Post-Clinic Reflections
Feb. 17th, 2010 12:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dancinghorseNow, some neep. You know you want it.
Since we came back from the SRS clinic two and a half weeks ago, we haven't had much chance to ride. There's been a lot of rain. A Lot. To the point of ankle-deep mud, standing water, and unridable arena.
This is good. Really. Here in the desert after years of drought, good, solid, ongoing winter rains are a literal lifesaver. But they aren't great for keeping up with the riding.
What they are good for is processing. A clinic like that can seem fairly simple when you're in it--especially if your horse is being a snot. But the lessons have a ripple effect.
What I've brought back most of all is a change in how I interact with Pooka, and by extension the rest of the herd. I'm under orders to insist on obedience and correctness. But that doesn't mean I should get more aggressive or turn into a wildly windmilling traffic cop. Quite the opposite.
The core of the lesson was the instruction about the hands. Seat I've got. Other aids, I either have or S. will want to know the reason why. Hands have been rather excessively active, in part because of the rehab aspect. Reshaping his neck has meant doing a fair amount of massage on the fly.
But Pook's neck is, S says, cured--except in his mind. Now it's time to go back to classical correctness, i.e. hands at the withers, quiet, not moving all over the place. My overactive left hand is having a hard time with this, as you can imagine. I'm also having to process the difference between quiet and locked or braced. The hands don't move. The fingers are alive, "breathing," keeping the contact active without constant dropping and grabbing.
So one day between storms, when there was enough dry area in the arena to allow some walking and trotting and even some careful canter, I asked Capria what she thought. Her answer was: Steady, through, on the bit. Lots less rushing and spurting. Better acceptance of all aids including seat (which gets deeper and quieter along with the hands). In short: Four hooves up and please keep doing this.
All right, I said. Wow.
Then came the big storm and the big mud and no riding for over a week, and then my back spazzed so I had to wait out the mud with owies. But yesterday I said heckwithit, the spasms aren't so bad, the arena is usable if you aren't seriously into 20m circles, and Pook needs a work fix. The 20m circle issue means longeing isn't a great idea, so we passed on that--strictly temporarily; he'll be doing plenty as the arena dries--and went right to the riding part.
He's been Mr. Hormone to a fair degree, but I've been working on that: not letting him spaz out when I'm around, expecting him to deal with his hormones even when he's ready to blow with a scream and a capriole, and going into his space--his paddock or stall--even when he warns me with an arched neck or turned rear that he's ready to lunge at me. I carry a whip for these occasions, and ask him to back up and stand, then let me handle him even when he's close to jumping out of his skin with the testosterone surge. The lesson I learned from F during the walk to the arena on the last day of the clinic was to be quiet, a pillar as they say, and not slip into overstating the case. Instead of the elbow in the shoulder when he leans into my space, simply give-take with the lead and expect him to stand or walk calmly in his own space.
It's not intuitive. It's 'way understated and you'd think it would make him think you're a wimp. But with a sensitive, highly attuned horse like this one, it's more effective than physical force. Force he reacts to with greater force. Subtlety gets his attention and quiets him down.
I knew this. Of course. But it's so easy to get pushy when the horse is pushy. Major implications for Camilla there. And Ephiny, too. Tia, well. Tia is taking it under advisement.
So he's leading much, much more quietly--on a plain halter and cotton lead. No chain. I do use the serreta when longeing, but again, that's quiet. It's a plain, padded steel bar that makes its point without yelling or clamping. "Makes it easier," F said. And extrapolates nice to the regular halter when the horse accepts the quieter mode of leading.
All of this played into the ride. I was not as flexible as I usually am, but I also couldn't fall back off the vertical without going Ow! And this turned out to be a very good thing. It forced me to balance right in the center, and Pook responded by being wonderfully free and forward, with no paciness in the walk, actually going on the bit in that gait, and asking if he could trot instead of fussing when I asked. Then he asked if he could canter. Beautiful flowing canter from a nice, smooth transition. He even asked going left, though he counterbent and took the right lead. We need to fix that. Could not at the time because we couldn't use the middle of the arena, so no circles; all we had was the track. I made a note for next time and took what he gave me. Over and over, both ways. He'd get going forward, collect from the half-halt, and there he'd be. Nice down transitions, too, with less falling on the forehand--after the last lesson with S when she noted that tendency, I've been more aware of keeping him up and through in the front.
Oh, and? Quiet hands. They work. I could feel him working the bit instead of wandering around so much I pretty much didn't know what he was doing out there. He had a place to go when he wanted to balance. He wasn't really on the bit in trot or canter, but he wasn't llamapony either. I count that a win, for this week.
Since we came back from the SRS clinic two and a half weeks ago, we haven't had much chance to ride. There's been a lot of rain. A Lot. To the point of ankle-deep mud, standing water, and unridable arena.
This is good. Really. Here in the desert after years of drought, good, solid, ongoing winter rains are a literal lifesaver. But they aren't great for keeping up with the riding.
What they are good for is processing. A clinic like that can seem fairly simple when you're in it--especially if your horse is being a snot. But the lessons have a ripple effect.
What I've brought back most of all is a change in how I interact with Pooka, and by extension the rest of the herd. I'm under orders to insist on obedience and correctness. But that doesn't mean I should get more aggressive or turn into a wildly windmilling traffic cop. Quite the opposite.
The core of the lesson was the instruction about the hands. Seat I've got. Other aids, I either have or S. will want to know the reason why. Hands have been rather excessively active, in part because of the rehab aspect. Reshaping his neck has meant doing a fair amount of massage on the fly.
But Pook's neck is, S says, cured--except in his mind. Now it's time to go back to classical correctness, i.e. hands at the withers, quiet, not moving all over the place. My overactive left hand is having a hard time with this, as you can imagine. I'm also having to process the difference between quiet and locked or braced. The hands don't move. The fingers are alive, "breathing," keeping the contact active without constant dropping and grabbing.
So one day between storms, when there was enough dry area in the arena to allow some walking and trotting and even some careful canter, I asked Capria what she thought. Her answer was: Steady, through, on the bit. Lots less rushing and spurting. Better acceptance of all aids including seat (which gets deeper and quieter along with the hands). In short: Four hooves up and please keep doing this.
All right, I said. Wow.
Then came the big storm and the big mud and no riding for over a week, and then my back spazzed so I had to wait out the mud with owies. But yesterday I said heckwithit, the spasms aren't so bad, the arena is usable if you aren't seriously into 20m circles, and Pook needs a work fix. The 20m circle issue means longeing isn't a great idea, so we passed on that--strictly temporarily; he'll be doing plenty as the arena dries--and went right to the riding part.
He's been Mr. Hormone to a fair degree, but I've been working on that: not letting him spaz out when I'm around, expecting him to deal with his hormones even when he's ready to blow with a scream and a capriole, and going into his space--his paddock or stall--even when he warns me with an arched neck or turned rear that he's ready to lunge at me. I carry a whip for these occasions, and ask him to back up and stand, then let me handle him even when he's close to jumping out of his skin with the testosterone surge. The lesson I learned from F during the walk to the arena on the last day of the clinic was to be quiet, a pillar as they say, and not slip into overstating the case. Instead of the elbow in the shoulder when he leans into my space, simply give-take with the lead and expect him to stand or walk calmly in his own space.
It's not intuitive. It's 'way understated and you'd think it would make him think you're a wimp. But with a sensitive, highly attuned horse like this one, it's more effective than physical force. Force he reacts to with greater force. Subtlety gets his attention and quiets him down.
I knew this. Of course. But it's so easy to get pushy when the horse is pushy. Major implications for Camilla there. And Ephiny, too. Tia, well. Tia is taking it under advisement.
So he's leading much, much more quietly--on a plain halter and cotton lead. No chain. I do use the serreta when longeing, but again, that's quiet. It's a plain, padded steel bar that makes its point without yelling or clamping. "Makes it easier," F said. And extrapolates nice to the regular halter when the horse accepts the quieter mode of leading.
All of this played into the ride. I was not as flexible as I usually am, but I also couldn't fall back off the vertical without going Ow! And this turned out to be a very good thing. It forced me to balance right in the center, and Pook responded by being wonderfully free and forward, with no paciness in the walk, actually going on the bit in that gait, and asking if he could trot instead of fussing when I asked. Then he asked if he could canter. Beautiful flowing canter from a nice, smooth transition. He even asked going left, though he counterbent and took the right lead. We need to fix that. Could not at the time because we couldn't use the middle of the arena, so no circles; all we had was the track. I made a note for next time and took what he gave me. Over and over, both ways. He'd get going forward, collect from the half-halt, and there he'd be. Nice down transitions, too, with less falling on the forehand--after the last lesson with S when she noted that tendency, I've been more aware of keeping him up and through in the front.
Oh, and? Quiet hands. They work. I could feel him working the bit instead of wandering around so much I pretty much didn't know what he was doing out there. He had a place to go when he wanted to balance. He wasn't really on the bit in trot or canter, but he wasn't llamapony either. I count that a win, for this week.
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no subject
Date: 2010-02-17 07:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-18 12:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-17 08:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-18 12:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-17 09:00 pm (UTC)Re your "fingers" comment above, are you having trouble with them? What helped me was actually focusing more on my wrists, and keeping them...hmmm...I guess "aware" is more the word I'm looking for; relaxed, but ready for action when needed - not to be bent, but sometimes tightened (stiffened) *momentarily* to redirect the horse's action; more like a gymnast before they start a tumbling run - they're ready, but their muscles aren't tight, just aware that they will/may be needed.
Okay, after pausing to look over what I just wrote, and thinking about the action - actually the impulse comes more from the front bicep region - literally thinking the word "resist" for a fraction of a second, which causes a minute (millimetric) stiffening/resistance in the wrist and fingers, and not really much of a movement in them at all. That translates down the rein and into the bit, so the horse picks it up.
Man, I miss riding. :sigh:
no subject
Date: 2010-02-17 11:59 pm (UTC)I have to focus on how his balance feels and what the movement is doing. And, now, on not letting my hands wander all over creation. But not focusing ON the hands or I look down and curl up and aarghh. You know the drill.
I got micromanaged into near-paralysis by previous trainers. Now working on the big picture.
no subject
Date: 2010-02-18 02:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-18 07:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-18 07:08 pm (UTC)Loved the morning smile, btw. Thank you. :)
no subject
Date: 2010-02-18 03:40 pm (UTC)We've had rain here, too. Reading your post makes me want to skip out of work early and go ride.
no subject
Date: 2010-02-18 07:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-19 03:20 am (UTC)