Hi B**by

I don't know if any of you remember the shot of my two girls from this past summer, racing towards me up the laneway, besides the vegetable fields. It's coool, the next picture is from the same spot, and it's like a negative. I cannoT find the old picture. Oh, there it is..
This was September 24, 2009, doesn't it look lovely and warm??

Taken from slightly further away, today. The girls did a great job of stopping ANY cuteness when the camera was pointed. I have several megabits of movie, where there is a lovely expanse of frozen nada.

Minus 4 degrees Fahrenheit.

Flip, stalker-slinker of Blaze.

Kinda hard to sneak up on a black dog on a white pond.

Hey, I'm on the pond! Are ya ready??

Find the doggie.


Oh, my, this post's title is going to give blogger entirely the wrong impression. It's funny how the memory works, isn't it? Well, mine, anyway. Amuses me no end. I commented on UnionSquares' RetiredRaceHorseBlog, and PinG. A Memory cell kicked in!

High Booby. It's 1966-67. I'm riding at first/worst barn. One of the "famous" rider/horse combinations, seemingly revered by everyone, ofcoursesodidI, was the mare "High Booby" and her rider, Barb. Barb's last name escapes me, it was unusual too. Spangle, or something. I never thought to ask about the mare's name. I was eleven, I kept my questions entirely related to more interesting things, like how to put on a bridle:)

They could jump, this strangely-named pair. Won a lot at the Junior/Amateur level, in those long ago days.

High Booby was built like a dachsund. She was plain bright bay, no more than 15.1 hands. She had a roman nose, but it was rounded so perfectly, it was almost cartoonish. Not unfeminine, which is hard to do with a roman nose. Everything about her was round. The mare was long, low, yet round. Strangest looking creature, really, a caricature. A compass would exactly follow the curve of her hind-quarter. She was low to the ground, and clawed/clambered/scrabbled over fences. Her ears were permanently pinned back, except over jumps. High Booby lived to jump. Everything else was crap, in her fierce large eyes. Let me AT them! Stay with me, and hang on!

High Booby taught me not to "drop" my horse before a jump.

Barb took a liking to me, and eventually let me ride High Booby over fences. High Booby would stop, every single time I "dropped" the contact before the jump. A dirty stop, an evil stop, OnlY if I dropped the reins, and the contact with her mouth. I could throw my body ahead, and she wouldn't care. But drop her reins? She'd stop. High Booby dumped me quite a bit. See, at this point, I was "learning" how to ride like this..



Booby's Barb knew I was asking to get myself killed, so she kindly let Booby show me what the safest course of action was. Do not "throw" your hands at the horse. Do Not make a move. Do NOT EVER drop Booby's contact. Go with her and gently, support. Sounds like a "MaidenForm" commercial, doesn't it?

High Booby's lessons really helped deepen my seat, and strengthen my core, so that I did not come off easily with a stopper, after that. But the habit could come back often, and it did.
My first mare continued High Booby's lessons, by dumping me neatly over her head once, stopping at a low easy fence.

It was GoLightly that finally, truly fixed my seat. Poor old bay, he tried to help me fix my "fly-away" hands over fences too. He just didn't have enough time. GoLightly plunked me back into the center of the horse, though. Very good place to start riding them from. After I saw his sale picture in Practical Horseman, showing equitation, I finally realized what he'd been trying to teach me. You can keep contact with the horse's mouth, over a fence. It has to be light and sympathetic, of course.

This can actually help the horse jump more tidily. See how tight and neat GoLightly is with his knees in this shot, compared to my shot, with my hands halfway up his neck, and his ears back, slightly irritated at my sloppiness.

Even after I "lost" him, GoLightly kept teaching me.

OH, National Velvet was on!!! 1944, Elizabeth Taylor and Mickey Rooney, and there was Angela Lansbury as Edwina. Made me tear up, of course. Velvet "riding" her toes in bed. Velvet's wishes were so much my own.

Dang, that Pie was a nice horse. Great actor:) He actually bears some resemblance to Aldaniti, another hero horse of mine. The riding was fascinatingly, laughably not that much different from today. Jump jockeys had much longer stirrups for the steeplechases. A little something called "I wish to live to see dinner". Amazing to me now, that it is becoming a "bad" thing. MY Canadian horse ragazine has come out in "againstness" agin The Grand National Steeplechase. The falls were horrific then, just as they are now, in all sports involving horse.
Big old dinosaur that he is.

To Horses, each with lessons to teach us. Even if it's Do NOT giggle at my name. Come to think of it, I wonder if that's why High Booby's ears were always back?

OH, and great comments on the last blather. Thanks to you all!

lovely expanse of frozen nada

Don't you just love how they stand there, looking wise? They'd been rip-ROARing around the frozen snow dunes, until I finally found the movie button. Frozen fingers/brain, ya know? Flip, I swear, she STILL hates having her picture taken!

Counter Productive

Seriously.

Thanks to CNJ for kickin' this post into full-combat blather gear.

I've meant to take umbrage at the thought that counter canter isn't a useful tool for training horses. It sure as heaven is. It is excellent work for the young horse. Never EVER (initially) on a tight-ish turn, never to make the horse lose his balance, but it's how I always taught/rode/trained flying changes, before and after riding you-know-who. Master Mister Big Bay HisSelf. (Cue the trumpets of honour)

GoLightly - remember him?

As a kid, growing up, I spent a LOT of time being a horse. We all did, I know. I spent long hours trotting, cantering, bucking, kicking, spooking. You know the drill. We all did, right? (Gawd, I hope so.) Cantering was always my favourite. I was so pleased when I finally understood the footfalls in my head, as well as in my body. 1,2,3. Suspend. You know. sigh. ANYway. The canter has a right way, AND, duh, a left way. Totally different. Remember? You do not ride only one side of the horse, but both simultaneously. The horse is still "processing" you separately, you just THINK he's one whole being. He really isn't. He's right, and left. The sooner you can feel the difference, the better. How, you ask??

Well, first, (you knew this was coming) I expect that you're pretty darned solid at the trot. Sitting, posting, able to ask for a faster or slower rhythm. Two-point, standing-straight for practice balance. No stirrups.
You Can't? It's easiest to learn how, about everything, at the trot, with it's metronome beat. (Walk, too.)

The canter is for the orchestration of both sides of you and your horse. It's the start of the big time, is cantering:) Be proud if you can do it! What you will find, at the start, is that you're "thrown" one way. THAT's your lead. The way you're being "thrown". You know how the trot is equally "throwing", yes? Well, the canter is not an equal beat. THREE beats and a hold, three beats and a hold. The hold, that throw, is your lead/direction.
Try not to fall off as you learn this.
:)
That's why if you're on the wrong lead around a corner, it feels pretty horrific. That's not the same as counter-canter. In counter-canter, the horse is balanced. A wrong-leaded horse is unbalanced, often dangerously so.

Okay, anyway, here's the harder part, for the more advanced amongst us. I've mentioned the Master SchoolMaster of all things a few times. GoLightly knew a ton of flatwork, that I'd only mostly read about, and attempted with my own experiments through the years. Hard to know if you're correct, but I seemed to do "okay".

GoLightly had kindly explained many different movements to me, as I explored his vast dictionary of correctness of training. GoLightly was my Encyclopedia Britannica:)

Counter-canter was a funny one. I'd been getting pretty frickin' good at most of our lessons, and both GoLightly and I felt a bit cocky about ourselves. I'd finally figured out how a half-pass was coordinated, how a shoulder-in should feel, how all of these movements had their basis in straightness and suppleness and lightness. I'd done two-tempi changes, and man, I thought I was genius. Always a good time for a trainer to throw down another glove.

Peter, with his usual laconic tone, said "Try working on his counter-canter, Baaaaarb". Why do trainers always drawl, when they're asking for something hard?
I guess to lull you into a sense of "easy enough."

It was interesting. I hadn't seen the expression "Oh,please, do I HAVE to?" from GoLightly since I'd used him for a beginner school horse with his original owner. Aggrieved, to the max, for him. How COULD I ask for such a terrible thing?

GoLightly gave me his first "humpfh", with my first forays into counter-canter with him. Oh, I had ridden many counter canters, asked for by me, the rider. I knew how to ask/ride them, how to try and maintain them. They weren't always pretty. I used them on long sides of arenas, and outdoors mostly, not very much in the way of turning, I'd do simple-changes (canter-trot-canter) to the correct lead around turns.

It hadn't really occurred to me how HARD they were, if the horse is perfect broke, and sensible, and likes to be balanced around his turns. The shoulder-in helps a lot with counter canter. But it doesn't ease the Yowza, that's HARD! factor. You can really start to feel the outside hind reach/WORK/"think", in counter-canter.
(quickie 'splaining. Say I'm going clockwise, but I'm on my left lead, in counter-canter. GoLightly's outside hind, is his RighT hind. It now has to take a much shorter stride, in order to maintain the lead.)
You can start some collection in counter-canter, just by asking for it.
Try it yourself, on all fours, on the floor. Just make sure the curtains are drawn.

But, BUT, be prepared. GoLightly gave me the hairy eye-ball for asking for it, and I was a pretty fair rider at that point. Counter-canter work should only be for those riders that know which lead they are on, without looking. Otherwise, it's way too confusing for the horse.

It was difficult, but it really drove home the point of left vs right riding, for me. Sharpened my timing. Forced me to sit in the correct place, in order to hold the counter-bend. If I did NOT sit it correctly, GoLightly would harumph, and twitch his tail, and even change behind, if he was really pissed off with me. I was asking him around the short ends of a pretty small arena. It was hard work.

Now, I can hear the little race-car QH/Ayrab/Morgan/some TB's horse owners snickering now. You big old draftie types too. Leads/schmeads, to these horses. They are either flat-moving, or have super-dooper (to me, because I am SO controversial) straight hind legs. But it is still entirely possible for these horses to benefit from the exercise. The gangly mare I've posted about really benefited from this work.

So there!
How confused are ya now?

Oh, Thanks so much, you guys, My Da' has amazed the medical profession aGain. What a Guy!!! Your prayers helped, I know they did. That and his "I'll die when I'M ReadY" attitude.

OH, and thanks to BHM. She hath wrought a miracle on the net. It shall be known as the truce, to end all true truces. THANK YOU!!!
Sunshine and Butterflies, heck, can't we all use some of that??
There's plenty of the nasties to go 'round.

Directional Dilemmas

I had to drive to the hospital to visit dad on Saturday, he's in with pneumonia. He is doing okay, great hospital. But, as usual, it provided the completion of this post's initial idea. I took a route to the hospital that I often take, coming home from work, only this time it was "backward". I haven't taken this route this way, in about 15 years. Much has changed, of course, as well, as most of the property was farmland.

The route looked completely different, to me, to the point of Whoah, where am I?? And then I laughed and remembered that it IS completely different. My brain hasn't seen it that way before.

Directional memory is incredibly powerful in animals, horses even more so, with their eyes on either side of their heads. They have a left side body experience, and a right side. Totally different.

HUGE tangent..
I'm still totally engrossed in Temple's new book. I'm in the pig chapter. I knew something was up with pigs. I've also been reading some interesting research about stress and genetic damage.
I swear, people, we are doing it to ourselves.

I hate feeling prescient, especially when I'm right.

Back To Directions.
Directions are very important to horses. They have two separate realities, left, and right. You have to help them overlap the two, through trust.

Oh, and my aimless blathering/wandering for the past year in horse-net land has finally given me some new directions. I hope I take them the right way.
Or is that the left?
I'll let ya know.

I need strong prayers for my dad, to any that have the time. Prayers for all who are struggling with their health. Haiti, too. How lucky we all are, to be not there.

OH, funny note. Moscow has pinged me, twice. Must have been that video of that Russian trainer at the Olympics with Christilot. Ve haff ways of mekking hyou tawk!

Sigh. What did I say now??

The Ebb

Today, this is in a movie called "Burn After Reading".
There's nothing like the real thing, but man, those mechanicals...

Side-saddle in the old days, of course, astride?? One mustn't ever!
Thanks, Paddy. Authorized by HRH herself, even. I was trying to lighten the mood of the last post. Zooom, over your heads it went.
I enjoyed the Crabby Old Man poem, and I don't feel really sad about it.

Honestly, we need the ebb. Where would we put everybody??
I accept ebb. I expect ebb. It's part of the flow, ya know.

I've been thinking about this for awhile, and The Doors "The End" was playing on the radio as I drove back from an errand today. The haunted guitar riff still gives me chills. That riff got me typing.

People HATE The Ebb, they are bummed when the ebb happens, and it always, always, ALWAYS happens. Like it's a big surprise, or something. I'm not talking about, well, you know. The diseases. I want medicine working on those, thank you very much. I'm talking normal aging processes. Don't shoot me.

Our fixation on halting aging processes and surgically/painting/colouring over the aging process (aka nature) is endlessly fascinating to me. Since I was a kid, really.
Anyway.

The Ebb.
When you're training anything, including yourself, you'll hit a "high" of understanding, a rush of comprehension. That's the flow.
An hour, a day, a week, or a month later, nothing will work. NOTHING. That's the ebb. The quicker you accept that, the happier you'll be. You have not lost everything gained. I've always found that those days are just the blip to remind me of how far, how much I've accomplished, already.
For example, Flip has stopped eating shite. She still won't retrieve. I take the flow where I can get it:)
Another example, Blaze had a terror of clothing being removed. (Yeah, I'd be scared too.) I let it pass, never reacted except to laugh, and voila, Blaze is embarrassed by her old fear now. We're still working on her fears. As all training is a work in progress, I'm happy with what we've achieved so far.
Everyone has bad days, animals included. Something tickles their super senses, and we miss it, either inadvertently or vertently;)

The next day is usually better. Not always. But if you've accepted the ebb, the flow will follow. The flow is the best. I know.

I struggle with this every day. Don't we all? Okay, maybe Paris Hilton doesn't.
Isn't it better to hope for the current to continue?
If you let the ebb become a riptide...
That's when you can lose any ground you had.
It's true in real life, too, y'know.
Never fight the rip-tide.
Of course, go with the flow.

Animals feel their lives more fiercely than we do. An animal's honesty/"purity" of being has always, and will always, help my heart want to continue beating. They really aren't that complicated, which is why I feel more kin to them, than "us".
Ya know??

Animals are immediately in their lives. If their immediate life is scaring the crap out of them, we can only move on with them to the next moment. The moment will pass. It always does. You, the trainer, you have to believe that.
HP's story of Top's bad day also got this post to typing. She believed, and Top finally did too.

A horse has a very narrow memory, like the shape of his incredible head.
He remembers everything he knows, as all animals do. They always learn something new, everyday.
Animals can teach us to remember that, every day.

Lessons with GoLightly will continue once I can convince myself of the above.
Again.

CrabbyOld(Wo)Man

Photo Courtesy of Kid Sister, Awesome Photographer
An Art Piece, of My Dad.

My Dad loves this poem. Guess y'all will read why:)

CRABBY OLD MAN

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in North Platte, Nebraska, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were going through his meagre possessions, They found this poem.
Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. One nurse took her copy to Missouri. The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the St. Louis Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.

And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.

Crabby Old Man

What do you see nurses? What do you see? What are you thinking when you're looking at me? A crabby old man, not very wise, Uncertain of habit with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food and makes no reply . When you say in a loud voice "I do wish you'd try!" Who seems not to notice the things that you do. And forever is losing a sock or a shoe?

Who, resisting or not lets you do as you will, With bathing and feeding the long day to fill? Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see? Then open your eyes, nurse, you're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am. as I sit here so still, As I do at your bidding, as I eat at your will. I'm a small child of ten with a father and mother, Brothers and sisters who love one another.

A young boy of sixteen with wings on his feet Dreaming that soon now a lover he'll meet... A groom soon at twenty my heart gives a leap. Remembering, the vows that I promised to keep.

At twenty-five, now I have young of my own. Who need me to guide and a secure happy home. A man of thirty My young now grown fast, Bound to each other With ties that should last.

At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone, But my woman's beside me to see I don't mourn. At fifty, once more, babies play 'round my knee, Again, we know children My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me my wife is now dead. I look at the future shudder with dread.. For my young are all rearing young of their own. And I think of the years, and the love that I've known.

I'm now an old man and nature is cruel. Tis jest to make old age look like a fool. The body, it crumbles, grace and vigour, depart. There is now a stone where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass a young guy still dwells, And now and again my battered heart swells. I remember the joys. I remember the pain. And I'm loving and living life over again.

I think of the years, all too few, gone too fast. And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.

So open your eyes, people open and see. Not a crabby old man. Look closer, see ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within, we will all, one day, be there, too!

PLEASE SHARE THIS POEM The best and most beautiful things of this world can't be seen or touched. They must be felt by the heart."

Got this in a e-mail from my sister, the older, smaller one:)

Years 4 Fears

The Groupie and the Master.


I hate having my picture taken.

Oh, those pictures are even funnier than I remember. I tower over the master, I'm squinching down a bit, so we can both be in the photo, according to the photographer. (Mademoiselle Catherine Gillespie, Artist, and once in a lifetime commenter.)

"He that wrestles with us strengthens our nerves, and sharpens our skill. Our antagonist is our helper." - Edmund Burke

Fear is our helper. It can certainly be our own worst antagonist. It's one of our deepest, least "controlled" emotions. It's waaay down there. One can stifle many types of emotions. Tamping them down is an art and a science:) It's called diplomacy. It's called self-control. (and a culture, right, Mr. Spock?)

There are many coping mechanisms for fear. We tense, we tremble, we run away. Scream. How many different ways can YoU mask fear? How do you express it? Of course, in our society of no dangers, except the battery running low on your cell phone, fear becomes self-induced. Or whatever. Caffeine induced, if that rocks your boat.

We as a society miss fear, so we make it up. Think about it, how much drama is enough? I'm still waiting, and I really would rather not see how much. Honestly. Reality TV is just so wrong, on so many levels:) It's encouraging people to do ridiculous things for "fame". Like the "kid in a weather balloon" story. Come ON!!

That isn't fame. That's "fey"me. Fake, fey, fame. We're just not feeling important enough, in ourselves. I've been meaning to blurt this out for a while. Okay, this does have something to do with fear, I promise. (blocks tangent.)

The trick is, you really can't mask fear, consistently. Fear is so primal, it's so "far down" in your brain, right beside your t'other base instincts. I almost typed "baser" instincts.

Basic instincts:)
Seek, Fear and Sex. The big three.

To fear. We have no dinosaurs to be afraid of, anymore. Most of our fears are self-inflicted. Fear is totally instinctual. It's there for a very good, if mostly outdated reason. To keep us alive.

We struggle with fears daily. The biggest fear is the fear for your own personal safety. With parents, it's their children's safety that terrifies them.

With re-riders, it's the fear of getting hurt. I've owned that fear too, dear readers.
It's a feeling that you can sometimes control, but you have to carefully train yourself to know when/where/what/why you are feeling the beginnings of fear. Often, fear is partner of anticipation/excitement, and it can be hard to distinguish which you are truly feeling.

And then, before it grabs hold, give yourself something to seek instead. Anticipate something, pleasantly. ANYthing. Instead of fearing that you'll not ride as well as you once did, look forward to the sensations you're experiencing right NOW.
The fear of being sneered at would abate, if less barn bitches walked this planet, but that's another story.

Horses are masters of sensing anticipation. As fearful flight animals, they are basically a running fool. It's the only way they know to flee, or they fight back, still WantinG to flee. Fear = Flee, to a horse. Period.

The traumas and pressures they suffer at the hands of the people who should never own horses, stays with them for life. For a horse, the Flee response will ALWAYS be remembered. It's just truly hard for us to "see" those triggers, as the horse sees/senses them.
Some specific sequence of events/sights/sounds/attitudes can suddenly panic a horse, for no discernable reason to the handler.

You could be using Vicks Vapo-rub, for a cough. A horse will remember the pain of it being used on the corners of his mouth, or worse. You never did it, but the horse remembers. What else does he have to do with his day, but remember his life?

People's Fears need dealt with a different way from a horse, of course;)

Sorry, Fern. It isn't nearly finished, but jeepers, great minds or WhaT??

DressageDinosaurs

Here's a video of Filatov riding.
Check out the reaction to the bag flying by.

Now, someone PLEASE explain to me, how much Dressage has changed/improved, in the last 30 years. I think the horses are incredible, today. They have changed.

Riders have not. Well, not YET. I'm not finished yet:)

All pictures scanned from "Canadian Entry", by Christilot Hanson, copyright 1966 by Clark Irwin.
I sure hope they re-print it, I need a new copy. This one has just recently collapsed.
I have a picture of myself and the master, at a clinic she did last year, where I asked her if I could use some of her pictures and stuff. She was so charming, and so agreeable. I was so nervous.

"Oh, Yes!", she said, "I'm all for sharing techniques to further good riding".

Which, amazingly enough, has been going on for more than 10/20/30/40 years.
REALLY.
Nah, good riding began the year I was born.
(not really.)

Sorry. I've just been reading some stuff. I wonder if the youngsters know how just silly they sound. Just you wait, Missy..
(evil wicked witch cackle).

oH, and I'll save the picker-aparters the trouble.
Bonheur was not really "underneath" himself enough in Passage. He was learning on a very demanding, (now it would probably be considered over-stressful) schedule.

Bonheur was a young horse. Christilot was 16 years old. Not bad, in my mind, anyway.

OH, and notice the tiny degree of bend in the half-pass.
GoLightly taught me that. Not the movement, I knew what it was. GoLightly taught me that that's ALL the bend, you really NEED. Not very frickin' much, is it?

Straight, is GOOD.
Noodle Neck, is BAD.
Let their nuchal ligament do what it was born to do.

To Great Horses, and Great Riding!
AnyTime at ALL.

Hey, I've started the year with a rant. Go ME!
I promise to be vociferous only as is necessary.
I will not go quietly into that good stall.
er sumthin.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Thanks for being there.

MenVersusWomen
Cool Link. I'm sure you've seen it already.