Ground manners

My life is way too crowded. For example: yesterday after work I went to see my Dad. He was awake (not very common these days) and talking (well, talking for him is a few words at best, but the words made sense) so I wanted to spend some nice comfy together time with him and I stayed longer than usual. I told him that I love him, and he said he loves me, and that felt very good.

Then I went to the barn to spend some time with Champagne. I needed to put the cream on his sarcoid, and I wanted to work on his ground manners. (No time to ride!) Some of his manners are quite rude. He is given to balking when led, which is a pain. And he doesn’t respect my space at all. Plus, I’m not sure he is always aware that I’m the boss. So I got a nice long lead rope and I’m working on the issues.

First we do head lowering, which Cath says is submission. When we began this work he’d just stubbornly endure the pressure on the halter (I pull down on the rope with moderate force, and if he gives at all, I stop asking for a couple of seconds, and then pull down again) for minutes on end, very boring. I’m also giving him verbal cues, which isn’t usually part of the deal, I guess, but so far he has learned “pick up your foot”, “stand”, “no”, and “okay” (though I think he thinks “okay” means “carrot”). So I think he can learn “put your head down”. Anyway, he has gotten the picture, and with one or two asks he will put his nose all the way to the ground.

Next we work on leading. I’m trying to get him to follow me on a very loose rope, and stay far enough behind me when I stop. This I do by suddenly stopping and backing up, meanwhile twirling the loose end of the rope in front of me like a propeller, which he doesn’t like to get too close to. This is working only medium well, because he has figured out that instead of backing straight behind me, he can also keep his distance by backing to the side. At other times he still tries to walk ahead of me or change sides on a whim, or stop to graze or look at something.

Finally we work on moving his body around. I have gotten him so that he will move his hindquarters away from me while pivoting on a foreleg and stepping smartly across and under with his inside rear leg. I can get him to go rapidly in a complete circle, pivoting on his front leg. (turn on the forehand.) And last we work on moving his shoulders, the goal being to have him pivot on his hind legs while stepping smartly across with his outside foreleg. This one works, but his range of motion is pretty limited, and sometimes he tries to step his foreleg behind the other leg rather than in front. At least he is taking rapid steps, though.

I am feeling my way because I don’t really know what I’m doing, but it is kind of fun and less dangerous than lunging and less time consuming than riding due to not needing to tack up.

Meanwhile, his sarcoid is definitely changing in response to the cream. It is less symmetrical, and is kind of squashed in on one side. Yesterday for the first time he was not happy about having the cream applied. The vet said it would be irritating, and I guess she was right. If he gets too unhappy about it I’ll have to have someone help me hold his head while I put it on.

After that, home to gulp down dinner, and then out to a meeting. And the same for tonight! I won’t get to ride until Wednesday. I need to work to pay for the horse, but work keeps me from riding my horse. That tends to make me grumpy, so I have to mind my own ground manners. At least I have a secure job (it seems). Be happy.

Impulsion

Impulsion is step one on the dressage training ladder. I basically interpret it as rear-engine energy. A horse has powerful hindquarters, and that’s where the drive comes from. Impulsion isn’t so much speed as it is power-to-spare energy, ready to spring into action at the least request.

Champagne is an impulsion have-not. Okay, he has a couple of strikes against him. His long sway back makes it difficult for him to collect himself. Sometimes it feels like driving a semi: his front end is almost hinged. And he is “noodley”; the plus is that he is very flexible and bends easily. The minus is that he’s hardly ever straight.

I watched Cath canter him Sunday, and I noticed that he has virtually no hang time (when he is completely in the air with all four feet). This makes for a very cushiony canter and lovely smooth trot, but works against impulsion. No bounding! No jumping either, really.

On my lovely trail ride Saturday, Champagne’s natural walking pace was noticeably slower than that of the other horses. He wanted to be with them, but just couldn’t keep up. As a result, every time the footing looked good enough, we had to trot to catch up . . . and then immediately began to fall behind again. Sigh.

So here’s the thing: I need to get him moving forward a lot more, all the time. Right now he will hardly even do a working walk. He CAN do it, but can’t really sustain it. I’ve read a “fix” for that in training, and I guess I’ll be trying the *soft calf squeeze-response vs. soft calf squeeze-no response-big crop correction-response* thing. And I HATE to hit him.

Plus: I recently read that lethargy can be one symptom of insulin resistance, which I’m pretty sure he has. If I can get that fixed with some nice low-starch grain and the appropriate supplements, maybe he’ll be feeling full of himself and like a HORSE instead of a plug.

Trim toes/sore finger

The farrier saw Champagne today and trimmed up his hooves. He gets a special barefoot trim. I had noticed that his hooves were getting long pretty fast. Spring, I guess.

The good news is that there is no sign of thrush, so the treatments I have been giving him have worked. On the other hand, one of his front hooves has a separation, so I need to massage the Absorbine into that area to keep it from getting worse. It’s always something.

For me, it is my finger. Now that the break is pinned, I need to not ride until March 23 at the earliest, when the stitches will be taken out and I can get that finger wet again. (I don’t want to take a chance on getting an infection in the operative site, and after all, I am dealing with hooves and you know where they’ve been.

Rats, rats, rats . . . the weather is getting nice. Why did I break my finger just in time for the start of trail ride season? And what can I do to give my boy attention and exercise while I can’t ride him and can’t longe him?

Warming the cockles of my heart

What are the cockles of a heart?

But anyway . . .

I’m walking around the corner of the barn this morning.

The first paddock comes in sight, and the horse inside raises his head, ears forward, mild interest.

The second paddock comes in sight, and the horse inside raises his head, ears forward, mild interest.

The third paddock comes in sight and the horse inside raises his head very, very high, ears pitched as far forward as they’ll go.

The first horse returns to grazing.

The second horse returns to grazing.

The third horse remains on alert as close to the fence as possible and yearning over it with his head and neck.

Guess which horse is mine?

The Talking Horse

No, not Mr. Ed. Mr. Champagne.

And okay, not talking per se, but very plain communication.

I rode outside Saturday. It was a lovely brisk afternoon, and the footing was for the most part icy/muddy/bare ground. The conversation went like this:

Me: Let’s go down onto the grassy areas.

Champagne: Okay, but that’s a change in routine and I want to be sure it smells safe. (Rattles his nose.)

Me: You’ll be okay, we’ve been here before. No monsters.

C: Hey! HEY! You said no monsters, but I know that path leads to COWS. Cows are not okay!

Me: No, no, I won’t ask you to look at cows today.

C: Well, then if you’re sure . . .

Me: I am sure. Please walk on.

C: Are you watching out? There is that low lying woodland! There is an ice patch! I could sink in too much to this plowed field!

Me: I am watching out. You’re fine.

C: And a stone wall . . . .

Me: Just go through.

C: It might be dangerous.

Me: Just go through.

C: Oh no! Now we’re in a NEW PLACE! Oh no!

Me: Yes, you’re okay, keep walking.

C: Now we’re too, too far from the barn and besides! There is a frightful WOOD PILE! I am really sure you aren’t being careful enough. We better go back! I really have to stop!

Me: No, you have to walk on. (But thinking inside that we’ll turn around soon.)

C: How far? Because there is a WOOD PILE!

Me: Just a little more.

C: If I go sideways maybe it won’t be able to see me.

Me: You do need to walk on.

C: (Walking on) Yikes! Yikes! Yikes!

Me: You’re a good boy, and we can turn around now.

C: So can I eat grass?