Lesson Report 28/1/12 – Murphy

Last week I literally cried about not getting to the yard. Not only had P and I worked out a way to get work done even with my back playing up, but M was on the yard: a German girl who we all loved, but moved to Chile with her dad at the end of the summer. She was back for the first time since before heading to Germany to see her mum. I was all ready to go and as soon as I left my flat I heard the wind. Before I was out of range of the wireless I checked the bridge: it was closed to buses. I checked the weather: the winds were not set to die down until midnight. I checked every hour to see if things changed but they didn't: I therefore missed riding and missed M too 80(

This week I got down without trouble, despite the fact that an earlier accident was causing serious delays (which often means the bus terminates early). However, the website had not updated and not only was my bus in early, but it arrived at the yard ahead of time. I was thrilled!

I watched a lesson: a jumping class. I saw the course and saw every line and turn. I was a bit surprised that riders who I think are fairly good saw none of them on their own and had to be coached. It almost gave me some of my jumping fire back, seeing them not quite getting it right and wanting to show them. Also the girl on Murphy was not pushing him. When he's dilly-dallying he sort of cat leaps in two phases. It is horrible to ride and ugly to watch.  When asked which horse I wanted to ride I said Murphy: not only did he need to work properly, but Bailey's on box rest and Guinness had done two lessons in a row already. I didn't think a third was fair.

Murphy was walked off and got a 15mins break, then I got on. I warmed him up fully, as he'd not just been ridden at all. He was sluggish even in walk, and responding minimally to the leg. Backing up with the crop worked a treat: all of a sudden his ears pricked forward, he paid attention, and one ear came right around towards me every time I used my voice. (I'm a firm believer in using one's voice as not only is the horse taught this first, but it also gives the horse the chance to minimise the leg it needs, much like correct use of the crop means the horse works to minimise its use). The first canter was sluggish, but only for half a length before I backed up my leg. I had this horrible thing where I lost the rhythm all of a sudden: it did take me a minute to get used to Murphy stride in trot as it's been over a month since I rode him (maybe even November) so tried not to panic. I hate when I feel myself tense up. I got relaxed and got the rhythm again though: my weight was nicely back and legs nicely squeezing him. It felt good.

P then told me that I was to do what I want, rather than have a lesson (paying only a token amount for the loan of the horse). I was delighted – if I'm honest I was a bit miffed at paying full private prices in my last two lessons when because of my back I was essentially deciding what I did and when, but without any feedback whatsoever from P. This made up for it.

Transition work is what I did most of the time, along with work on extension. Not only do I find Murphy difficult to collect because his stride is so tiny, I find his collection hard to ride. I did however get some great working and extended walks: he really lowered for me and it felt like he was over-tracking well in the latter. The extended trot felt great: it was impulsive, good speed, and his ears were pricked. I would have loved a picture!  However, given his sluggish canter earlier I took the opportunity to go from extended trot to canter in the corner, as with a poor quality trot only a poor canter will follow. I therefore cantered off a great trot and it worked – he gave me better impulsion. However, when switching reins to repeat the exercise the length of the school that I asked  for extended trot, all I got were anticipatory canter transitions. I wasn't putting my leg back for canter, I merely had them on and increased the height of my rise. It didn't work though: he knew a canter was coming so kept breaking into it. It was a fab canter, just a bit early.

I also did some circle work with him. His trot was awful: I was really trying to bend him round my leg and he was having none of it. It was therefore more of a series of straight lines (more like an octagon) than a circle. Canter was much better though: I was able to isolate my seat bones to switch me balance in the saddle, and his shoulders followed mine into the bend much better. I'd never done canter circles with him before, and I was impressed with him: some flexion and no motor biking!

The jump course meant figures of eight were impossible, but I persisted with serpintines for the length of the school. He had no idea what I was doing and was alert: I hope he enjoyed doing something different in the school, rather than the formulaic walk, trot, canter, jump, walk of many group lessons. Apart from a couple of occasions, he did not anticipate the direction early. Again I was able to isolate and use my seat to indicate direction before I used my hands and he responded. It was rather beautiful to me, in an understated way.

The only real problem I had was halting. Murphy has the RS pony mentality that if you stop, it's to move out of the way as it's someone else's turn to do something. So if you stop near the school entrance, he walks to near the gap by the mounting back. Down the sides, he moves into the middle out of the way. I'm gentle with my halt commands – I use my voice and squeeze the reins. P told me it would be great for Murphy to learn to halt properly, so I repeatedly checked and if needed leaned to get him to stop. Whilst in the main groove he was pretty good, and I fussed over him every time he halted correctly on the spot. Any time he veered off and kept walking, we repeated it until correct. I did make the mistake of practising halt when we warmed down though. Murphy knows that being rid on the buckle means the end (which is why I don't do it during a lesson as he can switch off). Therefore in rest time I was asking him to work against habit: no wonder it didn't happen. It's definitely something to keep working on though!

So all in all, after a crappy week full of marriage separations, ill health and general stress, I had a ball riding my favourite horse, in complete control of my own schooling. One of the biggest changes from RS to horse owning is that most of the time, unless you can afford regular lessons, you work on your own. You need to plan what to do, so I appreciate the chance to do this. The same way that driving lessons teach you how to pass your test, but only after you have your licence do you learn how to ride, I do believe a lot is learned when you're alone with your horse without an instructor there. While you can't have snippets of driving alone while a learner, the chance to school a horse on your own before being an owner is a treat. I enjoyed it, and I haven't done it properly since I was down often enough to be given horses to exercise. Oh how I miss those days!

So, roll on next weekend, if the gods of the weather are with me!

It's Been A While...

I haven't posted in a while as the death of Bolero took the shine off things for a bit, and my riding's not been great either.  I can't even remember my last lesson report, so apologies if I repeat stuff.

Bailey: was given Bailey as he's normally the dope on a rope but has been kicking, bucking and generally misbehaving. He knows when he has a novice on board and when it's an experienced rider, and adjusts his laziness/speed appropriately. He's finally learning to take a bigger hand out of the poorer riders though, which is understandable but not what the RS want as he's such a great starter. (He's about 14.3, so can teach adults and kids to ride).

I wondered at first if he was sore. He was better on one rein than another, but this disappeared after 10mins so was presumably part of warming up. He was trying to play me more than usual, as he knows from my posture, leg and backing up with crop that I'm an experienced rider. He was odd with it though: not dying out lazily, but literally falling straight from trot to walk. The only time I know a horse to do this if it's defacating. Every time I looked back, his tail was down.  I worked through it, still unsure as I was concerned it was discomfort, not bad behaviour. Having stopped it though with only basic coaxing, and assurances the vet and saddler checked him recently, I went on.
Once I was happy to ride him, I was firmer and he behaved like a dream. Needed a lot of leg, but listened. We actually did some nice flatwork, and he collected well in canter. I thoroughly enjoyed it and my RS said she'd love to give him to me as a project for a while, as I don't let him away with his tricks. If I still lived nearby this could have happened, but only getting down once or twice a week means I only got to ride him about 3 times. Still, it does him good to have an adult that can ride on board, rather than someone he can kid around with who doesn't have the knowledge, confidence or desire to correct.

I didn't ride for a few weeks due to Hurricane Bawbag closing the bridge, followed by an ear infection that made my head feel like it was being cruelly opened via a vice in my ear canal.  I then rode the week after on Guinness, who'd been back in work for a week or so after the sore on his wither recovered.

I found the lesson odd. After warming up and 5mins of trot my back was so sore, I struggled. Guinness knew and played up.  The odd thing was, he was very off the leg in walk, just a squeeze and I was able to get collected and extended strides depending on what I asked for. He resisted trot though, and we never did more than one full circuit of canter before he broke down. His behaviour correlated perfectly with my back: he played up more as I was in increasing pain, and as my posture increasingly went forward as being straight backed was the most painful. I was thus sitting like a more novice rider, and that's how he acted: evasively. Asking for a clear, balanced canter lead when tipping forward in pain just doesn't happen.

I hadn't ridden in weeks so felt deflated. I decided to give up the lesson and basically just did my own thing (and my RI gave me more time to do so, which was generous). I was able to get beautiful walks, so worked on transitions: halt, walk, trot (anything but canter). Having got those sharpened up, I felt better.  The canter with a bad back was definitely the hardest, but I was still capable of short bursts of trot. He never knew what was coming so listened. It felt good to finish doing something well, but I was gutted that we'd cantered like it was my first time. I was also embarassed as the girls I give mini-lessons to as a thank you for helping out on the yard were watching me ride for the first time ever. RI kept sending them off to groom ponies, brush up etc but they didn't take the hint and kept coming back!  I hope they see me again and I'm back to my best.

It's not been about a month thanks to Xmas and New Year. Being at The Outlaws really helped with my back, as I had much less housework to do (only dishes, kitchen surface cleaning and tidying rather than home where I must do EVERYTHING). Tom also made sure I did as little as possible as he said I do so much at home it was only fair. So, I hope to get on a horse this weekend and to not be so awful! I know I always go through bursts of great riding, then a lesson or two when my heels creep up, or my position goes back a step. It's part of riding, part of being human and part of having a bad back! I hope it's a good one to help my riding mojo though - I could do with a win!

I'm also finding myself adoring flatwork, and getting very excited at the mention of dressage. I never thought I'd say that!  I was actively disappointed when I was told I'd be jumping on Guinness (and was glad that we didn't in the end, though he did at times try to tank off towards the fences set up as he was keen to jump. I just tried to use his energy to get a nice canter instead)! I mean, I've not grown afraid of it - it 's not like I've fallen or had a bad experience lately. I just don't get the same joy as I used to, but maybe that's part of being stuck indoors for winter and will change. I still want to break my duck of 1m. I'm only 5cm away after all!  At this point though, I'd be quite happy not to see another jump for months. Not sure how that goes down a jumping yard!

I keep finding myself tempted by the city school too, with the thoughts of hacking a little XC course on site in the summer. The lessons work on a strict level of riding basis, and each skill level has set lesson slots per week. One week it's flatwork, the next week it's jumping. It all sounds rather good, and I am becoming more disenchanted with the journey in this cold weather, as not only am I cold on the yard but the bus is cold too, so it's literally hours before I'm warm again! One day I will be brave enough to go and have a look around like they said I could...

RIP Bolero, and Why Stable Door Security is No Laughing Matter

RIP Bolero, and Why Stable Door Security is No Laughing Matter

On Friday morning our yard lost one of its sweetest and most talented faces – Bolero. He was a 5yr old BWP gelding, being brought on as a potential Grand Prix horse for the Yard Manager, who SJs and produces horses professionally. I just want to say a few words about what a great horse he was, how he passed away, and why horses opening their own stable doors is not a funny trick that should be encouraged.

Bolero was bought as an unbroken youngster from Belgium, and the YM’s stable jockey P had broken him in and was bringing him on. Not only has he been easy (which is what you want from 17hh of muscle), he’d also proven talented at his work. At 5years old he already had his flying changes down as well as lateral work: his rider said she literally could have taken him out and competed him at dressage next week. He was also a keen jumper with scope to burn, and was proving to be both brave and careful over a fence.  The YM has lots of Belgian WBs in development as future GP stars: Bolero’s flame was already appearing to be burning the brightest of all the young contenders.

Having never ridden Bolero, I knew him only as this gorgeous face over the stable door:

This beautiful fella loved cuddles. He’s nuzzled lots, and lowered his head so you’d scratch his forehead for him. He also had impeccable manners – you asked him to go back from his door at hay time and he fully obliged at first request. He also knew how to say please by bowing his head.  He was also gentle in the stable – lots of the younger GP horses I wouldn’t get in with if you paid me as they’re very bolshy and bargy. Not Bolero though – I was always happy to get in and rug him up, especially as it was a chance for a big cuddle.

Bolero’s best friend on the yard is the flaxen chestnut Gorus. They always got turned out together, and hooned around like all young ‘teens’ should:

They both were galloping towards the fence here, stopping to dead to watch the derby I was photographing, before taking off and doing it all over again. These are shrunk a bit, but from my original photo you can see how distinct Bolero’s stripe is here.

While Gorus is bolshy, lively and a bit short-tempered, Bolero was a gent. When bringing them in from the field you always got Bolero first – he’d let you walk right up to him and then would calmly walk in with you to his box. We always hoped it would set an example for Gorus, but while Bolero plodded, Gorus always danced.

Perhaps the saddest thing about losing Bolero is that it shouldn’t have happened – it was completely preventable. Since Bolero moved box, he was able to get out of his stable. Normally all he did was say hello to other horses on the yard and mutual groom over the doors. He lived next door to a squealer, and she’d always let us know when he was out!  After doing it a couple of times, the YO put a brass snip on the bolt, so that he could no longer open it itself. It worked perfectly 80)

So, on Thursday while my RI (who is also the RS manager and deputy YM) was at the big horse boxes (a set of 5 off the main yard that the YM uses for horses he rides himself) mucking out a mare who’d returned from colic surgery, she heard the sound of hooves trotting on the concrete of the yard. She turned and coming towards her was Bolero, standing at the 5bar gate that leads to the fields, all snorting and looking like he was seriously considering leaping over the fence from a standstill to get out and graze.  Two of the yard staff started jogging up behind Bolero to catch him. RI told them to stop – he was considering jumping and if they came after him he’d just tank off. She quietly walked away to get a head collar and lead rope but they kept moving quickly towards him, and he took off like a TB at the races.

Bolero didn’t jump the gate and head for the fields though – he was heading back to his box.  To help understand the logistics of it, here’s the lay out of the main yard. 

While running through the gap before he turned right to reach his box, Bolero went down heavily. His momentum took him into the front corner of the first box, so that his front legs went into the wall in front of the corner while his hind legs smashed forwards onto the rear of the corner i.e. the corner ended up sort of between his legs if you can picture it. He then got up and walked back over to his box, and the damage was clear: he’d dislocated his jaw (and while the bone had seemingly popped back into place shortly after, his lip and skin were droopier on that side), he’d torn flesh off his front legs, but worst of all one of his back legs was gouged open right to the bone, therefore having dessimated the muscle tissue underneath. The vet was called and was there fairly quickly, having not that long left after checking up on the post-surgery colic mare.

 Neither the YM or the horse’s rider P were on site, so the vet did the only thing he could which was stitch the wounds (though it would never be a long-term solution for the back leg – it was just to prevent infection before the horse’s fate was decided). He left two bute as well. I mean, bute?  I appreciate that’s all the vet had the power to do, but that’s like giving someone two paracetamol after being in a car crash – what use is a mild NSAID when morphine is required?  Anyway, when P arrived Bolero didn’t look as bad as he first did, so she decided that she wanted his hock tested as if the joint in tact, he might recover.  The vet came first thing next morning and found nothing but blood on the joint. This was the severest injury, so it had already been decided that if the joint was goosed then that was it before Bolero, bearing in mind that he hadn’t been X-rayed but it was suspected that he’d fractured his ribs and probably his hind. Bolero was therefore put to sleep there and then. The YM was still away in Holland, and ass no one was available to hold him, P she stayed with one of her horses for the first time ever while he was PTS.  I’m kind of glad, because when a horse loves and trusts someone, everything scary is that bit easier when that loved one is there. I hope Bolero was a little less frightened because P was there for him.

So, how did Bolero get out when he’s got a brass snip on the door that stops him? Well, it quite clearly wasn’t on when the door was checked afterwards. The horse couldn’t do it himself: it was forgotten by whoever saw to his bucket of hard feed, or undid his rug that morning.  My RI hadn’t been near his box that morning as she’d started with the separate boxes because of the mare who’d colicked.  So someone else on the yard had forgotten to do it up, and while the fall itself was a freak accident, it wouldn’t have been at all possible if they’d taken the 3 seconds to bolt and snip his door properly. I hope that weighs heavy on their conscience, as they’re sure never to forget to do it again.

As usual, I was watching something on Horse & Country TV this week and what did I see during the ad break? A girl laughing as her horse lets itself out of its box and does other stuff (like picking up a brush I think), much to everyone’s amusement. This advert isn’t alone – lots of videos can be found on Youtube of horses getting out of their boxes while their owners giggle from behind the camera. Well, a horse getting out of its box really isn’t funny: they could do other people harm if they’re tanking around, and they can do themselves fatal harm by falling, jumping out into traffic and more besides.  So please, don’t think it’s a cool and hilarious trick that your horse can undo bolts: laughter can very quickly turn to tears and sorrow. People take precautions every time they ride (hat, gloves, BP, checking tack): don’t forget that horses need safety measures to protect them too, and being able to flaunt them isn’t funny, it’s downright dangerous.

RIP Bolero, you beautiful beautiful boy: I hope at least something is learned from your sad and sudden end.

The Life & Death of Hickstead

I was saddened deeply by the news of Hickstead’s death the the World Cup Qualifier in Verona. I cried not only at the news, but also at the video. I know some people disagree with such footage being made available, but I don’t intend to go into this debate. I will only say that it happened in a televisied and live sport, and all this footage is intended for public consumption at some point.

While I cried most of the way through the footage, I took great comfort in it.

1)     Hickstead passed quickly: his suffering would have been minimal.

2)     The vets arrived within about a minute of him going down, ready to help although he was already gone. You couldn’t ask for much better treatment time.

3)     Hickstead took care of Eric – he doesn’t seem to take his eye off him until he sees that he’s safely to the side and isn’t trapped underneath him.

4)     People were there so quickly to comfort a bewildered and sad Eric. Seeing Pilar with her arm around him was great, likewise for the quick presence of the grooms and the comfort given to them also.

5)     The screens went up quickly, to mask the body of the passed Hickstead. Bearing in mind it was a live audience in the venue as well as cameras, this was important for everyone I feel.

6)     The speed at which the ambulance arrived in the ring to convey Hickstead’s body.

7)     The beautiful mark of respect the other rides paid to Hickstead, including choosing not to take-part in something that had a 150,00 Euro jackpot attached (especially to Pilar and 3 other who had their clear round done already).

Essentially what I saw was a quick end for a remarkable horse, dealt with in a swift, efficient and caring manner.

Whilst I am so sad that Hickstead is no longer a living legend, he was due to retire after London 2012 and was not expected to enjoy the quiet life full-time. While I in no way wanted him dead, at least he went out in the following fashion:

1)     He died doing something he loved – jumping. He’d just taken an unlucky 4 faults in the WC Qualifier when he keeled over.

2)     He was reigning Olympic Gold Medal winning horse with Eric Lamaze.

3)     He was the reigning World Equestrian Games horse.  I know not everyone was lucky enough to have Sky to watch it, but in this competition, the top 4 riders all have to jump the course 4 times – once on every horse. Hickstead was the only horse to jump four clear rounds, with a different rider on his back each time.

I don’t think there could have been a more successful crest of a wave for Hickstead to bow out on really.

I’d like to focus for a moment on that WEG final however: I watched it live, and it is lierally one of my favourite sporting moments of all time.  The finals were Eric and Hickstead, Philippe Lamaze with Vigo D’Arseuilles, Rodrigo Pessoa with Rebozo and Abdullah Al Sharbatly on the difficult looking mare Nabab de Reve.  The first thing that struck a chord was the amount of advice that Rodrigo gave to the relatively inexperienced  Sharbatley on how to ride his stallion Rebozo. He coached him in the warm-up ring (for which each competitior got something like 2mins to warm-up on each foreign horse – no time at all to jump a world class course)!  Al Sharbatley actually then went on to beat Rodrigo, and I was over the moon to see Pessoa pick up the sportsmanship award that year for his actions. To see an equestrian rewarded in an across-sport award was amazing.

Secondly, watching everyone jump Hickstead was phenomenal. They all basically got on him and let him do what he does best – they didn’t pull on him, didn’t set him up for fences. They knew that he loved his job and knew it so well that to try and ride him any other way was suicide. They were right – by letting Hickstead be in charge of his own jumping style, they were each treated to a clear round on the board.

Thirdly, to see Phillipe actually perform his winning round on Hickstead was amazing. He patted and thanked that horse like it was his own – to see that much love and respect for a horse he’d only got to spend a few minutes on, and who’d only jumped one round of the tournament with him was touching. I also think it was a mark of respect to quite the horse Phillipe had the pleasure to ride (not that Vigo is a stallion to be sniffed at)!

So, all in all, while it was such a sad and premature end to a legend’s life and career, I can’t think of a more fitting way for him to have gone.

Farewell to the most athletic little horse I’ve ever seen over a fence: there’ll never be another one quite like you.

I’d also like to extend my sympathies and thoughts to Eric.  He must feel so heartbroken at this time. Much respect to you, not only for what you’ve done with this horse, but for being so quick to thank your other horses. It was only because of them jumping week-in, week-out that Hickstead was able to stay in perfect shape for jumping the big competitions at the age of 15. What a man, what a rider, what a pair.

Jumping Lesson – Murphy 12/11/11

Today’s lesson was focused on jumping, with three fences set up in the indoor. They were confined within a 20m circle, with a cross-pole at the 2 o’clock position and a double at the 5 and 11 o’clock positions from entering at the top of the school. I saw it set up that way earlier, so I knew it was coming! I was also pleased to know I’d be on Murphy as Guinness had just done two consecutive lessons.

I got on and despite giving me his alert face for 5mins of warm-up, Murph thought he’d try to switch off.  Fail! Despite the fact I knew we were jumping, I also know how uncomfortable and staccato his action is when he’s not going forward. I therefore decided that I wanted the same quality flatwork out of him before we started jumping, and that’s what I asked for. As he’d switched off it took a lot of backing up the leg with the crop at first, but eventually I got a forward walk, which led smoothly into a forward trot and canter after that. Phyllis asked for soft transitions again today (the idea of not being able to see the aids, especially for canter) and we managed it. Subtle squeezes and my voice were enough once I’d made clear they were to be listened to – it felt great.

After some good work on both reins, we started on the cross-pole for practice. I know that Murphy tries to die out in the final strides, but also that to put your leg on or tap him then completely interferes with his movement. Any adjustments must be made before the final 3 stride point. Often a tap at 5 strides is a great way to make him listen without interfering, but I was feeling so confident in my legs and voice that I didn’t, and we got over it several times tidily from a forward canter. Given that I never see anyone else jump Murphy without consistently preventing him from cat-leaping, I was chuffed.

When it came to the double, I did the same – lots of leg and voice several strides out, and while he took the first smoothly and forward, he died out a bit and jumped much more weakly over the second. I told my RI immediately that I’d be tapping him before doing the double again, but no way was I putting my legs or crop anywhere near him in the middle of that two-stride double.

I was turning the corner as I told her this to get back on my original rein and try again. I hadn’t expected a response, but after a silence came this delighted voice, over-excited at how aware I was about how this horse goes, and how I was avoiding the mistake that even regular competition riders make of pushing their horses when they’re best left alone.  So, I went over it again, concentrated and chuffed with my RI’s remarks and it was simple as peas after a reminder of who was boss. I had a forward, smooth jump from Murphy at both parts of the double.

Once it came to put the whole thing into a course, mixing fences and reins, I started to falter a bit. Murphy started to anticipate the turn into the double from the other direction. Subsequently he came off the wall almost 2m shy of where I wanted him too, and with one stride from wall to fence, I didn’t have time to correct. My balance was a little to one side, got over the 1^st okay, but my imbalance and straightening him up meant that we died out completely and I got a horrible choppy jump off a tranter at the 2^nd part of the double. I was so annoyed at myself, especially as some of the yard girls had peered in then. Why didn’t it happen when I was working him so well!  My alarm was going off saying I had to warm down to catch the bus, so I asked if I could do the double off this more difficult rein and angle again.  This time I held him and got the line I wanted. I just hadn’t pushed him enough so the 2^nd part wasn’t perfect: it could have been more forward to aid smoothness, but it was in canter and I wasn’t out of sync, so that had to do. Still a bit annoyed though as one more chance and I’d have had it perfect on both reins… grrr!

I was also pleased that I kept pushing him as Murphy really seemed to be getting frustrated. He always throws his head up when you tap him on the shoulder (beats him bucking when you tap him behind the girth, especially when approaching a fence)! His throws were getting more and more animated therefore more difficult to ignore, and I honestly felt that if I asked much more he was going to throw a tantrum and try to get me off. (He’s done this before in the derby paddock, and failed entirely in unseating me, but he is capable of it). I didn’t let that stop me though: I wasn’t being unfair, and I was only pushing him more when he was giving me less. I also know that you can’t prevent a horse being moody either – if we all rode in the fear we were heading for a broncing, I’m not sure we’d ever get anything done! lol.

That’s the condensed version of the lesson – I’m sure I jumped the fences 5 times as much as I’ve reported, but that’s the main of how it went. I was pleased that my RI said it was like I’d never been away (with the lesson fiasco I haven’t jumped properly in a while), and how she really liked me on Murphy. She felt he was much more of his full potential with me on board, and with so many people failing to push him and allowing him to be lazy, it was a pleasure to see. It was certainly a pleasure to be told as much!  She also said that out of all the lessons she’d taken today, I was “the ONLY” person to get all the lines right, especially into the more difficult double. Everyone else had apparently come off the walls too early, and then were trying to adjust straightness. Well, I was on a horse that I know better than to adjust before a fence, I couldn’t afford not to!

I honestly don’t see the fuss my RI makes of my lines sometimes. I see a fence and I know exactly where the ideal approach is. I see a course, and I know exactly what’s a bend, where I should dog-leg, what’s a turn. I see a jump-off, I see extra turns that’ll cut down strides, and I know which point of the course will sort the winners from the losers. It seems so basic and logical to me though that it doesn’t feel like rocket science. My RI however, seems to think it’s amazing and sings my praises like a choir  on a sunny Sunday morning. I just genuinely don’t gather how more folk don’t seem to either get it, do it, or both. It seems like entirely obvious to me!  The only thing I still need to get hold of is seeing strides: while it’s very often I put a horse to a fence on a bad one, I still don’t ‘see them’ per se – I just look, turn and it’s okay. I think it really requires more riding time than an hour a week to develop that though: maybe it’s something I won’t be able to get until I own my own horse.  Still, it’s always exciting in riding to remember where you’ve come from and where you’re going. That’s why I started this blog after all – to comfort me in those times I really hard on myself and need to see some record of improvement!

Remembrance Day: A Tribute to our Four-Legged Soldiers

 

 

I'm only a cavalry charger,
And I'm dying as fast as I can
(For my body is riddled with bullets-
They've potted both me and my man);
And though I've no words to express it,
I'm trying this message to tell
To kind folks who work for the Red Cross-
Oh, please help the Blue one as well!
My master was one in a thousand,
And I loved him with all this poor heart
(For horses are built just like humans;
Be kind to them-they'll do their part);
I'm only a cavalry charger,
And my eyes are becoming quite dim
(I really don't mind though I'm "done for",
So long as I'm going to him);-
But first I would plead for my comrades,
Who're dying and suffering too-
Oh, please help the poor wounded horses!
I'm sure that you would-if you knew.