Weekly Lesson Neep, and Bad-Boy Stallion
May. 15th, 2004 02:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dancinghorsePook is having A Week. This morning I found a neat round shoe sitting on the ground in the arena. He had pulled it overnight. So no lesson for him. He's confined to quarters (to keep him from destroying the torn foot) until the shoer shows up, which I hope will be no later than Monday. He was due for new shoes that day anyway.
Then, to top it off, he destroyed the manure cart. He has a Thing about it anyway--very useful for photo shoots--but this morning he stalked it faster than I could de-stalk him, grabbed it, threw it over his head, and broke it. Bad Pooka. Bad, baaaaad Pooka.
It's the time of year. He continues to be a perfect darling for Mom-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed, but on his own time he's a menace.
Or, why most people blanch and run when stallions are mentioned. As the t-shirt says: Stallions are from Mars, Mares are from Venus, and Geldings are from Heaven.
The local gelding was a hoot this morning. So was his mother. I went to get him for his weekly Teacher Torture, and she pushed him right out of the stall, demanding that She get the first lesson. They took off. She ended up in the hay pile, pigging out. He headed for the hills. I called out: "Hey! You still have your shoes on?" (There is History there. He is a past master of the art of surgical removal of shoes.) He screeched to a halt. Wheeled. Cantered back to me. "OH! I forgot! I'm having a LESSON!"
And so he did. He was delightful. He's growing again--filling out so much that this morning on first glance I thought the large object over there was Capria, then I realized it didn't have a tail. (He chews his off.) (But we have found a cure. Tea-tree ointment. MWA-ha-haaa!) Joni worked on building his topline and teaching him to reach for the bit. He was trying so hard that steam was coming out his ears. When he had it, for a few strides at a time, he was beautiful to watch, all light and floaty and round.
My own lesson started off like Annals of the Body-Stupid. I was terribly stiff and nonfunctional, and Capria the perfect error-detecting machine was heading off consistently to the left (right side is the one I landed on). My right hip was locked. So Capria got a longeline attached to her bit, and I kept the reins, and we worked on making perfectly round circles without variation of rhythm or tempo. And with a perfectly quiet contact (solid on the outside, soft on the inside, inside seatbone keeping inside hind engaged, outside leg preventing escape in that direction). Compulsory figures, yep. We ended with a trot on the aids in a perfectly round 20m circle--which is one of the hardest things of all to do, even though it looks like the simplest.
And it was good. Capria is a happy horse.
Now I'm falling asleep. I have a slew of replies to reply to, but I think I'll take a nap first.
Taminy update: Doing much better. On food strike, but people tuna will hold him until I can get the kind of food he likes. I'm too wiped to go out today. He wants me to get him out of jail. I'm thinking about getting one of those exercise pens dog people take to shows, and setting him up in the living room during the day so he's out with the rest of us. He can't have the run of the house, with a large open wound, four other cats, and all that carpet. Not to mention furniture-that-stains.
Then, to top it off, he destroyed the manure cart. He has a Thing about it anyway--very useful for photo shoots--but this morning he stalked it faster than I could de-stalk him, grabbed it, threw it over his head, and broke it. Bad Pooka. Bad, baaaaad Pooka.
It's the time of year. He continues to be a perfect darling for Mom-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed, but on his own time he's a menace.
Or, why most people blanch and run when stallions are mentioned. As the t-shirt says: Stallions are from Mars, Mares are from Venus, and Geldings are from Heaven.
The local gelding was a hoot this morning. So was his mother. I went to get him for his weekly Teacher Torture, and she pushed him right out of the stall, demanding that She get the first lesson. They took off. She ended up in the hay pile, pigging out. He headed for the hills. I called out: "Hey! You still have your shoes on?" (There is History there. He is a past master of the art of surgical removal of shoes.) He screeched to a halt. Wheeled. Cantered back to me. "OH! I forgot! I'm having a LESSON!"
And so he did. He was delightful. He's growing again--filling out so much that this morning on first glance I thought the large object over there was Capria, then I realized it didn't have a tail. (He chews his off.) (But we have found a cure. Tea-tree ointment. MWA-ha-haaa!) Joni worked on building his topline and teaching him to reach for the bit. He was trying so hard that steam was coming out his ears. When he had it, for a few strides at a time, he was beautiful to watch, all light and floaty and round.
My own lesson started off like Annals of the Body-Stupid. I was terribly stiff and nonfunctional, and Capria the perfect error-detecting machine was heading off consistently to the left (right side is the one I landed on). My right hip was locked. So Capria got a longeline attached to her bit, and I kept the reins, and we worked on making perfectly round circles without variation of rhythm or tempo. And with a perfectly quiet contact (solid on the outside, soft on the inside, inside seatbone keeping inside hind engaged, outside leg preventing escape in that direction). Compulsory figures, yep. We ended with a trot on the aids in a perfectly round 20m circle--which is one of the hardest things of all to do, even though it looks like the simplest.
And it was good. Capria is a happy horse.
Now I'm falling asleep. I have a slew of replies to reply to, but I think I'll take a nap first.
Taminy update: Doing much better. On food strike, but people tuna will hold him until I can get the kind of food he likes. I'm too wiped to go out today. He wants me to get him out of jail. I'm thinking about getting one of those exercise pens dog people take to shows, and setting him up in the living room during the day so he's out with the rest of us. He can't have the run of the house, with a large open wound, four other cats, and all that carpet. Not to mention furniture-that-stains.
