Cob Jockey

I still remember the first time I rode a pony.  I was eighteen years old!  Her name was Taylor, and she was famous for a trot so comfortable, anyone could sit it.

Taylor

But what struck me most about the experience wasn't her trot - it was the immediate confidence boost I got just by being on a smaller equine.  I had always been a nervous rider, and I thought it was just the way I was and would always be.  But on Taylor and then Venice, I was a new woman, gleefully laughing when my horse bucked instead of curling into the fetal position, bravely riding when it was windy outside, and happily doing anything asked of me in class.  I felt invincible.

This article from Denny Emerson sums that all up for me.  Find your "steady Eddie," find your pony, and watch your whole riding life change.  From the article:

Standing in a starting gate, or unleashing an attacking “crotch rocket” when the starter says “GO”, takes confidence, and Jack Le Goff used to say that “confidence comes from success.”

And riders gather success (or failure) over time, and that success or failure will be largely dependent upon whether the rider had the right horse for the job, and whether the job itself was something within the bounds of what the pair could handle.

Too tough a horse, or too tough a challenge, in the learning stages, and confidence can crumple. Once confidence is lost, it`s harder to regain than not losing it in the first place.

So, be smart—-about the horse you ride, and the challenges you tackle.

Build UP, don`t tear DOWN.

I'm not saying I couldn't ride a full-sized horse back then, or even now, but ponies, and Connor in particular, give me a level of confidence that makes the craziest things seem less scary, and it's made such a big difference.

At first, I thought today's ride went terrible.  But I got to thinking as I was sweeping the barn afterward, and realized it actually was successful, just in a different way. Consider:

- I was riding him in the outdoor arena for the first time since October or November.  He let me know in no uncertain terms that being ridden was not on his agenda for the day, and that he'd much rather be with his friends.  (The outdoor is the only arena we ride in that is surrounded by turnout pastures.)
- He tried every evasion tactic in his book: spooking, taking off in the canter, grabbing the left rein, leaning on my hands, curling under, ignoring my lateral leg aids, and going around like a giraffe.  It was ugly.

This is from a year ago, but it may as well have been today.  "The pony is not interested in your reindeer games!"

But I realized it was successful, because I ended the ride with asserting myself as the boss in the relationship.  Three months ago, I would not have been able to identify or fix some of those evasive behaviors.  I wouldn't have noticed him throwing a couple of extra straight strides in between changing directions on the leg yield, and even if I had, I wouldn't have recognized that as him trying to bully me.  He was trying to bully me the entire ride today, to bend me to his will, but I refused and put him to work doing what I wanted him to do.  It was never great work, but it was more about the mental point than the physical point: I am the rider, you will listen to me!

So I asserted myself in a way I wouldn't have even realized I needed to until last November, and when I had his ears trained on me and he wasn't hauling my arms out of their sockets and he did a nice long side of leg yields when and where I asked for them, I called it a day.

My pony has a confidence problem.

As John put it today, he's so cocky out in the field, but put him in a situation in which he's remotely uncomfortable and he turns into a nervous, hyper-sensitive version of his normal self.  It's completely Jekyll  & Hyde, almost as if I had two different horses.  Even though he knows and trusts me, I still have to catch him both in the field and in his stall as if I were approaching my wild Mustang I trained in college, because a too-aggressive step forward on my part will make him throw his head up and roll his eyes white.  My trainer walking around in her long coat during a lesson causes him to curve his body away from her and give her the evil eye.  Austen walking toward him with a camera when we were stopped on the rail caused him to shake like a mountain lion was chasing him.

You get the point.


To work through this, I'm following a simple rule: never put him in a situation in which he will ultimately lose.  It may take him a little while to realize that there is a way to win, and that he will win, and it may be scary in the meantime, but in the end, I always want this horse to feel like he is the winner of any situation I put him into. 

Today, I took him to the little Dressage arena we have set up in the open grass field across the road from the barn and schooled him there.  After beginning with a spook at a Kildeer that flew up underneath us, he was on edge, so I put him to work, at the walk, entirely with things he is familiar with and good at already.  Halt-walk-halt transitions, shoulder-in on the straight, 20m circles, giving more on the inside rein.  I asked consistently and evenly, and watched his ears for a sign of life while I tried to gain his attention.  Finally, about 20 minutes into the ride, he flicked an ear back at me during a transition, and immediately became lighter in the bridle.  After another ten minutes of work in which he was about 75% focused on me, I called it a day, dismounted in the grass ring facing away from the barn, and led him across the street.  Can't be too predictable!

Just like the effort and practice we put into our figures and gaits inside the arena, his confidence is not going to come together overnight.  Only with many long hours of hacking, desensitization (to a point), and confidence-building situations will Connor begin to believe in himself.  In the end, though, even if it takes me years to have a pony that doesn't give the rearranged chairs in the corner of the arena a funny look every time we pass them, I would much rather have an overly-sensitive pony than an overly-dull pony.  I didn't purposely fall in love with the breed that breathes fire for nothing!