July One Question: When to Speak Up About Bad Horsemanship

I tried to do the July 10 Questions blog hop that's been circling around, but I realized I was really only interested in one of the questions. I started typing my answer and it just kept going. I deleted the first 9 so I won't bore you and without further ado, here's the final question:

10. Have you ever seen questionable riding or training practices, but let it go/ignored it? How do you feel about it in hindsight?

I object to the notion that it's always my business to speak up when I disagree with something. I only know my small corner of the horse world and that only as much as a part-time ammy can.

It's a simple fact that I repeatedly choose the same kind of horse--short coupled, hot, intelligent--and thus I have developed a certain skill set that helps me within those parameters.

I certainly see many, many people handle horses in ways I would never choose to. As long as it's not my horse in question, I generally keep my opinion to myself. It's certainly possible that they have a handle on the truth that I do not. I'm open to trying new things and seeing different ways of training. I'm fascinated by watching different people work. I certainly recognize that the objectives I'm trying to achieve through straight dressage training are not the same as eventing, which has little in common with show jumping, and almost nothing with the breed show world or rodeo circuit.

Good horsemanship is good horsemanship. I can learn from almost any discipline. I love finding where horse worlds converge--hearing about forward energy from a hunter trainer or expecting proper ground work from the Clinton Anderson crowd.

Currently, I describe my training philosophies as a sort of Denny Emerson/Mark Rashid mishmash of listening to the horse and learning to remove all pressure and expectations. Fast is slow and slow is fast.

Obviously, this isn't the hot trend in the competitive world. The people at the top of any sport have a certain set of practices that they use to produce their athletes. Either a horse can deal with them or the horse falls through the cracks. This is for the simple reason that only a certain type of horse will work in their specific environment and they don't want to waste time on the ones that aren't going to pan out.

That's great for them. I guess. I mean, "falling through the cracks" at that level still generally means landing in a pretty ok place. Just because Boyd Martin can't make you an Olympic horse doesn't mean you can't still be an amazing Big Eq packer.

It's less great at the local level--people go ride with big time trainers and clinicians and learn their systems. Just like at the top, some horses make it and some horses don't. The problem is here--what happens to the ones that don't?

Courage hardcore flunked out of a program with a good trainer because it wasn't a good fit for him. That doesn't make him a bad horse, but it means that if I was committed to that program, I would have needed to get rid of him. I didn't. I found/created a program that works for us and we're slowly moving to a place where Courage is a productive member of equine society.

But that's our journey. As a blogger, the constant creation of written content pushes me to think about the process with my horse and analyze it more critically than if I just showed up to ride a few times a week.

If I watch another rider do things I find offensive with a horse, that doesn't mean the horse is being abused. It doesn't mean that my corner of the truth invalidates the corner another rider has. If you're a "pressure Pressure PRESSURE AND PERFORM" sort of rider, well, I find you kind of offensive. I think you're actively undermining the good training you have put on your horse, and I'm 99% sure you're going to whoop my ass at every show we go to. That's how the world works.

Should I speak up? Should I call you out because your experience is different than mine?

Probably not. After all, I'm the queen of fail photos and I'm not really the best at anything in particular. While I see as you frying a perfectly nice horse, you see as me wasting the potential of my horse who ought to perform at a higher level. And hey, if you're happy with your results and your horses are reasonably sound and well fed, bully for you.

We're on different paths.

Lest I sound like I hate everyone who beats me at shows (which is certainly not the case), let me also interject that I see the same or worse from people who wouldn't be caught dead at shows. Underfed or morbidly obese horses, blind commitment to an ideology no matter how it negatively affects the horse, or a complete lack of discipline that creates dangerous situations that horses get blamed for.

Whatever the flaws of the competitive horse world, there is the same and worse to be found in the backyards of people who would never go near a show. At least the show ring demands a presentable, blood-free animal with some basic skills. There is nothing like a public spotlight to pressure someone into cleaning up their image.

And of course, that's not to say that you have to show your horse to be a good horseman or decent human being. There are many different ways of addressing the same problem and rather than worry about which sphere to address it in, I say it's more important to learn what we can from everyone we meet so that we can make the best decisions possible for the horses we are responsible for.

Instead of claiming my chosen type of horsemanship is DEFINITELY the best and then sticking my nose in situations that are none of my business, I choose to watch a variety of people work and see what outcomes they have. Some are good. Some are less so. The horse never lies, does he?

Furthermore, there are definitely situations in which I will speak up--if I know someone looks up to me and respects my opinion, I will do my best to point them in a good direction. If a friend or equal directly asks for my opinion, I will give it with the understanding that it is, in fact, an opinion. I have been in the position where I worked for a trainer and a client of the trainer asked for my opinion--in that instance, I defer to the trainer.

Plain and simple, my philosophy is this: I will always strive to do my best to do right by my horse. I will endeavor to push those around me to do the same and to hold me to a high level of accountability. Beyond that, I would be hard pressed to speak up. I don't believe horse welfare is improved by snark, catty attitudes, and condescension.

From the Beginning Again

I'm at a rather unique place for me right now--Courage actually feels prepared for what we want to do at shows this year, which is show first level dressage. I mean, yeah, we'd never actually done a lengthen canter (ever) until we went to the show, but we got a 7 on one of them, so hey.

It isn't the movements that are giving us trouble. It's the whole adding-stress-at-a-show problem. I can fix that (hopefully) by going to more shows and actively schooling it, but there are other things too.

As I mentioned Monday, Courage came home and was all bent out of shape about life.

So I let him be. One of my favorite trainers once commented that when a horse (or human) has had a lot of stress build up, sometimes they just need to run. Much like when you're scared because you see a predator, so you run like hell to get away and then feel fine. Makes sense, right?

And as I said, the obstacles now aren't training. I need to find a way to communicate to Courage and move forward, not mindlessly drill movements that we both know he already knows.

this is my horse on a bad day. suck it.

So we've changed it up. I know dressage is a very demanding sport and I know that if I push Courage, he'll just burn out. Instead we're spending time together and enjoying each other.

We did spa night and a handwalk down the ditchbank. Courage kept his feet on the ground and his brain in his head and we just relaxed (ish) together.

We had a toodling day. We hung out with the farrier, who called him "a very cool horse" and got a gold star in my book. I got all excited about jumping and dragged my short-flapped brown saddle back out to the barn.

look ma no boots!

We didn't actually jump anything, but we did have a nice walk/trot/canter hack in the outdoor while a cool storm rolled in. I didn't push Courage or really ask for much of anything. It was a glorified toodle and we both had a good time.

Even when I went back to dressage tack, I didn't go school a bunch of movements. Instead, we walked.

yes in white polos. have you met me?

We used the magic contact bit and did simple things. Working walk to free walk to working walk. I played with putting different mini-exercises together to really help him step under and reach forward and after we tried each one, he got to free walk more.

And you know what?

It was great. He stayed relaxed. I stayed engaged. By the end of the ride, Courage was giving me an incredible walk and neither of us was upset.

not impressed by shocking lack of sparkles

So I petted his nose and gave him carrots and put him away.

I tend to be a very intense person when it comes to chasing my goals. Courage is a great horse for me because he's constantly challenging me to find new ways to think about problems. He forces me to drop all my baggage at the gate, take a deep breath, and spend the next 90 minutes focused only on one thing.

Him.

Things outside of horses are a little crazy right now. I'm learning to let Courage be my zen, and for 90 minutes a day, all is well with the world.

Under Pressure: Language, Responsibility, and the Intelligent Animal

I'm a very practical person, despite my tendency to deck out everything equine in solid rhinestones. At the end of the day, kick=go, pull=stop, and I had better generally be getting more positive results than negative. I don't expect to be the best, but I do expect basic obedience.

And I don't think that's wrong.

However. There are multiple ways to go about getting it.

This spring, y'all probably remember Courage and I going through a rough patch. We basically did the same thing last spring (and both of those directly correlate with redacted). I've expressed frustration to various equine professionals and gotten a lot of different responses, none of which really satisfied me.

Here's the thing: the professionals I was interacting with weren't seeing the whole picture. Courage was. For various non-blogging-appropriate reasons, I have had two enormously shitty springs in a row. Like. Cannot even express how shitty. Really bad.

And so while Courage might have an attitude problem or struggle with spring weather or ulcers or a myriad of other potential problems, Occam's Razor suggests that the likeliest explanation is simply that I dragged all my shit to the barn with me and my incredibly sensitive thoroughbred (who mirrors everything I do) responded in kind.

I realize this isn't a popular opinion in training circles. I've been repeatedly told "the horse must give to pressure" and "don't let him get away with that" and the like.

But what if the horse already gave to the pressure I brought with me?

One (very bad) day last spring, I showed up to ride when Courage was turned out. He spent a solid half hour running away from me as fast as he could. Sweat was pouring off him and dripping on the ground. He was blowing like he'd just run a race, and he kept on running.

You could say that's because he's a thoroughbred.

Or you could observe that when I show up in a good mental state, he literally walks up and meets me.

The only variable that changes is me. My attitude, my emotions, my energy--they all feed directly into his behavior. This is why the right trainer is so important for both of us--an increase in tension creates a decrease in productivity.

Our current dressage trainer is far less concerned with showing and far more concerned with relaxation. "I have time" is the motto she lives by. I cannot even tell you how much good this has done for Courage. Instead of "pressure on, make him give", she just relaxes and everything is simple and what seems like treading water turns into leaps and bounds of forward progress.

I like to over-analyze everything, so I've tried to drag more information out of her. She doesn't say much, because so much of what she does is just feel for a horse on any given day. Still, it sparked an idea.

A few weeks back, I picked up Horsemanship Through Life, by Mark Rashid. Reading it was life altering. I'm not even exaggerating. I liked it so much that I promptly bought almost everything he's written off of amazon and bought a second copy of the book to mail to a friend.

He writes like my trainer teaches. Thoughtfully. Carefully. With the horse in mind. Without kowtowing to current training trends. One quote that's really stuck with me lately is this:

"Any behavior a horse offers is just information about how he feels. The only thing that makes that information good, bad, or indifferent is the importance we put on it."

BINGO.

I know it's unpopular among horse show people when I say Courage's flailing response represents me overfacing him and me pushing him too hard. Everyone immediately wants to say "IT'S HIS FAULT HE NEEDS TO LEARN TO DEAL". And maybe he does. But until I can present the information to him in chunks he can manage and I can build up his trust in me to the extent that he doesn't think he needs to check out of a situation to protect himself?

Until then, it's on me.

It's not his fault that he doesn't have a nuanced understanding of modern dressage principles. It's not his fault that he got too old to race (which he was good at) and landed in a sporthorse career where he's expected to do all kinds of new things. It's not his fault that everything that used to be the right answer is now the wrong answer and no matter what he does, he's doing it wrong.

Face it: that's fucking confusing, especially for an intelligent, sensitive animal that's used to being good at stuff.

That's what I've been working through lately. Then I read Saiph's post on Animal Behavior (it's long and so, so worth it) and I just wanted to jump up and down and scream YES THAT'S EXACTLY IT. As she so eloquently puts it, "Language is language is language, whether it be expressed with our voice and words or with our bodies, and animal body language is still a language."

This. So much this. Getting through to Courage is about much more than proper, correct riding--it's about learning to speak his language, so he can start to understand mine. Let's face it--people far more correct and skilled than myself can get on him and do all the right things, but that doesn't make him a fourth level horse. He only understands TO HERE (about training level and a third) and that is as far as it goes right now.

Rough patches are a part of training and they're never going to go away. However, if I know that I'm bringing baggage with me that will negatively affect my horse on any given day (or week) (or month) (or quarter) (or whatever), as the human in the relationship, I need to make choices that are fair to my equine partner.

If my life problems are clouding my judgement, it is on me (and not him) to make better choices, whether that means skipping the barn entirely, only doing ground work, or just having fun with no real training goals.

Those things build trust. Unleashing negative emotions on a non-participant sucks it away and makes a simple training setback into an insurmountable problem that is 100% my fault.

As horsemen, as trainers, as human beings, we owe it to our animals to do better.

Pressure doesn't fix a language gap. Shouting doesn't improve comprehension. 

So instead of cranking up the volume on my horse, it is my responsibility to show up to work each day with a clear, calm mind and a willingness to communicate. He's going to have good days and bad days, and that's perfectly normal. I have to check my baggage at the gate, appreciate my horse for who he is, and listen to him when he talks to me.


And then, we can have a conversation about moving forward.

Life With One Opposable Thumb

Izzy has gotten dramatically better under saddle, which I'm crediting to the gastroshield we're giving her. She still lacks turnout, but we're working on that.

This morning, I groomed her, put her boots on, and started leading her to the arena to turn her out to play for a while. All was well until she saw something scary, barged into me, and bent my thumb backwards. It hurt so bad I almost cried. (Ok, I did later.) Despite my injured thumb, I still had to get my obnoxious stupid horse out into the arena with all her dancing and barging an everything. It was excruciatingly painful, but we made it. I turned her loose and off she went.

I turned one of our OTTBs out with her to give her someone to play with. That gave me enough time to realize that my thumb wasn't broken, but it still hurt like crazy. It also allowed me to handle a total gentleman of a gelding who is fabulously athletic. Let me tell you, if his owner ever offered to trade, I would take her up on it RIGHT NOW and I don't even like geldings.

Anyways. We have an obvious problem. I am a stickler for good ground manners, and I have worked with Izzy on them since day 1. I use a rope halter with her, though she is also respectful of a flat halter usually. She is good about walking behind me, stopping when I stop, and going when I go. She backs up pretty well and I can do pretty much all of this in a round pen with no halter at all.

That said, when she decides she wants to pay attention to something else, she's just gone. That's when she barges into me, rears up, acts crazy, whatever. What do I do? Today I wanted to beat the snot out of her, but since that would just give her psychological problems on top of what I'm already dealing with (and my thumb hurt a lot), I abstained. I don't know where to go from here. Most of my experience is with sensitive horses who may spook and act stupid but would NEVER run in to something (why I love TBs so very, very much).

So. My options are A) continue what I'm doing and get killed B) invest in a stud chain C) keep doing what I'm doing and hope the problem goes away before I get killed D) ?

Any ideas?

Alone in the Dark

Ok, it wasn't that dark.

Izzy and I braved the Bubble of Doom alone this morning. It was our first time trying that since our lesson several weeks ago. To my surprise, Izzy was quite good. She was a little more worried than normal, but not nearly as worried as I expected her to be without another horse in there.

She actually settled in rather rapidly and we did a lot of spiral in/spiral outs, figure eights, and even introduced some basic leg yielding. Because we were alone, I was able to take her down the long side of the arena and work on straightness a little bit, too. I tried to really focus on what I was doing and how it was affecting her. When she was stiff, I loosened up my shoulders and bent in and out, both with my body and hers. I paid attention to where my seat bones were and how they changed her balance. I tried to keep my shoulders back and my chest open. I was more deliberate about where I was going. I've realized that I spend entirely too much time letting her bounce off the wall and not directing where she's going.

As Mark Rashid says, I need to take responsibility for speed, direction, and something else... Kate would know.

All in all, it was an excellent ride. I really felt like we made progress. The more aware I am of what I'm doing, the better Izzy responds.

ETA: Did I mention that I re-measured Izzy last week, and she grew an inch? That's right. She's 16.0 hands now instead of 15.3. Who would have thought? Also, she was just stocking up. There was no swelling at all after our ride this morning.