Case in point: about a month ago, I took Echo next door for his second official jump lesson (the first one was back in April) with Trainer Neighbour (TN). He was growing much more confident with my single "jumps" in schooling, with far less drunken approaches & less hesitation at the base.
We'd mastered a whopping 18" |
Echo, being all legs & distraction, is still very green in terms of figuring out where & in what order the limbs should go to create a jumping effort. I try my best to get him very balanced on approaches, stay in the middle of him, & let him sort out the rest on his own. He is an unfailingly earnest trier & really wants to please, making my job of directing him to the right answer much easier.
Easier, but also often hilarious. For example, as we began working the lesson gymnastic, he had definitely retained the lesson about "poles are for trotting over." A little too well.
Exceptional pole trotting |
Figuring out takeoff - uh, ignore my leaning, sigh |
My suspicion was correct. Echo's little brain (much of which he had apparently left at home that day anyway) went, "Oooo, look at all the new things, waiiiiit, I must inspect!!!" He was sucking back hard by the time we go to the first trot pole & despite my squeezing, he came to halt in front of the fence.
In years past, I might have gotten upset. I might have grabbed a crop or, at the least, considered it a failure. But I have learned a lot about nuances in training since then.
If a green horse has what I call an honest stop, that is, they don't understand the question or they truly don't feel comfortable in their ability to complete the task, I'm ok with that. They're not trying to get out of work or communicate pain or simply be contrary, they're just trying to figure it out.
What's more, I would rather be on a horse that stops when he's unsure than one who hurls himself thoughtlessly into anything. I think both of us are safer in the first scenario - a little self-preservation is an important thing. The nuance lies in what the horse tells me & how he responds to what comes next.
I also want Echo to enjoy jumping as a positive experience. I don't want him to jump something just because he's afraid I might hurt him if he doesn't. I want 100% of his focus on doing his job safely & well, instead of having 50% distracted by fear or anxiety. I'm sure I'll need that extra focus at some point when I need to rely on his footwork & balance to get us out of trouble.
Soft, relaxed, focused |
After a brief examination (& some giggling at his adorable baby-ness) of things, I just calmly circled him around to try again. He was still hesitant, but with encouragement, gave it a shot. The third time, the light bulb was beginning to glow. Here's the series of attempts. Giggling commentary included.
He was also beginning to figure out how to make a jump jumpy. The canter pole translation was happening & it was getting significantly easier for me to follow his motion as it became more predictable.
Less trotty, moar jumpy |
And through it all, Echo was trying & learning, all while his ears stayed pricked & his attitude positive. This is what I want for his foundation, along with a clear understanding in him on exactly how it all works. I want him to learn how to jump over things, not how to demolish them with this legs in an uncomfortable scramble (although I'm sure we'll inadvertently practice this too).
Gears turning |
In the meantime, I sure am enjoying getting to spend more time on what I have discovered is a lovely canter.
Want infinite amount of this |