Green

Today I'm thinking about green.

Well, I mean, it IS Spring now, so there's plenty of green around :)

But specifically, I'm thinking about green horses.

Everyone has their own definition of what green is.  I guess I'd define "green" as a horse that doesn't respond predictably or consistently to simple cues (ie, stop, back, turn, W/T/C, etc). 

As I've talked about before, I think "trained" and "broke" are different things.

I still maintain from 2012 that horses with limited training can be "broke".  These are the easy ones.  The usual phrase we use for these non-reactive, easy-going horses is "born broke".  They just seem to be confident in their survival abilities and inherently trust their handler.  They may have some baby moments, but they're pretty reliable.

Horses with tons of training are sometimes never broke horses.  They may be perfectly schooled to cues and execute them with precision...in the arena...but they just aren't ever as reliable.  With extreme examples, you take them out on the trail, and they absolutely fall apart.  Going to a new place may trigger a meltdown. 

Of course--the best kind of horse is both trained and broke!  I call these "finished horses".  They could do their job upside-down and blindfolded.  They might not even need you up there.  But anyway, that may be beside the point a little...

Thinking back before I got Chevy, I was afraid of green horses.

I had ridden a lot of difficult horses (of course I didn't know that at the time; it was just normal for me then).

They were all trained (some were fairly young).  Most were broke even if they were unrefined (as are most school horses--how refined can you be with kids constantly pulling and thumping you at the wrong times?).

But I had never ridden a green horse.  Not until I was in college.  I leased a sorrel mare briefly out at a huge facility on the outskirts of Eugene when I rode with the UO Equestrian Team.  My roommate and I would head out there after classes in the dark of winter in her old gold diesel Mercedes.  This night it was her time to ride.  I stood in the middle of the warm up pen, watching her and eying the other horses as they went around.

After a few minutes, a middle-aged lady rode up to me on a bug-eyed paint.

"You want to ride?"  She said.

"Ummm...Sure."  I looked at her shaggy sorrel and white colt.

"He's just 3 and he's green, but he's good.  Just needs more saddle time.  Looks at everything but he's alright.  Just get on and ride him around for me."

Ooooooh boy!  I swung up.  He was a looky-loo.  But he was good.  Just as she said.  Trucked my hiney around that pen at a fast even walk, head all over the place...but his steps were sure and rhythmic.

So this is a green horse, I thought.  That was about it.  Really.  I made sure to stay out of his way, watched my heels, calves and hands, and he was great.

[The only other thing I took away from the ride was:  This is the first truly comfortable western saddle (SIDENOTE:  I was English-only in those days) I HAVE EVER BEEN IN.  I also remember it had a wonderful, cushy natural sheepskin over the seat.  Heaven.]

It may have been the first time a little seed was planted in my head that green didn't necessarily mean...dangerous.

So maybe green is too broad a term:  On the one hand, a crazy horse backed unsuccessfully several times, who bucks and snarls at his rider...is green.  And a baby hunter at his first show...is green.  Hmmm.

I'd categorize that shaggy paint as green but with a broke attitude.  He may not have responded predictably to all my cues--had I given him any--but his affect was willing, flexible and non-reactive.

"As long as a horse has a good stop I don't care how green it is."  is a phrase I heard recently.

I guess my problem with that is expecting that a green horse HAS any kind of real reliability.  I'm not sure a horse with a sure-fire stop can really be considered green any more.  I guess it all has to do with that definition thing again.

I think a general acceptable definition of green is:  "A horse (or rider) at the beginning of his training."

I've already defined my thoughts on the horse above.

In my opinion...a  green rider anywhere from someone brand-new to horses to someone who knows how to tack up the horse appropriately, and can ride the walk and trot.  Green riders lack balance and may frequently clutch at the reins, horn or front of the saddle or use their legs for balance.  A green rider may fall off spooky horses frequently because they lack the ability to sense when a spook is imminent. 

I don't think you really get out of green rider status until you're able to cue and ride the walk, trot, canter and halt effectively, understand the gaits, can lengthen and shorten them without verbally cuing the horse...and know which leg the canter originates from on the horse!  Ha ha!  Seriously though.  You gotta have some in-depth knowledge of how the horse works.   You begin to graduate into Intermediate status when you are able to give the horse subtle cues...and understand why you're giving the cues, in what order for what outcome.  You start to figure out how to cue best for the response you want.  You should be able to feel your correct diagonals and canter leads without looking.  You begin to develop the sensitivity you expect from the horse.

There are shades of green, of course.

Tiny, at about 4 rides, is definitely a green horse, even though she's quickly closing in on 5 years old (eeek!  Where has the time gone?).  She is easy to handle on the ground but just starting her under saddle career.  I'm really excited about her because I'm responsible for all her training so far.  And so far...so good.  I'm sure we'll run into stickies later. :)

Chevelle on the other hand, is no longer green, but in the "trained" category.  Her responses are dialed in and she responds to them in a predictable manner.  Even though she is sensitive, I'm confident if other Intermediate/Advanced riders rode her, they'd have a good ride.  She is not suitable for green riders.  I'd say she's still at the lower levels of her training though, and that's all my fault.  But she is solid on W/T/C, knows some complex aids and certainly knows her leads.  She listens to her rider and only requires rare support.  But she doesn't do flying changes and isn't highly schooled (especially lately, with all our time off).  She is certainly nowhere near "finished".

I'm not really sure where I'm going with this.  I guess it just all comes down to expectations.  I don't know that I'd ever expect a green horse to be able to stop consistently--just like I wouldn't expect a green rider to cue the stop effectively.  That doesn't mean they can't--or won't--or that is isn't reasonable for a specific horse or rider...I just don't know if it's really fair, in general.

I think a lot of success is really just setting the horse up to succeed. 

And I guess I also feel like the stop is one of those simply elegant things to teach, that requires a lot of subtlety and timing to get right and communicate right.  The stop is a beautiful thing.  I've written about it so many times because when you have a horse that really stops, it is so super cool.  I think the only way you can really get there is to have a horse that wants to stop.  The stop is their happy place.

What do you think?  Do you know green horses with a great, consistent stop, in the arena and out on the trail?

2 in one day!! Is she back?

So a friend of mine came out to see the horses the other day.

He's really interested in them, but doesn't know much about them yet.

Like most people who are just starting to work with an animal, there are some residual fear issues to overcome.

I think fear (for us) has a lot to do with the unknown.  We are afraid of horses not because of what they're doing at the moment, but what they're capable of doing at any moment with seemingly little provocation.

I had him lunge both the horses--Chev on the line and Tiny in the round pen.  I think it can be helpful to realize that they do respond in a predictable manner (most of the time).  And confidence can be built on the knowledge that they really are (mostly!) pretty easy to read.

I am a very nervous, high strung, worried person.  My stomach churns in new situations.  My nerves often get the better of me.

I was the kind of kid that couldn't even call and order a pizza because my anxiety about talking to a stranger on the phone was too high.

Ironically, about all I've done for work these last few years is talk to people I don't know on the phone, often in emergency medical situations.  Irony!  At any rate, I can adapt.  Very quickly, sometimes.

I think this hyper-sensitivity is an asset around horses.  I grew up with jumpy, unpredictable horses (Arabians, but who's keeping track anyway?) that would spin and bolt at the drop of a hat (or the buzz of a fly...or the appearance of a shadow...etc, etc ad infinitum).  I sympathized with them.  I, too, was a scaredy-cat afraid of everything.

I got really good at anticipating.

I could feel a spook in a horse way before they were going to bolt (often "wayyyy before" gave me a few seconds lead time).  I worked well with them.  I became the calm, confident one out of necessity.  We understood each other.

So I guess the point is, over the years I've developed a very calm way around horses.  And as a result, I have some really, really laid back horses that look to me for support in strange situations.

Tiny was a great example the other day.

I had the chiropractor out to see if anything could be done structurally to improve her way of going (there could--she was an absolute mess).  To do this, he had to take hold of the lead rope.

Literally no one has handled her but me in almost three months.  And before that, no one had really handled her at all.  She bonded fast and hard.  Now she's tough to get rid of (ha, ha).

She was pretty confused when I stepped back, and kept looking over  like, "Hello?  Hello?  Is this okay with you?  Should this be okay with ME?"

Anyway, it's sort of flattering when an animal acts that way.  But the ultimate goal is to have a sane, happy, confident horse in any situation.  We give them support and tools to feel secure.

So consistency is really the key here.  For my friend, it will take time to learn that horses are, for the most part, predictable animals.  That doesn't mean we should forget that they are potentially dangerous, whether that be intentional or not!  But I think there's a lot of trust that forms there in that daily relationship of predictable handling.

Horses are great mirrors of a person.

Certainly not the first time I've heard this said, but the best I've ever heard it said, comes from Mr. Brannaman.

"Your horse is a mirror to your soul.  Sometimes you might not like what you see…sometimes you will.”

Am I lazy?

There's something that I have been struggling with ever since I switched over to seriously riding "western".  This carries over into my training of Chevy.

There is this nagging thought in the back of my mind that I have become a really lazy rider.

I come from the huntseat world originally, and I remember my legs literally shaking after my lessons as a kid when I would lay in my bed at night, trying to sleep.

My training sessions back then were all about training me.  They were about strengthening my core, my legs, and my balance.  My instructors would have us trot and post around without stirrups for ten minutes straight.  We walked, trotted and cantered without them.  I remember how my legs felt like they were on fire.  Sometimes we trotted for 40 minutes without a break.  And they were incredibly useful lessons.

And I paid dearly for what I learned with the pain in my muscles every time I went home.

I even resorted to rubbing liniment on my legs at one point.

But the rewards were great.

A lot of the horses I rode back then were difficult to ride.  For the most part I liked the challenge after I had been in lessons long enough to feel confident about my abilities in the saddle.  They were school horses, nearly all of them Arabians, since the barn owner had a fondness for them, and they all had their sticky spots and quirks.  I was best with the high strung, flighty, over-sensitive types.  But I learned the most from the slow, lacking-forward-movement types, since they were not so in sync with my personality and my instincts.

I remember back when I was a kid on lesson day, shaking with nervousness on the drive out to the barn.  I chatted nervously at my mom, or stared out the car window trying not to think about what might happen to me today.  I remember the butterflies in my stomach and the sweat on my palms every time I went to saddle my lesson horse.

Back then it seemed like I fell off nearly every ride.

If you've ridden Arabians, you know how quickly they can go from one spot to another.

Many of us call it "the Arabian teleport".

And unless you're really good at reading the signs before they're technically ready to bolt, you're either in for a crazy ride or about the hit the dirt.

I only rode twice a month back then, since riding lessons were expensive.

I expected to fall off every time.

But eventually, all of those exercises started to pay off.  I could sit spooks, stay with a wild canter, calm a touchy horse and motivate a slow one.

At some point I stopped being so afraid.

It was because the lessons gave me the confidence to understand I was in control of the ride.  I wasn't just at the mercy of my horse.  I couldn't anticipate everything that would happen, but I could learn how to react and how to communicate what I wanted clearly.

And I started to think about how amazing it would be if someday I had a horse I wasn't afraid to get on and ride.

So that brings me back to my original point.

Has my training plan for Chev made me an essentially lazy rider?

One of my major goals for her was to stay in whatever gait I asked until I asked her to stop.

This sounds simple, but anyone who has ridden a horse knows it's a lofty goal.  Horses are not like cars.  They do not just naturally stay at 30 if you keep your foot on the gas.

In fact, in most every way they are exactly the opposite of a car.

Most horses require a lot of effort to get up into a canter, and then look for the first opportunity to either speed way up, drop out of it into the dreaded death trot, or shoulder-drop right back into the middle of the arena.

I wanted Chev to take the canter cue and keep chugging along with nothing more than very light contact along my calves.  I wanted the feeling of being there, but only as a passive force.  I wanted the reins to hang loose, and for her to want to stay that speed.  I wanted her to hunt for my cue to stop, because that would be my invitation to her for a break to air up.

Basically, I wanted my horse, who I had the opportunity to train from the ground up, to be a pleasure to ride.

I wanted her to be simple and uncomplicated.  I wanted her to be happy in her work.  I wanted her to be soft, supple, willing, and forward no matter what stage of collection we were in.  Essentially, I wanted my horse to do everything off the slightest cue.

I think since teaching her this, with largely good results, although we still have a lot to learn--I have completely lost the muscles in my legs.

So: am I expecting her to do all the work because I'm a really lazy rider?

I don't know.

I do know that after many years of riding school horses, I loathe the feeling of having to hold a horse up by the reins.  So my horse rides on a loose rein and has nothing to brace against up front.

That doesn't mean she did this from the beginning.  Oh, no.  She is pretty heavy up front due to conformation and personal attitude, so there were a lot of exercises in the beginning about giving in to the pressure of the reins by lifting the base of her neck and relaxing her topline out and down.  There were lots of shoulder-ins, lots of shoulder control exercises to lighten her front end.  She still needs reminders now and then.  But for the most part, she gets it, and I think on an average day I could ride most of the time with the reins between my index finger and my thumb.

I also loathe the feeling of the horse that requires a constant iron leg to keep up a gait.  So my horse gets her cue and light support, and chugs along until I ask her to stop.

And I loathe the feeling of the horse who balks at every cue, or simply ignores the aids.  So I have tried to make my cues to Chev clear, concise and 1-2-3 you're out, with (hopefully) minimal nit-picking.

I know most of the time I'm riding I don't break a sweat.  I do still engage in quite a bit of "long trotting" (regular trotting for you English folks out there) for muscle strengthening (for both of us).  And just to make sure she still remembers how to trot under saddle.  I know I don't push either one of us as hard as a trainer would.

Most of the time Chev would love to just jog along.  She was born to jog.  She could stay at a slow, cadenced jog on a draped rein all day.

I also know I should be working on a lot more lateral exercises.  I hate lateral work.  So I know I'm just being lazy about that.

I wish I could afford lessons and knew of a good trainer around here, because I think lessons are so important to keep people like me on track and not just loping big circles and having a blast.  I always wanted a horse I could just gear into the lope, enjoy the rolling feel of the three-beat gait, relax and smile without worrying about sudden teleportation, stopping, or careening into a white-knuckled gallop.

Is it so wrong to expect your horse to stay in a canter with little work on your part?  I hope not, because I'm really enjoying it.

She has learned to lift at the base of her neck naturally.