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| Here is Terra all tacked-up. She's sleepy because I took my time with the curry comb and got her all relaxed. She was plenty alert at lesson time, though. |
Terra is a seventeen year old Belgian/Thoroughbred cross retired dressage horse. She's about 15.2 hands high, for those of you who like to know those things. That mean's she's not so tall, but that drafthorse in her parentage makes her a little stout and very strong. She is a beautiful copper red color with a white blaze on her face.
I meet with Terra and my instructor, Liz, every Thursday afternoon at Gunderson Farm.
Liz bought her several years ago for a lesson horse. I found Liz through an ad, simply called her up and made an appointment for the first lesson. It was easy to do, and that's because of the way Liz takes charge.
I told her about the lessons in Western style I'd had in childhood, and she told me she teaches both English and Western. "But I admit I lean toward English because I have dressage students and I'm advanced there." Ok, then, bring on the English.
I've had six lessons so far. The first were very difficult for me because the English saddle is very small. I didn't feel the sense of balance and security of a Western saddle, which is bigger and deeper. Perched up there on that broad horse, I thought I might fall off! And you don't hold the reins in one hand and steer assertively, you hold the reins in both hands, centered at the top of the saddle, and you steer mostly with your legs, only guiding with the rein, left hand and right hand. There is very subtle direction to the horse in English style. It's almost like the power steering of an automobile. So different from the assertive kicking and yanking of the Western style (that's a bit of a crude comparison, but it's about right). This made for a somewhat confused Terra while I was getting used to that.
"What are you trying to tell me?" she seemed to say, looking sideways up at me, "I'll just stand still while you get organized up there."
Liz constantly correcting my hands and my posture. Tighten the rein, lower your hands, lift your gaze away from the horse, now look up and ahead because that straightens your shoulders. Heels down. Squeeze her middle, you're too far back and she thinks you want her to slow down.
Gee whiz. And then Liz attached a long lead to Terra's bridle and also produced a long whip. This is called lounging. She said I was going to "sit a trot." So I did, while Terra and I went in tetherered circles around Liz inside the arena.
I was barely hanging on, but couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling up. Oh this is fun, it is funny, it's unbelievably busy. Think! Feet, hands, back, gaze, sit high and firm.
Go to walk, now to trot, go to walk, now to trot. This is called transitioning, I was informed. And it did get easier somehow.
"You have a relaxed horse now," Liz told me. "She has her ears forward and her eyes are half closed like a horse does when she's enjoying her work."
The next week Liz said I was going to "post a trot," and this is the damnedist thing I've ever tried to coordinate. The lounge line was gone. The feet of the horse go one, two, three, four and you sort of stand in the stirrips on two and four. Kinda like getting out of a deep chair, that's moving underneath you. And the floor is moving, too.
Oh, it seems like I'm never going to get that coordination down. Poor Terra, I thought. I hope my erratic bouncing isn't hurting her back.
"There it is, Denise! You've got it!" Now Liz was laughing, too.
Startled, I lost it.
"No, that's ok. It's like that. And it's a big deal because the more you do it, your muscles will remember. Muscle memory, you won't even have to think."
And last week we did it again. I got all the way down the rail of the arena maintaining that post before I lost it. And got it back.
Liz really doesn't give me any choice. I do what she tells me to do.
"You are beautiful, Denise, just beautiful!"
Really? And, after I dismounted and walked Terra to un-tack and put her away, the silly creature put her head on my shoulder. She almost knocked me over.
"Why is she doing that?" I asked Liz.
"She likes you." I got a lump in my throat.
Liz went on to tell me that I'm learning fast. "You sit very well. You are learning at a faster than average rate, and I'm enjoying teaching you. Now, you don't learn as fast as a 20 year old, but that's only because the older you are the slower muscle memory is. Don't compare yourself to my younger students. I hope you don't take that wrong, because for an older person you're doing quite well."
She looked carefully at me. "Are you satisfied with what you're learning? Do you feel like you want to continue with this?"
"Oh, yes." I said.
