Schooling doings

Most riders are stronger on one side than the other and for me it is my right side. I always thought this was why Q and I struggle with HP left but Liz, who is stronger to her left, schooled him for me one day last week while I was off with The Eye and found him less responsive on this rein in HP too.

In order to remedy this we have been working on the following exercise: up the 3/4 line shoulder in, circle, shoulder in, then shoulder in, circle, shoulder in, half pass. This has been really useful.

Another thing that has plagued me for ages is maintaining a consistent connection. Classical teaching from Charles de Kunffy, a heavy influence, emphasises the importance of the elbows and particularly in keeping them close to your sides with upper arms perpendicular to the ground to make full use of the lower back inflation so important in maintaining the connection. I am firmly of the two point seat school of thought and find that it is almost impossible with my short arms to maintain this position while having my hands above the horse's withers, yet if I bring my arms forward to achieve this the danger is losing the connection through my lower back and reverting to three point seat. The trick seems to be finding that balance between the two without totally compromising the effectiveness of the lower back. The more collected the horse the easier it is but again with Q as the master of minimalist effort, maintaining impulsion within collection is also a thing. So many variables always to consider and work with. No wonder the ideal dressage rider is one with a comparatively short torso and long limbs!

Also I have been doing some double lungeing with Mr T. It's been a long long time and reminded me of the times we used to go out long reining around the farm back when we just had the two boys in livery. On one particular occasion there was a man leaning against a gate which took us both by surprise: T's response was to unleash a magnificent passage, all big hair and churning buttocks (which I in my position right at his tail had a bird's eye view of that I shall never ever forget), while mine was a cheery "hello!" as we grinned and passaged our way past.

Anyway. Back to the double lungeing. The main reason I wanted to do this was to help him stretch FDO with the contact (albeit contact attached to rings of cavesson) because with side reins he will duck behind the contact, and indeed sometimes when being asked FDO under saddle.

I was quite delighted with his response as he did indeed take the contact forward, down and out but only I noted when I could provide an even connection through both reins and that this involved a kind of pulsing feel to accommodate the movement of his outside hind. Must do more of this, but then also must get some new lunge lines and also do some long reining again as I really enjoy that.

Liz and T are out competing again on Sunday so looking forward to seeing him strut his sexy stuff.

Friday stressage

A day off on Friday (woot!) to take Q to Stilebridge for a couple of Novices.

Firstly <brrrr> completely and utterly TATERS. I could tell Noodal Didn't Wanna. And I couldn't blame her. In fact, I went to fling myself on Sid's mercy by asking if it would be bad if we didn't go in view of the bitter conditions. I was hoping for "of course not darling, you must do as you think best". Instead, he fixed me with a merciless eye and said "it's up to you darling. What you have to remember is what auntie Liz will say if you don't go". We left soon after :)

Q's mane is currently an utter bog brush of thick and randomly growing hair and is, as such, suboptimal for plaiting. In fact, a veritable plaiting nightmare, especially for one such as I who only really knows how to do a running plait. Knowing this, I stopped off at Speedgate on the way home the other night to arm myself with a thinning comb (pink, natch), some Lynn Russell Miracle Plaiting Spray (also pink) and some silicon bands (white). Decided against the bows.

I opted to do battle with it in the stable, having provided him with a net of haylage with carrots secreted within. This turned out to be a good choice as he stood there munching very happily while I fiddled about. The only problem was that after two plaits, my fingers stopped working and I had to hand over to Noodal. Thereafter we handled the task in relays; one to do the plaiting and the other to thaw their red, stiff and frozen fingers in gloves, slipped under his rug for the body warmth. This went well and he was very magnanimous about the thinning operation. I can say that we would certainly not have won any prizes for said plaiting but at least it was done. For his part, he was extremely chilled (possibly quite literally) throughout the preps. Needless to say there was no bathing to be done. Also, he has had a spot of mud fever of late and has had some ointment applied. Ointment which, it turns out, actively resists the application of water for cleaning purposes. We were running rather late so time for niceties (and scrubbing) was strictly limited, so in the end we had to leave, some 30 minutes late, with a certain brownish tinge clinging remorselessly to his pasterns.

We arrived at Stilebridge 30 mins before my first class, our (well my) mounting distress aided by the fact that the swine were running EARLY. Horse things never run early. This is the accepted way of things. Everything starts later and takes longer than anticipated; this we all know. Except, of course, when we are running late. Quick tack up (should have left the bandages) and on board, pausing only to consider the mystery of the missing glove from the show box. Argh. Argh.

I now know that having 10 minutes to warm up an excited stallion whom I have not ridden since Sunday is suboptimal. Those things I normally like to aim for in the warmup, such as working in, attention, a return to some semblance of calm etc were given a only fleeting nod, and then it was time to go in. Precious moments were lost in removing the bandages.

Since we had been to Stilebridge the previous week for a schooling session and Q had sailed past the judge's box without a glance, I was pretty sure the same would be true. And it might have been, had it not been for a crash from within at an inopportune moment. "Sorry!" said the rather owlish face peering out at me from behind the window. We took the opportunity to converse (and for me to apologise) about the missing gloves, the bell rang and off we went.

I had very little to work with, as may be imagined <g>. He felt tense and hurried. This caused a few errors and I was (a) not hopeful and (b) glad we went HC. Was quite pleasantly surprised to get 60%, having been ducked two points for the gloves. I wondered afterwards whether it would have only been one point if I'd worn the one glove.

 Back to the trailer and he stood on it munching haylage quite happily and nickering to his neighbour for the hour or so that Noodal and I whiled away with coffee, cake and learning N39. N39 is not a nice test in terms of symmetry and general learnability but I did learn it. Plus, I borrowed some gloves from a very lovely lady called Ann.

This time went for a 20 min warmup and he was much more settled and attentive, though still on the "busy" side of submissive. I didn't want to overcook him either. Did some nice mediums in the warmup (and some crap ones) and I look forward to the day when we can reproduce those in an actual test. I am unfortunately one of those people whose already modest ability in the saddle has a tendency to desert me when it comes to test riding, although slowly improving.

N39 felt much better and in a moment of madness I even caught myself grinning and enjoying it. The ubiquitous few errors of course and needless to say a rushed trot in place of the mediums but tbh I was very pleased as this felt better in the main and plus it is the first time we have been out when I have managed to remember two tests all by myself.  Also 60%.

In the end we had a great day out. We avoided any gnarly behaviour on account of the lateness and rushing; Q was an exceptionally good lad throughout and much much more relaxed this time, and the cake at Stilebridge is legendary. I do enjoy going there as it is very friendly and it seems to suit us.

Training thoughts

I've decided that it's high time I returned to the practice of recording some thoughts, experiences and preferred training philosophies, however difficult it might be to concentrate when there's a cat snoring right in my ear. It's been a great weekend with all the DGL horses and a good place to kick off. Mostly these notes are for Noodal, who is learning so much and wanting to learn so much more.

Noodal and I did some in hand work with T; the theme was focus. What are the important qualities of the trainer to obtain and maintain it? What are the important techniques? How is it different when you've got it?

Trainer Qualities
Be the things you want to see in your horse. Focus; calm; quiet energy. Be a leader - one that offers clear guidance and a trusted manner; to correct when needed and reward every time the right response is made. Be the leader that you yourself would look to; consistent, fair, calm authority at all times and especially in times of doubt. The importance of expectation; expect the good stuff and invariably you will get it. Exist in a fug of doubt or uncertainty and you will certainly not find a positive reaction. If you were a horse whose entire society was built upon leadership and rank would you give your attention to another horse or a human who did not offer the behaviour of a trusted leader? No. All of the above can be ramped up by a factor of at least four when handling a stallion.

Refocusing, and recognising the changes
If the horse is not focused on you, what to do? Distraction is a fine tool; ask something different, bring him in on a circle, ask him to work harder until he starts to pay more attention. Is his inner ear on you? Is his top line starting to soften? Is his whole being starting to relax? Ask, and ye shall receive. Once he is more settled and relaxed, send him back out and check that you can maintain the ear, the softness, the attention. If not, repeat.
Mix it up; engage him and keep it interesting. Lungeing especially can be so much more than circles - Philippe Karl is an authority on this. Put in some extension up the long side, bring back to collect on a circle, transitions within a circle, lots of transitions within and between the paces. Mix it up; engage him. At all times, think how focused is he in me? Is it enough? If not, do something about it. Ask and ye shall receive.

O ferret where art thou?

So I was lying in bed reading on Saturday night after a particularly busy day when I heard the chickens making an almighty ruckus. There is only one reason why chickens will do this after dark when they should be roosting; clear and present danger. A bit like the time when I dreamt that there was a spider crawling across my face, I was up and across the bedroom before conscious thought process could kick in, down the stairs and dragging my muckers on while yelling to Sid (who was downstairs watching the Olympics) for reinforcements moments later. "There's someone in with the chickens!"

One of the great laws of nature is that there's never a torch handy when you need one, irrespective of the number of torches you actually own. All there was to hand was a small one that is supposed to fit on your head like a miner's helmet when the plastic stretchy bits aren't busted all to hell. Ran out to the chicken pen - in reality a fruit cage of about 9 x 3m - wielding my pathetically inadequate light source to discover that there was a bloody ferret trying to get in. Three of our total complement of nine chickens were in a state of hysteria at the entrance, one was in the (repurposed) kennel and the rest were still roosting in the temple. This has happened once before and the ferret killed two chickens before we could stop it.

There is very little in the way of equipment to hand with which to stave off a determined ferret from one's birds in the average chicken pen. Fortunately when Sid constructed the temple, he made a piece that detaches from the side in order to aid cleaning, and which is comprised of a few bits of weatherboard attached to some 2x2. In extremis, I reasoned that this would serve as well as anything, and grabbed it.

Moments later the ferret had gained ingress to the pen and headed straight into the temple. ARGH. Chickens scattered in terror and I was a mad woman, wielding my clump of weatherboard to keep it away from them. This went on for a while until, acknowledging that even the prospect of a fresh chicken supper was not worth facing down a weatherboard-wielding wild woman, the ferret beat a hasty retreat and I was left patrolling the perimeter as the last bastion of defence between one hungry ferret and nine overwrought and completely petrified hens.

Meanwhile, Sid went to rouse Noodal and they conducted a sweep of the yard to locate the ferret while I inspected the perimeter of the pen for weak spots.We decided to let the dogs out and they certainly picked up the scent but couldn't find it. Noodal then found it under a pallet in the feed room and we considered our options. Leaving it loose was not an option, too risky even if we electrified the pen. None of us were volunteering to maintain an all night vigil in the chicken pen. That left kill or capture. Nobody in our family is particularly equipped to kill something in cold blood, so that left capture. Cue the arrival of one cat box, a pouch of cat food and one Noodal, who as it turns out is some sort of ferret whisperer. Within moments she had said ferret banged to rights with an unexpected supper and we could all repair back to the house and the chickens back to their temple.

Next morning, Noodal informed me that she had called him Feargal. Feargal the Ferret. I only wish I didn't have a mouthful of coffee at the time but I'm sure the stain will wash off the patio in due course.

The poor thing is covered in ticks and we obviously cannot keep him. We know nothing of ferrets, except that they don't mix particularly well with chickens, and that they need to be with other ferrets. However, after a couple of days of calling round various local ferret rescue places, most of which are full, we have found one that will take him in and care for him properly. Noodal is taking him tomorrow. I am glad because much as I didn't want the little bastard eating our chickens, the act of catching him conferred upon us the responsibility to see that he was appropriately rehomed. So all is well and we have learned a thing or two about ferrets - not the least of which is that they stink to high hell and that it will take days to fumigate the garage.

A deeply uninspiring experience with a man at the trailer shop

I had to take the trailer in at the crack of dawn this morning for a service. Ok I accept it, my bad for not using the correct terminology when pointing out that the (what I now know to be called) side arm light had snapped, and compounding the problem by making the erroneous assumption that said side arm light might have some indicator function. I accept it.

This does not, however, mean that the terminally arrogant coot who booked the trailer in had the right to assume that I was one step down on the evolutionary scale from a particularly giddish amoeboid which originates from a long line of catastrophically inbred organisms, famed for their knuckle-dragging qualities even among other amoeboids. It is just as well that I am a calm and pleasant person who is able, at times of great provocation, to eschew the need to don a pair of hobnailed boots and jump up and down the heads of those people who can be so breathtakingly insulting as to feel the urge to point out, and I quote, "the indicators are the orange lights on the back of the trailer that flash on and off and tell other road users when you are turning left or right".

In fact, my only moderately wavering levels of calm and pleasant had less to do with an extreme effort of will not to issue forth a biting response than the knowledge that I was shortly going to leave the conveyance in which I routinely travel my precious horses in the hands of this affront to public decency dressed up in a boiler suit. I did however later relate the incident to everyone I have spoken with today, including the vet, and now I am telling you. My brain is still bouncing off the inside of my skull as the wrongness of it all gallumphs around in my head, causing permanent damage to my synapses.

On any other day this would have been enough, but there was more. I went to collect the trailer late this afternoon and there he was again, behind the counter. He affected not to recognise me (even though by any standards it is a small trailer place and not teeming with customers) and we went through the rigmarole of who I was and what I was doing there.
"Can I help you?" he said. On the face of it, an encouraging starter for ten.
"Yes," I replied in a carefully prepared neutral tone, "I've come to collect my trailer".
"Which trailer would that be?"
"The horse trailer", I said, smiling.
"Oh, the horsebox" he put in.
"No, it's definitely a trailer". A picky point, you might think, were it not for the fact that they did have horseboxes outside too, and I didn't want to risk making off in the wrong vehicle.
"Yes," he said, in a tone which could only be described as scathing, "the horsebox".

**sigh** The worst of it is, he's probably at home right now telling his wife about the dapid blonde that came into the shop today.

Back to work

It's been a worrying week here at Luso Towers. After his ride last Thursday T trotted off down the field distinctly lame on his left fore. Got him in, cold hosed and awaited the vet, fearing a tendon injury, which is far from ideal at the onset of the breeding season, to say nothing of his competition plans. He had a course of bute and the vet recommended box rest, cold hosing as often as possible and bandaging.

Unfortunately Sid and I then had to go away for the weekend (for which, see my blog), leaving Noodal with the full weight of responsibility for all that extra work. When we got back he was much improved and she did an excellent job of taking care him and the other critters, going that extra mile to keep him happy in his confinement. He is not keen on being cooped up and if not suitably amused will capriole repeatedly, which is sub-optimal at best when trying to rest a foreleg. Luckily we have a rubber area outside his stable which can be gated off to an area about the size of a stable, so he was able to spend time with the sun on his back. Also, Q stayed in to keep him company with a little area sectioned off outside his stable so that he could graze. That helped enormously, along with a bucket of haylage suffused with carrots, a molassed lick and a ball full of nuts.

When we got back on Monday he was much improved, with the heat and swelling subsided. We took him in to the vets on Tuesday for further assessment, and he trotted up sound. We opted to go for the ultrasound anyway and there was no sign of any damage, leading me to conclude that there may well be a god after all as it seems he must have just strained it mildly.

Since then he's had restricted turnout in a small pen fenced off with electric tape, and again I give thanks to that fabulous Lusitano temperament that allows him to settle to graze even with mares all around. He is such a splendid boy.

I was back to work on Wednesday and too battered to do much other than loll around when I got home, so today was the first time I have ridden him. The vet prescribed a slow return to work, walk for the first week, so that is what we did. Cold hosed him as a precaution as it seemed to me there was a little bit of warmth. With luck he can return to full work in a few weeks and we can start work getting him on the dummy. Need to get him out hacking too.

In the meantime Q has been going well and we have been doing some work on changes. With Q is the first time I have done any work on developing changes, having only ever ridden them on schoolmasters, so I'm a bit leery but he is doing well. His next outing will be a clinic at the TTT on the 30th April with Mandy, and we are looking forward to that.

Next we have to clean out and equip Larry the lab and get the dummy and stocks installed - just awaiting Pheel's pleasure for that. Needless to say it has been raining constantly all week, so am hoping the grass will start growing more too.

Field Maintenance

What better way to spend Good Friday than doing some maintenance in the lower field. Last year we had the pond dug out further and the resulting soil was spread across the field. And it must be said, there was quite a lot of it. Much of it was spread flat(ish)ly across the fence line but halfway through it rained, and rained, and rained, which meant that a large part of it sat in large peaks and troughs and we had no option but to leave it to dry out. we fenced it off temporarily when the mares went out there, and there it sat unmolested until this afternoon. One benefit of the dry weather is that it has now dried out sufficiently that we could get out with the harrow and tackle it. Our chain harrow wasn't really man enough for the job so we weighed it down with a pallet and lots of rubber matting, the sort that will put your back out as soon as look at you. It did the job though and some three hours later, the whole area is now satisfyingly flattened and suitable for horses. Hurrah! It is very satisfying indeed to be able to reclaim the land and then watch the mares come and investigate, horses being second only in the nosey stakes to cats. Unfortunately there is a lot of old rubbish in the soil including but not limited to a huge quantity of baler twine, plastic and rocks, so it has taken a long time to clear it up. However I think we have made huge progress and can now reseed the area. Which is nice. We've also harvested a load of willow whips which will need planting along the periphery. The oxygenating plants that we installed in the pond seem to be helping clear up the water and it will be a great spot for barbecues in the summer.