her Horse Show Barbie.
I hope you enjoy my version of Horse Show Barbie!
We all know a Horse Show Barbie. They have lots of help, are always impeccably dressed and coiffed. Their bodies are apparently a naturally occurring dirt repellant and they win all their classes.
I am not a horse show Barbie. Dirt clings to me and the arena tends to migrate from the area surrounded by fences to straight up my nose. There it forms little brown clot colonies.
I am not a horse show Barbie. I never do get around to slathering a layer of make up on my face so that I’m model perfect before a class. I do bring it to each and every show, yet it never does get to go on my face. There just never seems the time.
I am not a horse show Barbie. I quickly become a dust magnet after sweating so that I resemble more a crispy cutlet. Add a sunny day and some tomato sauce and mozzarella and I fry up nicely to a nice helping of ammie parmisian.
I am not a horse show Barbie. I clean my own stall, brush my own horse, tack up my horse and remember those little extras like bridle number, whip and gloves. My job is basically to transfer dirt from the horse, onto myself.
I am not a horse show Barbie. After a long day of showing I’m the one who looks like they’ve been rode hard and put away wet.
I am not a horse show Barbie. No hordes follow me singing my praises and stroking my fragile ego. When I fail and there is blame to place, it is solely upon me.
I am not a horse show Barbie. When I’m successful there is no pat on the back, just me in self reminder of “congratulations, you didn’t manage to mess it up”.
I am not a horse show Barbie. White breeches never manage to stay white. Neither does crème.
I am not a horse show Barbie: I slick my hair back and shove it into a show bow as neat as I can. Despite this, it still looks like drunken monkeys have done my hair. I could be the cover child for “Helmet Head Weekly”.
I am not a horse show Barbie. I do not have the figure, the wardrobe, the flashy vehicle. But unlike Barbie both me and my significant other have genitalia.
I am not a horse show Barbie. I do for myself and for my horse and riding to our potential is more valued than the placing.
I am not a horse show Barbie. My digestive tract is ever busy, only to be outdone by my bladder which seems to be most active five minutes before my test.
I am not a horse show Barbie. Barbie has never once gotten her monthly “friend” in the midst of sweating in white breeches. For me, white breeches seem to bring it on. I now avoid white breeches. My cellulite is disappointed.
I am not a horse show Barbie. Half the battle of the show is getting safely to, and then from, the show. The rest of the day is often my feeble attempts at damage control.
I am not a horse show Barbie. When things go well I know the effort has been all mine. When the partnership with my horse is solid, that too is my doing. Our doing.
I am not a horse show Barbie. I appreciate each and every moment and I live each and every moment with gratitude and grace of being able to participate in such things.
Finding the best instructor you can is really important. They are not all created equal. Although I know there are good ones out there, there are also many who are not worth their salt. It should be noted that there are varying degrees of good and bad, and it’s up to you to decide for yourself. I only offer you up things to consider.
I am writing this based upon my experiences and of things I remember being taught or not taught, as it were.
I have calculated that during my time with horses that I have taken 847 lessons. I have watched an additional 113 lessons. That equals at least $45,000 spent on lessons alone. Since my childhood there has to have been at least twenty five people who have instructed me.
Mention this to my family and they’ll ask why I still take lessons. “Don’t you know how to ride yet?”
Gggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr maybe not!!
After that much money being spent I should be an expert. Yet I am not. I’m just like the rest of the amateurs out there still trying to learn and to become better. So no dear family, I apparently do not yet know how to ride.
Thanks for noticing.
Rather than blame myself I’ll chose instead to pick on one American phenomenon as to why I am not better. The phenomenon that I have noticed is that here in America we have developed certain bad habits in both riding and teaching.
So now I must rag on those bad habits. I am hoping you knew I would.
I’ll begin with this rant: Here in the States, way too often riders are taught to ride off the front of the horse and because of this we’ve done ourselves a terrible disservice. It should also be noted that we are also terribly lacking in patience.
As a result, there are a lot of amateurs in the U.S. who quite frankly don’t ride very well. We have become a nation in a rush and as such the US horse scene is full of jumpers who want to jump before they can canter and dressage riders who want to piaffe before they can sit and balance a horse well.
And how do we compensate? By using our hands to steer, to balance and to write $45,000 worth of checks to instructors.
I could not possibly calculate how many people I’ve watched instructed over crossrails or jumps who were not yet even proficient at the canter. We’ve all seen it! Some even post videos like this on the internet thinking it looks good.
Now let’s look at posting diagonals. It is my guess that two thirds of you reading this (if not more) were taught to post the diagonal when the outside foreleg comes forward. It’s okay, you can admit it.
Yet when I went for a lesson with a Master and was on the incorrect diagonal (a stunning duh moment on my part) he instructed me that I was on “the wrong hind leg”.
This made me stop in my tracks and turn to look at him like a big, red faced yutz.
“Pardon? What’s wrong with the hind leg?” I said.
Oh, poor poor clueless me.
He took a deep breath and mustered up some patience. “You were posting on the wrong hind leg. You needed to bounce once.”
There was this instant conversation in my brain which went like this: “Oh. Okay, think brain… think.Forget about all the people watching at this clinic.I am posting on the wrong hind leg, and at the trot diagonal legs move in unison, so (insert light bulb here) duh…. I’m on the wrong diagonal! Oh thank goodness….now do”
I went on, making sure I was posting on the right diagonal. I did what everyone does. I looked down to make sure.
I could then hear him address the clinic audience. It was important what he had to say, even if I was the lab rat that caused him to say it.
“Too often riders are taught to look down for the correct diagonal on the front leg. We should not do that. We should feel the correct diagonal by concentrating on the hind leg always, the inside hind for the diagonal. Feel it, not see it. When we canter we must make sure we engage the inside hind leg as well”.
Oh.
Crap. It then occurred to me that in order for me to change this one little thing I would have to do an awful lot of work and an awful lot of relearning.
Crap!
That day sparked an odyssey of some two years, muscle memory-ing my way out of looking down at the front to know what the horse is doing. That was the day I consciously had to relearn riding the back. Ride the front end like a baby and the back end like a gorilla. Okay, got it.
So for two years at every ride I would test myself over the developing of “feel”. Two years where I’d sit the trot, close my eyes and then lift up to what I believed was the right diagonal and then opening my eyes to test and see if I got it right. In the beginning I got my guesses wrong a lot. Soon I adjusted that to when I thought I should go up I should wait once, then rise. From there I moved on to learning THAT feel.
Two years of this either makes me very dedicated, or very stupid for having taken that long to learn it.
Then again, let’s not be too harsh on me. I had had oodles of lessons in various disciplines with a myriad of instructors. Each and every one of them had told me, instructed me, been paid good money to teach me how to ride and every last one of them had instructed me to look down at the trot for when the outside foreleg goes forward as opposed to rising when the inside hind goes forward.
As it turned out, this way of instruction not only took two years to fix, but then had other results as well. I eventually had to learn to feel the body a lot more and my core and butt where better able to stay in tune with the bodies swing.
Yet I was lucky. At least I didn’t have to relearn the canter as much. It wasn’t as bad for me at the canter as it is for so many people I see. How many of us look down to check for correct lead at the canter, when all we have to do is be taught to feel if it is correct from the back end? Can you feel the inside hind reaching forward well? Can you?
Thankfully, looking down at the canter is not something I’ve had to do in a long time and I think it’s because I really tend to sit up in the canter and really weight my seat. My butt and the horse’s back are together and it’s easy to feel correct lead from wrong. It is because at the canter, I am in the habit of “feeling”.
But no so much in the trot. Why?
I think it is because there is a lack of emphasis on riding the horses body. We are instead focusing on where to put our legs or our hands. We get too busy worrying about our pose that we don’t discover feel and we lose our effectiveness.
How many instructors teach where to focus our brains? We ride our hands way too often and not our butts enough, or our horses butts enough.
Basically, we should be focusing our brains on the horses butt. Stop thinking and feel. Stop thinking and put your brain in the horses butt. This is the one situation in life where it is literally okay to have your head up an ass.
We need to ride with less finger feel and with more fanny feel.
Like DeKunffy said, the hand should only verify.
As I wrote this my brain reminded me of a conversation I had a long time ago with someone who rode English. I rode western at the time. We were discussing how we cued our horse for the canter or lope.
At the time I thought rather highly of myself and when this English rider told me that she cued her horse from the inside leg I rather scoffed. EVERYONE knows you cue from the outside leg! Geeze, some people are just so dumb! You see back then I knew that I knew everything.
But scroll forward a few decades: I cue for the canter somewhat with the inside leg but more with the inside hip going forward.
As it turns out, she was right and I was wrong.
There I said it.
Am I entitled to a refund on that $45,000?
Some packed us as kids
Or with our fat asses
Ride after ride
They taught the masses
They steadied us when balance went askew
The most valuable horse
You ever knew
We kicked them and tugged them
Like a rambling dolt
They never ran off
And never did bolt
They taught us to walk, trot and canter
A gift of learning
Like some equine Santa
Some looked like chunks
Others more fancy
Steady in their gaits
Rarely all dancey
And all of us to the very last one
Learned from a school horse
And we learned a ton
So the next time you see that fat lazy plug
Give him a kiss and give him a hug
For none of us would be where we are
If we didn’t first learn on this equine star
June 28th: We are exhausted. Physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. For five heartbreaking days we worked on saving her, my best friends 18 year old Quarter Horse mare who was damn good school horse. She had done her job well being one of the most dependable school horses I’ve ever seen. She never hurt anyone and was trustworthy at a show or on the trail, one of those irreplaceable babysitter kinds.
It all began innocently enough. We didn’t know it then but our enemy was to be fate and circumstance. It was this night that we noticed she was chewing her hay with a slight tilt of the head. We didn’t worry as her teeth had been floated just a day or two before, so we figured it was because of that. Wait and see, we thought.
June 29th: An eleven year girl takes the mare for a ride in the arena. We’re there too, enjoying the beauty of the day, watching all the girls riding. The mare trotted around, nothing extraordinary, nothing to catch ones attention. When they were done the girls went through the usual post ride routine…. walking, hosing, brushing, pampering, and then putting the horses away. A short time afterwards we noticed the mare lying down in her stall.
We got her up, the instinctive “oh my gosh is it colic?” thing to do only to find instead the strangest thing. A muscle on her left shoulder, right where the leg and shoulder meet, began to twitch. Then, it twitched harder and soon pulsed so strongly that it began to vibrate the entire left foreleg back and forth.
We thought back to the ride not long before. We hadn’t noticed any misstep or stumble. None of us noticed the mare lame, yet now all of a sudden she was.
We called the vet. He arrived and began a series of soundness checks. I winced as he rotated the shoulder. It was the first time I’d ever seen a horse’s shoulder and foreleg stretch out sideways like that. Obviously he was checking to see if she’d pulled something somewhere.
June 30th: The vet returns when the mare showed no improvement and is in fact, worse. He draws blood for testing. She was under constant surveillance as she progressed further downward. Although she was continuing to eat and drink, she’d tilt her head oddly while doing it. There was no fever and her appetite was great. In fact, she would want to eat and drink all the way to the end. She seemed to be chewing each bit for a long time, sometimes with the odd head tilting. Her mouth was foamy. We could see her swallowing but when she drank small amounts of water dribbled from her nose. However, she was managing to drink healthy amounts of water.
We didn’t know then but swallowing was getting progressively more difficult for her. Thoughts of choke, or something stuck in her throat were bounced around. She was scoped. A myriad of conditions and ailments were tossed about. We felt utterly helpless and stupid.
Among those ailments on the hit parade were West Nile, Lyme’s Disease, and botulism. We searched the internet for what could have caused this. She seemed so sick but had not even the slightest fever. One by one we went through diseases discussing each with the intensity of a Middle East accord. We considered botulism but dismissed it as we figured an affected horse would expire quickly. We were wrong……..dead wrong.
The blood results were going to take a few days. In those few days we made a thousand phone calls and spent all nighters on the internet. Her twitches continued and eating was getting harder for her. I noticed that when I’d put my hand on the affected muscle and pushed, the twitching would stop. Remove the hands and the twitching would return. The twitching occurred whenever the mare put weight on that leg. We did the best we could to care for her.
July 2nd: We finally received the results of the blood work and the diagnosis was botulism. All the clinical signs were also by now apparent. She restlessly shifted her weight and couldn’t find comfort. The vet returned hoping to insert a stomach tube so we could keep her strength up by feeding her. However, the soft palate swelled, elongating to the point that it held open the flap to the esophagus. (In horses this flap closes when the animals eat or drink.) She couldn’t be tube fed. Anything passing would go straight to her lungs and not to her belly. She had been on IV fluids for a few days, but now her only mouth quenching moisture came from the licking of ice to wet her Sahara dry mouth.
We had our precious answer yet that answer only gave rise to more questions. Where did she get it? She’s turned out in dirt pens and other than a trail ride is mostly at home. There had been a show, but it seemed too long before this happened. Other horses had been where she’d been, ate what she ate, and were turned out where she was turned out. Yet only she was sick.
Faced with a good horse’s mortality my girlfriend opted for the expense of the serum for botulism. This serum however, was only effective on two strains of botulism, and there were a total of seven. The vet explained that it would halt the worsening of the condition but it was up to the mare’s body to combat whatever damage had already been done. She was given a good chance of recovery…. given the serum was administered before too much damage was done and given this botulism was one of the two types which could be stopped by this treatment.
Things worsened and we waited and prayed. We expected the serum to arrive by overnight mail by the next day, but the next day was already too late.
We tried to get the medicine faster but couldn’t. The equine hospital had just used the last of theirs and they suggested not even trailering the mare, as the stress of travel seems to progress the illness faster.
The vet also explained that if the serum was given to a horse still capable of standing, and of the right strain type, that the odds of survival and full recovery were in our favor. Administered to a horse no longer able to stand and the odds would shift dramatically in favor of mortality.
Ever hungry and thirsty the mare was weakening. The kids continually offered her ice and took turns crying. We were all so frustrated and became frantic when she began laying down more than she was standing.
Fluids, painkillers and other things were given to her in a futile effort to help and diminish discomfort. She continued to fight trying to cling on to life as long as she could. Rising became harder and now her efforts occasionally caused her to bang herself around and she had scrapes on her face and head from stall walls.
July 3rd: We took turns watching the mare who was now under 24 hour supervision. With the arrival of both the vet and the serum the battle with botulism continued. All waited and prayed for improvement. None came.
What did come was her getting cast in the stall when she somehow managed to catch a hoof under a heavy stall mat, lift it, and then get her legs tangled in the mess. While we tried to free her, her IV disconnected and my pants became drenched in her blood. I remember practically laying on her head to keep it still and from hitting stall walls.
We had no idea it could be this bad.
Thrashing legs, her soft moans and lingering groans devastated us. Her breaths were now as rumbling as mine after a bad bout of bronchitis. She cast herself again and again on different parts of the stall.
We put on one of those leather head protectors horses use while trailering to help her from smashing her head so bad. I don’t think it helped much at all.
Once, at about 10 pm she managed to stand, and the “team” walked her slowly the ten feet to a nearby, larger stall. We thought it would keep her free of further casting. Didn’t work. The stall was thick with bedding, the perimeter lined with bedding bags, blankets, anything to keep her from thrashing and banging into the walls. All that night we watched and battled. It was absolute torture. We’d throw ourselves on her to keep her from thrashing so bad. It’s amazing that no hoof met anyone’s head. It was also painfully clear that despite our best efforts she had gotten much worse. It had been my friends wish all along that her beloved mare should not suffer.
This was suffering.
July 4th: Her tail is paralyzed. Eyes battered and bruised are very swollen. We should have put her down. We didn’t know it would be like this.
It’s 4 AM. It’s over. It must be over. Keeping her alive further would be too cruel. Her whole body had dings and bangs. We called the vet and at 5 am he arrived.
He checked her out as she lay there, then shook his head and sighed, wiping his eyes. Darkness became dawn in a surreal way. As chirping birds began their song two giant injections of purple phenolbarbital were given. We all sobbed as the mare quietly went to sleep and shallow breaths slowed to nothing. Only the chirping birds were left.
The struggle was over and finally she was at peace.
The vet cried too, but tried so very, very hard not to show it. I saw it though. Somehow it was most endearing to see that he cared so much. It meant a lot especially as he was such the stoic type. He was near retirement, yet after all these years, he could still cry.
My whole body hurts from soreness. Muscles in my back are locking up, strained to the max from the efforts in the stall. We can’t stop crying. We let her down. The only thing I could think to do to possibly, remotely feel better was to write this diary.
All should know about botulism, the silent killer. Perhaps I can find some self healing with the thought that through the dissemination of this information no other horse will ever have to succumb again to this (insert favorite expletive) condition.
Botulism sucks.
It is my observation that times are a-changing. With the continuing debate over competition riding at the international levels (and even regionally or locally) the cry of the masses is being heard and that cry screams that horsemen from all over the world are unhappy with the current trends and status quo.
Could you ever have imagined the day when over 41,000 people would dare tell Olympians and Olympic judges that they are wrong and what they are seeing in the show ring is not only displeasing, but anger causing?
There have been calls for new organizations other than the FEI to be formed as well as the ongoing righteous “Say Yes To 401” campaign that people are working their hearts out to support. Surely this is all taking a toll on the sport and just like my own show dreams have fallen to the wayside, I would dare say that many others agree with how I feel.
Good job at promoting dressage FEI. Bravo.
Let’s face it…….. dressage is not a ‘user friendly’ sport. It takes horsemen who have been riding for decades and basically tosses them back into the cradle and tells them they know nothing. And even as you rise up the levels you stand a chance of being tossed back down again if your basics are not fundamentally sound. Your training pyramid tumbles down like a desert ruin in ancient Egypt.
When it comes to financing a bid to some sort of success in dressage, boulders are stacked up against you. The horses cost more – way more – than in many other equestrian sports. Whereas $50,000 buys you a solid 2nd level horse in dressage, the same amount of money brings you a much, much higher level of performance in quarter horses or in breed competition like Palomino for instance.
Even when you attend shows you see the scism between disciplines. It costs twice as much to rent a stall and tack stall at a dressage competition than it does at Quarter Horse or Palomino shows even though each if conducted at the same facility. Entry fees differ as well and show the same differences in pricing.
Plus, it should be noted that when you go to a Quarter Horse or other types of shows there are often multiple judges scoring you and placing you. You can win under one judge, get second under another, and be unplaced by a third. This gives some equality to the judging and offers riders the most bang for the buck.
So now I find myself considering my chosen sport, dressage. Dressage costs me more to show in, forces me down to the bottom trying to scratch, bite and claw my way up. Often I’m told that I should have a “warmblood” to be serious and be truly competetive. A horse capable of top performance at top competitions costs over a million dollars, and even something younger and less trained costs over $100,000. The yearly fees for the various organizations costs a ton, lifetime horse registrations and what not costs as well. Lessons and clinics are a fortune. The cherry on the top to this mess is the fact that the training and riding practices of many of those winning in the highest places are not practicing anything I’d want to do any damn way.
Now the latest FEI is doing is trying to appease us all with three diagrams, the second of which seems to look like a rider leaning back and pulling on the reins to me. Instead of having the balls to take a stand and uphold their rules on rolkur/hyperflexion/WTF riding they are trying to please all parties. Look at the horses being ridden this way…. do they look pleased?
I’m sorry, but this is all a bunch of crap and quite frankly I tire of it.
I love my horse and have no plans of giving him up, but I think I’m just going to ride him and enjoy him. Every day dressage is leaving a worse and worse taste in my mouth.
How about you, dear masses? How do you feel?
Is the new era in dressage the end of an era?
As an avid reader and equestrian I frequent a number of blogs and discussion forums. Often, the forums get a bit messy when discussing training. But yesterday I came across something that has really turned me on. It is titled “Learning Theory and Dressage” and discusses training as it relates to a horse’s ability to learn. It appears on the Ultimate Dressage Training forum.
I would love to rewrite it so I’d come off all smart, but there is no way I could do these postings justice. So instead this time I am just going to post the link and I urge everyone to give it a read. Sit down with a cup of coffee or something because it is quite interesting. Read it and draw your own conclusions as to which theory you agree with!
I applaud the posters, one and all, for one of the best entries I’ve ever seen on an internet posting forum, and it’s still growing!
Mazel tov!
The following is in response to some thoughts posted on Facebook regarding what role human mental health plays in equestrian activities such as training. Another Facebook friend asked me to write about it, so I have. Thank you Craig Stevens for the idea and thank you Amanda James for suggesting I write on this topic. I hope you are pleased with the outcome.
An old adage states “the outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man”. We all know this is very true and being with our horses, caring for them and riding them often gives us great pleasure. Horses, it would seem, stimulate the pleasure senses of our brains the same way any other gratifying experience would and when you look at it this way, you could say that horses are rather like a drug and that we are “horse addicted”.
And just like a drug we find we all need our “fix” and most of us cannot imagine our lives not being intertwined with our horses.
But with some people, “the drug” that is the horse is often insufficient in and of itself. Sometimes, we need more such as feeding our ego in order to increase our self esteem. Even when we’ve learned to ride well we still find the need to feed our ego because still, in our minds, we are not good enough. I think to varying degrees we all suffer from this, but the levels are very different from person to person. The need for sweet validation is exactly how horse shows came to be. Pride.
Speaking for myself, it is my goal to learn all that I can learn and be all I can be. I’ve been showing horses for years, but on that fateful day that I began my dressage journey I had to tuck my ego aside and begin as if I was a rank beginner starting at the very bottom of the “food chain” once again. It was a hard and bitter pill to swallow
yet I did it as my desire to be recognized as being accomplished overshadowed any damage to my ego. The lesser of two evils, as it were.
I tucked pride away for quite awhile, years even.It caused turmoil within me and quite frankly it sucked. But I did it as I felt this is what I needed to do. In some ways it’s still tucked away, my very own continuous humble pie. Most of the time I’m okay with it and remember that pride goeth before the fall.
We all know people who are unsatisfied with whom or what they are. We’ve all seen this type exaggerate and lie in order to elevate their status in the horse world. I’ve seen this manifest into acts of deceit, violence or meanness. There are those so desperately needful, so driven to be of equine importance that their mania truly knows no
bounds.
There are those people who despite owning multiple horses and maybe even a barn aren’t satisfied with who or what they are. They want more. They are also desperately in search of something that can fulfill some void to their self esteem. Ego and pride demand it, they can’t control it and are slave to it and it makes them mean, manipulative and angry. And don’t you just love when they believe their own line of poo?!
I will refer to one that I know locally, the pseudo Olympian. I’ve mentioned them before, and despite the fact that they have multiple horses, a barn and students who believe they are magnificent it still isn’t enough. This person wants me and others outside their sphere of influence to worship them as well. They want the world to worship them and bow down. But I can’t and I never will nor should I. In this persons attempt to be recognized as great they dwell in a bad and malignant place where they continually try to hurt people and threaten them when all else fails. Folks like me are unfazed by their attacks but others often succumb and so the enabling continues. For these folks, the crazies of the horse world, it seems easier to comply than to fight them. Megalamania wins.
I cannot comply though. I have a big mouth and so I fight them. It is appalling that someone’s mental illness should be seen as an excuse to let them do bad things especially when they engage in activities that attempts to hurt others. Our own local whacko likes to call up people’s employers and “tell” on them. The whacko tries to demean them or get them into trouble as laughable as that sounds. In fact I’ve recently been threatened again by the local whacko who told a friend that they’ll call my job and makes all sorts of accusations. Had the whacko told me this I would have laughed in their face (again) and then double-dog dared them (again). What turmoil is going on inside them to cause this behavior? It’s both sad and scary and I’m not the first one the whacko has threatened this way. Nor will I be the last.
We all know people who want to be recognized as the best rider in their barn, or as I call it, the big fish in the little pond. Should they feel frustrated or threatened by another’s prowess they resort to gossip and belittling. This is similar, but to a far lesser degree harmful and I’m sure we’re all familiar with this.
Showing is in itself an attempt to satisfy the ego and when an authoritative figure like a judge (who surely must know what they are doing) vindicates a rider via good placings and comments, that rider is at the top of the world and we say the judge is a “good judge”. Should the judge not recognize the abilities of the rider and place them low or not at all, we are often angry and the first thing we do is question the competence of the judge. This is human nature, somewhat normal, and at some point we’ve all done it!
Not the worse thing in the world really. Unless of course the judge hears you! Sportsmanship can really fly into the ole manure bucket sometimes can’t it?
We’ve also all seen human behaviors which reflect the state of other mental issues they might have. Violence or roughness in those who are not compassionate to their horses comes to mind. Ironically, many of these people don’t even recognize their violent acts and in some ways more extreme cases remind me of how abusive spouses behave and their reasoning they give for being abusive sounds similar as well.
~ He/she wouldn’t listen
~ They are stubborn
~ They didn’t do what I wanted them to do/told them to do
~ They made me angry
As in all things, there is a fine line between these mental and emotional issues. Certainly it is wise for a equine professional to advertise in a manner which presents them in the best light, but too often that line is crossed when belittling others occurs with no good cause. Further confusing the mix is when maybe someone deserves to be
belittled because of their lack of expertise or some other negative factor like practicing rolkur for instance. We are caught in the position of having to decide if the criticism stems from jealousy or if it well deserving.
There are also those in the “business” of horses who are under constant pressure to perform and get results and to prove themselves at home and in the show ring. This pressure is transmitted to their students and horses. Rolkur and its many incarnations are proof of this and this is why so many use it. A short cut justifiable by result. It wouldn’t really classify as mental illness but rather a callousness when shortcuts aren’t avoided.
When I think about my time with horses I feel bad that I haven’t accomplished more. Yet I am able to separate this from the pride I have for what I have been able to do and learn and for this I am both happy and grateful. But, like many of you I strive for more. In the past my dream was to compete at the highest levels of dressage though now that dream has changed. I no longer wish to do so. Some of this is time and money but the rest is due to the distaste over what the state of competitive dressage currently is. So for me my ego remains intact and balanced. I do not need it so bad that my life is altered or my horse pushed beyond his limits.
Yes, I wish to succeed but not to the detriment of my horse. I couldn’t live with myself and for my ego it is more important that I feel a worthy and compassionate human than to go through horses like waste paper and ride a harmful fad or fashion like rolkur tossing them aside like rubbish when their usefulness has ceased. It is up to each
one of us to decide exactly how important “winning” is and to what lengths we will go to achieve it. We must ask ourselves if the ends justify the means.
My conscience apparently, has a louder voice than my ego and that’s a good thing!
If you feel your ego perfectly intact here’s a test. Join an equine posting board and post a video of your riding, asking for critique. If what comes back causes you not to blink an eye then you have a better ego than the rest of us!
I cannot forget to mention the overzealous amateur owner. This would be the owner who views everything in a negative fashion. No barn ever cares for their horse Pookie good enough. No instructor is worthy enough. Doting on their horse without limitation and believing everyone else should do so too. Forever worrying about or concerning themselves with what others are doing or saying or how often they come to the barn. Socially inept they say or do the wrong thing and alienate others. They stagnate in their training and give up all former goals blaming everyone else. These are often not bad people per se, but people who suffer from extreme anxieties. Ever notice that their social circles are small and often they are without children to dote over? Easy to make fun of, as angry as they make us, we should sympathize with their anxieties as it must be an awful place for them to dwell.
In closing, horse people like all people have their hangups, anxieties and illnesses. We are what we are. We suffer because of who and what we are. This is understandable, but when the hangups, anxieties and
illnesses lead to mistreatment of our horses then we must take a step back and reevaluate exactly who and what we are and for what reason we are doing this.
(Insert funny story blurb here: I had gone on a trip with a bunch of horsemen and we were all on a bus going to one of those party fishing boats. Along the way the bus passed a lone rider working their horse in an arena set up with jumps. They weren’t jumping but rather working or warming up on the flat. Every head on that bus turned and silently watched that rider. Then a lone voice, my girlfriends husband (the one of fart fame) stated loudly “Oh my God, 50 horse people in a bus watching someone ride and no one criticized them!?)
Yes, that is exactly how bitchy we are…..no wonder we’re all paranoid!
I have decided that when I die the thing I want people to say and remember is not what I accomplished at shows. I want a simple, short statement to be said by all: “Yeah, they were a good rider”.
Truly the Holy Grail of equestrian sport is to be thought of as “good” by all horsemen. Yes, that would be do well for my ego!
I would love to hear your stories of crazy horse people – just click on comments and post! Please do not use location or name of your favorite crazy person.
One of the most undervalued groups of horsemen is the barn worker. These are the men and women, girls and boys who care for our horses and many do it to the point of utter pampering.
Some are barn owners. Some are hired workers while others are working off their board. Some have lived in the area all their lives, others are immigrant workers working hard to support their families the same way our ancestors did.
They clean our stalls, bring our Pookie Baby in and out of pasture and if we’re lucky change their blankets or sheets, wraps or boots. They water and feed our horses whether it be hot, cold, rainy or snowy. My horse’s worker, a full time employee, calls me to tell me of lost shoes or any other problems. Since I own a ‘delicate‘ Thoroughbred, this means he calls me regularly! He’ll jump into my trailer to add more bedding if I call him. He‘s my eyes when I‘m not there. Words cannot express how much I appreciate him and yes, even though he’s paid to be a barn worker by the stable owner.
I appreciate him because I used to be just like him.
When I was young I had to work in barns in order to be around horses. I did it for little or no pay, and often seven days a week. My reward was riding a bunch of different horses whose owners couldn’t make it to the barn, were afraid to ride or just didn’t want to.
This experience has left me with a bunch of different stories and here’s one of them.
One of the places I worked in was a high end barn with high end horses and boarders. Many of these horses were worth a lot of money and would routinely hit the big shows. Their riders, mostly teenage girls my age, would show up to the barn sporting the latest in equine fashion and sparkly clean equipment.
Meanwhile, I schlubbed around the barn working like a dog, a dirty, dusty, smelly, sweaty girl.
All the girls had these big beautiful custom fiberglass tack boxes in the stable’s colors with contrasting lettering of the owners initials. Those tack boxes were so very pretty, in grey and silver with flashy maroon accents. I coveted…. Yes coveted those tack boxes into my adulthood.
I would come to the barn with plastic bags for my stuff. I also did THAT well into my adulthood.
I’d watch these girls take endless lessons looking flawless as they did their thing, hair perfect, horses glistening but never them.
I once sat on a dead rat while watching them and didn’t realize it for half an hour. When I got up, it stuck to my ass from my sweat.
Their clothing was often custom tailored in various elegant color schemes.
Mine were second hand and during a show the zipper got stuck in the down position. Try showing with your hands trying to hide a busted zipper belly…. And jump!
None of them ever seemed to notice me much less talk to me as I was simply not on their radar. They would however bark orders and the few times one might talk to me for a moment, I would still somehow feel honored. It was as if the Gods had deemed me momentarily worthy to be spoken to.
You see, I was nothing but the barn worker.
So now years have passed and I’m the owner of a show horse. I don’t have a gray, silver and maroon monogrammed fiberglass tack trunk, but I do have a lovely custom wooden one though it bears no initials.
Now there’s a barn worker for my horse and I remember. I remember how it was for me. I remember when I see other boarders really take them for granted or take advantage of them.
So whenever the opportunity presents itself I try to be nice to my barn worker as he is, after all, my first line of defense. My horse’s first line of defense.
If it’s a Sunday morning I might bring coffee or donuts. I tip him very well at Christmas – VERY well. I toss him money for lunch from time to time. I do not make unreasonable demands.
For this, and because he’s a good guy, my horse is happy. They get along great and even when my horse is feeling perky and playful, I know he’s handled correctly and good naturedly – not coddled, but fairly disciplined or just laughed at whatever the situation requires.
Thank you to my horse’s dear barn worker!
(As a side note: In the future the subject of immigration reform in the US will become the topic of the day. I support fair immigration reform as I do not believe in the splitting of families and I know the impact mass deportations would have on agriculture and the horse world. Everything from the production of hay and foodstuffs for both horses and humans to the day to day care of our horses will be affected, something to consider. Securing boarders along with a path to citizenship seems a fair balance.)
Throughout the years I’ve been in all sorts of clinics and have usually done well in them. Part of this is the fact that psychologically I do not get overwhelmed by the whole clinic situation and I do not freeze up in front of people. But when it came to dressage clinics and even lessons, from the very beginning I was a lame ass. Not because of intimidation but rather because I was so very willing to be “molded” into something new by the instructor or clinician, as if dressage was a totally different entity from every other type of riding.
As I’ve mentioned before I’d been riding for decades prior to beginning my dressage journey. I had shown and even managed shows ranging from local shows to nationally rated ones. I even volunteered to judge 4H classes a couple of times, though I never accepted any money for it. The point is that apparently I possessed a certain level of competency.
But when I started riding dressage I fell prey to the idea that I had to throw out everything I knew and begin anew, an equestrian “virgin” of sorts. And so, when I started with dressage lessons and clinics I’d go into each experience very bubbly and excited, but then ride like a spazz. It was as if for every moment of every stride I’d do nothing, waiting for the instructor or clinician to mold me into some dressage diva. As a result, I sucked. I mean I really sucked.
My newfound incompetence lasted (embarrassingly) for years and cost both time and money. No one ever clued me in that I was doing it. Certainly the instructor or clinician didn’t have a clue as they’d never seen me in my prior days doing things like jumping 4 foot fences bareback. Time went on and I continued to embrace my stupidity and naivete with a passion and was completely unaware I was doing so.
Now none of this stemmed from a bad place really, other than I’d been taught that riding dressage was akin to finding some sort of equine Valhalla. I was willing to toss aside everything and anything I had ever learned to learn the lofty discipline of dressage. I was so sure that riding dressage was as foreign to riding other disciplines as foreign could be despite the fact that somewhere in my brain I knew better.
Then one day in a Zettl clinic something in my brain snapped back into place. The way he was teaching and the things he was telling me to do left me unable to be so dependant on his molding of me. He just got me to RIDE and I had to depend on prior knowledge and experiences to do so. He challenged me to do things I hadn’t learned to do. One of those things was a canter pirouette. I am sure he knew me incapable of it, but he wanted to challenge me and see how I would handle the situation. He wanted to see me RIDE. So I positioned myself best I knew how from years gone by, and gave it a go. In one direction it was not so bad and it ended up more to be a ten meter circle. On the other side, more like a fifteen meter circle. Thing is, at the time, I couldn’t do a ten meter circle nor a fifteen. But in RIDING the attempt at pirouette, suddenly the impossible was there.
That was my time of surprise and of entering Horse Nervana.
At that moment I had to rely on prior knowledge and after doing so he excitedly encouraged me with a “Yah Madam, now you are cooking!”
You could have knocked me off the horse with a feather!
From that moment I not only listened, but I RODE. I’d position myself the way I knew deep down inside that I should. I played with the reins the way I knew I should, not too much, not too little. I began to ride every single step and be in blessed harmony with the horse.
Now, when I ride, I keep a very open mind to what I am riding. I ride the body, not the face, very similarly to how I rode horsemanship classes oh so very long ago. I must have been good at it then because my former horse and I were capable of doing bridleless demonstrations.
The difference between riding the body and riding the face is EVERYTHING.
I’ve quoted before but cannot help once more reiterating a statement by Charles DeKunffy which states “the leg energizes, the seat modifies and hand verifies”.
Well dammit, I knew that but why on earth did I forget it? Why was I so willing to toss away wonderous ability and knowledge? Was it intimidation by the unkown?
I’ll tell you why…… because I “bought into” the bull that dressage is some lofty heavenly style of riding brought to us from the Gods of Mount Olympus. Dressage is just logical horsemanship, humane horsemanship, effective horsemanship. Horsemanship to partner with your horse.
I forgot that dressage is really two things: the abomination we see in the show ring at FEI levels and that which is necessary for the rest of us.
I will never make the mistake of forgetting that again.