Sometimes it's easy
15 May 2010 23:51![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
glenatronCherry blossom drifted across the lane as Zorro and strolled down towards the common today, somewhat in the style of a japanese painting. The blossom, I mean, not the ambling. We had some time and some sunshine this afternoon and having gone for a little ride on Xefira in the morning the afternoon belonged to Zorro and I. We padded out onto the common and then took a slightly different route to any we've taken before, not entirely on familiar trails but largely through places we've been once or twice before, out onto Hankley Common, which is a little further away but a lot more hilly and scenic. Also it is very close to my parents' house so I grew up walking and mountain biking on those trails and they are very familiar to me.
Hankley Common was requisitioned by the army, I believe during World War Two and it remains a military training area. Some weekends you will run into full on exercises and often during the week you can hear gunfire from the common. They are only firing blank rounds, but that does mean you'll sometimes find yourself passing through as they are setting up an ambush around a trail. Not so bad on a bike, potentially scary on a horse.
As we came over the top of a hill that affords broad views across one side of the common Zorro heard movement on the opposite hillside and totally refused to take a step down the trail into the valley. He then preceded to stare intently at the forest and more or less ignore me until someone in camouflage appeared from the cover of the trees and availed themselves of the army portaloo at the bottom of the hill. At that point I figured we were probably better going around a different route, because I'd prefer not to find myself walking through the aforementioned ambush scenario and Zorro, clearly feeling vindicated in his refusal to go down the hill, decided that it was time to buck me off and make for home. I closed the bucking down but there was clearly a lot of anxiety in him so I decided to hop off and just work through it from the ground, let him get that movement out of him before we tried one of the trails off the hilltop because honestly I don't know how safe either of us would be if he started bucking half way down one of those.
He was actually pretty good on the ground and after a few circles and a bit of discussion I figured I could safely get back on. Zorro - as has happened a few times in the past - decided I couldn't get back on. He had other things on his mind. Eating the sparse heather on the ground, wandering off to look at the scenery, pretty much anything aside from letting me back on. He even cow-kicked a couple of times although whether it was at me or just at the flies around his tummy I don't know.
It's happened before and I've not really been in a physical location where I could work through what it took to get back on, but today we were on a broad, level hilltop and so I could and I did. I'm not proud of how I worked- it was one of the few times that Zorro has actually provoked me towards anger. I don't like to be angry but the sheer frustration and disappointment that after all this time and work we still find ourselves back here. Consequently if as I prepared to step on he started grazing he got to trot or canter a few circles, if he stepped away as I went to get on he would find himself running backwards, fast, for at least ten metres. It didn't take that long to change things around so he could find his patience again but it felt like an age. I think for a moment there he was a little afraid of me. Once I was back on we had a break and a breather, remembered that we could be friends again and set off on what seemed to me the most likely to be army-free route home.
The route had a large group in camo fanned out across and around it. I turned back and chose again, taking us up a very steep hill I was once to afraid to cycle down and later used to ride routinely. Zorro's energy was picking up again by this point and he surged up it, taking the tree roots like steps on a cross country course. The feeling of power was amazing and at the top of the hill we were not far from a route that would definitely be free.
We were also in the middle of a large camp of dark green tents, land rovers and at least fifty army cadets. Surprisingly after our previous adventures Zorro went past looking at them and slightly going sideways, very tense but still with me and fairly calm. Beyond that we were on clear trails. A cyclist with a dog appeared at the junction ahead and turned down the trail away from us. We trotted after them and the dog came dashing back to bark at Zorro. Dad was half way through apologising for Pippa's behaviour when he realised who it was, so we rode along with him on his bike and Pippa keeping a distance from us and barking from time to time. Zorro is fine with bicycles, it seems.
The rest of the journey home was quite uneventful- back on the common we normally ride across, Zorro wanted to get home as fast as possible and I let him run for a while. It turns out I can sit his bucks more smoothly than his fast canter at this point. As we ambled up the road to the yard, back in our safe zone again, the sound of gunfire suggested that we had been correct to avoid the cadet groups.
By the time we got home we'd covered about seven miles and I was absolutely exhausted. Also demoralised. One thing that riding Xefira has really brought home to me is how great it is to ride a horse that is enjoyable to ride out alone. It leaves me wondering whether I'll ever be good enough to get Zorro working as a solo trail horse or perhaps more pertinently whether Zorro is the kind of horse that even could become one, because if he isn't then I'm actually being cruel in asking him to do that for me. Who would I have to become in order to be the person he could trust in that situation? Because it seems as though although he likes me I think as well as he has ever liked any human, the only person whose judgement he really trusts is Zorro.
At least riding other horses whenever I can reminds me that he genuinely is an exceptionally difficult horse to work with and riding him in the school reminds me that he is a brilliant horse in so many respects, but once we're out on the trails, for all the progress we have made in the last year or so, there is so much further to go.
Hankley Common was requisitioned by the army, I believe during World War Two and it remains a military training area. Some weekends you will run into full on exercises and often during the week you can hear gunfire from the common. They are only firing blank rounds, but that does mean you'll sometimes find yourself passing through as they are setting up an ambush around a trail. Not so bad on a bike, potentially scary on a horse.
As we came over the top of a hill that affords broad views across one side of the common Zorro heard movement on the opposite hillside and totally refused to take a step down the trail into the valley. He then preceded to stare intently at the forest and more or less ignore me until someone in camouflage appeared from the cover of the trees and availed themselves of the army portaloo at the bottom of the hill. At that point I figured we were probably better going around a different route, because I'd prefer not to find myself walking through the aforementioned ambush scenario and Zorro, clearly feeling vindicated in his refusal to go down the hill, decided that it was time to buck me off and make for home. I closed the bucking down but there was clearly a lot of anxiety in him so I decided to hop off and just work through it from the ground, let him get that movement out of him before we tried one of the trails off the hilltop because honestly I don't know how safe either of us would be if he started bucking half way down one of those.
He was actually pretty good on the ground and after a few circles and a bit of discussion I figured I could safely get back on. Zorro - as has happened a few times in the past - decided I couldn't get back on. He had other things on his mind. Eating the sparse heather on the ground, wandering off to look at the scenery, pretty much anything aside from letting me back on. He even cow-kicked a couple of times although whether it was at me or just at the flies around his tummy I don't know.
It's happened before and I've not really been in a physical location where I could work through what it took to get back on, but today we were on a broad, level hilltop and so I could and I did. I'm not proud of how I worked- it was one of the few times that Zorro has actually provoked me towards anger. I don't like to be angry but the sheer frustration and disappointment that after all this time and work we still find ourselves back here. Consequently if as I prepared to step on he started grazing he got to trot or canter a few circles, if he stepped away as I went to get on he would find himself running backwards, fast, for at least ten metres. It didn't take that long to change things around so he could find his patience again but it felt like an age. I think for a moment there he was a little afraid of me. Once I was back on we had a break and a breather, remembered that we could be friends again and set off on what seemed to me the most likely to be army-free route home.
The route had a large group in camo fanned out across and around it. I turned back and chose again, taking us up a very steep hill I was once to afraid to cycle down and later used to ride routinely. Zorro's energy was picking up again by this point and he surged up it, taking the tree roots like steps on a cross country course. The feeling of power was amazing and at the top of the hill we were not far from a route that would definitely be free.
We were also in the middle of a large camp of dark green tents, land rovers and at least fifty army cadets. Surprisingly after our previous adventures Zorro went past looking at them and slightly going sideways, very tense but still with me and fairly calm. Beyond that we were on clear trails. A cyclist with a dog appeared at the junction ahead and turned down the trail away from us. We trotted after them and the dog came dashing back to bark at Zorro. Dad was half way through apologising for Pippa's behaviour when he realised who it was, so we rode along with him on his bike and Pippa keeping a distance from us and barking from time to time. Zorro is fine with bicycles, it seems.
The rest of the journey home was quite uneventful- back on the common we normally ride across, Zorro wanted to get home as fast as possible and I let him run for a while. It turns out I can sit his bucks more smoothly than his fast canter at this point. As we ambled up the road to the yard, back in our safe zone again, the sound of gunfire suggested that we had been correct to avoid the cadet groups.
By the time we got home we'd covered about seven miles and I was absolutely exhausted. Also demoralised. One thing that riding Xefira has really brought home to me is how great it is to ride a horse that is enjoyable to ride out alone. It leaves me wondering whether I'll ever be good enough to get Zorro working as a solo trail horse or perhaps more pertinently whether Zorro is the kind of horse that even could become one, because if he isn't then I'm actually being cruel in asking him to do that for me. Who would I have to become in order to be the person he could trust in that situation? Because it seems as though although he likes me I think as well as he has ever liked any human, the only person whose judgement he really trusts is Zorro.
At least riding other horses whenever I can reminds me that he genuinely is an exceptionally difficult horse to work with and riding him in the school reminds me that he is a brilliant horse in so many respects, but once we're out on the trails, for all the progress we have made in the last year or so, there is so much further to go.
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no subject
Date: 18 May 2010 11:37 (UTC)re: riding through, it's not about machismo or about confrontation. It's about being able to act effectively in the moment--every moment--without having to break the flow of the work.
I do get it. I don't have any dramatic pics of my horse bucking, but I do have a long list of people, pros included, who have said flat-out that he has as wicked a buck as any horse they've seen. We also have another horse in the barn who came from the barn of a USET rider after he put a bunch of her people on the floor. So y'know, I get it. And if you've got a big, strong horse with a good trick and without a work ethic, that's a bad situation.
But if you have to ride a horse like he's an unexploded bomb, you might as well be riding in handcuffs. I'm not saying you should do anything that you can't safely do, or that you should go out and provoke a bucking fit. (That's certainly not how either horse in our barn is handled, although rereading the bit about the cow-kicking, I will say, I'd be inclined to be a little confrontational about that'un.) I'm saying, there seem to be a lot of situations in which you have to stop what you're doing, get off the horse, and let him get his bucks out before you can ask him to focus. If he were mine, which obviously he's not, I would be having myself a good think about how--and there are potentially all sorts of ways--I could get us more directly to the "focus" bit.
no subject
Date: 18 May 2010 16:36 (UTC)The essence of what you're getting me thinking here ( probably not what you were thinking to get me thinking, but as every your posts make my mind work ) is that I can stop a buck before it happens, likewise a bolt and so on. Those controls are in there, but it's like a bottle rocket - once that potential energy is in the horse it is going to have to go somewhere and although I can usually catch it before I get myself decked what I really need to find is a better way of defusing that in a way that feels good to both of us so that we can go about our business. If I get too confrontational I'm potentially putting more energy in, if I back off too far I effectively offer a reward for that behaviour.
I guess part of what I need to do is maybe go back to where this happened or to other places where we have nice open trails and maybe stuff that will really bring on this type of event and just experiment a little in a wide space where I'm confident that we can work without vanishing off down a forested hillside or putting a foot down a rabbit hole.
The trouble with this stuff, is that the only way to learn it is get in there and get it done.