Puddle Master

Only other horse people can understand the thrill and accomplishment of a horse going through …puddles.  

Tweed and I squeezed out one more trail ride yesterday, and though he needed more gentle support since we were alone, he was a rockstar.

The thing about asking them to go through puddles is that there is usually dry ground around them, and most horses, until they become Puddle Masters, prefer to take the safe and easy way. 

But an ask is an ask, and their answer kind of tells us who is leading the ride. 

Ladies and gentlemen, may I present for your viewing pleasure a little  kind of big dunskin horsey named Tumbleweed that has achieved the level of Puddle Master. 😆

With Familiarity Comes Naughtiness

A long time ago we lived close to our trainer, now two hours away, and it was easy to go back and forth with her as we fine tuned our horses. As we were riding, if we hit a roadblock, she’d put on a ride or two and fix them. It was like good cop, bad cop, and they seemed much more appreciative of us, and the easy work we asked of them, when we rode them after her.

Yesterday was Katie’s second time riding Mr. Tumbleweed. I had to babysit my grandson, and T’s shoes come off Wednesday, so I figured a last ride with Katie would be good for him. Tweed wasn’t sure he agreed.

In fact, he pulled out all his tricks for her which he had hidden so well only a couple of weeks ago. They’re nothing big, just trying to get out of the hard work stuff.

The kind of moves that upset your seat and make the rider work a lot harder.

We talked about him a little when she was done in the arena and she said it’s often the case they do more naughty stuff on the second ride when they feel more comfortable with you. 

The difference is, she’s used to it. She just kept collecting him up and asking again, and again, and again. It was good for me to see her patience and consistency and realize there are no shortcuts or magic beans, just hard work. 

After their warmup, she rode him to the river and down some steep hills with drop offs. She said he hugged the drop off side a little too close for comfort (been there) and he looked around a lot. She used her leg to get him center on the trail and when they made their return back he kept to center better. 

She took a video at the river when she got him to go in. 

She said as they returned he wanted to pick up the trot, but she was able to check his speed with no problem. It also started to rain, and the rain agitated him. He is a bit of a dandy man. 

When she got back to the equestrian area there was a new horse cantering around the arena and Tweed wanted to look at it. Katie rode him over and asked him to stand sideways against the rail and relax. He kept trying to get his head up and look at the horse. She would ask for him to relax with vertical flexion. At one point he tried to yank the reins away, as he has done with me before. He was DONE and he wanted to be left alone. But she was unfazed and asked again, and that was that. He gave up and cocked a leg. 

I’m sad that our time with trail riding (and with Katie) will now be put on hold until spring, but it is what it is.  

We’ve done a lot together and learned a lot together this year. There have been trail rides, weekly lessons, a clinic, and many epiphanies that will guide us further towards partnership. 

Way back, when I was going through this same journey with Leah, Gray Horse Matters sent me this book by Bill Dorrance, True Horsemanship Through Feel. I’m going to read it again now. 

That feeling of “getting with your horse” is quite magical. It’s what keeps us saddling up and striving for connection. It’s what keeps us going after the inevitable hard days. And the better we fine tune our feel, the happier our horses are, too. 

I have a horse who comes to me when he sees me approach with a halter. He leaves his mare herd, even when he sees the truck running and the trailer doors open. He jumps in and scoots his butt over to close the divider, even without me asking. He pours his heart out on the trails. 

That’s what I’m taking with me into winter, and it fills my heart with love for him, and longing for more. 

Feel and Connection: The Missing Pieces

 

The lead up to yesterday’s ride was, perhaps, more interesting from a horsemanship perspective than the ride itself, which turned out gloriously, unexpectedly well. After seeing Katie ride Tweed, and consulting with her afterward, my mind was non-stop mulling about how to fix me and what needed fixing.

One of the biggest questions I had was about my own anxiety. I began wondering to what extent I may have changed due to life circumstances: the responsibility of helping raise a grandson, age, and just basic life changes that can make us feel a little gutted and unsure of ourselves.

I began to wonder if the present circumstances have knocked my confidence, especially since my dad died and my little world started fraying.

I was on a ride with a friend last month and when we got to that hill by the campground Tweed got flustered and messy and I asked her to stop so I could school him there. As she waited for us she offered a suggestion that I take a moment to breathe and relax. She insinuated that my own stress was causing the problem. 

I replied that of course when my horse is flying down a hill, totally ignoring me, I’m going to be a little stressed, but that isn’t the root of the problem. 

As I prepared for yesterday’s ride, I started to give her words new weight. Maybe I was more anxious than I understood or admitted to myself.

——

(Liquid courage)

Yesterday’s ride was supposed to be a schooling ride and a fact finding mission: what was I doing, or not doing, that Katie was doing or not doing?

The vision I had of what would occur on the ride was based upon our previous ones: we’d go down the trail all cool and normal and then I’d come to a big hill and Katie would insist I go down it, Tumbleweed would rush, I’d flounder, and then we’d stop and school it. I might give up and let Katie ride Tweed, switch horses with her, and —-fill in the blank. 

Not a positive vision, right?

The photo of the cup above is not coffee. It is wine. I decided to take a few sips before my ride to calm whatever nerves I had, even though, once again, I did not feel anxious. 

I arrived early to the park and Tumbleweed came out of the trailer completely relaxed. We were the only ones there, except the rental horses that are always in a turnout area nearby for guided trail rides. We tacked up and did some basic groundwork, then I bridled him and walked him to the mounting block. 

As usual, Tumbleweed came right around to my sweet spot, first ask, and allowed me to climb up. He really is the best at this, and I appreciate it at my age. Sidenote: Katie is one of those horsewomen who can grab mane and swing herself up. I have never figured out how to do that, but it is impressive. 

We went into the arena and rode circles at walk, trot and lope—using the information Katie had given me about gentle reminders for flexion and a loose rein to reward his effort. I got the best canter work Tweed had ever given me and that was a huge morale boost. 

Katie still hadn’t arrived, so I took Tweed out by myself, again, using the information Katie had given about being clear where I needed his headset, but not overly aggressive getting it. Gentle reminders. Gentle check ins. Once again, Tweed responded very well. 

After we rode alone for awhile, Katie pulled in and saddled up and we began our “fact finding ride.”

——

It had been raining a lot this last week and there are large puddles along the trail. Tweed is generally quite logical about these and prefers to take dry ground. Thus, our first opportunity presented itself quickly.

You might remember that Regina had us doing an exercise where you point him at an object, ask for vertical flexion well ahead (I have something I want you to do), ride to the object, ask him to acknowledge it, then push him onto it or through it.  Well, that is also Katie’s method. 

We did the steps, and Tweed put his front feet in, but stopped. Katie stood to the side and coached us through it. Reward him.  Put more outside leg. Release and reward. Ask him to go through, (he kept going to the side, so more outside leg to keep him straight).

It didn’t take long before he went through. (Big reward.)

But every puddle is a new puddle, and there were lots of puddles. Each puddle became easier until the last one, the deepest and longest of them all. Tumbleweed went through confidently on the first ask. BIG WIN.  

And that is about where the “schooling” part stopped. 

I had been thinking, “wow, I am spending a lot of time on standing water when I should be doing hills,” but in fact, I was doing hill work by doing water work. 

Katie asked me what I felt comfortable riding and I said anything. 

I have written about one hill, in particular, that is rocky and technically difficult because horses can slide a bit. I had avoided that hill thus far with Tweed, but I told her I wanted to try it and go to the river.

I wasn’t even slightly concerned because the connection was there, and when you feel that connection, you know it. In fact, I would say confidence comes from connection.

The rest of the ride was already written about on the last post. We pointed ourselves at all the previously avoided “scary” difficult descents and ascents. We even encountered a biker, which bothered Katie’s horse, but Tweed didn’t care a bit, except to be mildly curious about a man in blue garb on a two wheeler.

Tweed took every step of the ride with the same gentlemanly care he shows at the mounting block. 

——

Was my friend right about my own anxiety playing a part?

After yesterday, my answer is yes and no.

We didn’t have full connection before that, and when it’s missing, you know it. Yes, it sends off warning bells, but those bells are sounding the alarm that you are missing a big chunk of something. In our case, it was feel.

Katie had “fixed us” before we even started that ride. The information she gave me last Thursday about Tumbleweed on trails was all about proper feel and how to support him better with it. She was like a horse/human counselor connecting the last, vital dots. 

—-

In summary, yes, life has changed me. I am more cautious. I do have higher expectations than just “ride it out.” I know what connection feels like, and I won’t settle for less. 

But I think all those things make me a better horsewoman, not worse. 

We’re Fixed

This could be a very short post, because the title says it all. We’re fixed. 

Tumbleweed made a liar out of me and proved himself to be extremely willing, reliable, and well-trained. 

He was the most awesomest trail horse ever!

If it sounds too good to be true, I’d agree with you. I’m shocked. 

We were able to make it to all my old haunts, and Tumbleweed acted like there was nothing he couldn’t do. 

Of course, the information Katie had given me was invaluable. For one, I knew he could do what I was asking. That’s HUGE. 

But even more importantly was the “feel” she was able to bring back and which I put to good use, first in the arena at all gaits—rock star—then on the trail. 

I checked in with him gently throughout the ride, made sure to keep that neutral headset, but otherwise left him alone on a loose rein, which is my preferred riding style anyway, and let him figure it out. 

One of the worst hills we went on, he wanted to zigzag a little bit, which was fine. On the ones that didn’t allow zigzagging, I asked him with one rein to stay straight, but I gave him his head. 

There was one uphill that he wanted to trot, but again, I gave a gentle tug on one rein and he immediately returned to the walk. 

He did the hardest hills the park has to offer, even the one with the loose rock I was saving for last. He took it slow. That is where he wanted to pick his way more cautiously and zig zag a bit. One of the last ones we did was to the campground where we had our previous issues. He took it slow and steady and didn’t get at all worked up.

He really engaged his hind end and felt solid, which is a testament to the work we did all spring, summer, and fall with Regina. He was confident in his body carrying a rider. He was sensitive to the cues.

He came out of the trailer super chill, and already had that relaxed headset. 

And he ended even more relaxed and stood ground tied like a pro as I unsaddled him. Tumbleweed, you’re a trail horse now!

I told Katie she fixed us and she laughed and said sometimes all it takes is getting the horse and owner on the same page. Well, she definitely did that. 

I just knew running into her was a good omen. She was able to help put the final trail riding pieces together. 

The only bad thing is now I don’t want to stop. That was the most fun I’ve had on a horse since Cowboy and it is a feeling you just want to keep having. 

Maybe we will get lucky and have a few more good weeks to ride. 🙏

Mulling and Slowing

I continue to mull over the lesson I had with Katie. Seeing Tumbleweed through that prism, an experienced, gentle hand, just completely changed the way I think of supporting him on the trail. 

We talked a lot as she was riding him on the circle after the trail work, and I recorded a little bit of that conversation. A new horse had entered the arena on the far side, and Tweed wanted to look at it, but she was demonstrating how easy it was to keep him tuned into the work, despite that, and also talking about what worked on the trail. 

I transcribed a portion of it to remind myself:

“I rode pretty loose the whole time so he knew he was being good when he was being good and then as soon as he would bring it up I would just tiny little ask to bring it back down and he stayed pretty nice level ears the whole time.

I do a lot with my legs, too. He kind of wanted to stop and I’d just put a little inside leg, ‘get back on that circle,’ a little inside rein and kinda say, ‘hey, pay attention. Keep it nice and chill.’

He’s very smart. I can tell he knows a lot just from the way he responds to the things I ask him. It’s more like that little reminder and maybe he just needs a little reminder. 

I find, too, that if sometimes I make too big of a deal of their mistakes, it flusters them and they’re like, ‘oh my gosh I’m in trouble,’ and then their brain scatters and then you have to bring them back. With this, he just barely knows he’s in trouble. It’s more like a little reminder, like ‘okay, you know what you’re supposed to be doing, let’s keep doing that’. And he’s like, ‘okay, I’ll do it.’”

She also told me that her check-ins were constant, like every 15 seconds. She was actively supporting him the whole time so that when they got to the super steep hills it wasn’t anything new.

We had planned to ride together on Sunday, the only sunny day in the forecast, but I remembered that I need to babysit my grandson. We are looking for another day to do it, but have to work around her schedule and the worsening weather.

The reality of fall is setting in. We are entering the time of year where I wish I had an indoor arena. 

But the slow down also opens up more opportunities for family time.

And barn time.

And music. (Our city comes alive with music and theater during the cold months.) I will also start back up on my flute lessons.

We didn’t sit at tables for the musical soirée pictured. We sat in chairs on the second level looking down. We kind of like our privacy, even in the midst of crowded spaces.

Oh, for my Canadian friends, good luck tonight at the World Series! How exciting for the Blue Jays. We’ll be watching the first part and taping the end. We’re rooting for them. Go Jays!

Update: we rescheduled for Monday. I am paying extra for her to bring her horse and ride with us on the trails. This will probably be my last lesson ride of the season, as they will be closing the park, and I think a very important piece and good way to end this year’s trail work.