In Which Indy Meets Marilyn Payne, And Things Go Well

"Dis is mah cute face!"

When you have someone like eventer and international eventing/dressage judge Marilyn Payne practically in your back yard, it makes a heck of a lot of sense to take the opportunity to learn from her.  Regardless of which equestrian discipline you actually practice.  So when a friend of mine posted a video on Facebook showing her and her horse at a recent jumping clinic with Marilyn, I asked her if she knew of future events I could participate in.  As luck would have it, there was another scheduled for the end of March.

I signed up for the clinic, and then begged my wonderful friend Marissa to come along for help and moral support.  As a card carrying neurotic and doomsayer, I'm better at looking at what could go wrong, rather than what could go right.  Emergencies and upheavals are always easier to deal with when you have someone calm and reasonable with you, and Marissa is the voice of reason in my equestrian life.  She may not ever come out with me again, as I no doubt drove her nuts with my crazy texts about various what if scenarios. The poor woman had to deal with stuff like this:

Me: Is it the worst thing in the world if we just load Indy on the left side of the trailer?  We're only going 10 minutes down the road. He's smaller than Mooch but loads better on the left and I don't want to make loading a big production.  We're working on it and he's improved so much but I don't want to push it....
Marissa: That's fine.


Me: Parking is in a field. It's supposed to rain.  What if I get stuck?  Do you think the Tahoe will get stuck?  It should be fine, right?  Should I go to Home Depot and get wooden boards just in case?  Would that help?
Marissa: Do you have 4-wheel drive? I think it should be ok but I guess it couldn't hurt.

Me: Do you think hanging a lickit or something in the trailer would keep Indy from screaming when he's in the trailer by himself?
Marissa: Worth a try. But I'd hang it after you park.   (In my defense, I did intend to hang it only after we arrived, but after all my other texts you can't blame the girl for wondering what level my crazy was at.)

Indy loaded perfectly. (Good Boy!)   We got there early, so there was plenty of room for me to roll in and do a big turn so I was facing the exit. (I suck at backing up.)  Since we were so ridiculously early (helloooo, neurotic!) we had plenty of time to get the lay of the land and check out the class before us.   Shockingly, Indy remained quietly munching his hay in the trailer while we were gone. (Good Boy!)

"What?? I'm fine. I'm a big boy now. Nothing to see here."

The first jump I saw when we entered the area was a black and white pole set over 2 black and white barrels painted to look like cows.  There was a 2' plastic cow in front of the standards on either side.  I thought Indy was gonna plotz, but he barely registered it.

Marilyn called me over to ask for some background on Indy and our training together. "He's quite cute," she said when we got close.  Indy, sensing a potential friend, stuck his nose out to give her a friendly bump.

Indy: Hi Marilyn! You're cute too!  I like your place.  There are lots of jumps. I like jumping!  What's with the cows? I've never seen a cow jump before!  Can we start jumping now?

We started over poles set in a circle like a clock, with the poles on 12, 3, 6, and 9, spiraling in and out in the trot and canter. We did that fairly well.  Then we progressed to the actual jumping.  Marilyn told us we would jump each element individually before tackling the entire course.  OK, no problem, we've got this, I thought.

I was wrong.  "Where do you think your focus point should be? Where would you jump this fence?"" she asked as she pointed to the first fence.  My brain blanked.  "Wait, what?? There's a quiz?"  Each jump followed the same process; we were asked where we should focus our eyes (not just the last window, but the bottom right corner of the last window) and what part of the fence we should jump (the high part of a Swedish oxer and the corner of a corner jump.)  It was good exercise for me, as my mind tends to be in a "What Am I Jumping Thank God I Survived Holy Shit Where Do I Go Now?" jumble and the way we were approaching things forced me be more thoughtful and also built in a pause/reset moment after every fence.   Indy was totally fine with the repetition, which surprised me as normally he gets annoyed at having to do something more than a couple times.  He very clearly feels "I did what you asked, now let's move on."

Things Marilyn had me working on:

• Straightness
• Picking focus spots and actually using them (Marilyn: "Amy, where were you looking on the approach to that fence?"  Me: "Ummmm, at B?"  Marilyn: "Were you really looking at B?" Me: Ummmm, no." Marilyn: "Do you know where you were looking?" Me: "Ummm, not really.")
• Being more mindful. Not just about where to look and how to jump each obstacle but about how I rode in between them and how that sets me up for the next fence.
• Opening the outside rein for a counter bend and adding a strong inside leg (almost thinking leg yield) around the corners as Indy tends to lean on the inside shoulder around turns.  This was so  different than what I've always done it was damn near an impossible task.  My mind was sending out instructions and my body was adamantly ignoring them.  I finally managed to do this somewhat successfully on the last course. 

Oddly enough, the task I found the most difficult during the clinic is probably my most important take away.  Indy does not like the ends of the ring, as there are large doors and he feels there are BAD THINGS on the other side of those doors.  He often will drop his inside shoulder and duck to the inside, porpoising around the short side of the arena.  Which I find a bit nerve-wracking, to say the least.  The other day I could feel him getting ready to do it and I opened my outside rein to counter bend him and held my inside leg against his side like it was a steel column.  Lo and behold, no porpoising!

I liked working with Marilyn a lot, and am going to try to see if we can set up something once a month or so. I'd love to get help from her on our flatwork as well as our jumping.  Will keep you posted...

Dickhead Returns

Too cute to be called Dickhead.

A while back I wrote a post about our family's use of nicknames and the fact that Indy may have
thought his name had been changed to Dickhead. (He's young and blessed with ADD and I have a tendency to communicate through the use of colorful language).

I find that things with Indy follow a pattern.  Lots of really good behavior and then some not-quite-so-good behavior.  Like tonight, for instance, was one of the latter.  It was a gorgeous night, we'd had a lesson on Sunday that was not one of our best (totally my fault) and I thought a trail ride would be a low key experience for us both.

And the trail ride part was great.  The beginning and end parts, not so much.  When we left the barn I noticed the outdoor ring had a new wall jump that looked like it came from a giant Lego castle.  There was also a round pen with poles set like a pie cut into a bunch of pieces. Some of the round pen walls had fallen and were laying on their sides.  Did either of these new items in the ring bother Indy?  Nope.  He marched right up to investigate, sniffing them and noodging them with his nose.



Round pen and pole exercise. Or Pie. Take your pick

The issue came when we left the ring. I went to steer him left and he planted his feet and refused to budge.  The issue?  A patch of grass he walks over pretty much every day.  Heck, he GRAZES on it darn near every day!  He snorted and refused to go near it, backing up, hopping up and down, and trying to wheel around.  We went back and forth for a bit, and eventually he gave in and we went over it.  Maybe not the particular patch we were fighting over, but we went forward over grass that was very close to the patch we were fighting over.

Then we wandered around the farm and on the trails, and that was wonderful.

And then we came back and I got the bright idea to bring him over to the offending patch of grass to CONFIRM the correction we'd made.  Big mistake. HUGE. What can I say? I'm a dumbass.  We argued.  We discussed the issue at length. He cited reasons why we shouldn't go over the grass, I contended it was the only acceptable outcome. We expressed our divergent opinions, crossing over the driveway and every damn blade of grass except the ones we were squabbling over.  As you can imagine, my language was a bit salty.  I may have called him Dickhead again. (I did. Several times. I felt the situation warranted it. I have opposable thumbs, so I get to make those calls.)

The Grass Patch of Doom. 
Clearly terrifying.

I decided it was time to try something different.  I know you're not supposed to get off, but that wasn't getting anything accomplished so I got off.  And started to do some ground work, moving his haunches and front end, getting him to back up or come to me, just to get him to listen to me again.  At first he was resistant, but I persisted and he became softer and more willing.  We did our groundwork for about 10 minutes, on the offending grass, no less. (He didn't seem to have a problem with it once I was off him, the little booger).  Once I felt he was completely focused on me and what I was asking him to do, I got back on him and walked him up to the Grass Patch of Doom.  He hesitated, but went over it. I made a fuss over him, jumped off, and let him grab a few bites of grass.

Maybe conventional wisdom says I shouldn't have gotten off him, but the way I was doing it wasn't working.  I felt the need to reframe the conversation, and in this situation it worked.  That doesn't mean I should or will get off in the future.  It just seemed like the right thing to do tonight.

And we're okay now.  He got lots of kisses and scratches and he put his head in my arms for a long hug.  I said I was sorry for calling him Dickhead, and he told me he may have been over-reacting about the whole grass thing. 

Field Trip For Indy

Where are we, Mom?

I have a (relatively) new trailer, which I call the HMS Valium.  When I first got it I did not have a horse.  Pretty much the whole "cart before the horse" cliché.  As you can surmise, I did not get to use my trailer much.

Then in October I got Indy.  When I took him to get a pre-purchase exam there was much drama surrounding the loading process. Indy wanted absolutely nothing to do with the Great Big White Box.  When we moved to a new barn in October, my trainer and I thought rather than fight with him we'd see if he would like a different type of trailer (mine's a bumper pull with a rear loading ramp, theirs is a 3 horse with a ramp on the side.)  He didn't.  He didn't want to get on that trailer and when we arrived at the new place he came flying off it like his hair was on fire.

Over the fall, winter, and spring I worked on his trailer issues and learned some natural horsemanship from the lovely Dom Nawrot of Thumbs Up Horsemanship.  I want to do clinics and trail paces, so I need Indy to get on the trailer with no histrionics or bribing. I also figured learning natural horsemanship would be a great way to understand Indy better and bond with him.  We took our time and didn't push him and now Indy has no issues whatsoever getting on and off the Great Big White Box.

Dom suggested that before we take him somewhere serious like a show we should take him on a quick trip "around the block" to give him a good, low pressure experience. That went well, so last weekend we decided to take him to a horse show about an hour's drive away for some schooling.  It gave me a chance to get some more trailering time under my belt, it gave Indy a chance to spend more time on the trailer, and it also helped give him some exposure to a horse show without the stress of competition. (As far as I can tell it was only the third show he'd ever been to).



Noah and Indy paying close attention to Dom's instructions

My son Noah came along as moral support, another set of hands, and to make sure my nerves didn't get the best of me. While we were on the road he regularly reminded me to "Breathe, Mom" and "Go wide around the turns" and "The speed limit is 50, Mom. You should try to do that." Thanks in large part to his efforts we arrived in one piece. The second we opened the trailer Indy stuck his head out, looked around like Dorothy after she landed in Oz, and proceeded to holler his little gray head off.  He yelled, someone else would reply. Indy hollered again, somebody else would holler back. Have you ever seen the Disney movie 101 Dalmatians? Remember the Twilight Bark?  It was like that. For about 20 minutes. Non-stop.

We brought him over to the rings to graze and Indy visited with everyone who would stop to talk with him.   Since I haven't shown in over 2 years and didn't want my nerves to affect Indy I asked one of the barn's working students to school him. Call me a wuss if you want, but the main goal for the day was for Indy to have a good experience, both on the trailer and at the show.  The schooling ring was insane and  Mike's calm demeanor worked well to keep Indy focused.  He also took Indy out for a school around the jump field, and you know how sometimes it's just nice to see someone else ride your horse? Where you can just gawk at your horse and think, "Pretty horsie. MY pretty horsie." This was one of those times. Mike is tall and graceful and Indy's dapple grey coat and silver/grey mane and tail looked gorgeous in the sun.  Sadly I was too busy staring that I neglected to get any pictures. DOH! Mom fail.

Hanging with Indy and Noah all day was great.  Noah was my rock: He served admirably as parking and exiting consultant, scouting out the parking spot where I would have the most room to back the HMS Valium up if needed.  When it was time to go he did a little recon and found a way for me to wiggle out without having to back up. (I have terrible Trailer Reversal Anxiety). He made sure that there was always an adequate supply of Oreos for me and mints for Indy. Most importantly, he kept me laughing and relaxed (or as relaxed as I get) which in turn helped keep Indy relaxed.

So our first real "field trip" went off rather well, and I'm kinda looking forward to our next excursion.  My barn-buddy Dave tells me I'm on my way to becoming a "Bad-ass Mother-trucker."  I like the sound of that - think it comes on a t-shirt?

Conversations With Indy...

Huh? What are you doing?
Is that rectangular thing a treat?

I've had Indy a little over two months now, and while we're still very much in the getting to know you
phase of our partnership, we're starting to understand each other more.  Communicate better. Understand each other's language, so to speak.

You know how horse owners tend to anthropomorphize their horses, assigning voices to them?  How we'll cheerfully tell a friend not only what our Precious Pony did that day, but also what Precious Pony thought about the activity and anything they may have said about it.

In my posts about my mare Sug I'd often include her thoughts and feeling about our adventures, as to me they were as clear and understandable as words on a page.  I had no doubt about her opinions, and had no qualms about sharing them with others.  I'm starting to get to a point where I'm starting to "hear" what Indy is saying.

If I'm standing and holding him and talking to someone he starts to noodge me with his muzzle and I hear this:"Mom. Mom. Mom! Ma! Mama! Mommy!!! Ma!!!"   When I finally turn to him to tell him to stop, I hear, "Hi! Hi Mom!  You've been chatting forever - didja forget me?  I'm right here. Is it time for treats?"

There's when he's on the cross ties and I need to run into the tack room to get something, or god forbid to the bathroom.  If I'm gone longer that 3 minute's I'll hear the sound of cross ties hitting the wall.  Then I'll hear him fidgeting.  If I'm not back at that point I'll either hear the sound of pawing or a short whinny.  When I return his face clearly says, "Oh thank God!!!  I thought you'd left!  Or forgot about me! Or died!  I was soooo lonely. Is it time for treats?"

Then there's when he's on the cross ties and I'm grooming him. Then it's a running commentary. "Oh look!  There's my friend Ray-Ban. Hi, Ray-Ban!  And there's RJ.  Hi, RJ!  Hold it. Is Ray-Ban getting treats?  Hey, Ray-Ban's mom, can I have a treat? PleasepleasepleasePLEEEEEAAAAASSSSEEE!"

When I'm grooming him he'll often twist around to look at me and I swear I hear him say, "Hey Mom!  How was your day?  Mine was good. I ate hay.  And went outside . And ate hay outside. Could you get the curry comb a little more to the left?  Yes, there. Ooh ooh ooh ooh yes!  That's the spot. And there's another spot over on my withers, can you get that one?  And my belly's itchy, too.  Can you do that?  And is it time for treats yet?"

And of course we have our ongoing discussion about the troll in the corner of the indoor arena.  That conversation goes like this: "Troll alert. There's a troll in that corner!" No, Indy.  There are no trolls. Trolls don't exist. "Yes! Yes, they do!  And they eat horses! Especially gray ones." No, Indy, there are no trolls and here is an inside leg telling you to get in to that corner. "Nononononono! There are trolls and they OOOFFF!!! You were serious about that inside leg thing. Okay, I'll move over, but if we get eaten, it's your fault."

If we are having a jumping lesson and we've stopped to wait while someone else does the course, sometimes Indy feels that means his quarter is up and the ride is over. When it's our turn I'll use a little leg to tell him to move off, and we'll have an exchange like this: "What?  Again?  No, we're done.  We stopped. We stood. That means done. No, I don't want to canter anymore.  OOOFFF! Again with the leg! Alright, we can canter if it means that much to you. But after I wanna talk to my union representative." 

There was also the time this Christmas when I asked him to wear antlers. He was less than pleased.

Oh my God!  Mooommmm!  This is soooo embarrassing!
What if one of my friends sees me?  I'll never live it down!  

Getting To Know You...Indy

Hello.  Whatcha doing?

OK, I suck.  I admit it. A year and two months after I lost the Sug I finally tell you I've bought a
horse, and then I disappear for a month and a half.  All I can say is this is my busiest time of year at work, and between the travel and working late I'm happy just to find time to get to the barn, let alone chronicle what's going on there.

So let me catch you up... Indy and I have spent the last 6 weeks getting to know each other.  It's kinda like when you first start exclusively dating someone and you're trying to learn everything about them: Do they like coffee or tea? Spicy food or mild? Are they comfortable in large group situations or do they prefer to be more private? Cats or dogs? Football or baseball?

Here's what I've learned so far: Indy is intensely curious. You pretty much can tell that by just looking at his face, as he's got a wide-eyed "Who are you? What's going on? Are we going to do something fun?" expression.  If he's on the cross ties and sees someone outside, he all but stands on his tiptoes to see what's going on. If I go into the tack room, I come out to find him leaning forward on the ties peeking around and trying to see what I've gotten up to.  Where other horses might spook and wheel away from something new, he stops, snorts, cranes his head to get a better look at The Big Scary Thing, and is then likely to walk up and sniff it.  If we're walking somewhere, he wants to stop and investigate everything we pass by. Every.damn.thing.  He can be a little ADD in this respect; he's so interested in everything that at times it's hard for him to focus.

What's going on over there?

He loves people, and wants to be the center of attention, kinda like a big Labrador.  He reminds me of my daughter, Sophie, in that regard.  All energy, all "Hi! I'm Indy. Wanna be my friend? Wanna play? I know fun things to do. " If he's alone on the cross ties and sees someone is near he will break out every trick in the book to get their attention and entice them to come over.  If I'm next to him and my attention wanders to something else he'll nudge me until I focus on him again.  It's like the "Mom. Mom. Mommy. Ma" scene from Family Guy.  He's adorable, and I swear he uses that to his advantage when he does something naughty, just like Sophie does.  He gives you that face, the one that says, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I just couldn't help myself. You still love me right?" It's hard to resist that kind of face.

He's a snuggle bug, and loves hugs and kisses.  He loves having the kids fuss over him, and he's got his own harem of young barn girls that dote on him.  He's started nickering to me, and not just when I come in to the barn.  After I'm done untacking and grooming him I'll put him back in his stall and then clean tack.  When I go to say goodnight before I leave he'll often give a high pitched nicker, as if he's saying, "You're back! Thank God! I was lonely!"  He sometimes does it when he's on the cross ties and I leave him to go get something, as if he's afraid I've abandoned him.

Snuggles with Sophie

The harem

We're learning how we fit together under saddle.  He's been used to someone else riding him and the way their aids were given, and now he has to figure out what I'm asking him.  Same thing for me.  It's like learning a new language.  Or driving a rental car.  When you get a rental, at first you spend a lot of time learning where the different buttons are, like the windshield wipers, gear shift, radio tuner, and the mirror adjuster doohickey.  You learn how hard you need to press on the gas pedal to get a reaction, and the same for the brakes.  You play with the wheel to see if you need to over-steer or under-steer.  Indy and I are at the rental car stage.

So that's where we are.  Getting to know each other and trying to figure out who we're going to be together.

Momma's Boy