The Becky Diaries: Day 2: Dressage-ish

What have you done in the last 10 years?

Mind blown.

Also, you might as well start calling me Wrong Turn Reba; all these tiny SC roads around Encore's hotel look the same and as I'm driving along, lost in thought about all I saw in one day, apparently I decide to just randomly turn down one.  It doesn't help that you have to go by SR numbers...which are tiny on dark brown signs.  I think Encore is getting dizzy.

But you wanted to hear about horsey things.  As everyone else here seems to think this is a normal, day-to-day activity, I am the solitary creeper, following Becky around like a stray dog gathering scraps.  I should have brought all black clothing so I would be a ninja and no one would see me.  But she hasn't run me off with the longe whip yet.  I think Scrappy is rooting for me, I keep his ears well-scratched!

After finishing some work duties (it sucks being an adult sometimes -- an ancient old lady by comparison to the rest of the girls in the house, ha!), I spent the late morning filling the wide open creeper niche, stalking and watching.

One owner brought her gorgeous bay mare (when I asked Becky what type of horse she was, I was told "Eh, some warmblood thing or another"), who would throw enormous rearing mare tantrums when asked to connect, reportedly.  Becky got on and immediately began engaging her hind end at the walk, keeping her moving sideways, crossing her hind legs beneath her and pushing her neck forward and down.  Exaggerated turns on the forehand led to big leg yields, constantly pushing the inside leg over into the outside rein.  Yeah yeah yeah, I need to do that, I thought.  She did similar work in a stunning trot, which fancy mare tried to evade...by using passage.  Encore tries that evasion too, it's so annoying.  I mean, doesn't yours?  A similar evasion presented in the canter, where the horse would just bounce up and down in a teeny four-beat canter to avoid moving forward into the contact with the outside rein.  But no one beats Becky, so she was soon rocking along, being a very impressive little workhorse.

The staple diet of the horsewoman.  Creeping takes energy!

Next was a long-lining session with a younger gelding, a big, strong-looking WB/TB ("some warmblood thing crossed with a TB" -- there seems to be a trend in broad categories, much to my amusement) who was quite the tryer and had just come back from SoPines I at Novice.  Now I have long-lined Solo, but never like this.  I drew a picture of the line setup to try as soon as I get home -- it was certainly much more effective than mine!  In short, the inside line ran from high on the ribcage, through the bit, and back to the top ring on the surcingle.  A side rein was connected on the outside to block his outside shoulder and teach him to accept the outside rein.  With his brain whirling a mile a minute, he put the pieces together and then Becky showed his young owner how to work the lines (Becky used an outside long-line but simplified it with the side rein for owner). 

I already had to run back to the house to write things down and then a quick calculation showed I still had time to watch a few lessons before I had to go fetch Encore.  Students were working on some fun (ok, probably fun for me to watch, less fun for them to ride) canter/counter-canter/10-m circle diagrams for the Prelim dressage test.  I confess I was happy to see the rider before me was a woman on a (mohawked!) stocky bay appropriately named Sofa who was working on outside rein connection and stretching over the topline -- woohoo, my level!

Has anyone picked up today's theme yet?

This afternoon, 5:00 pm was not beer-thirty, instead it was go-time.  I'd warmed up Encore on top of the hill and thought I had him fairly supple and ready.  I was instructed to put Encore through his paces quickly, at which point he did his best prancy, carriage-horse trot on the side of the hill.



The Becky Assessment:  He has a huge step behind and comes very far up under himself, really using his hind end and back, but then it gets to the front and nothing is going on there.  Correct again.  I will never cease to be amazed at people like she and David and Jimmy who can assess everything in five minutes and one sentence!  Actually, I think she got Solo in about three minutes.

Exercise 1:  Execute turns on the forehand (oh, I knew I needed more of those!) at the walk.
Key points:  Don't worry about keeping the front feet immobile.  Focus on the hind legs crossing over beneath him.  Keep the outside hand in a steady contact with the pinky almost touching the saddle.  The inside hand is an OPENING REIN ONLY, no direct rein, no pulling back with it, EVER (this was very difficult for me, I was scolded many times).  Then push ribcage over into the solid outside rein, softening when he crosses over and gives in the bridle.  Every time he gives, it's "money in the bank," each step a training investment in your future performance.

Exercise 2:  Turn these into half circles at the walk and trot.
Key points:  Ride them the same way.  Don't move that outside hand.  STOP PULLING HIS HEAD AROUND WITH THE INSIDE REIN (this is where I have been going wrong!); simply use your inside leg on his ribcage, keep asking, and wait for him to find the right answer.

Exercise 3:  Graduate to full circles at the trot and canter.
Key points.  Ride them the same way, hahahaha.  Outside hand, STAY!  Opening rein, NO PULL.  Be patient and let him find the right place to be.  At the canter, you can make the circle smaller by pushing him in with the outside leg and feel him shift up and over under you.  Try not to pass out and fall off in front of Becky. 



Encore tried very very hard and was excellent; he had "read the book" but his rider had missed some important parts!  Her explanation of HOW to establish the outside rein first, then apply inside leg, then open inside rein was the one that finally made breakthrough sense to me and my little lightbulb nearly blinded me.  But after years of hearing that to supple the jaw, we must "give and take" or "vibrate the rein," it was extremely hard for me to just open that rein as a guide and then do nothing with it.

As the hamster wheel in my head spun like mad on the way back to Chateau So8ths, I realized that the circle exercise was the same as the one David has us do and the aid requests are the same.  Becky just nitpicked the details of my aids in a new way that allowed me to finally bridge the two.  Which is why clinics are valuable -- a fresh pair of eyes and a different vocabulary works as a complement to the trainers that know you well, giving your overthinking brain a new angle to gnaw on, because in this game, sometimes you have to throw a lot of noodles at the wall before one sticks!  

So, a month's worth of homework from my 30 minutes on Day 1.  This afternoon, we are to show up for cavaletti and gymnastic work after lunch and I will NOT forget my protein bar today (idiot) and I will NOT throw myself up my horse's neck/hold my breath/clench the reins/all the other things I do when I am out of practice and get nervous.

For now...I have some important creeping to do:  Comet gets schooled at 11:15!

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The Becky Diaries: Day 1: Arrival

Before I begin, I want to encourage everyone within reach of our beloved Southern Pines to check out and send in your entries to Denny Emerson's Tamarack Hill schooling horse trials!  Ok, I may have an ulterior motive...the last one got canceled due to lack of entries and I've already sent my check in, so enable us!  The show itself isn't advertised very many places, so I'm hoping we can give it a boost because Denny's courses are fun to ride (ok, the one time I was able to take Solo) on nice terrain with a great variety in stadium as well!

Nevah stop the pettingz!

As for the Grand Holder Event Team Training Adventure 2013 -- at the moment, I'm sitting on Becky's couch next to a poster from the Beijing 2008 Olympics looking at a picture of the one and only Comet.  Scrappy, the world's cutest dog, has already put wet paws on my lap and I keep pinching myself to see if this can possibly be real.  I am not in the demographic of "those who send horses to training" or "those who frolic at farms for days on end in the winter with no office to worry about."  But since Becky just came into the kitchen with a friendly hello to collect Scrappy for the days rides, either it's the best hallucination ever or I'm here!

After a marathon day yesterday of an oil change apparently performed by sloths, a UPS truck stalking to nab my SmartPaks before I left town, and a missed turn which required a trailer direction reversal on a tiny SC back road in a crooked driveway, we FINALLY arrived at the Southern Eighths Farm grandeur.  Encore was installed in his own paddock to stretch his legs and eat his dinner and I squealed with glee when the BO issued a dinner invitation.  Yes, I am a shameless food whore -- you can call me anything, just don't call me late for dinner!

I had to pry myself away from wine-induced stories in order to make it back to Becky's before 9 pm, as the rules stated this is when quiet hours begin and I didn't want to get in trouble on my first day!  Finding things in the dark is not my strong suit, but the plus side of SC highways just west of nowhere is that when you miss a turn, you can just stop and back up; it's not like anyone else is out there.

I crawled up the long dirt driveway, realizing that when Becky told me where to park by her house, I forgot to ask which house was hers (there are four farms which share facilities on the 70-acre property).  All I had to go on was "park by the white truck."  As I crawled across a narrow dam with pond water lapping disconcertingly close to my truck, I fervently hoped there were not multiple white trucks lurking in the woods.

To my relief, there was only one and I was able to sneak into the quiet little house and find my room with the help the resident working students.  I was happy to find it simple and pleasant, in the style of normal people, so I didn't have to tiptoe around in fear of touching (and naturally breaking) something worth more than my annual salary! 

This morning, I will catch my breath and as this edge of drizzle moves out, I will head out to watch the master at work before I go pick up Encore for our first lesson at 5 pm (when it will be much sunnier!).  Here goes nothing...

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Flat Out Flat Walkin'

Oh yeah, he really wanted to work.  Great pillow, dude.

"Are you riding Solo today?"

The BO's question came as I finished a surprisingly nice ride on Encore and was basking in the t-shirt worthy sunshine before heading up the hill.

"If you want, I have another one for you to ride otherwise," he said hopefully.     

My curiosity was piqued.  My horses are quite the exception at our farm, which is a training and breeding facility for flat-shod TN Walking Horses and Spotted Saddle Horses.  BO and his clients show the pleasure and versatility (yes, with gaited dressage and jumping!) circuit around the southeast -- or as he calls it, "the sound horse circuit," having long since gotten fed up with the unethical training and sored horses of the padded horse world.

I was in the mood to try something new, as long as it didn't try to buck me off.  BO rides many training horses a day and I knew he'd also welcome some help between teaching and riding.  So I slipped a halter on the curiously named Treat (which due to a sharpie slip on his stall card, is now jokingly called Threat...at least I hoped it was a joke), a rangy little seven-year-old light chestnut with big eyes and a wide blaze, and led him up to my trailer.

I grew up in Saddlebred country, although I did not ride them, so gaited horses are hardly a mystery.  But since they are generally discouraged from trotting and, after 30 years, I find posting akin to breathing, they're just not my thing.  But both the Saddlebreds and TWHs always impressed me with their tolerance, patience, good-mindedness, and heart, even in questionable situations.

Naturally, as I picked up a brush, Threat spotted his pasture friends, ripped the rope of the side of the trailer and took off at a stunning elevated trot, complete with flagged tail, leaving me slightly less excited about this experiment.

Our 30+ crowd, Wildfire and Mama Donkey, were unimpressed by hijinks.

Let's just skip ahead 15 minutes, past the part where he managed to wedge his lead rope between a hind shoe and his foot and I had to cut/vice-grip it out after finally cornering him in an alley so I could even catch him and take his fun away.  Well, he did have some VERY impressive movement...

I put him in Solo's dressage saddle and spare bridle, with a Happy Mouth boucher, as BO said he was fine with anything (to my great relief, I would not have to ride in a Western saddle, as they leave me sore, off-balance, and apologizing to my knees).  Then I got on, took a soft feel of his mouth, and said, "Erm.  Go, horsey."

All I really knew is what I have observed.  BO trains all his horses and students very well, encouraging riding the horse from his hind end to create impulsion, connecting the inside hind leg to the outside rein, balancing with a half halt so the horse cannot lean on you, and moving the hips and shoulders laterally to lift and connect the horse through his body.  Sound familiar?

So off horsey went.  Still enthusiastic from his romp, he stepped off at a smart flat walk.  Still annoyed at his naughtiness, I said, "Fine, but you're going to work at it," and asked him to stay soft and connected in the bridle and moving up with his hind legs.

Within a minute, I could tell he was very educated and light to the hand and leg.  We transitioned among walk, flat walk, and canter (I couldn't figure out how to find running walk) and while he preferred to cheat and lean on me when he could, it was merely because he was quite out of shape and lacking muscle in his topline and butt due to lolling about in his pasture.  When I sat down and informed him he would move up and connect, he did.

He was bright and fun to ride as I explored his buttons.  I ran out of things to do as my brain got tired and gave him lots of breaks when he got winded, although, holy cow, he recovered his breath in about two minutes each time! 

It was a fun romp on "the other side of the fence," and I had to giggle when BO said, "Hey, good job!" --  I replied, "I'm just letting him do whatever it is he's doing, he's the trained one," and BO exclaimed, "Well, that's how you learn!"  If he has a secret plot to convert me, I'm afraid it's destined for failure; my big orange trotting, leaping horses captured my heart forever.   

However, I always relish learning more and developing as a horseman.  Every horse we sit on has something to teach and I thrive on variety.  BO himself is a tactful rider with an excellent seat, impeccable timing, and a soft hand -- I envy his consistency on the horse and will never pass up a chance to develop that! 

Will there be more four-beating in my future?  Well, I hope not on my horses (naughty!) but on those long, sunny weekends where I'm searching for excuses not to go home?  You won't find me saying no to a catch ride.

It was just the right kind of day for...

...synchronized sleeping.

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A Run-By News-ing

Encore appears to be back to pretty much normal, eating and behaving like himself.  If I pinch his neck skin, recovery still seems a tiny bit slower than Solo's, but I only put about half-credence in that as I've done plenty of tests on that procedure in that past and found it wildly variable.  At least everything seems to be functioning normally and he doesn't appear to have any immediate plans to drop dead on me moments before we leave town.  Although he is still a horse...

What's everyone stressing about?  Chill, peeps.

I've gotten, mmmm, pretty much nothing done on my "to do" list, given aforementioned horse paranoia and driving about the state for work.  It has rained, snowed, sleeted, and blown my truck nearly into the ditch this week, although of course, at the moment, it is sunny and quiet.  Till I leave the office, I am sure...

A beautiful weekend awaits, however, so I will be cleaning and packing and shopping and staring and scratching my head trying to put together the puzzle of ten days worth of food/gear/clothes/whatever.  At least if I get desperate, we will only be two hours away.  Diesel prices are crushing, but it can be done!

Solo is busy shedding, so despite what the atmosphere tells me, it is apparently spring.  Are you getting ready?  Daydreaming counts...

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The C Word

No, not that word.  Although I hate that one too.  But I have now officially decided I hate this one more:

Colic.

It sends a shudder down any horse owner's spine, that unpredictable monster hidden deep in your horse's guts which can twist and cramp and snatch his life away from you in a matter of hours.

Yeah, it scares the living bejeezus out of me.

Sunday night, I was on feeding duty and noticed Encore had stopped eating mid-meal and walked out of his shed.  He stood making funny faces for a minute and I watched with concern, as he is a steady, if slow, eater who works his way through the meal, then goes and gets a drink.  He returned to eating and I continued my rounds, but with a yellow warning light in my head.

As I finished turning out the herds, I returned to my pasture and found Encore standing rather pitifully by the shed divider next to Solo, with a sad eye and a half-finished meal.  He peed and it appeared he was dehydrated.  Now that light turned to red.

I led him down the barn, his head hanging, his feet dragging at a slow walk, which hardly helped as this TB usually takes a big swinging step that I can't keep up with.

I called the vet on the way down and put him in stall with warm water while I simultaneously crouched in the dark with my ear against Encore's belly and tried to carry on a conversation with Dr. Bob's junior vet.  He got some very mushy food with bute mixed in and I went to hang out in the BO's house for an hour to see what happened.

I was kindly fed a delicious dinner while I worried, but I came out to find my horse perky, with good gut sounds, and when I led him up to his pasture, he took a drink from his trough and wandered off to comfort an annoyed Solo.  Driving home, I breathed a sigh of relief and assumed an "all clear" text from the BO Monday morning.

Yeah right.  Never worked for him either.

So you can imagine my blood pressure when instead, my phone rang at 10 am and I answered it to a, "Well...."

Encore had eaten his breakfast, but was laying down in the field.  He may have wanted to nap in the sun, but BO put him on the hotwalker to keep him in sight for easy monitoring just in case (Encore's owner may or may not have a reputation for being the crazy lady...).  The horse got some more bute and mushy alfalfa pellets, but no more dry hay, and he was relegated to a prison cell for water and poop monitoring.  His owner was forced to drive to Southern Pines for a work presentation, a fine chance to work on her stomach ulcers.

After flying back north following work, I arrived to find Encore pouting quite noisily in his cell, demanding release after knocking one water bucket over, although hopefully at least drinking part of it.  I stirred a possibly illegal amount of salt and electrolytes into an alfalfa pellet mush and confess to being slightly shocked that he actually ate it, albeit stopping and slapping his tongue out after every bite at the brine component.

Oh, because we have a really important thing in 5 days!

He was left in his prison last night, in hopes that the salt would force his mouth to eventually shrivel up and force him to drink.  His guts were moving so he is allowed to be pardoned pending empty buckets.  I await my notification this morning with guarded optimism.  He will certainly be kept on electrolytes for the rest of the week.

Our insanely bipolar weather is no doubt to blame, although the biologist in me finds it completely nonsensical that weather should have any effect on a endothermic animal's digestive system.  But Dr. Bob and his junior sidekick were all over the place tending to moaning horses, so it wasn't just us.  When it is 60-20-50-30-70-20-55-20-30 all of us are just damn confused.  It will be 70 today and then 42 again tomorrow.  I curse they bones, climate change...

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