GoLightlyFacts+Fictions: February 2011

OH, and a diabolical instructor. Almost forgot.
You guys do know I began blogging because I need to rant and rave a little? No? Well, re-start and re-wind, people.

Here's the things in Equus that have set off my rant meter lately. Okay, there are only two. I really shouldn't complain, for some odd reason the bookstore is carrying Equus, so I splurge and buy it. I haven't in years and years and years...

I'll start with the article about drying a wet, woolly horse in the winter (or summer, for that matter), after a workout. I love Equus magazine, it always used to inform and educate me. It still does, don't get me wrong, I just found this latest "invention" seemed (to me) to be a really bad idea, and it's all because the horse must be dry quick, I guess, you might have a text message waiting! I always rubbed the horse with straw or towels, and walked him with a wool cooler in winter, light holey cooler in summer. I'd use anything to wick the moisture away, soft dirt was handy, like arena dirt.
I'd use a soft brush to keep "fluffing" the wet hair, and then another walk around, another rub with straw/towels/shavings/whatever. Arm-exhausting work, necessary to ensure the horse didn't catch a chill from being put away wet.
Now, Equus details all of that pretty much, but then, they recommend using rubbing alcohol on the hair-coat to hasten drying! That snapped my eyelids open. WTH, are you NUTS? WHY would you put even this mild solvent on a wet animal's skin, unless you want to eventually irritate it? Made NO sense to me, other than the immediate cosmetic effect of it "looks" dry. Even mild alcohol strips oils, ya know. The horse's natural healthy shine would be dulled by this method, and could even lead to scurfing or worse, if over-done. And again, I can just see well-meaning beginners slathering it all over the poor creatures. Not a good thing.
Now, that's one.

Here's the other one, and the article just left me with a bad taste in my mouth. It was about horses you are unable to bond with. Horses that remain aloof, no matter what. I won't rehash all of the details, but my impression upon reading the article?
I wouldn't have bonded with that rider, either. Bored the poor horse to death. The routine was monotonous and dull, and the rider took it all far too seriously. The rider tried too freaking HARD. JEEESH, that's tiresome for a horse. Horse: Oh, today I get to go in circles around the arena again?! oh, boy!! I can just hardly wait!!

I don't care if you had a great ride yesterday. Today is a NEW day, do something different!

And of course I get that there are horses whose personalities just aren't "you". But if you keep doing the same danged thing, the same way, dayafterdayafterday, they are going to say something, eventually. Like, No. See ya. Wow, that hay over there looks delicious! Oh, Look! I see a cougar!

Alright, last rant, and it isn't even really a rant. It's got a point to it, I just haven't found it yet.
I was reminiscing, wistfully as usual, of a few lessons I took from an assistant trainer at a well-known dressidge guy's barn. I can't even remember where I was in my life at that point, I think I had just started working in the city, and I felt I needed to keep my legs sharp. I know I drove from Oakville to Queensville (about 80kms) for the pleasure, in the dark, after work. Mom thought I was nuts, and of course, she was right.
At first I was under the impression that I would be taking lessons from the great one himself, but his accent proved incomprehensible to me for several frustrating lessons. He took pity on me, and passed me off to his assistant, who was female, gorgeous, a bit older than me, and the devil in breeches. At this point in my riding career, I had ridden mostly nutso cases, and horses who were often extremely reactive to your leg.
I thought I was fit, and tough. Joanne brought out a huge dark bay, WB, and said airily, "He's a stallion". I was all excited at first, thinking I was riding oh, I don't know, maybe the next Bonheur. Joanne must have been coughing and sick or something, she kept hiding her face as I struggled by. The horse was a stump. GO? No. No Go. WHY go?? You mean I have to gogoGO? No. If my legs stopped their whapping, he stopped cold dead. Joanne had said at the start of the lesson, "No dressage whip, he doesn't like them". By the end of the lesson, I was begging her for one, inside, but my stubborn Scottish outside just turned purpler.

Joanne's eyes were a little wet by the end of the lesson, poor thing, I guess her cold was really bad. It was winter-time, and I was soaked from head to boot. I poured myself into my car, no idea how I made it home. Another good lesson. Think you're fit? Think again.