ForMyLeoBear,w/pic

Horses carry baggage, emotionally and physically.

Over the years, I rode lots of different types of horses, but my favourite breed "type" narrowed, as I focused more and more on Hunter/Jumper/Dressage. The school horses I was fortunate enough to know rounded out the breed types I stayed close to. The School Barn I taught at, before my move to GoLightly's eventual barn, had probably 35+ schoolies, in various states of repair/soundness/issues/temperament/talent.

Some were downright scary, some were downright dangerous, depending on if they liked the current rider or not. Some of the ponies.. Gah, rotten little creatures, some of them. But some were as safe as a house. You just can't generalize too far in any direction, about any breed. There's always an exception to every rule.

Even great trainers can be guilty of that. I had a few lessons with David Ballard, for example, at this large Schooling/Boarding Barn. I was riding one of the "very-advanced-rider" schoolies, a tall bright bay TB mare. Witchy, (yes, ironic), was supposedly a very tough ride. I got along with her just fine, and enjoyed riding her. At my first lesson with Mr. Ballard, he took me aside and stage whispered "This mare will BURY you!" She never did. An exception to his rule.

Horses have their own rules. Witchy was a cribber, and had a curious pot-bellied appearance, but a lovely "type" all the same. Very sound, very opinionated about how she was to stay sound. If you didn't bother her, she was a lovely ride, with her pretty, straight blazed face and four socks, a merry-go-round horse.. My old Boss bred her late, at about 14, and Witchy surprised everyone by successfully pretending not to take. Her foal became a cribber, too, of course.

My Six Schoolies, at GoLightly's barn, were the best bunch of geldings ever. They were limited by their ages and soundness levels, but they all had very sweet hearts. I hope I gave them a great life, in the short years I had them, something they could always remember. I had the cleanest, chunkiest, shiniest Schoolies anywhere. I gave them a good time, I hope. They always whinnied happily when I arrived, with treats and grooming and love.

Leo Bear was the most complex, personality wise. The deepest thinker, and a weaver.

My Leo Bear comes to mind when I read about today's training of horses, and the difference between hard-broke and soft-broke. Quick or slow. Roaring or whispering.

Leo was a typey Quarter Horse up top, a 15.1 hand liver chestnut chunk. A bit steep through his croup, but well-balanced. A third of neck, and of back and of butt. His head was level, in it's "natural" carriage. A tad long in his head. I italicize natural, as he was 12 or 14 by then.

Leo Bear's "natural" head carriage might have been a bit different, if he'd been whispered to, but that is justa guess. He seemed to shrink into his "natural" way of going, as if it hurt him a bit.

Leo Bear moved like a duck. He was calf-kneed and toed out in front. Cow-hocked behind. Part cow, maybe:) I had no idea of his history, except he'd been used in several schools. Leo was well-broke, but kinda broken, in a way.

He'd had a long, annoying life as a schoolie before I had the honour of teaching with him. Leo could curl his nose in such an articulate expression of disdain. He was very quiet, but very clever. If the rider had any issues, he'd turn into the centre of the ring and stop. Didn't matter what speed he was going.

I'd explain the rider's errors, and off he'd go again, still a little put-out, but mollified by my scritches of understanding. Leo couldn't believe how spoiled he was, with me.

Leo Bear was a good little jumper, and won lots of ribbons with the right rider, at the little shows in the area.

Leo was the best of the best for explaining to the rider if they could ride or not. Leo would show the rider (and me) what they were missing. He was my test horse for all new riders. Leo knew exactly what they didn't know.

Leo was great to demonstrate things on. He could do changes, and knew all of the basic flat work movements very well. I rarely demo'ed on anyone else. Leo would be hilarious for me, while I rode. He'd puff up his chest, lighten in front, twinkle on his toes a bit, for me. He'd offer changes just to show off. I always thanked him for his appreciation. Leo really liked me. Leo Bear was a trier. But he had a faraway, yet close tension that the other horses didn't have.

Leo Bear hated dogs. Any dogs close to the schooling sand ring were firmly driven away, with a ferocious expression and bared teeth, rider aboard, or no.

And Leo also did four unusual things, while I taught with him, and learned from him. The first incident was leading the Schoolies back in from the field. I always brought the six back at one time. It was a long walk to their turnout, and they all had gotten to know me well, quickly. It was a bit of a windy day. I had three, Leo the horse closest to me, on the left and three on the other.

Leo ran me over, from being right beside me, to running over me, faster than I dropped down and yelled, HEY?! Leo didn't hurt me, but he sure shoved me down/aside and took off like a lunatic. I re-gathered and re-grouped, and looked behind me, trying to figure out why he'd done it. The gate had blown open, well behind us. That's all. But that situation made him run like hell was right behind him. First weirdness.

Second weirdness. I was teaching an older, shortish gentleman, a very successful, nice enough business guy. Guy was very type A, intense, driven, show me how it's done, and my goodness it's DONE. Not a great rider emotion. Too much of a hurry, he was in. Looked and sounded a bit like a (cowers) cowboy, although Guy was a total suit, much more so than cowboy. Justa wannabe.

Guy was grooming Leo on the cross-ties in the school barn aisle.. I was chatting with the guy, and watched as one tiny "tick" sound of the man's hat touching the cross-ties as Guy ducked under them, sent Leo into a striking, rearing, snorting wild-eyed panic. I quickly calmed him, but wondered what Leo had suddenly remembered. Leo Bear went well for this guy, but never lost his expression of fear when the guy rode him. Leo's tension was palpable, worn as a tight circle within his body. Guy & wife got their own horse not long after that, but that's another story. Well, that story does tie in with why I left teaching..

Third weirdness. A very nice older rider, not an amateur, not a pro, but a wonderful kind breeder/starter of good young horses, came to me to get her confidence back. The trainer she'd been using had destroyed it. His initials were RT. Yup, that's him.

Ironic. I just thought she was sensitive, and we worked on helping her realize how capable she was.
She loved just getting on my old guys, and working on stuff she already knew, but had forgotten, in her character bashing sessions with RT. RT is an AH. Now, I know! Takes me awhile. I know.

Anyway, the lesson she first had with Leo really made me wonder where and what had happened to his soul. She was a perfectly fine rider, quiet, soft, a little short and blonde and absolutely beautiful. She is a kind, wonderful person, too.
A tiny bit stiff in her position. Nothing to write home about, it's the way she's built, just a bit rigid.

Leo Bear poured buckets of sweat, from the moment she mounted him. We did nothing to warrant his sweats. He was just TENSE. Leo's expression was of ferocity and concentration, not fear. Yet he sweated so profusely, it took a tremendous time for him to get cooled and dried. He'd only been worked for a regular flat lesson, but he sweated as if he'd been jumping the Grand National. We both wondered aloud at his reaction. Gail. I type this for my memory. Part of Stan Roger's incredible clan. Some Canadians will know that name, as more should. I was lucky enough to meet Garnet. Wonderful people.

The fourth isn't really as weird as the top three. Leo Bear was a saint on hacks. Leo loved hacking. I took my "best" group of kids out one day, with Leo carrying the "worst" of my best. The girl was the type that would never get it, but would try her heart out in the meantime. Sweet, nice girl. Justa bit un-coordinated, and dreamy, in that she'd never really listen to what you were saying. Just give you a look of surprise when she was dumped, aGain. She always got back on. She was built a bit like Leo:), and her build really did work against her. Her lower leg kinda went outwards from her knees..

Anyway, she always got Leo for hacks, as he was the saint. Leo dumped her on her head, coming over the brow of a tiny hill. I missed it, it happened so quick. Leo was right behind me! He was trying to tell me something. I knew it already. The girl would never be a rider, no matter how much she wanted it. Sometimes, it just isn't there.

I suspect that Leo Bear had some old, never to-be-forgotten painful situations that would always panic him. Horses have narrow memories, and they are excellent at remembering. They never forget a painful thing. We have no windows into their minds. We can only read their reactions, and ensure that they never feel trapped, or in pain, again. Often,there is no obvious cause. Only the horse knows what he's anticipating.

It is next to impossible to predict every moment with your horse. He carries with him, all he knows, in his narrow, brilliant mind. You can only move forward with your own predictions. Horses never look down, except to eat, or buck:)

The Quarter Horses I remember always knew how to explain themselves. I just wish more people would listen. And learn. Screaming can happen, without even raising your voice. Horses hear our hearts, not our heads.

Edited to add a grainy picture of a picture of Leo Bear at a schooling show, once a week (if she was lucky) advanced student Marni up. Look at those sweet knees, and the bascule in his old back. Not bad for a old Schoolie.

To Leo Bear. Rest in Peace, sweet, scared old lad, wherever you are. You deserved a kind end, too.

I haz more pictures of pictures... Maybe I'll post 'em, if y'all behave, nice like:)

No scowling, here.
Work's almost dun.
(done)