We Have a Go

November 25, 2008

There comes a time in the life of every parent when you finally have to test your training under saddle. I am not talking about sending your kid on band tour, though that’s close to what I mean. I’m talking about putting a saddle on your earnest young colt and cinching him up for the first time.

Anybody close to my age grew up on cowboy shows: Roy Rogers, Maverick , Bonanza, The Rifleman, Gunsmoke – and the movies: The Virginian, ummm, ummm – and stuff like that. Oh yeah – there was that Gary Cooper one where they put him (the slicker) on the Notorious Bucking Horse for a good laugh (he fooled ‘em all). So you’ve seen the “horse breaking” scenes, where the cowboy climbs up there and the horse explodes and yadda yadda.

Not the way it’s done any more. Not by the equestrians of our age – most of whom, they say, are now women. We take a kinder, gentler approach, kind of a Close Encounters of the Third Kind approach, where you actually establish a vocabulary cobbled out of movement and sound. Still, no matter how careful you are over how many years of bringing up baby, that final moment when you put your foot in a stirrup and raise your little bulk up to sit astride the back of a 1000 pound wild animal – it’s going to be a little intense.

I’ve been worrying about this all year – is he ready? Am I ready?  Turns out I am never going to be ready – too old, and though pretty well padded, getting a little too brittle. So Rachel’s and my horse guru, maven, body guard, mentor – Geneva (Hickory’s actual human mother and co-owner) volunteered to do the first ride herself. It’s actually kind of an honor to be the First Rider, and I couldn’t have been more delighted to offer her the seat.

The guys all ran down to this end of the pasture to watch the show.

Starting a circle.  The stick is simply an extension of the arm, and is placed on his withers to let him know he is to go.

These are pictures of the ground work before the launch. This is kind of like taking the college boards. She gave him his exam, found him worthy, and we were cleared for take-off. Understand that it was pretty darned cold out—we’d moved this thing up a day because rain was predicted and winter is upon us. And we had to start late (kids coming home from school, etc). The testing took a good hour or so because Geneva is an artist. She does every little thing right—nothing swept under the rug, nothing forgotten. The fact that her life and spine were on the line enters into this—but even if it had been her worst enemy getting up there, she would have done the same.  Anyway, by the time we were ready to start the real business of the day, it was pretty much night.  Thus, no pictures of the actual meat of the matter.

Getting him to “disengage” his hindquarters – to take a step away only with the back feet.  The near foot must cross over the off foot (near Geneva).

Note the saddle, waiting.  Again, the stick lying on his withers signals him to go.

Circles

He’s just so beautiful.

I won’t walk you through it. I want to, but I already have five paragraphs and if my cousin John is feeling the same way I am right now, I’m not sure his voice will last through the reading. Let it be known that Geneva took every single step in a fine process—like it was all an elegant dance—each movement building on the last, every step significant – and when she finally rose into the saddle—nothing happened.

He just stood there. Waiting.

To be fair to both Geneva and myself, we’d put a lot of work into this. He’d been trained from the very moment of his birth, and I’ve spent the last year getting him used to saddle and bit. But in the end, everything depends on him – his character, his understanding, his willingness, his trust in us.

Still waiting.  What pictures would I have taken?  Hey – there’s Geneva, sitting on Hickory.  And this one – Geneva sitting on Hickory.  Would you like to see the rest?  Yeah – Geneva sitting on Hickory.

Then she brought his head softly around till he touched her right boot with his nose. And bent him around the other way till the nose touched her left boot. Pretty soon he was moving in small, quiet circles, and then in spirals, and then – HOLY CATS, she was trotting on this guy, all the way around the arena – and he was gladly doing it.  Not only that, but he’s got about the sweetest trot ever.

A-MAZING. But not really. Because Geneva is da bomb.

After about an hour of this, she put ME on him.  I couldn’t reach her stirrups, so I had to ride free-footed, but she kept him on a long lead, and pretty soon I was trotting on him, too.  Hey – posting without stirrups, which I could NOT have done on many horses.  She’d been so smooth with him.  I was just dorky.  I’m still afraid I undid all the good training he’d gotten that night.  But it was amazing – me on the back of that tiny little slicker of an over grown, 15 hand pony – ah, that new car smell!!

Always aware of where she is. Thus, always thinking.

The lesson here: grow up to be just like Geneva. Learn everything, then do what you’ve learned. Work hard, don’t forget anything and love your student. I’m posting Thanksgiving tomorrow, if the dam don’t break and the river don’t rise, but I will tell you now how thankful I am for friends I can look up to and love without any “in spite of”s. It’s her birthday today, and I have to say – she is the gift. And I am the happy, lucky, blessed owner of a special little horse.

I may even ride him all by myself some day.

No fireworks?  No grass either.  Bummer.