Christmas Day, 2007
The inevitable has happened. I don’t mean the second coming of Christ, or snowfall on Christmas pines, or that Steven Spielberg has produced yet another Oscar winner. Rather, I speak of the inevitable event that has happened to every equestrian since the dawn of domesticating horses. To wit: getting bucked off.
This event marks a milestone in the relationship of every horseperson and every horse, and certainly in my relationship with Nicole, since this is the first time I have been removed unwillingly from her back. No equine relationship is solid until the rider finds their ass in the dirt, hopefully not too worse for the wear. Obviously, since I am writing this, I’m none too damaged by the event, and, in fact, had a premonition it would happen today.
Of course, Nicole being Nicole, this was not just a “crow-hop, oh the rider is in the dirt, whatcha doin’ down there?” sort of event. Oh no. Nicole’s style is nothing so subtle, innocent, or mundane. Rather, Nicole, as the mercurial diva of the barn, must execute a bucking incident in the maestoso grandeur of a Puccini aria, complete with giggly-school-girl-at-recess antics after that would appeal to the horsey perspective.
Because our last few rides had been punctuated by “scary door spooks,” I decided working outside in the field was in order, since no scary doors adorn the fields. Really, this was for her own benefit, as our rides inside were taking an hour longer than they had to because of tension, and I’m sure Nicole has been quite sore. I wanted to see how she would fare outside, and today I was able to end the ride after a ½ hr.
(Aside: We are still successful with relaxation and looseness since the Walter Zettl clinic. The issue is that going to the right, she tenses up as we get closer to the scary door, which interrupts her relaxation and looseness. I was told that when she tenses up, to circle her. While this works wonders going to the left, refocusing her and reminding her to bend, going to the right, this has resulted in, at times, 15 straight minutes of circling because she can’t get by the door without tensing up until she realizes she will have to work harder if she is tense. Overall, however, it has decreased the amount and length of tension going to the right, for example, instead of being tense the entire way down the long side, she is now only tense the first few feet in front of the scary door, so it is effective, but it will take longer to get her away from the habit of tensing up around the scary door.)
So began our ride, calmly, and in a pastoral setting altogether congruous with a Christmas Day ride. In this pastoral setting we sighted horses (obviously) and sheep, the type of beasts that mythically attended the birth of the newborn king, along with, oh yes, cows. Cows!
For those who don’t know, many horses are afraid of cows. Who knows why, probably because they are a massive entity that the horse can’t identify in their horsey-rolodex of friendly beasts, and of course, that means it will probably be a horse-eating cow, and better run away fast.
You’re probably thinking that this is where Nicole threw her bucking tantrum, but no. Nicole, in her own right, isn’t really afraid of cows, just excited by them, and definitely interested in what they were doing. After all, cows are MUCH more interesting than dressage. The gaggle of Holsteins, just as interested in Nicole, swarmed and shoved their way amongst each other to the fence line like socialites at a Chanel sample sale, a-mooin’ and a-cud chewin’, to gawk over the fence at the pretty mare that had come onto scene.
No dressage was going to happen as each species wondered if the other was going to attack them, and in the end, the cows went a-mooin’ and a-cud chewin’ away, flitting (as well as cows can flit) into another part of their pasture to avoid the cow-eating mare. Incidentally, this is how I know the horse isn’t the lunatic people think she is—she took the cows in stride, and the cows were more afraid of her than she was of them.
So, on to work, or so I thought. I don’t know if it was the fact that the cows got to relax in the sunshine and she didn’t, or the fact that there was a stallion within proximity, or the fact that she just plain didn’t feel like working today, but yours truly committed one of the 7 Deadly Sins of Riding, leaning too far forward in the saddle, and Nicole took full advantage of the situation, producing back-cracking, rodeo-style bucks, which, inescapably, bought me a one way ticket to the dirt. At least the ground was soft.
Because Nicole is never boring, perhaps undignified at times, but certainly never boring, she wouldn’t do something as simple as just dumping the rider and waiting until the rider is remounted. Instead, in an exploit worthy of a 5 year old child, she decided to run away towards her horsey friends, gallivanting with the geldings, who, just as jovial and mischievous as their feminine counterpart, took great fun in helping her celebrate her act of the “nyah-nyah you can’t catch me” variety.
Because situations like this require the rider to conduct herself with great dignity, instead of schvitzing myself trying to catch up with her, which of course is what she wanted, I instead chose to follow her at a leisurely pace. Everyone knows that I don’t run unless there is great inducement. Why would I run when I can ride a horse? Because human beings have brains 10 times the size of horses, but horses can certainly run 10 times faster than I, I wasn’t going to wear myself out chasing a beast of burden, but instead, wait until she invariably made some sort of mistake, allowing me to trap her.
Of course, after dodging me on 2 other occasions with her red tail flagging insolently, and not letting me within 10 feet of her, Nicole eventually made a strategic error in her recess from dressage, and lodged herself in an open space about 6 feet wide between two paddocks, one of which is her regular turnout paddock. Of course in her horsey-sized brain she figured that now she could go back to relaxing in the sun, eating grass, and being a mare.
I mentioned earlier that there was a stallion within Nicole’s proximity, and one of the paddocks she lodged herself between contained the stallion. No, it’s not as bad as you are thinking, but there is a twist to this story that had me close to vomiting for reasons that are not obvious.
The previous night, December 24th, I had a dream about Nicole, which is odd because although I dream frequently, this is the first time I’ve dreamed about Nicole that I can remember. In this dream, Nicole became pregnant accidentally, and produced a foal.
I cannot say what provoked this dream, but it was still heavy on my mind when I got to the barn and realized a stallion was turned out at the same time as Nicole (although they were very far away from each other and there was no reason for concern) and most certainly was on my mind as Nicole cavorted with said stallion. I’d already had premonitions that I was going to be dumped, and absolutely did not want to have the pride of saying my dream augured the conception of a foal on Christmas Day regardless of how handsome each parent is.
So, I broke my “no running” rule, and, doing my impression of Flash from “The Incredibles” booked it to the opening of the space between the two paddocks, spreading my arms wide so as to make Nicole realize there was no way out.
In an act of brilliance (oh I have such a smart mare), Nicole, realizing her error, considered making a final mad dash for freedom, and probably would have done so if she had not caught her reins on one of the posts, immobilizing herself better than I could have done myself. Of course, being a mare, she had to express her dissatisfaction at being caught by bucking at the stallion who so rudely (from her perspective) invaded her space, not considering that the world doesn’t revolve around her, and it was actually she who invaded the stallion’s space. But, of course, this is how it is with all beautiful women. They are never the invaders, but, rather the invaded.
And thus ended Nicole’s glorious release from dressage, and despite her tribute to high Greek tragedy (she done Sophocles proud), was quietly returned to schooling until she was loose and bending better to the right.
The inevitable has happened. I don’t mean the second coming of Christ, or snowfall on Christmas pines, or that Steven Spielberg has produced yet another Oscar winner. Rather, I speak of the inevitable event that has happened to every equestrian since the dawn of domesticating horses. To wit: getting bucked off.
This event marks a milestone in the relationship of every horseperson and every horse, and certainly in my relationship with Nicole, since this is the first time I have been removed unwillingly from her back. No equine relationship is solid until the rider finds their ass in the dirt, hopefully not too worse for the wear. Obviously, since I am writing this, I’m none too damaged by the event, and, in fact, had a premonition it would happen today.
Of course, Nicole being Nicole, this was not just a “crow-hop, oh the rider is in the dirt, whatcha doin’ down there?” sort of event. Oh no. Nicole’s style is nothing so subtle, innocent, or mundane. Rather, Nicole, as the mercurial diva of the barn, must execute a bucking incident in the maestoso grandeur of a Puccini aria, complete with giggly-school-girl-at-recess antics after that would appeal to the horsey perspective.
Because our last few rides had been punctuated by “scary door spooks,” I decided working outside in the field was in order, since no scary doors adorn the fields. Really, this was for her own benefit, as our rides inside were taking an hour longer than they had to because of tension, and I’m sure Nicole has been quite sore. I wanted to see how she would fare outside, and today I was able to end the ride after a ½ hr.
(Aside: We are still successful with relaxation and looseness since the Walter Zettl clinic. The issue is that going to the right, she tenses up as we get closer to the scary door, which interrupts her relaxation and looseness. I was told that when she tenses up, to circle her. While this works wonders going to the left, refocusing her and reminding her to bend, going to the right, this has resulted in, at times, 15 straight minutes of circling because she can’t get by the door without tensing up until she realizes she will have to work harder if she is tense. Overall, however, it has decreased the amount and length of tension going to the right, for example, instead of being tense the entire way down the long side, she is now only tense the first few feet in front of the scary door, so it is effective, but it will take longer to get her away from the habit of tensing up around the scary door.)
So began our ride, calmly, and in a pastoral setting altogether congruous with a Christmas Day ride. In this pastoral setting we sighted horses (obviously) and sheep, the type of beasts that mythically attended the birth of the newborn king, along with, oh yes, cows. Cows!
For those who don’t know, many horses are afraid of cows. Who knows why, probably because they are a massive entity that the horse can’t identify in their horsey-rolodex of friendly beasts, and of course, that means it will probably be a horse-eating cow, and better run away fast.
You’re probably thinking that this is where Nicole threw her bucking tantrum, but no. Nicole, in her own right, isn’t really afraid of cows, just excited by them, and definitely interested in what they were doing. After all, cows are MUCH more interesting than dressage. The gaggle of Holsteins, just as interested in Nicole, swarmed and shoved their way amongst each other to the fence line like socialites at a Chanel sample sale, a-mooin’ and a-cud chewin’, to gawk over the fence at the pretty mare that had come onto scene.
No dressage was going to happen as each species wondered if the other was going to attack them, and in the end, the cows went a-mooin’ and a-cud chewin’ away, flitting (as well as cows can flit) into another part of their pasture to avoid the cow-eating mare. Incidentally, this is how I know the horse isn’t the lunatic people think she is—she took the cows in stride, and the cows were more afraid of her than she was of them.
So, on to work, or so I thought. I don’t know if it was the fact that the cows got to relax in the sunshine and she didn’t, or the fact that there was a stallion within proximity, or the fact that she just plain didn’t feel like working today, but yours truly committed one of the 7 Deadly Sins of Riding, leaning too far forward in the saddle, and Nicole took full advantage of the situation, producing back-cracking, rodeo-style bucks, which, inescapably, bought me a one way ticket to the dirt. At least the ground was soft.
Because Nicole is never boring, perhaps undignified at times, but certainly never boring, she wouldn’t do something as simple as just dumping the rider and waiting until the rider is remounted. Instead, in an exploit worthy of a 5 year old child, she decided to run away towards her horsey friends, gallivanting with the geldings, who, just as jovial and mischievous as their feminine counterpart, took great fun in helping her celebrate her act of the “nyah-nyah you can’t catch me” variety.
Because situations like this require the rider to conduct herself with great dignity, instead of schvitzing myself trying to catch up with her, which of course is what she wanted, I instead chose to follow her at a leisurely pace. Everyone knows that I don’t run unless there is great inducement. Why would I run when I can ride a horse? Because human beings have brains 10 times the size of horses, but horses can certainly run 10 times faster than I, I wasn’t going to wear myself out chasing a beast of burden, but instead, wait until she invariably made some sort of mistake, allowing me to trap her.
Of course, after dodging me on 2 other occasions with her red tail flagging insolently, and not letting me within 10 feet of her, Nicole eventually made a strategic error in her recess from dressage, and lodged herself in an open space about 6 feet wide between two paddocks, one of which is her regular turnout paddock. Of course in her horsey-sized brain she figured that now she could go back to relaxing in the sun, eating grass, and being a mare.
I mentioned earlier that there was a stallion within Nicole’s proximity, and one of the paddocks she lodged herself between contained the stallion. No, it’s not as bad as you are thinking, but there is a twist to this story that had me close to vomiting for reasons that are not obvious.
The previous night, December 24th, I had a dream about Nicole, which is odd because although I dream frequently, this is the first time I’ve dreamed about Nicole that I can remember. In this dream, Nicole became pregnant accidentally, and produced a foal.
I cannot say what provoked this dream, but it was still heavy on my mind when I got to the barn and realized a stallion was turned out at the same time as Nicole (although they were very far away from each other and there was no reason for concern) and most certainly was on my mind as Nicole cavorted with said stallion. I’d already had premonitions that I was going to be dumped, and absolutely did not want to have the pride of saying my dream augured the conception of a foal on Christmas Day regardless of how handsome each parent is.
So, I broke my “no running” rule, and, doing my impression of Flash from “The Incredibles” booked it to the opening of the space between the two paddocks, spreading my arms wide so as to make Nicole realize there was no way out.
In an act of brilliance (oh I have such a smart mare), Nicole, realizing her error, considered making a final mad dash for freedom, and probably would have done so if she had not caught her reins on one of the posts, immobilizing herself better than I could have done myself. Of course, being a mare, she had to express her dissatisfaction at being caught by bucking at the stallion who so rudely (from her perspective) invaded her space, not considering that the world doesn’t revolve around her, and it was actually she who invaded the stallion’s space. But, of course, this is how it is with all beautiful women. They are never the invaders, but, rather the invaded.
And thus ended Nicole’s glorious release from dressage, and despite her tribute to high Greek tragedy (she done Sophocles proud), was quietly returned to schooling until she was loose and bending better to the right.
