Mining the Dormant Seam

After too long an absence, I returned to my riding instructor several weeks ago, the one I found late last summer. Today I had my third lesson. I take these lessons at mid-morning, after I've awakened, but before I can begin to quicken with the day.

I am so willing to work and learn; I mean, I surrender nearly all self-consciousness in front of this very skilled rider/instructor. The only time I flush is during the in-hand work that begins each lesson. Time slows, seemingly hobbled by my fumbling with the longe line, side reins and whip. We start with a minute or two on the circle, the line threaded through the snaffle bit of the double bridle, then add a side rein, switching it all when we reverse direction. After the old schoolmaster is stretched out, I do close in-hand work, moving him around my outstretched arm, keeping him bent and crossing under. It feels awkward simply because it lacks the fluidity of routine, is all. I'll get better at it.

I wondered if we would have to go back to the beginning when I first returned. I wondered if I would realize that I had only imagined the seemingly instant connection between my instructor's ability to teach and my ability to learn. I hadn't imagined it, and we didn't have to go back to the beginning. Some rust cracked off, spiraling gently to the ground, when she moved my leg back three inches. That took two minutes. Since then, we picked up from where we left off.

Today she began to mine a dormant seam, activating muscles in me that I think I never used when riding, didn't know to use. They are muscles one needs to rely on for a deep and centered seat. I am thankful they were still there in me, forgotten but not gone. It made me realize that, for me, what this instructor will teach me is how to ride my mare with my body, not just my mind. There are some tools which only the body can provide. The mind, for all its self-importance, has little provenance when those tools are required. All my thoughts designed to reduce anxiety come to nothing without my body knowing itself in the saddle. I am excited to see it so plainly.

My mare is shining with good health and ready strength. I am going to take her to my instructor's barn for the month of August, and September too if I can manage it. There I sense we will emerge toward one another together, I feel it. Already, I'm counting the days.

Monday School

Dar had school yesterday, just a short session on the longe line followed by some quick in-hand work before the farrier arrived to trim his feet. My last lingering question about his health was answered when the farrier found no thrush and told me Dar has nice, solid not-so-draft-horse feet.

It was a Trinity afternoon, more jamming on the horses, the money, the horses. The three of us sat outside at the picnic table. The sun was perfect. That picnic table is near Dar's paddock. My doofus likes people and is in equal parts attention-seeking, nosy, friendly and hammy. He came again and again to the fence to stare at us and pine. Finally, though, he gave up, wandered away, laid down and dozed. I'd never seen him lying down before. In seconds, he was out, deeply asleep.

Back to school this evening. The wind shifted and brought a temperature drop and flicking rain. Dar was keyed up. He trotted in circles at the gate, impatient for me to come get him. Scout and I have our deep bond, yes, but Dar is the horse that comes quickly when I call his name. I opened the gate, slipped in and haltered him. We walked across the newly-lush lawn. He knows now not to graze when we're working.

We had an excellent surprise session of Monday School tonight. Dar was energized by the wind and wet. He didn't focus. In the background, Scout, Gambler and Keely bucked, reared and tore around their paddock, playful and squealing. They presented a strong distraction. E sent Dar forward on the longe. They had words. She sent him forward again, insisting in her patient, thorough way.

But why? They are playing! I can play too. I will play.

She sent him forward. It took time to tune him to her, but of course, she did. Then there was work. Slowly, he relaxed his neck. He began to chew and think. There was some walk-trot and lots of walk-halt. I could see him getting it. That's happening with our sessions now, that if I'm the one watching, I have the chance to see how he processes what is being asked of him.

So I'm standing there in the wind and pellety rain, and it comes to me: I can't wait to ride him. I just want to get on him. And that's the thrill of it, of him, for me. Once I got to the place where Scout frightened me, I never had that feeling, that unmistakable involuntary impulse to just get on and ride her.

The Love of Caring for a Horse

This was Dar two weeks before I got him:
This is Dar today, six months later:
There was something on my camera lens that blurred focus here and there, but not enough to dampen the impact of the comparison, I don't think. I look at these pictures and feel proud. From an underweight, parasite-ridden sad sack has emerged an engaged, hammy and healthy 1,300-pound youngster who's just begun school.
We have so much to look forward to.

Good Boy

Today I just had to get my hands out of my head and onto a horse. I've been impatient to work with Dar since he swung his chops toward me on Monday night. Tuesday, no go, work and then barn chores. Wednesday, no go, work and then friends in need. I made it out to the barn today. Since Dar's paddock is surrounded by the other two, I would have had to take him through one of them -- and between the horses there -- to get to the outdoor arena. I decided to wait on that until I've got him in hand a bit. Instead, we did simple leading/halting/yielding groundwork in his paddock. Basic in-hand ground manners. Walk. Whoa. Step back. Stand. Repeat.

The whole time, Scout watched at us from her paddock, standing alert at the fence. I know nothing about how horses might detect (if they do at all) that their person now has another horse.

Dar had trouble with one exercise: staying put when I stood facing him from five feet in front of him. That's the pushiness. Each time he tried to step closer, I sent him back. When he stood quietly, I moved forward to praise him.

I ended the work after asking Dar to lower his head. Light pressure on the poll, followed by immediate release. He grasped it quickly. The last time I asked, he lowered his head and stretched his neck long and low, licking his lips. Wonderful.

On Saturday morning, we're going to try turning him out with Keely monster again. She's out of heat. I hope she kicks his ass. I have just have to know.