Hoof Blogs

Flossie's 200th Lesson

FLOSSIE'S 200th LESSON

I spent two hours working with Flossie this morning, from 7:00 o’clock until 9:00. I needed that time because the road work next to the paddock that runs along Des’ track has commenced once again. I knew the day was coming, so I’ve been mentally preparing myself.

I walked Flossie in hand around the track, as I’ve been doing now for a while, and let her stop now and then to get used to her noisy surroundings. We went back and forth by the power machines and the long arm of the metal shovels that were working on the road while men lifted and carried long boards, adjusted makeshift fences, unravelled heavy spirals of thick wire, opened and closed doors, hoods, trunks, and drove their vehicles, cars, dump trucks, bulldozers, alike, along the fenceline in all their banging, beeping, churning glory.

Then I mounted and we went for a fast trot around the track until the final bend that led to the area along the road where all the commotion was. Flossie put on her brakes and came to a screeching halt in protest. So I jumped off and noticed the reason she complies when I walk her in hand is because she turns off, mentally, when I’m leading her. She doesn’t notice what’s going on around her. So I called her attention to it by making her look at what she was walking past. If she realizes she can pass those big machines and noisy moving people while she’s being led, maybe she’ll realize she can just as easily pass them while I’m in the saddle, I thought.

I didn’t have time to find out today, though, since so much of it had been wasted already by that time. So I took my long dressage crop and banged it on the saddle and started shouting, “Come on, get up there!” So with all this banging of the crop against her leather tack, and my yelling, I had her moving quickly back and forth. Then I mounted and kept on yelling, “Git”, in a loud, theatrical fierce voice, without anger, over and over, challenging her with my energy and fortitude, daring her to disobey.

I had her trotting and cantering after that in both directions all around the track and every time she even hinted slightly that she might stop, I grabbed my deepest, meanest, angriest voice, and shouted “Git!” A zillion times I shouted “Git!” and a zillion times I kept her going.

When I circled her in the corner of the paddock I had her going in a nice canter. She never cheated on me going to the left as she usually does. When she tried, I counter-bent her around as I had done last week. She seemed to want to canter correctly, though, and tried to do exactly what I asked for. On the track, later, while cantering, I kept her at a nice speed. It was fast, but controlled. I worked on slowing her down and she was obedient to my commands. Des and Gary both told me that all the horses have been protesting those machines and they weren’t surprised to hear my story. I truly believe if I can get Flossie used to the road work and all the hustle and bustle that goes with it, I can get her used to anything. I don’t know if I’ll succeed, but I will certainly do everything in my power to work towards that goal.

I had fun today, but I know how tiring and frustrating these machines can get. Especially when we have to put up with them week after week after week. It’ll come to that again one day soon. You know what happened when that occurred last time; Flossie simply refused to move at all. Not a step. I had to find all kinds of ways to get her to go for me. I am going to hate to see it come to that again.

I did some mighty fine riding today, if I may say so myself. I was very proud of myself. When I had finished, just before I took Flossie for a walk down the driveway, I told Des what I had done with the crop and assured him that I had not hit Flossie with it. He said he had been asleep, but I had caught him out on his porch, watching. That’s really the only reason I decided to tell him what I did.

Anyway, that’s Flossie’s 200th lesson in a nutshell. Too bad the feel of her canter, the sound of the wind in my ears and the clapping of her hooves on the track can’t be shoved inside that shell. I sure would have loved to have shared it all with you.