Category Archives: Personal Stories

Personal Stories, Travel Writing

Oh, the Places You’ll Go—Where Horses Have Taken Me (so far…)

Leave a comment

When I think back to many of the unique places I’ve had the opportunity to visit, more often than not it was a horse that led me there.

In anticipation of my upcoming Gobi Gallop ride in Mongolia (more on this later), I thought it would be fun to look back at a few other adventures I have experienced, all thanks to my love of the horse.

Delaware

Ok, I know what you are thinking… Delaware? The “Small Wonder” state? But hear me out.

When I was member of the US Pony Clubs, I was invited to be a Visiting Instructor at a Pony Club camp in Delaware. I was perhaps 20 at the time, and the short flight from Boston was the first one I ever took on my own. I hadn’t flown very much at that point in my life, and so that solo trip was a pretty big deal.

I am a life member of USPC, and a proud graduate H-A from Squamscott Pony Club here in seacoast New Hampshire. SPC has been in existence for over 50 years!

That first USPC Visiting Instructor experience led to others in subsequent years—Oklahoma and Kansas, even California and Hawaii. I don’t know if I’ll ever love flying, but I became more confident about it, and it was all thanks to these trips. In fact, these experiences are probably what made me brave enough to try bigger adventures, like a summer study abroad in Kenya, and later, solo trips to Morocco and the Galapagos Islands.

Some Pony Club adventures are not nearly so far afield– like helping these members obtain their certifications in NH last spring.

I have stayed involved with USPC, and through the various roles I have held with that organization (examiner, clinician, regional instruction coordinator, district commissioner), I’ve had the opportunity to travel quite literally from coast to coast. Over the years, Pony Club commitments have brought me to 25 of the 50 states! I am currently on a quest to visit all #50by50…and I only have a handful to go. If you happen to be in need of a clinician– and especially if you live in Texas, Arkansas, Mississippi, Alabama, or North Dakota—don’t hesitate to reach out!

Iceland

Early in my writing career, I produced quite a few breed spotlights. They’ve fallen a bit out of favor with most equestrian publishers these days, but in the late 90’s, I profiled everything from Spanish Normans to Friesians to miniature horses. One time, my editor asked me to pen a feature on the Icelandic Horse—and something about this hardy and unique breed simply captured my fancy. I wanted to ride one, and of course, the only logical place to do so was in Iceland.

I found a company online called Íshestar, and booked an all-inclusive riding tour package. After flying overnight into Keflavik International Airport, and catching a bus bound for Reykjavik, Iceland’s capital, I arrived at my guesthouse to find the owner solidly sleeping off the previous evening’s celebrations. It took a bit of convincing to coax her out of bed to let me in at the ungodly hour of 9 AM—at which time jet lag caught up and I also promptly took a nap.

Stjarna, “Star” in English, my first mount.

To ride an Icelandic Horse, one must essentially unlearn every skill one has ever practiced on horseback. To slow down, you tip forward. To go faster, you lean back and hold the reins more firmly. One afternoon early in the tour, me and my new Swiss friend Gabi were run off with across a lava field. It took every conscious brain cell I had to not revert to instinct in order to regain control of my rogue mount (who I would later learn had only been “lightly backed”).

Here I am holding Mokollur (Blonde-Top, in English) and a friend at a rest stop. Mokollur was actually Gabi’s mount during the “run-away” incident; I rode him the day after and enjoyed him so much I rode him in the afternoons for the rest of the trip. Another fun fact is that every piece of gear I am wearing is borrowed– Iceland has no native horse diseases, and any riding equipment brought to the country must be brand new, with tags still on.

Iceland is not a large country, and its people are both friendly and worldly, despite what might seem like a relatively isolated existence on the edge of the Arctic Circle. Our riding tour left from a farm called Saltvík, which is situated on the north side of the island near the city of Akureyri. On the domestic flight up there, we met two young men who knew exactly where we were going and who we would be riding with once we arrived. They wrote their names and phone numbers on an anti-nausea bag, so we could look them up later (we didn’t take them up on that, I’m afraid).

After riding with a loose herd of spare animals over miles of jaw-dropping terrain—including sweeping meadows and volcanic detritus—I have immense respect for the ruggedness of the Icelandic Horse. More than one time, I looked at the trail ahead and thought, “We can’t possibly be headed that way” …and then off we went. They are truly amazing creatures.

Mokollur and I hitting our stride. We each rode two horses per day, one in the morning and another after lunch. The extras traveled as a loose herd, with about half our riders leading the way, and the other half “sweeping” behind. Here, you can see the loose herd behind us, with other raincoat-clad riders driving the group in the rear. If you enjoy this sort of experience, you can visit Iceland during the annual sheep round up, which is also done on horseback!

If you should ever find yourself in Iceland, one tip—never call them ponies (although strictly speaking, most are well below the 14.2 hand threshold). The reason is, and I quote—“Men do not ride ponies.”

The Mustangs of the High Sierra (California)

At some point, one of my email addresses became subscribed to the University of California-Davis extension course catalogue, and every year, one of their offerings caught my eye. “Mustangs: a Living Legacy” was a four day horse-packing course, co-led by veterinarian/professional horsepacker Dr. Craig London, and extension veterinarian/professor, Dr. Janet Roser. Participants would ride and camp in the Montgomery Pass Wild Horse Range on the Nevada/California border, enjoy lectures and readings on mustangs and the region’s ecology, and hopefully, view the local mustang herd from horseback. It sounded utterly appealing—but with just one annual offering, logistically tricky.

But then one year, the stars aligned. I had a meeting to attend in Las Vegas, Nevada, that was scheduled to conclude just a few days before the start of the annual “Living Legacy” course. I rented a car and drove five hours from Las Vegas to join my fellow mustang enthusiasts in Benton Hot Springs, California (population 279, and that might include the quail).

Partnered with a former county sheriff’s horse named Thunder, I had an amazing experience riding in the high desert of late spring. As I had in Iceland, I gained new appreciation for how well horses handle even some of the most rugged terrain. Additionally, every equine on Dr. London’s horsepacking string tied, and tied well (if they don’t–they don’t last long on his string). We rode for several hours at a time; when we needed a break, the horses simply tied to the nearest tree. Thunder knew the drill and would almost immediately close his eyes and take a nap.

Thunder and I, with the White Mountains as a backdrop.

The Montgomery Pass mustang herd was, at least at that time, beloved by the local community, who seemed proud to have them living nearby. The herd was also famous for being one of the only naturally managed mustang populations, thanks to the area’s resident mountain lions. However, as their name implies, mountain lions tend to stay in the higher elevations, and the horses had gotten wise. With ample food and water available on the lower elevation Adobe Flats during the spring, herds could avoid predation.

The photo quality is not amazing, but this is just one snapshot of the massive herd of mustangs (comprised of many smaller bands) hanging out on the Adobe Flats.

According to local residents, the mustang population was growing every year; I estimate there were at least one hundred animals, perhaps more, when I visited in 2012. Early June in the high desert is still a time of abundance, but it was clear to me that the animals rate of consumption would quickly exceed the vegetation’s capacity to grow. It seemed clear to me that this herd was no longer being “naturally managed”, at least not by the mountain lions. (As a sidenote, in preparing this blog, I reviewed a 2021 article stating that the Montgomery Pass herd population has grown so tremendously that they are now pushing westward, into Mono Lake, California, where they are damaging fragile and unique habitats in their constant quest for food and water.)

As a native northeasterner, studying the dynamic issues surrounding the mustang populations of the west was eye opening, and witnessing firsthand the power of a massive herd as it turned as one unit to flee, emotionally inspiring. Thanks to the influence of UC-Davis, we benefited from peer-reviewed information and objective analysis of the situation; the inclusion of local ranchers and other residents in our conversations helped put a human face on the people impacted (both positively and negatively) by the mustangs’ presence.

The aridity simply dries out the bones left behind. Note the incisors– this skull belonged to a youngster.

In 2012, the Montgomery Pass herd looked to be fairly healthy and in good weight; seeing mustangs in this condition could easily make one skeptical of arguments that many of these animals lead a marginal existence. But after the program was over, and I was heading back toward Las Vegas, a small band of five mustangs (including one scrawny foal) crossed the road in front of me. These animals were painfully thin, and moved with care and deliberation over the flat, rock-strewn terrain.  As far as I could see in any direction, the area was fairly barren, the only vegetation small clumps of sagebrush. They seemed oblivious of me and my rental car; as I watched them move away, single file, the shimmering heat made their image begin to dance and wave, until they simply disappeared from view.

The Gobi Gallop—Mongolia

And now, for my newest adventure— the world’s longest charity horseback ride, Mongolia’s Gobi Gallop! If all goes according to plan, I will travel to Asia in late May to join intrepid equestrians from around the world for this ride’s 10th anniversary, all in support of the work of the Veloo Foundation.

The following sentiment, excerpted from the ride’s Facebook page, summarizes one of my main motivations for wanting to participate:

“[The Gobi Gallop is] a chance to see Mongolian horsemen and women from the oldest unbroken horse culture on the planet managing the horses to go 700+km in 11 days…10 days of riding and a rest day. It’s like stepping back to when horses were the only means of transportation, and covering ground like our forefathers.”

But equally important is that my participation in this ride will directly benefit some of Mongolia’s most vulnerable citizens—the children of impoverished families living in Ulaanbaatar, the country’s capital. For generations, many of these families herded livestock on the Mongolian steppe, but modern day challenges combined with an increasingly harsh climate have made this traditional lifestyle more and more untenable. In Ulaanbaatar, these families eke out an existence rummaging through the local dump. The Veloo Foundation’s Children of the Peak Project runs a kindergarten to offer their children a safe place to learn, to grow, and to be mentored. It gives hope for a better future.

Mongolia is the land that gave rise to Genghis Khan (Chinggis to the locals), whose small population of mounted soldiers eschewed hand-to-hand combat and still managed to conquer lands covering modern-day China and Russia, as well as most of the Middle East, the Indian peninsula and as far west as Hungary and Poland. Later, his descendants would cause China’s Ming Dynasty emperors so much worry they would erect a structure now known as the Great Wall. Mongolians were and are master horsemen; their children learn to ride as toddlers, and the horse is fully entwined in the fabric of their nomadic history. It would be safe to say that without horses, Mongolia wouldn’t be…Mongolia.

This map image has been “borrowed” from the website of the Foundation for the Preservation and Protection of the Przewalski Horse. If you want to learn about these unique animals and the worldwide effort to save them– this is a great source!

While there, I also plan to make a quick trip to Khustain National Park, home of the wild takhi. The story of the takhi could fill its own blog, but suffice it to say they are the only remaining truly wild species of horse in the world. You might know them better as Przewalski’s Horse (named for the Polish explorer who “discovered” them in 1878), and for many years they were essentially extinct in the wild. But thanks to a captive breeding program located two continents away, the animals were successfully reintroduced, and now thrive on their native steppe.

As an additional fundraising project, I have been selling these super warm Mongolian yak wool socks– and I still have some left! The medium reindeer is sold out, but I have limited quantities available in all other sizes and styles. The reviews have been outstanding– please reach out if you think a pair or two will be just the thing next winter!

I am covering all my personal ride expenses out of pocket, and am still actively working to meet my ambitious fundraising goal of $10,000—100% of which benefits the work of the Veloo Foundation. I am just over halfway there, with only weeks left to go—if you are so inclined, please consider making a tax-deductible contribution to my ride! Truly, every little bit helps.

Ok, it’s your turn now—where have horses taken YOU? Or where would you like them to? Drop a comment here! Perhaps you will inspire me for my next adventure….

Book Reviews, Horse Care and Management, Horses in Transition, Personal Stories, Training Tips and Techniques

What does it mean to be a “Compassionate Equestrian”?

1 Comment

When I founded Cold Moon Farm LLC in 2015, I created the following Mission Statement:

                “Cold Moon Farm is a working horse farm dedicated to promoting the principles of sustainable living, conservation, and the highest standards of compassionate horsemanship.”

For me, compassionate horsemanship lives at the intersection of the following beliefs: the importance of using evidence-based and humane handling, care, and training techniques, whether mounted or unmounted; respecting the horse as an autonomous, sentient being who chooses to comply with human requests but is never obligated to do so; and a strong commitment to doing our best to ensure that every interaction with our horses is positive, respectful, and fair. In addition, compassionate horsemanship includes understanding how the physical and emotional well-being of the people in a horse’s orbit impacts the animal’s care and well-being.

At the time, I had never heard anyone else cite compassionate horsemanship as the bedrock foundation to their practice. What I didn’t know back then was that Allen M. Schoen, DVM, and Susan Gordon had just co-authored a book called The Compassionate Equestrian: 25 Principles to Live by When Caring for and Working With Horsehttps://www.horseandriderbooks.com/store/the-compassionate-equestrian.htmls, published by my friends at Trafalgar Square. In fact, this book wouldn’t cross my path until 2022, and when it finally did, I was pretty floored by the synergy between these authors’ ideas and my own.

As the title implies, The Compassionate Equestrian defines 25 principles underscoring how the act of compassion must affect every action or choice we make around horses and toward each other. Schoen and Gordon discuss ideas ranging from the highly specific (a good rider is a physically fit rider, and a fit rider knows how to slowly condition their horse for peak performance) to the highly esoteric (integrating concepts from Schoen’s Transpecies Field Theory and elements of quantum physics and neurobiology). They discuss individual accountability, and then ask how the collective face of the equine industry might change if everyone involved put compassion forward as our most important and essential concept.

In this blog, I hope to offer just a taste of where my own beliefs and those of the authors intersected. For organizational purposes, I have grouped them into “individual” actions and “collective” actions, but this is pretty simplistic. In reality, even just one individual choosing to begin her journey as a compassionate equestrian will positively impact the collective equestrian community, because she will send ripples of compassion through her every interaction.

After you have reviewed some of these ideas, I am interested to know whether you can recognize an area in which you might shift your thinking, behavior or inner beliefs to embrace “compassion” as the first and most essential quality. How could such a shift make a positive impact on your life? On equestrians in general? Or even on the world at large?


“Be the change you wish to see in the world” (attributed to Mahatma Gandhi, 1913)
Image in the public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Compassionate Equestrianism—Individual Actions

Ultimately, it is at the personal level where compassionate equestrianism resides. After all, despite our best efforts, we cannot control the behavior or actions of others; in fact, it is hard enough at times to navigate our own way in the world.

                Education The compassionate equestrian is on a personal quest to always know better, and to always do better—not because it will earn her better ribbons, or because her barn mates will look up to her more, but because it is the right thing to do for our horses. She understands that the horse’s welfare is of the highest importance at all times, and therefore asks questions when she does not understand, calls it a day when something doesn’t seem quite right, and constantly assesses whether what she is asking of the horse is reasonable and fair. Horses do express their physical or emotional discomfort, but often in ways that are not clear to humans. The compassionate equestrian seeks to become educated enough that she notices her horse’s sometimes subtle signals of distress. When something is off, the compassionate equestrian promptly secures the assistance of qualified, trained professionals to address the issue. In any situation, she decides for herself if what she is asking of her horse is truly in his best interest.

Anna and I attend a clinic in 2019.

                Being Present When we interact with a horse, we expect him to pay attention to us—so it is only fair that we do the same in return. To borrow a concept from my years of yoga practice, the troubles, worries and stresses of our “real lives” will all be waiting for us when we leave the barn. If we do not release them before entering the stable, those distractions will not only impact how we communicate with our horses, they color the interactions we have with everyone in our orbit. They shape our behavior and our responses to challenge. When we arrive at the barn, we need to take time to pause—for however long is necessary—to center our hearts and minds. The compassionate equestrian enters the barn community with the intention of having an open heart and tolerance for those around her.

                Controlling our Ego One concept I especially loved from The Compassionate Equestrian (and I will paraphrase here) is that there are two beings living inside each of us—our ego, and our “inner wise-guide”. All of our actions and choices will be driven by one being or the other. Ideally, we learn to follow the energy of our “wise-guide” more than our ego. When we ask our horse to do something for us, we need to know that what we are asking is within his skill set, his fitness level, and is in his best interest. If we are asking for something outside of those parameters, it is likely to satisfy our ego—and this is not the action of a compassionate equestrian. There will be times we make mistakes when it comes to our horses; after all, we are only human. When we follow our egos instead of our wise-guide, causing stress or pain to our horse, or to others around us—we forgive ourselves, and actively work to change as we move forward. Just as it takes a body’s systems years to adapt to the physical demands of increasing levels of performance, it will take time to train our mind to prioritize the wisdom of our wise-guide over the ego’s desire for quick results, rewards, and recognition.

Horses do not act from ego. They do not care what they do or do not achieve, but they do care that they feel safe, which includes having the company of other horses (Lee and Anna at a benefit ride in 2020).

Only when we are able to let go of our own ego can we fully embrace the practice of compassion. For most of us, it will take concerted attention to notice where our motivation is coming from, and to shift away from the demands of our greedy ego. In fact, Gordon writes, “Decreasing the destructive impact of egoic tendencies in a very ego-based business will be one of the biggest challenges to unifying a global community of horse people” (pg. 368).

Compassionate Equestrianism—Collective Actions

Practicing compassion is both a habit and a skill; just like other habits or skills, we get better at it the more we do it. It is most difficult to practice compassion when circumstances are challenging, so it is important to cultivate compassion during routine occurrences every day, until it becomes a comfortable and familiar way of navigating the world.  

What would this look like in practice? For starters, we can celebrate everyone’s victories, whether or not they seem significant to us. Smile and say to them, with genuine positive energy, “I am happy for you.” Do the best you can, to the best of your ability, in every action you undertake. If someone offers unsolicited feedback, assume their good intent.

For professional equestrians especially, the horse industry can test a commitment to compassion. When clients are making demands, or bills are coming due, or a top horse has had to be sold, the unrelenting pressures can make even the kindest human turn hard. These challenges can lead to burnout and unhealthy coping mechanisms, or even cause equestrians to question why they got involved in the industry in the first place.

And so, I will argue here that it is perhaps toward these most stressed, challenged or embittered equestrians that individuals must attempt to direct the greatest amount of compassionate energy. For our own protection, being compassionate doesn’t mean that we must keep ourselves or our horses within their orbit. But we can still project toward them, in Schoen’s words, “loving-kindness” and the sentiment, “I wish you well.”

Additionally, we must remember that no one is at their best, all of the time. When an equestrian is scared, or angry, she will behave in a self-protective way toward her horse and others around her.  When she is naïve, inexperienced, or uneducated (as we all are at some point in our equestrian journey), there is an overload of information available at her fingertips, and she may not know whose wisdom to turn to. We all must hold the belief that the majority of equestrians want what’s best for their horse. As professionals, it is our duty to present them with the most current, evidence-based information, and help them to determine the best path forward, for them. Further, we have a duty to work to prevent harm, when it is within our power to do so—essentially an equestrian version of the Hippocratic Oath.  To quote directly from The Compassionate Equestrian, we ask, “What is the most compassionate way to meet the needs of the horse and the capabilities of the rider?”

We must learn to share in the joyful moments of being around our horses, and to celebrate every victory, no matter how seemingly insignificant.

Finally, as a compassionate equestrian community, we must commit to collectively caring for all equines, at all stages of their lives. This would look like an industry committed to ensuring there is a home for every animal it produces; that every equine is provided with humane care and living conditions that allow them to thrive at all stages of life; that every equine, from an early age, is handled and trained so that a lifetime of safe interactions with humans are possible. When the quality of an animal’s life has declined to a point where they are always in pain, or are at risk of causing harm to themselves or others, or are otherwise not able to express the natural qualities inherent to being a horse, a compassionate equestrian community will ensure their humane transition. In a compassionate equestrian community, these actions are the expectation, not the experience only of those horses lucky enough to “fall into the right hands”. A compassionate equestrian community holds its own members accountable, whether they are a backyard hobbyist or top competitor.

With compassion at the core of all equestrian activities and pursuits, we can expect to evolve into a community that shows respect for its members, honors individual responsibility, and unifies the diverse interests of equestrians across disciplines, breeds, and skill levels.

Personal Stories

My Equine Bucket List—the 2023 Update

Leave a comment

For me, the shortened, colder days of winter, combined with the ending of a calendar year, bring a logical opportunity to pause and reflect. Although I long ago abandoned any illusion of setting an annual New Year’s resolution, I remain a goal-oriented person. The duality of thinking back to what I have accomplished in the past year, while also looking forward to where I might go next, helps me get through what can be a somewhat boring few weeks of winter.

Goals come in different flavors. They can be short, medium, or long-term. They can be an end in themselves, or a stepping stone to accomplishing something bigger, broader or more complex. They are not static; in fact, quite the opposite. Short and medium-term goals shift to suit immediate circumstances; long-term goals change based on these results, and also as we ourselves evolve through increased wisdom, life experience, and changing priorities.

Back in January 2015, I posted a blog in which I named 13 experiences on my equine “bucket list”. In that post, I commented:

“In preparing my goals for the 2015 season, I realized that it would be a huge help to step back and really evaluate the Big Picture—to think about those goals which seem so outlandish and so far out there as to be almost unattainable.  Because the reality is, if you don’t think about those kinds of goals in a Big Picture way, you almost certainly won’t backtrack and make the changes or seek the opportunities necessary to try to take them from being a dream to a certainty.  And then someday you are likely to reflect upon your career and say, gee I had always wanted to [fill in the blank]…but it is too late now.”

I still feel this way, and so I thought it might be fun to take another look at the 2015 list—and then update it with my 2023 perspective.

Eight years later, of those 13 experiences, I can now “check off” four items: 1) Keep my horses at home (2015), 2) Complete a 100 mile ride (2015 and 2016) 3) Ride a reiner (2018) and 4) Trail ride in Acadia National Park (2018). And I really do believe that creating this list was what set plans in motion to actually take actions that would make these goals become reality.

Lee and I enjoyed the miles of carriage roads at Acadia National Park. Thanks Mr. Rockefeller!

As I mentioned above, long-term goals change, for a myriad of reasons. There are two 2015 items I can definitively say are no longer figuring into my future plans: completing a classic three-day event, and raising a foal. Let me explain.

Back then, I still described myself as an eventer, but even in the 2015 blog I noted that after some significant time away from the sport, my bravado and enthusiasm for cross country were not what they once were. In the intervening years, I have left the eventing world altogether, I don’t miss it a bit, and I do not foresee a return.

Anna and I competed at the Area I Championships at both beginner novice and novice. This was the last jump on course, and it looked much larger from the take off side!

In regards to raising a foal, I can perhaps give this objective a “partial completion” award. I acquired my 2015 halfbred Connemara, DRF Isabela, at just under two years of age; my 2017 Morgan, Spring Hollow Or Noir, was even younger when she arrived in October 2018. Although neither one was a foal per se, I have had the pleasure (and challenge) of developing these two lovely young mares almost from the very beginning, which was really my true desire.

And now, without further ado, may I present:

Christina’s Equine Bucket List (2023 edition)

Items carried over from the 2015 list are designated with a *.      

  1. Save a horse.* I moved this Bucket List Item to # 1 to emphasize its importance, even though it is more of a commitment than it is a specific action item. Our industry is still plagued by the fact that we produce more horses than there are suitable homes; additionally, fewer equestrians are able to keep their horses at home, and this can preclude them from being able to provide a safe haven for older or retired animals. In 2015, I noted that to “save a horse” could be quite direct, in the context of getting a horse out of a dangerous or inhumane situation, or indirect, in terms of providing continued education to horse lovers and support for rescues. In continuing to embody this Bucket List Item, I strive to practice and promote the principles of compassionate equestrianism through my writing, teaching, and judging. Cold Moon Farm’s Poo for You Aged Compost Program promotes sustainable equestrian facility management, and proceeds from compost sales have been donated to local equine non-profit organizations including Hidden Pond Farm Equine Rescue, Becky’s Gift, Home-At-Last Farm Mini Horse and Pony Rescue and Sanctuary, and the New Hampshire Horse Council’s Support Where the Hooves Go Fund. And in 2015, I adopted Spring Hollow Marquesa from a local collegiate equestrian program, who was retiring after an 18 year career there. Although she was in no danger of ending up in a bad situation, I made a conscious commitment to be the human responsible for caring for this special animal for the remainder of her days.
DRF Isabela working at home as a 5 year old.

2. Train my own horses.* Like Bucket List Item #1, this objective is less tangible, and will likely remain on the list indefinitely. When I set this intention in 2015, my two principal mounts were Liatris and JEF Anna Rose, both of whom I acquired as green 6-year-olds. Although I am responsible for the majority of their training, both came into my life previously started under saddle. With the additions of Izzy in 2017 and Nori in 2018, I have had the opportunity to start not one but two youngsters from scratch, including being the first (and so far, only) person to ride each horse. I am the rider I am today, at least in part, thanks to several wonderful schoolmasters who gave me the opportunity to learn feel, timing, and other hard to describe qualities of riding.   But at this point in my equestrian journey, I take a great deal of pride (and humility) in knowing that the horses I ride and work with are the product of my own effort and time.  For me, it is more meaningful to develop the relationship with each individual horse along the way than it would be to get on an already trained animal in pursuit of a specific competitive result.

3. Drive a big hitch.*  This goal was inspired by the 2014 Equine Affaire in Springfield, MA, where I was blown away by the six horse Belgian hitch presented by the Morrisville College Foundation during the evening Fantasia show. From my 2015 blog: “The quiet power of each of these amazing animals combined into one suddenly small arena was just awe-inspiring.  The metal fittings on the harnesses gleamed, and the air hung heavy with the sound of their powerful feet rhythmically striking the soft footing.  I probably should start with a refresher on how to drive just one horse.  But boy, it would really be amazing to be directing that much power.” I have made zero progress toward achieving this goal, but I am still 100% interested in figuring out how to make this happen.

JEF Anna Rose competing at Third Level. Fun fact– if I had not previously earned my USDF Bronze Medal (which recognizes rider performance at First, Second and Third Levels), I would have earned it with scores on Anna. Photo courtesy of Mily K. Creative.

4. Earn my USDF Gold Medal.* Interestingly, the USDF Rider Medal program has been the subject of recent debate. Several prominent leaders of the sport believe that, with improved coaching and educational opportunities, and better access to high-quality, purpose-bred horses, earning Rider Medals has become too easy. But for those of us riding “average” movers, where every single point counts, earning the minimum required score of 60% or higher, especially at the FEI levels, is still a pretty ambitious accomplishment. Fortunately, a middle ground was reached; this year, the USDF introduced a “medal with distinction” award for those riders capable of achieving scores of 67% or higher, and have retained the regular medal program for the rest of us. I completed my USDF Bronze back in 2005, and I have four of the six required scores toward the Bronze Bar for Musical Freestyle performance as well. I spent a good chunk of 2019 (unsuccessfully) chasing those last two bronze bar scores, and as I am just at the beginning of the journey with my current dressage mount (Izzy), it is going to be a long time before I will be competing at a level that might earn me bronze bar, silver, or gold medal scores. Could I lease a horse with the intention of earning these scores? Sure. But please refer back to Bucket List Item #2, and I think you will see why that would only be an absolute last resort.

DRF Isabela competing at Training Level summer 2022 at Sassy Strides Equestrian in Lisbon, Maine. Photo courtesy of Erik of Maine Photography.

5. Compete in a CDI.*  Before one can enter a CDI, one needs to be showing in the FEI classes at the national level. SO… this goal is another one that is just way, way out there. And truthfully, right now I am a little ambivalent about it. Although earning the opportunity to compete in an international dressage show would be a real thrill, I don’t know that it makes sense for me to invest the significant (financial, time, travel) resources required to do it. I am keeping it on the list, because if the variables were starting to trend in that direction, I would consider it. But the opportunity costs involved may make this one of those goals which falls away when I revisit this list in the future.

6.“Do the Florida thing”. * Now that I have my own farm, the logistics of making a winter trip to Florida with horses have become vastly more complicated than they were back in 2015. But I really enjoy visiting the Ocala region in winter, if for no other reason than New England horse keeping from December until mid-March is really just about survival, and it is nice to go somewhere that isn’t in total hibernation. Additionally, it has become increasingly common for large training barns in all disciplines to migrate south for the winter, creating condensed pockets of talent and educational opportunities for the dedicated equestrian. I suspect that for me, it would at least in part come down to finding someone I wanted to work with badly enough that I was willing to make the sacrifices required to make it happen.

I mean, who wouldn’t want to miss out on this?

7. Train in Europe.* I think I explained this perfectly well back in 2015: “I am not talking anything on the level of taking my own horses over and training like I am going to make a team or something like that.  However, the tradition of horsemanship in countries like England, Germany or even Portugal and Spain is rich, and I think it would be greatly informative to have the chance to see how horses are managed and trained and riders are coached.” I would love to visit Ingrid Klimke’s farm; I understand she hosts semi-regular open training sessions— in German. Ich spreche kein Deutsch.

8. Ride in Mongolia. To the nomadic herdsmen of Mongolia, horsemanship is a tradition hundreds of years in the making. At one time, mounted Mongolian warriors were among the most feared in Asia. During the pandemic, I read a few books that took a look at horses from a historical perspective, and Mongolia featured prominently. In The Age of the Horse: an Equine Journey Through History, author Susanna Forrest dedicates an entire chapter to the rise, fall, and reintroduction of the Mongolian takhi, better known to most of us as the Przewalski’s Horse, and correctly called the world’s only true wild horse. I was fascinated by this history, as well as her travels to see the animals themselves in Hustai National Park in Mongolia. Then I read The Horse: the Epic History of our Noble Companion, by Wendy Williams, and she also featured the takhi, and traveling to Mongolia. Finally, I read Lara Prior-Palmer’s account of her winning Mongol Derby ride (Rough Magic). Let’s see, we can take two things I love—horses and travel—and merge them into one epic adventure? AND… **fingers crossed** I will be checking this item off the list in 2023, when I tackle the 10th annual Gobi Gallop in June! This 700 km charity ride is held to benefit the Veloo Foundation’s Children of the Peak Project. Riders cover their own expenses out of pocket, and solicit donations which help to support a kindergarten for some of Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia’s most vulnerable residents. I will now insert a totally shameless plug—if you wish to donate in support of my ride, you can do so here; every dollar helps, and donations are tax-deductible if you are a US or Canadian resident!

9. Complete a one–day 100 mile ride. To date, most of my distance riding career has been within the sport of competitive trail riding (CTR), which challenges a rider’s horsemanship as she endeavors to have her mount finish a long ride in as good as—or better—condition than he started. The 3 day 100 mile rides that Lee and I completed at GMHA in 2015 and 2016 were CTRs, with the distance broken up over three consecutive days. In the sport of endurance, the total distances covered in one day can be greater than in CTR, with a one-day 100 mile ride the crown jewel. Endurance rides are technically races, and the winner is the first horse to complete that is deemed “fit to continue”. But the slogan of the American Endurance Ride Conference, endurance riding’s national governing body, is “to finish is to win”, and I think this is the main goal for many endurance riders. I think the process of preparing for such an effort (which takes years) would be so rewarding, and the ability to actually complete it a true test of horsemanship. Spring Hollow Or Noir, better known as Nori, was purchased with an eye toward being a distance mount. Time will tell if she is up for the challenge of longer rides; I am hopeful that even if she isn’t, that she will remain a solid partner for years to come at shorter distances. For now, this Bucket List Item remains out on the far horizon—with many smaller peaks that will be fun to climb as we try to reach that pinnacle.

10. Compete at the National Dressage Small Horse/Pony Championships. The National Dressage Pony Cup is an organization founded by Jenny Carol with the objective of “showcasing the exceptional talent, training, and commitment of ponies and small horses, their owners, breeders, trainers, and riders in the art and sport of dressage” (lightly paraphrased). The group’s efforts have since expanded to include year-end awards for scores earned by registered ponies and small horses at USEF rated shows across the country, and a well-attended national championship held in the mid-west each year. I admittedly don’t compete at too many rated shows anymore (the cost is becoming prohibitive, particularly when there are high quality schooling shows available), but to be totally surrounded by talented small horses and their humans sounds like it could be an amazing and rewarding experience. If I were to make the trip, I would want it to be successful in the sense that Izzy was solid at the level entered and confident enough to do her best in a big environment.

    You may notice a theme here, that most of these goals are “way off” in the future, with many pre-requisite steps required before they are even possibilities. My dear friend Jen Verharen of Cadence Coaching always preaches “action precedes inspiration”. Often, we don’t make a move toward the thing we desire because we are waiting to feel ready, or for a sign from the universe, or for some other event to happen first. I now believe that we never feel ready, not for the really big stuff. It can be uncomfortable, even embarrassing, to admit to some of your deepest dreams, particularly when you know how much would need to happen to make them become reality. Putting these Bucket List ideas into words is one step toward taking bigger, broader steps; it sets the ball rolling.

    Now I challenge you to do the same—what is on your Equine Bucket List?

    Personal Stories, Travel Writing

    Riding Along the Pony Express

    1 Comment

    As I write this, a cold December rain is pelting the windows of my 1930’s farmhouse, escorted by vociferous wind gusts and soon to be followed by plummeting temperatures. It is the type of day best spent sequestered indoors, unless necessity or duty forces one out into the elements. And it is the sort of weather that recalls to mind the oft-repeated (though unofficial) creed of the US Postal Service: “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”

    Though the modern-day USPS certainly does (and should) delay deliveries in bad weather, between April 1860 and October 1861, the riders and horses of the Pony Express faced these hardships and more, with just a handful of routes left uncompleted. Mail was tucked into one of four locked cantinas on an ultra-lightweight, Spanish-style mochila slung over a simple wooden saddle, and riders faced weather, terrain, rough footing, and during the Paiute War, hostilities from Native Americans. Operated by the Central Overland California and Pike’s Peak Express Company, a freight company based in St. Joseph, Missouri, the Pony Express was, during its run, the most efficient mechanism of bringing news from coast to coast.

    Pony Express. (2022, December 13). In Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pony_Express

    The first west-bound rider, generally believed to be a young man named Johnny Frye, departed from the company’s offices in St. Joseph, Missouri on the evening of April 3, 1860; just a few hours later, an east-bound rider left the Alta Telegraph Company in San Francisco, California, boarded a ferry to Sacramento, and continued from there toward St. Joseph. Over the next weeks and months, this ritual continued; in an average of just 10 days, the mail was carried some 1,950 miles from one terminus to the other. Individual riders completed segments of as many as 100 miles, changing out mounts at relay stations along the way, each change occurring in just under two minutes flat.

    Pony Express mail included business and personal correspondence, newspapers, and even a transcript of President Lincoln’s inaugural address, all printed on special super thin, lightweight paper. By bringing important news from coast to coast faster than any other method available at the time, the Pony Express played a critical role in preserving unity when the country was on the precipice of the Civil War.

    Though a success in the sense that the Central Overland route taken by Pony Express riders had previously been considered impassable in winter, the Pony Express failed to ever recoup its expenses. Due to the need for speed, ponies were not allowed to carry more than twenty pounds of mail, and the cost of sending correspondence– as much as $5 an item (the equivalent of about $150 today)—meant that only the most important of messages were sent via pony. The Pony Express effectively bankrupted its founders—William Russell, Alexander Majors, and William B. Waddell, the principals of the Central Overland California and Pike’s Peak Express Company —who ultimately had to use their personal fortunes to pay off creditors.

    The final Pony Express run was on October 28, 1861, two days after the first transcontinental telegraph line was completed.

    All stamps depicting the Pony Express riders and horses were issued after the Express had been terminated. This one commemorates the 80th anniversary, its issuance the result of the collaborative efforts of the St. Joseph (MO) Stamp Collector’s Club and the Chamber of Commerce. Previously, these organizations had requested a 75th anniversary stamp, which was declined. According to Loving in The Pony Express Rides On, the design of the stamp was deemed not historically accurate by experts in regards to the style of saddle and the manner of riding and dress of the rider.
    Pony Express. (2022, December 13). In Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pony_Express

    Despite running for just a year and a half, today the Pony Express carries a somewhat romantic legacy, perhaps because it embodies the rugged spirit associated with the Caucasian male of the American West. It has been the subject of television and film, as well as several historical novels; there have been commemorative stamps, parades, and dedicated statues erected as tribute at both ends. But despite the modern fascination with the Pony Express, many specific details—including the actual route travelled and the exact names of all the riders and locations of stations—have been lost to history. Those who study the Express and its legacy have had to sort truth from fiction, and even they don’t always agree.

    I will admit that I am no US history buff, and my knowledge of the Pony Express was marginal back in 2020 when I signed up for the 1900 Mile Pony Express Challenge, sponsored by Warhorse Endurance as a benefit for the Pony Express National Museum. Conceptualized by endurance rider/photographer/podcaster Christina Hyke of Wisconsin, the Pony Express Challenge is an honor-system based “virtual” ride, with participants logging the miles they spend hiking, bicycling, walking, or, in my case, horseback riding. When participants log their miles into the database, they can chart their progress along the Pony Express route; upon completion, they earn a patch, sticker, belt buckle and, I suppose, bragging rights. As an avid distance rider, the challenge appealed to me on many levels, and I saw it as the perfect “pandemic project” to start on while most other activities were shut down.

    I learned a lot about the Pony Express from this book, The Pony Express Rides On, by Mabel Loving. Mrs. Loving dedicated over forty years of her life toward collecting materials on the history of the Express, conducting her painstaking research via written correspondence, first- person interview (only rarely done on the phone), and through scouring library, newspaper, and company archives. Unfortunately, Mrs. Loving died in 1957 with the project unfinished. Mary L. Reichert, a friend of Mrs. Loving and a librarian at the St. Joseph Public Library, assisted in compiling her extensive notes and papers into this volume– although Chapters 26 and 29 were never found. As a writer who has easy access to online databases and search engines when completing research, I am truly humbled by Mrs. Loving’s dedication, perseverance, and cross-checking of details across sources, when every such action required such tremendous time and physical effort.

    On Warhorse Endurance Podcast Episode 53, Hyke states that her inspiration in launching the virtual challenge was because “we believe the Pony Express Museum is a unique part of equine history, and one that is deserving of preservation.” When the pandemic hit, the Pony Express National Museum, located in the building that originally housed the Pony Express Stables in St. Joseph, was forced to close for 75 days, losing its main source of revenue (ticket sales) during that time. Warhorse Endurance contributed $5 from every entry fee for the virtual challenge to the Museum, and in 2021, a commemorative plaque listing the first 500 participants was hung in the museum’s front entrance.

    For me, it has been fun to track my virtual journey, superimposed on a modern-day map; as of the end of 2022, I am just outside Eureka, Nevada, with 370.22 miles left to go. I have been working on the ride for three seasons, compared to the 10 days of the original Express– but back then, no single rider completed the entire Express route. Instead, each rider specialized in covering a particular segment, and when he reached his end point, he waited at that station a few days for the mail coming from the opposite direction before returning home. I am using four horses to log my miles, though the majority have been covered on my two veteran mares, Anna and Lee, and mostly at the walk; an actual Pony Express rider would change his mount every seven to fifteen miles, and travelled mostly at the gallop.

    Anna and I finished our last Pony Express miles of 2022 the day before our first major storm in December. It was definitely not a seven to fifteen mile ride sort of day.

    Despite the fact that many of the exact locations of the nearly 200 Pony Express stations have been lost to history, an approximation of the route was commemorated by Congress in August 1992, when it established the Pony Express National Historic Trail. This route travels through Missouri, Kansas, Nebraska, Colorado, Wyoming, Utah, Nevada and California, and tourists can visit the known locations of 50 stations along the way. Some sections of the trail are also still ride-able, if you are so inclined.

    Above: Quite by accident, we came upon a memorial on the site of the Big Sandy Pony Express Relay Station, in Wyoming. Big Sandy was about the 18th stop on the route after departing St. Joseph, Missouri.

    Earlier this year, I was returning east after an overland journey of my own, one that traversed many of the states included on the original Express. My partner and I decided to detour to St. Joseph to visit the Pony Express National Museum ourselves; on a sunny spring morning, we parked our camper in the lot behind the historic building. The construction of its brick exterior, with small, grilled windows and arched doorways, reminded me of the design of city mews stables, leaving little doubt as to the building’s original function.

    I found this image of the Museum on Google, attributed to Steve Long.

    Inside, the uninitiated can learn more about the people and times of the Pony Express than perhaps they ever cared to know. Mannequins depict critical moments in Express history; murals and other artwork of the era or inspired by the Express add color to the interpretation. A Conestoga wagon dominates the middle of one room; in another, visitors can review a short film re-enacting the first Express ride. I especially appreciated an exhibit that shared the stories of several known Express riders and station-keepers, the latter of whose existence was arguably even more difficult and dangerous than that of the riders themselves. And in the lobby, I found a certain plaque that bears the name of 500 people who felt that the story of the Pony Express was one worth remembering.

    I promise my name is on here!

    In the podcast episode, Cindy Daffron, director of the Museum, states that what she finds most important about the story of the Pony Express is honoring the “ingenuity, hard work and dedication” of a “wonderful collection of people” who decided in January of 1860 that they would launch this ambitious project in April, just a few months later.

    “It was a daring ride,” Daffron says with a laugh. She is talking about the trail itself, but she may as well also have been referring to the Pony Express as a whole.

    And perhaps this is the enduring legacy of the Pony Express, and why its achievement still matters today. It is yet another reminder that even the most impossible-sounding of goals can sometimes be accomplished through a combination of grit, money, networking and good luck. Even in the challenges historians have found in establishing truth versus fiction in telling the Pony Express story, we can learn lessons about the importance of perseverance as well as accepting that we will not always know the entire truth about a situation. Most of all, the Pony Express is yet another stunning example of how when partnered with a horse, humans are capable of far more than they ever imagined.

    Personal Stories

    On Maintaining Your Integrity and Authenticity in the Equine Industry

    5 Comments

    Integrity (noun)

    1. Firm adherence to a code of especially moral or artistic values; incorruptibility
    2. An unimpaired condition; soundness
    3. The quality or state of being complete or undivided

    Definition from Merriam-Webster

    Recently, I have had occasion to ponder what it truly means “to have integrity”—integrity as an equestrian, as a professional, as a human being. Integrity means living your values and acting in accordance with your most deeply held principles, even when no one is watching. It means speaking up when you witness a deed or an action that violates your core beliefs, and sometimes, it means leaving a situation in which those values are violated so consistently that you can no longer function.

    JEF Anna Rose on a recent morning.

    The equine community is fraught with situations in which one’s ability to act with integrity is put to the test. It is no secret that the horse world is more divisive than it is unified, and discord among professionals is common.  When it comes to minor details of management—the “best” way to wrap a bridle, the “right” material to use in a bandage—I hope that most of us have the perspective to realize that there are, in fact, many possible (correct) answers. But when it comes to the “big stuff”— issues that truly impact the care and long-term well-being of the animals themselves—it can be harder or impossible to compromise on divergent perspectives.

    When I find myself in these situations, I always try to assume good intent. In other words, if I am in disagreement with a fellow professional, but I believe that we are both operating from a place that honors our personal integrity when it comes to the care and humane treatment of horses (drawn from our education, experience and intuition), it has often been possible to resolve the conflict. These are hard conversations to have, as are any that dig down into a person’s core values and beliefs. But what of those individuals who are simply unwilling to even enter into this dialogue, perhaps because such a conversation will expose their inability to listen to others, to seek appropriate help and/or to acknowledge their own lack of knowledge or understanding?

    This becomes a question of integrity.

    In 1965, in response to a government report on livestock husbandry, the UK Farm Animal Welfare Council released a document articulating the minimal requirements necessary to ethically care for any animal kept under human control. Known as the Five Freedoms, these tenets have been adopted by internationally known groups including the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA), the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (RSPCA) and the World Organization for Animal Health.

    The Five Freedoms are:

    1) Freedom from Hunger and Thirst by ready access to fresh water and diet to maintain health and vigor.

    2) Freedom from Discomfort by providing appropriate environment including shelter and a comfortable resting area

    3) Freedom from Pain, Injury and Disease by prevention or rapid diagnosis and treatment

    4) Freedom to Express Normal Behavior by providing sufficient space, proper facilities and company of the animal’s own kind

    5) Freedom from Fear and Distress by ensuring conditions and treatment which avoid mental suffering

    Spring Hollow Or Noir and Snowford Barna B enjoy each other’s company on a snowy morning.

    These principles were first shared over fifty years ago; while progress has been made, it saddens me to know that as a whole, humankind still fails to meet even these minimal baselines in our custodianship of other species. When it comes to equines specifically, those of us who not only care for them on a daily basis but rely upon them for our livelihood perhaps should post these tenets on our fridge, on our laptop and on the mirror we look at every morning. In particular, we must ask ourselves—does my work with horses violate any of their Five Freedoms? If so, how can I, how must I, do better?

    To do better requires integrity. For me, professionally and personally, in order to live with authenticity (see below), I cannot and will not tolerate those who do not act with integrity toward the animals.

    Spring Hollow Marquesa shows off her”frosticles” as a winter sun rises behind her.

    Authenticity (noun)

    1. Undisputed credibility
    2. The quality of being genuine or real

    Definition from vocabulary.com

    Having integrity requires authenticity. Authenticity is living your talk, and that sometimes means speaking and acting on behalf of your conscience. Many humans do not behave in an authentic manner. They play games, play politics, and play roles. Some are addicted to power and will do whatever it takes to maintain it, acting in different ways depending on who is around, manipulating facts, and blaming others for their own shortcomings. Trying to maintain one’s own authenticity while others around you do not is a true test.

    JEF Anna Rose

    Horses, unlike humans, are always authentic. Their actions are the direct result of their biological needs or emotional state. Horses do not deliberately act in misleading ways, have an agenda, care about your goals for them or carry an ego about what they can or cannot do. Horses just are. If we are willing, horses can teach us to live in the present and to allow our inner and outer selves to come into authentic alignment.

    For humans, living with authenticity takes courage and strength. It may cost friendships, jobs or clients when living with authenticity requires you to take action. But the cost of not living with authenticity is even greater, because when we compromise on our core values, the dissonance this creates will manifest itself—physically, emotionally, psychically.

    In dedicating time and reflection to this subject over the past several weeks, I am reminded yet again that attempting to control the actions, beliefs or behavior of anyone besides ourself is a futile endeavor. Knowing that I have and will continue to do my best work to promote compassionate horsemanship—and that others will do what they do— is perhaps the only way I know to overcome the impacts of those who do not operate with integrity and authenticity within the industry.

    I will close today’s meanderings with one of my favorite quotes:

    “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.” ~ Maya Angelou

    Horse Care and Management, Horses in Transition, Personal Stories

    Reflections on Gratitude, Part IV: Blessed are the Older Horses

    Leave a comment

    As daylight grows shorter and we enter the holiday season, it is natural for our thoughts to turn inward. This year, I find myself filled with gratitude to be the caretaker for three special horses over the age of 20 who, though semi-retired, continue to enhance the quality of my life every day.

    Lee, currently 22 years old, out for a hack on a crisp late fall morning.

    The truth is, I think about older horses a lot, especially those who have ‘served’ their humans, whether as lesson horse, show horse, therapeutic horse or pleasure mount, and are then discarded by their caretakers upon reaching a certain age. I recognize that not all horse owners have the financial or emotional capacity to care for an aging animal, but I also am prescient enough to realize that safe homes for older horses are far fewer in number than the quantity of older animals in need. I personally know people who seem to believe that every older horse will be peacefully retired in a large grassy field somewhere, but most of us who are deeply connected to the equine world understand that not only is this hope unreasonable, it is naïve. I have come to believe that the best chance for an older horse to find a safe haven is to stay sound and be useful in some capacity. But that means as an industry, we need to get over “equestrian agism” and we also need to start planning for the later years of the horses in our care far earlier in their careers.

    Carmel, who was probably 18 or 19 years old here, evented at novice level until he was 20 and then spent 7 years teaching various Pony Clubbers until officially “retiring” at 27. I rode him on leisurely walks several times a week until just before his death at 34 years old.

    While the cliché “age is just a number” is as relevant to horses as it is to anyone else, in my experience horse folks get a little funny about aged horses, as though chronology alone is enough to determine an individual horse’s suitability for particular activities. It applies at both ends of the age spectrum; just as not all young horses are ready for the demands of performance at set ages (as is asked in racing, futurities, developing or young horse classes, materiale, etc.), not all older horses are ready to completely retire. Yet all too often, equestrians will discount an older equine simply because of their age—despite the fact that these animals are often the ones that are trained enough, experienced enough and mellowed out enough to be EXACTLY the type of teacher the average rider needs.

    Carmel happily taught many young riders the fundamentals of good horsemanship. Here, with his friend Molly.

    Not too long ago, I overheard someone say (in regards to a lesson horse in his early 20’s), “he’s ancient”, the speaker’s tone and affect making it abundantly clear that she felt a horse of his seniority should no longer be in work at all, never mind be used in a lesson program. Now, I have known this particular horse for at least a decade, and his current workload is a significant ‘step down’ from what he did in his glory days; additionally, he still shows up at the ring with enthusiasm and pep, occasionally runs off with a student, and is as sound as he has been his entire life. He is maintained with no medications, no special shoeing, no exceptional requirements, all of which indicate (to me) that the horse seems to be comfortable and content in his current role. I wanted to ask the speaker what alternative reality would be better for this horse, who currently receives top quality care and love and adoration from his riders in exchange for his daily participation in a non-physically demanding lesson or two. Frankly, there are older humans who do not have it so good.

    As bodies age, of course there is a change in what they can physically handle. Age-related disorders may require routine monitoring from a medical expert, life-long medication and/or dietary changes to regulate. Some beings encounter bad luck in their lives, and a previous history of illness, injury, poor nutrition or dental care or inappropriate/inconsistent/inadequate exercise can all accumulate to make the onset of decline begin earlier. But with proactive care, routine maintenance and attention to detail, none of these factors are necessarily career ending; each being must be evaluated as an individual, and their care adjusted accordingly. Note that nothing I have stated here is unique to horses—it applies to humans or dogs or any other species you would like to examine.

    Marquesa is frequently called upon to be a role model for younger horses. Above, she is ponying a young Izzy. Below, with Nori.

    I now believe that when it comes to horse ownership, there is a ‘point of no return’; if you maintain ownership of a horse beyond the time where they will have meaningful value to others, then you must also accept that you now have a moral obligation to see that animal through to their end of life. If you know that you will be financially or emotionally unfit to do so, then it is imperative that you find that animal an owner who can and will make that commitment, well before the time comes that the animal is unsound, unusable or unfit for work. I will say it bluntly; few quality homes exist for aged animals that cannot fill some kind of “use” unless those homes already were bonded to the animal before they became “unusable”.

    Marquesa, 25 years old in 2021, won the North America Online Championships Adult Amateur Introductory Level Championship this year with summer intern Tiger Lily. She scored in the upper 60’s, having never done much correct dressage work at all until after her “retirement” at age 20. Notice that she hacks in a hackamore now, as well!

    The best final home for a well-cared for, aging animal is likely the one they are already in. Posting your older equine “free to good home” or “suitable for companion only” is akin to dropping your aged dog off at the shelter. Most of the time, there is no good ending to these stories.

    But wait, you say. I only have a limited budget…how am I supposed to move forward with my own equestrian pursuits while maintaining this expensive, long-lived pet?

    Well, here are a few options:

    1. When it becomes clear you are outgrowing your horse (size wise, skill wise, or otherwise) sell them sooner rather than later. Don’t wait until the job gets too hard, they get hurt or they get sour from being asked to go past their limit.
    2. Rough board your horse(s). Depending on the region, there are likely a range of rough or co-op board options that can allow owners to significantly reduce the cost of horse ownership in exchange for providing goods and/or labor.
    3. Lease your horse to a less-experienced rider. While not without risk, a carefully vetted and supervised free-lease can be a win/win on both counts. Your horse becomes a schoolmaster for someone else while relieving you of the financial burden of maintaining the horse for a period of months or years. Further, a lease will leave you with oversight over decisions related to the horse’s long-term care. If your horse is quite experienced, charging a modest monthly lease fee (while the lessee pays for his upkeep) can give you money to put in the bank to help support him in the future. Sometimes, a lessee comes to love your horse as much as (or more than) you do, and they are willing to take on permanent responsibility for the animal’s care.
    4. Consider leasing your “move up” horse instead of buying (see suggestion #3, though this time you are the less-experienced rider). Overall, leasing a horse will cost less than an outright purchase, and if circumstances change, a leased horse can always be returned to his owner.
    5. Consider setting new goals. One of the best things about horses (and equestrian sports in general) is that there are many different ways to challenge you and your mount. In my career, I have tried new disciplines because they seemed well-suited to the horse I was riding at the time. Instead of moving up in your current discipline, consider trying something new with the horse you have. Perhaps your former show hunter would like to do low-level dressage; maybe your ring-soured lesson horse would enjoy hunter paces. Trying new things only deepens the bond between horse and rider.
    When Lee needed to “step down” from her final competitive career in long distance rides, I began doing 100 mile “virtual” challenges with her instead. So far, she has completed the 2020 Valkyrie 100 Mile, the 2021 Virtual Tevis and the 2021 Warhorse 100 Mile. She has added assorted additional miles to our cumulative 1900 Mile Pony Express Challenge as well.

    There are plenty of other ways that people have made it work, and if you are motivated, it is almost always possible to find a solution. It won’t necessarily be easy, and it may even require some hustle and sacrifice. But I think it is beyond time that we in the equine industry normalize planning for our older horse’s later years and honor those who fully commit to the on-going care of these animals—even if that means a comfortable (older) horse is kept in light work.

    Snowy may be 28 years old this year but he still enjoyed a recent trip to Hampton Beach, even spooking at the foamy surf as it “chased” him along the shore.

    Speaking for myself, watching my semi-retired horses teach other riders–allowing these riders the chance to jump their first cross country fences, to safely ride in the open, to experience what connection feels like– is almost as satisfying as it was to teach my horses these skills in the first place. It may sound trite, but seeing someone else truly enjoy your horse’s company and gain confidence and skills thanks to their wisdom is a reward beyond measure. And when I am having a tough time, or the weather is a little dicey, my “go-to” ride is not my talented youngster; it is the venerable veteran, who I can rely on to have my back when conditions are not the best. My older horses owe me nothing—yet they continue to give.

    Every morning that I am greeted by these special creatures is a gift. Whether it is watching Snowy roll in his favorite spot on the grass field, watching Marquesa boss young Izzy around or waiting for Lee to finish her grain, even the simplest and most every day of occurrences bring a smile. How lucky am I to be their steward, and how enriched has my life been for having them in it?

    Clinic Reports, Personal Stories, Training Tips and Techniques

    Exploring Fundamental Horsemanship with Kip Fladland

    Leave a comment

    “A bad day with your horse is still better than a good day doing most anything else”~ Kip Fladland

                    During a heat wave in early June, I had the opportunity to participate in a three-day clinic focusing on groundwork and foundational horsemanship with Kip Fladland at Linden Woods Farm in Durham, New Hampshire. I first heard about the clinic during the depths of our New England winter and decided it sounded like the perfect opportunity to get my rising 6-year-old Connemara/Thoroughbred cross, DRF Isabela, off farm for an educational outing.

                    As the owner/trainer of two younger horses (Izzy and her stablemate, the 4-year-old Morgan mare Spring Hollow Or Noir), I have been increasingly interested in understanding how effective groundwork can play a role in giving green horses a solid foundation. I think what most attracts me to these techniques is seeing how horses properly trained through effective groundwork tend to be sensitive yet sane, confident and connected to their handler, yet also respectful of boundaries. The training becomes almost a series of puzzles for the horse to solve, and it engages them as a partner rather than forcing submission.

     Note that I said “properly trained”; when it comes to groundwork, most of the time what I actually see are (middle-aged) women with their rope halters waving around their arms ineffectually while their horses proceed to walk all over them. I am sure this behavior is not these owners’ intended outcome, but they as of yet lack the finesse, feel or practice to get the timing right with their body language, with the end result being a confused and slightly feral horse.

    JEF Anna Rose and I on day one. Note our elegant homemade flag and her non-matching bell boots. This is definitely the first time I have ever put her in a rope halter.

                    Lest you think I am being unnecessarily harsh toward middle-aged women and their rope halters, I now resemble that remark. Izzy’s rope halter arrived in the mail only about ten days before the clinic and my “flag” was made from an old dressage whip whose lash had broken off, a faded blue bandana, and a rubber band that came with my asparagus. And when I began trying to use said flag at the clinic to effect certain responses from my horse, while also maintaining particular body positioning, it felt like learning a new dance with the instructions coming in an unfamiliar language. I frequently felt awkward, overconfident, briefly successful, then full of questions.

                    Since returning home, I have continued to practice the techniques I learned over these three days. I am confident that I have forgotten more than I remember, despite my notes and application in practice. However, I do feel that playing with some of these basic techniques has resulted in positive changes, particularly with my young horses.

    DRF Isabela looking a little alert at the start of the clinic on day two.

                    With the pandemic curtailing our travel plans last year, I looked forward to taking Izzy out in public and start exposing her to the world beyond Cold Moon Farm at this clinic. As it goes with horses, circumstances dictated that I needed to bring my veteran halfbred Connemara, JEF Anna Rose, for day one, but Izzy was able to make the trip for days two and three.  

                    Here are a few of my top take-aways from this experience:

    1. Controlled flag handling is key. Learning to handle the flag effectively is probably one of the most important pieces in terms of communicating your intent and desire to the horse. The flag can be used to direct them forward, turn them and encourage more activity from the hindquarters, but it can also be used to reassure them and give them confidence. The horse has to become what I would call “positively de-sensitized” to the flag, much like they do with dressage wands or longe whips. In other words, your horse should respond to the flag, but not fear it.

    On day one, I had no further finished explaining that Anna tended to be rather dull and non-responsive to aids when she reacted to the flag as though I chased her with a flaming arrow. Kip watched as she spun around and around in an effort to get away from the flag’s presence near her haunches with a rather dry comment: “And you say you ride this one?”. I laughed and replied that if Anna were half as electric under saddle as she was toward that flag, we might have gotten a little further in our dressage work. By the end of the session, she tolerated the flag on her, near her and touching her pretty much anywhere.

    You will see that Anna fairly quickly acclimated to the flag and became her usual rather non-reactive self.

    On day two, a new horse joined our group who was rather impressively reactive to the flag. Leslie Ann McGowan, trainer at Double A Equestrians and a long time student of Kip’s, stepped in to handle the horse. Despite the horse’s honest fear and confusion, Leslie Ann remained calm and simply consistently exposed him to the flag until he started to settle. Throughout the clinic, horses had occasional big responses to the aids, or misunderstandings of the aids, to which Kip replied at one point, “She’s not a teacup and you aren’t gonna break her.” As with humans, sometimes for the horse to learn, they must make mistakes and express frustration and confusion before understanding what is expected of them. As trainers, we can’t be afraid of these messy moments if we hope to help our horse learn.

    The flag is held like a tennis racket, and there are four ways to change the flag from one hand to the other, each of which will achieve an increasing degree of engagement in the hocks. When your flag changes hands, the horse usually is also changing direction. One important note is that you should never switch the flag on the ground through the blind spot in front of the horse’s nose. If you do this, the movement can scare them and some horses will strike with their forelegs.

    It would appear that here I am attempting to send Izzy forward but have perhaps failed to open the forehand first. Sigh. So much to learn.

    The position of your opposite arm combines with the flag to direct the horse. If using the flag to send the horse forward, the hand should be in a leading position. If rubbing the horse with the flag to reassure them, your opposite hand should drop toward your thigh.

    • Reward the try but also don’t wait for perfection before you ask for more.

    Whatever you are asking the horse to do: move away, turn, yield in the poll, etc., it is important to recognize the smallest effort by releasing the pressure as soon as you sense the horse is yielding to what you have asked. One of the most common ways that trainers go wrong is they hold too long, or expect too much, and the horse begins to resist rather than try.

    At the same time, if we wait for every piece to be perfect before moving on, we will never get anywhere at all. As with most training, we must accept the try, and a result that is a little bit better than before, rather than nitpick doggedly until the horse is perfect.

    A nice scratch on the forehead for a good effort.

    One of our first tasks was to ask our horses to step out and away from us, leading with their outside foreleg. Kip called this “opening”; if you are “opening” to the left, the horse’s right fore will step out and the horse tracks left. To initiate the movement, we raised our hands toward the horse’s head and neck and without contact (at first), applied pressure to ask the horse to move. At first, in response, horses may raise their head, step into the handler, back up, move forward, or simply not move at all. The handler must hold her ground and not back up; the horse must learn to move out of the handler’s space. Through all of those little mistakes from the horse (‘do you want me to go this way? Or this way? How about this?) the handler must remain calm, clear in her mind of what she is looking for, and ready to release as soon as the hoof moved out.

    Our next task was to open the forehand and then, using the flag, send the horse out on a small circle around us. We were to keep the horse actively moving, slightly bent to the inside through their body and with the legs moving “united”; Kip describes this as when the left legs are on the same track as each other and the right legs on their own matching track. The flag can be used to create the energy, encourage the horse to step away, or to reassure them; if the horse has become too desensitized to it, the handler will need to use the flag assertively to once again elicit a positive response. Once the horse marched several circles united and with correct bend, we asked them to halt by stepping toward the hindquarter and raising the lead diagonally toward the withers. The horse’s hindquarters should step out (crossing over with inside hind) and their neck bend in. Kip called this “disengaging” the hind quarter, though he doesn’t love that term.

    Working on the active, bent circle.

    In doing some of these movements, I was struck (not for the first time) by how much overlap there is between some of these concepts and the fundamentals of dressage. My former coach, Verne Batchelder, had a movement he called “the circle of submission”, in which the rider actively executed a volte and asked the horse to step the hindquarters out for several strides while maintaining the inside bend and position of the neck. However you say it–asking the horse to yield their hips, engage their hocks, move their feet—ultimately requires that the horse be willing to allow their bodies to be manipulated and their toplines to begin to relax and stretch. It is simple biomechanics; a horse cannot reach further under his body with the hind legs if his back is tight.

    Kip taught a mounted session in the afternoons; I was able to make it back to observe a few hours of day two’s lesson. He emphasized that all of the flag exercises he does on the ground, he also does while mounted. Though I didn’t get to see much of how he incorporates the flag into mounted work, he mentioned that at the end of day one, he backed a leggy 2-year-old warmblood that was in our group; by the end of that first ride (which was a very low stress experience, from what I was told), he was riding with the flag.

    Each session, Kip worked with a horse with whom he could demo the various skills and techniques. I was floored to learn that this calm, elegant Quarter Horse mare of Karen Bishop’s was only 4 years old! She demoed in the morning set and then was ridden in the afternoon. Truly wise beyond her years!

    • I should ask my horses to back more often and with more intention.

    Kip introduced several ways of asking the horse to back in hand which can then be translated to work under saddle. The most basic option requires the horse to back to the end of the lead rope from a rather light flick of the line; we also played with asking the horse to back with poll flexion off of noseband pressure from the halter (from each side) as well as backing on a straight line off a short shank (also from each side). This last form of backing can easily be added onto a yield of the haunches.

    Practicing backing up in hand. Here, you should have your hand upside down on the knot of the halter, as opposed to right side up like I have it here. That way you can use your elbow to keep the horse’s head away from you if they swing it up! Kip had us apply side to side pressure on the noseband using the knot under the chin, with the goal of the horse softly flexing in the poll and smoothly stepping back.

    In later sessions, we also learned how to add neck flexion in time with the lift of the foreleg on the outside, which caused the horse to back onto an arc. We later played with backing parallel to the wall, then timing a flick of the flag with the “about to step” movement of any individual limb. This causes the horse to balance back and then push forward with more power. With four distinct limbs to focus on, there is plenty to practice.

    On days two and three, when Izzy was with me, we also played with backing under saddle. Until that day, I had never asked Izzy to back even a single step with me on board, and Kip wanted us to start with five steps on a soft feel, then add a bend in the horse’s neck and back on a quarter turn! I can’t say we were the most successful pair in the ring, but thinking about our work on the ground helped with the intention under saddle. When Izzy expressed confusion, Kip had me break down the movement so it became one step back, one step bend.

    Watching Kip demonstrate asking the horse to yield the neck in either direction at the halt. Depending on whether a leg aid is applied, the horse should either simply move their neck or also yield their haunches.

    One of Kip’s overall themes was to never waste an opportunity to move your horse’s feet with intention. This could be as simple as opening the forehand or yielding the haunches, or as elaborate as walking on a straight line of your choosing with the horse walking half circles in each direction in front of you.

    Despite three, three hour long sessions and the opportunity to audit two hours of a second group’s mounted lesson, I know that this clinic has only allowed me to scratch the surface of a skill set that Kip says has taken him twenty-five years of hard work to earn. Since the clinic, I have been playing with these tools fairly consistently with both Izzy and Nori, and in general most of the movements are starting to feel easier and better coordinated on my end. However, I do find myself wondering what I am doing wrong—because I am certain I have already forgotten about some important detail related to timing, posture or position—but I think Kip might say that it is better to try a little than not at all. You certainly don’t get any better at new skills by just daydreaming about them.

    Practicing is important but sometimes it is also necessary to stop and listen to the instructions!

    And in terms of my initial and main motivation—to take Izzy off farm for a positive outing—this clinic was a great success. She trailered on her own like a veteran, and upon arrival did nothing sassier than a few nervous whinnies. There were so many firsts for her—first time being ridden off farm, first time being ridden in a group, first time being ridden in an indoor, first time seeing mirrors—and I think in any other setting I would have been even more nervous than she was. But by the time we had finished an hour and a half of ground work each day, getting on board for the second half of each set was basically a non-event. Izzy came home from the clinic more confident and more mature than she went into it—which means the experience was a success, even if I still need more practice on the timing with my flag or position of my body when opening the forehand.

    Kip Fladland grew up in Montana and worked on several cattle ranches before meeting legendary horseman Buck Brannaman. Inspired by Brannaman’s teachings, Fladland began working for him in 1996 and traveled with him for five years. Since 2004, he has conducted his own clinics across the country as well as started/re-started thousands of horses for clients. I found Fladland to be patient, firm, clear and consistent—exactly the type of temperament necessary for success with horses, or let’s be honest, people in general. To learn more, visit his website: https://www.kipfladlandhorsemanship.com/

    As always, gracious thanks to our clinic organizers, Karen Bishop and Leslie Ann McGowan of Linden Woods Farm. Thank you for continuing to bring top caliber clinicians to our area and for welcoming the local community to your lovely facility so that we all can expand our education.

    Personal Stories

    Ending the Pandemic Pause

    1 Comment

    hi·ber·na·tion

    noun

    1. the condition or period of an animal or plant spending the winter in a dormant state.

    “grizzly bears gorge on seeds to prepare for hibernation”

    • an extended period of remaining inactive or indoors.

    “the fair-weather cyclists are emerging from winter hibernation”

    (all definitions from Oxford Languages)

    I look forward to the arrival of spring at Cold Moon Farm each year with eager anticipation. For me, the predictability of restoring the farm to a more active state after winter’s dormancy provides a sense of satisfaction; the requirement of annual chores marks the passage of time, affirms that even when snow comes in April (as it did this year), spring will prevail in the end.

    April 16, 2021. I didn’t actually cry but it was close.

    Step by step, the essential equipment of winter—bucket heaters, extension cords, heavyweight blankets, shovels—is cleaned and stowed away, replaced by hoses and fly masks and the onset of shedding season. Gardens are raked, the horse trailer pulled out of its winter parking spot, grooming tools and grain bins washed and aired out. Each task completed marks a satisfying check off the “to do” list and brings me one step closer to the best riding months of the year here in New England.

    The arrival of robins and eastern bluebirds and barn swallows marks the end of winter’s rest for the horses; in the past, I have called this period the “deferalization of spring”. It starts with a renewed commitment to deep grooming, shedding blades and sturdy curry combs erasing the feathery remains of winter coats while pulling combs and thinners shorten manes that have become unkempt. The farrier pulls winter shoes and snow pads, making feet seem cleaner and lighter. We start legging up the experienced horses with thirty minute walks, increasing to an hour, then adding light arena work. The green beans go on the longe line or work in the round pen, hopefully demonstrating some memory of lessons learned last season.

    Just another day of shedding season for this professional hair-grower. (JEF Anna Rose)

    This spring, it feels as though my personal equestrian hibernation has been longer than usual. This was the first winter in years I didn’t avail myself of an indoor, instead giving all of my horses three months off. Yet in some ways my “extended period of remaining inactive” began long before the winter solstice. I haven’t competed in person since 2019, took only two lessons in 2020 and otherwise hauled out just a handful of times for trail rides. Now, as both the calendar and world around me proclaim that it is time to resume activity, I find that I am struggling to emerge from my sheltered cocoon.

    There are so many reasons for this. The pandemic, of course, is a huge part of it; given the many uncertainties over the past year, it was logical to simply stay home, and I am out of practice. But the pandemic also became a wonderful excuse to simply remain within my comfort zone and avoid new challenges that might intimidate me—challenges that could also test my skills and inspire me to grow. Even though doing new or difficult things can produce anxiety, nerves and even a little fear, it is the successful completion of these small challenges that develops confidence. And having had little opportunity to achieve these small stepping stones in the past eighteen months has left me feeling less confident than before all of this started.

    Through Lee’s ears.

    I recently interviewed a top hunter/jumper coach and course designer on the subject of riding under pressure; he commented that humans in general tend to move away from pressure but the most successful riders instead continuously seek it, putting themselves and their equine partners into situations in which they must manage nerves, excitement, challenge and stress. Navigating pressure—whatever that looks like for you—is where growth occurs. Living within your comfort zone is safe but will not and cannot produce new growth.

    My extended hibernation was inspired by the pandemic but augmented by excuses and transitions such as horses needing to step down career wise and horses needing time to mature. It has left me feeling too familiar with my comfort zone and excessively rusty and out of practice with pushing my boundaries. Now, I have a rising 6-year-old ready to go out and see the world. Regionally, shows and clinics and other equestrian activity is on the upswing. All signals indicate that the time for hibernation is over—but after such a long period of inactivity, it is so tempting to stay within the security and familiarity of my comfort zone.

    re·new·al

    noun

    1. an instance of resuming an activity or state after an interruption.

    “a renewal of hostilities”

    • the action of extending the period of validity of a license, subscription, or contract.

    “the contracts came up for renewal”

    • the replacing or repair of something that is worn out, run-down, or broken.

    It is easy to feel inspired by spring. The annual process of nature’s renewal is manifested by drab fields rebounding lush and vibrant, buds on branches unfurling leaves with panache and perennial flowers and bushes bursting with color. As I complete morning chores, the air is filled with the trills and warbles of birds dividing territory and attracting mates. This natural cycle happens whether we will it or not, whether we notice it or not. The renewal is inevitable.

    Rabbit the Barn Cat poses with the posies.

    For me, the first true days of spring, when the sun is finally strong enough and warm enough to kiss the skin and warm the soil, are a tonic for the ache winter leaves behind. The smell of fresh earth, the feel of heat on your cheeks, the chirp and whistle of a vivacious cardinal, all demand to be experienced.

    Spring is a time of inspiration and action. I make promises to myself, set goals, make lists. I think about which projects need versus would be nice to complete on the farm. I make more lists and set timelines. On a separate page I write each horse’s name. I list activities for them, too. I am a planner, and these lists are a road map directing our progress through the weeks ahead.

    But even so, as imperceptibly as Mother Nature restores her environs from dormancy to activity, my inherent drive toward achieving my goals has changed. This year, I am finding the renewal offered by the change of season insufficient to fully offset my inertia.

    A winter rainbow.

    There was a time when each spring, I highlighted activity after activity on the print out of the West Newbury Riding and Driving Club’s calendar of equine events. I was out on the road with my horses to compete or clinic two or three times per month, borrowing trailers and occasionally entire rigs from generous friends (what amazing trust they had in me) or bartering rides. When I later acquired my own trailer, I became even more mobile. I shipped out for weekly jump lessons. We hauled to competitions all over New England and New York. I let little stand in my way in pursuit of participating in those activities I had set my mind to.

    For most of the early aughts, I kept two or three horses in full work year round, while also stabling two of them on rough board, finishing a Masters degree and holding down a full time job that often required evening or weekend commitments. My days started early and ran long. I had an internal drive that was impossible to ignore and compelled me to push through fatigue and frustration. I was motivated at least partially by catch phrases which are probably now memes, expressions like ‘hard work beats talent when talent doesn’t work hard’ or ‘shoot for the moon because even if you miss you will land among the stars’.

    I didn’t make this meme….but I could have.

    But what used to be a raging inner fire to ‘go out and do’ seems to have tempered to a gentler glow. Where I used to wring my hands over a missed ride or schooling set, now I sigh and think, ‘well, another day’. I see photos on social media of friends who have eagerly returned to competition after vaccination (as well as those who never hung it up to begin with) and think ‘good for them’.

    Yet my own calendar remains blank.

    I will admit that in some ways, I have had a discouraging few years. In 2019, I made the decision to retire my distance horse, Lee, from competition and have had to step back from a new sport I really enjoyed. In 2020, after pushing and pressuring Anna for several years, I finally had to admit that it is unlikely I will be able to finish my USDF Bronze Bar with her.

    But these minor disappointments cannot take away the many years of success and fun we have had together. I have partnered with each of these special mares since their 6-year-old year; in 2021, Lee will be 22 and Anna, 17. Looking back at all I have experienced with them is an amazing trove of memories and moments. They have each immeasurably shaped my journey as a horseman and trainer and I consider myself lucky to have them both living in my front yard, sound, happy and useful animals, albeit in different ways than before.

    The long partnerships I have enjoyed with Anna and Lee are perhaps why the thought of starting new journeys with Izzy and Nori is, at times, overwhelming. Each of these youngsters was less than two when they arrived here at Cold Moon Farm, and so of course there was much for them to learn. Izzy, now 6 years old, is at an age where she can be expected to manage more both mentally and physically. Nori, now 4, is also ready to build on the foundation laid in the past two years, which will hopefully include being backed this summer.

    Nori, during an early spring grooming session (after she was too sassy to manage her patience in the barn.)

    My younger self would have proceeded forward with a ‘just do it’ mentality, but today I hesitate and worry too much about the ‘what if’s’. And after over a year of easy excuses to avoid taking young horses out in the world, it is hard to be brave enough to tell my monkey brain to be quiet and take a seat.

    Someday, maybe someday soon, I will have no excuses left. And I will have to either decide to ‘just do it’… or out of fairness to these young horses’ future, hand the reins over to someone else who can.

    met·a·mor·pho·sis

    noun

    1. (in an insect or amphibian) the process of transformation from an immature form to an adult form in two or more distinct stages.

    “the persistence of the larval tail during metamorphosis”

    • a change of the form or nature of a thing or person into a completely different one, by natural or supernatural means.

    “his metamorphosis from presidential candidate to talk-show host”

    There are many lessons humanity ought to take away from the experience of a global pandemic, and it seems impossible that any individual who is remotely connected to the mainstream can emerge from the past eighteen months truly unchanged. Personally, I struggle with the idea of a “return to normal,” as neither I nor the world around me are the same as before.

    In a March 2020 blog post, I wrote:

    “The coronavirus/COVID-19 pandemic will change all of us in small and large ways. I fervently hope that for many Americans, this time of challenge will allow nearly everyone the opportunity to reset their compass and focus on those pieces of our lives that matter on a deep, fundamental level. I believe that most equestrians did not start riding to win ribbons; we started riding because we felt inexplicably drawn to these powerful and majestic animals. Those of us still lucky enough to have horses in our lives after the dust settles have a responsibility to remember that magic and to share it with others.”

    I’m not sure I fully recognized it then, but perhaps this sentiment was an early stage of what I can only call my equestrian metamorphosis. Increasingly, I am more interested in the positive impact that horses have on those they touch than I am in personally pursuing upper level sport. At whatever point in the future my own career comes to an end, I don’t want it to be defined only by my competitive success (or, let’s be honest, lack thereof). Instead, I hope that I will be recognized as a practitioner of compassionate horsemanship, as a model of affordable, sustainable horse management practices and as a teacher who took the time to truly listen to her students and their horses, celebrating the victory of establishing the correct foundation that makes a lifetime of enjoyment with horses possible.

    Spring Hollow Marquesa on an early spring ride.

    For a caterpillar to become a beautiful butterfly, it literally obliterates its original form, then rearranges cells and tissues into new patterns and connections. If the chrysalis is cracked open before the process is complete, the cycle may be irrevocably interrupted. Metamorphosis is messy and destructive of old forms and behaviors. But going through this process is essential for the caterpillar to become its highest evolved self– a butterfly able to offer its services as a pollinator, visiting spring flowers and perpetuating the cycle of renewal.

    Perhaps instead of considering the Pandemic Pause a set back to my continued evolution as an equestrian, I need to think of it as time spent in the chrysalis. As with the caterpillar, old models of doing things must be dismantled for new forms to emerge. Perhaps my slow return to full activity is more about testing new wings, recently unfurled, than it is about not living up to old, outdated expectations of myself. Perhaps this metamorphosis is about cementing that my horsemanship journey is and always has been about the relationship I enjoy with each horse specifically. It is about shedding the weight of expectation that I have been so accustomed to carrying so that I can instead move more freely from one beautiful moment to the next.

    Horse Care and Management, Magazine Articles, Personal Stories

    Growing Pains

    Leave a comment

    Spring Hollow Or Noir, who goes by Nori at home, is a rising 4 year old Morgan and the youngest horse at Cold Moon Farm. I recently learned that she is the first foal of her sire, Spring Hollow Statesman, and many eyes besides my own are eagerly watching her develop. I adore her, I admire her and I am excited about her future. But at the same time, raising young horses isn’t all sunshine and lollipops, and that is what I want to talk about in this blog.

    Nori on her third birthday, June 2020

    When it comes to raising and developing a young horse, I think it is important for equestrians to share stories of challenge and setback and to be honest about the ups and downs of the training process. Sure, sharing the victories feels pretty sweet and I appreciate hearing about those moments– but let’s not pretend that getting there didn’t include hitting a few potholes along the way. Otherwise, it is too easy to scroll social media posts and feel as if we are being left behind by our peers, progressing too slowly, or are otherwise doing things wrong.

    When it comes to Nori, I feel this like whoa, especially when it comes to the past year.    

     Separating Your Seedlings

    In theory, I would have liked to back Nori this past summer, when she was 3, as I did with Izzy; here, “backing” is defined as me sitting on her in a saddle while being led around by a ground handler. Compared to Izzy at the same age, Nori looked much more physically developed yet mentally, she seemed much younger. I decided to hold off.

    That choice was a good one, because as it turned out, Nori had her own plans for what she wanted to accomplish in her three-year-old summer.

    For the better part of two years, Nori and DRF Isabela, (two years older and better known as Izzy) were the best of friends. They shared hay piles, took naps together and scratched each other’s backs. But as Nori matured, small cracks began to form in their relationship. From day one, the herd ranking had clearly been Marquesa at the top, Izzy in the middle and Nori at the bottom. But by summer 2020, Nori began subtly staking her claim on a higher social rank. The symptoms were so understated at first that I almost missed them—slightly more frequent squeals, small bite marks, an occasional challenge for a prime sleeping spot—but by early summer there was no mistaking that in Nori, we had a ‘social climber on the rise’.

    Nori (left) and Izzy (right), before the troubles began.

    One day in early July, I came home from a day of hiking to find Nori a bit more banged up than usual; she had a few new cuts, all small, and a front leg was a little puffy. Then I realized that she was intermittently locking her stifle. Ugh. After a video consult with my vet, we deferred further investigation of the injury until the next day. Dr. Monika’s exam revealed that Nori had overextended her left stifle, resulting in some inflammation and a possible teeny tiny avulsion fracture where a piece of ligament had pulled away from bone. Stall rest was out of the question so we opted to do a round of NSAIDs and to try to keep Nori as quiet as possible in her paddock. Thankfully, the swelling resolved and the stifle stabilized after only a few minor setbacks.

    One of several photos I texted to Dr. Monika as we tried to determine “Red Alert” injury vs. “can safely wait until morning”.

    But the die had been cast. Over the next several weeks, while Nori was supposed to be “resting quietly in her paddock”, the tension between her and Izzy escalated. Sometimes, the two were their usual inseparable selves. But increasingly, I heard scuffles in the paddock, their intensity growing with each skirmish.

    The final straw came one morning at 5:00 AM. I awoke to the sound of a significant altercation between one or more horses, accompanied by worried whinnies from the rest of the herd. I ran out in my pajamas to find that Izzy had cornered Nori and was trying to kick her over and over. I grabbed a halter and lead and ran into the paddock, swinging the rope and yelling like a crazy banshee woman (it is perhaps a good thing that my closest neighbor is also an early riser). I’m not sure this was the smartest move–nor do I know what I would have done next had it proved unsuccessful– but it distracted Izzy long enough that Nori could get away. I threw everyone some hay, checked over each horse and headed back into the house.

    However, I knew the reprieve would only be temporary.

    Looking majestic while on a hand walk fall 2020. Two halters because I sometimes don’t trust the rope one!

    Over coffee that morning, I commented, “You know, if I was boarding somewhere, I would be all over the barn manager to get my horse out of that paddock. NOW.”

    Unfortunately, there wasn’t a single readily available location on the property to put Nori, or anyone else, without significant reconfiguration. While I finished my own breakfast, I worked out a short-term arrangement that would at least get us through the day. I moved our elder statesman, Snowy, to a grass field where he spends most mornings anyway, then moved Nori into Snowy’s “Bachelor Pad”– a dry lot attached to a two-stall shelter. As I slipped her halter off, I exhaled a sigh of relief. For the moment, at least, the situation was stabilized.

    Later that day, we subdivided the Bachelor Pad in half with three strands of electric rope, added a new gate and voila– Snowy and Nori became neighbors. Despite neither horse having tons of room, they adjusted well and we worked hard to ensure that each horse had extra “out of paddock” time. Snowy spent four or five hours every day in the grass turnout and went for regular rides, and Nori went for hand walks in addition to daily groundwork training. I was relieved that Nori was indifferent when Snowy left to go do things without her; she seemed to enjoy supervising activity in the riding arena, located just adjacent.

    Spring 2020, still with the “girls”.

    But with fall rapidly approaching and winter on its heels, these two tiny turnouts could not be a permanent solution. After several rounds of brainstorming, we spent the rest of the summer and early fall building an additional in/out stall with its own fenced dry lot area off the side of the barn. In early October, the new “Nori Habitat” was finally ready and she moved in.

    Nori in the Nori Habitat.

    Seedlings Up Rooted

    In a perfect world, a young horse has other young horses to play with. Though Nori seemed quite content in her own space, I worried that she would need additional sources of psychological engagement now that she wasn’t directly next to another horse. But ultimately, I felt the separation was a sacrifice I had to make to reduce the risk of serious injury. I made an effort to spend time with her every day, even as the weather grew colder.

    One Saturday afternoon in mid-December, I was sitting at my writing desk and staring out the big window that faces the Nori Habitat. Suddenly, there was a loud “whoosh” and a second later Nori slammed full bore into her heavy duty gate, bending the metal and knocking it off the top hinge. Snow sliding off the metal roof of the barn had startled her, and she did what many startled horses do; she ran. But the paddock is just a few strides long, the footing was slippery from early snow, and she couldn’t stop in time. That night, we had to use the tractor to flatten the gate in order to get it reattached correctly. Fortunately, Nori was uninjured.

    Some of the damage from Crash # 1.

    A month later, Nori spooked and knocked the gate off its hinges again. The damage was less severe this time, but as we worked to get the pieces reconnected, I felt the first twinges of concern brewing in my subconscious. Is this going to be a “thing”? Will this horse learn to practice self-restraint? Will she desensitize to the noise before she causes herself serious injury?

    Then one evening in early February, Nori spooked and ran a third time. Learning from her previous mistakes, she turned to avoid the gate but instead she slid into the wooden fence itself. Her momentum broke a 4×4 post as well as a three board fence lined with strands of aluminum wire. Now loose, Nori ran to the gate of her original paddock, where Izzy and Marquesa stood, whinnying their worry.

    It is a true miracle that Nori escaped from this with not even a scratch.

    I was incredulous when we caught her that the filly had emerged unscathed. Not even a tiny tear on her Horsewear blanket revealed that she had just demolished a fairly significant fence line.

                    By headlamp and tractor light, that evening we managed to reconstruct the fence. The broken post was partially frozen into the ground and we had to pour hot water around the stump, fastening a chain to pull it out of the earth. By 8 PM, Nori was back in her Habitat. But I was a mass of nerves.

    Nori loves to hang out in the snow. The Bachelor Pad is in the background.

                    This situation is a time bomb, I thought as I tossed and turned that night instead of sleeping. We have been lucky so far. But if she keeps hitting the fence, sooner or later, our luck will run out.

    My brain, most of the time.

                    I started to worry that, despite my very best efforts, I was failing to meet this horse’s basic needs.

                    About two weeks later, on a warmish sunny February afternoon, I went out to throw lunch hay to find Nori soaked in sweat on her chest and flanks. She had been totally fine just a few hours earlier, when I had groomed her, but now she was anxious, pawing and wanting to roll. I immediately assumed she was colicking, but then I heard the roar of snowmobiles and the accompanying cheers of their riders coming from the powerline trails behind the farm. Whenever the machines raced past, Nori’s eyes grew bigger and her anxious behavior increased.

                    Still wondering if she was starting to colic, I haltered her and took her out of the paddock. She had a good roll in softer snow and immediately started nibbling hay in between anxious spins. I walked her around and tried to soothe her, but she was inconsolable. I finally put her back in the paddock and watched her helplessly.

                    I AM failing this horse. No matter what I do, she isn’t happy.

                    There probably isn’t a worse feeling in the world than knowing you have a problem and trying every solution you can think of, only to have the problem get worse.

                    Maybe she just needs a little more space?

                    I briefly debated putting Nori back out with her original herd, but with winter footing and the memories of earlier issues still clear, I quickly crossed that idea off the list. Then I looked at Snowy, sleeping in the sun in his Bachelor Pad. Without the divider, it was maybe a third larger than the Nori Habitat. The position of the double sided shed provided a buffer from the noises out back. Snowy never reacts when snow comes sliding down off the roof and at 26+ years old, prefers to only amble slowly.

    Creeping on Nori while walking solo on the power line trails.

                    Within a few minutes, I had traded the two horses—Nori went in the Bachelor Pad (perhaps now a “She Shed”?) and Snowy in the Nori Habitat. He quickly busied himself cleaning up her hay. She spent the rest of the afternoon pirouetting and bucking, pacing and prancing. But she could do so without sliding into the fence, or the gate, and eventually she seemed to burn herself out and settled to eating hay, too.

                    And this arrangement is where each horse is currently located. Whether it will work long term—well, at this point, who really knows? It is working for now, and with improving weather and footing, Nori will only be getting more interactions and activities to keep her mind and body busy. All I can do is hope.

                    But that day with the snowmobiles was, for me, a personal low. It was a day where I doubted if I have what it takes to work with this talented, athletic, sensitive mare and wondered if she would simply be better off with someone else.

                    I want my horses to be content, to feel safe and secure in their environment. What is this mare trying to tell me she needs that I am not giving her?

                    This season, it is one of my goals to try to figure that out.

    Blogger’s Note: In addition to all of the above, Nori has also intermittently experienced Free Fecal Water (FFW), a messy and unsightly condition in which excess water is passed alongside normally formed balls of manure. My article, “When Passing Manure Becomes a Messy Predicament”, from the March 8 & 15, 2021 issue of The Chronicle of the Horse, takes a closer look at what we know (and don’t know) about this syndrome. One advantage of Nori moving into her own space has been being able to customize her diet; with these adjustments, her symptoms have almost wholly resolved. Fingers crossed!

    Book Reviews, Personal Stories, Training Tips and Techniques

    On Teaching Horsemanship: Thoughts inspired by the work of Charles deKunffy

    Leave a comment

    “When the student is ready, the Teacher will appear.”

                    This Buddhist quote has been on my mind recently, as I reflect on my own roles as both a student and teacher of horsemanship. In particular, I have been considering how riders within the same lesson may come to process their instructor’s guidance differently. Ultimately, it is not just the rider’s ability to interpret her coach’s directions, no matter how talented and skilled the teacher, that will lead to her further growth. It is also, perhaps more importantly, about her willingness to truly hear what the teacher has to say. 

    Some years ago, I read a Dressage Today article written by master horseman Charles deKunffy on the subject of the role teachers and judges play in promoting horsemanship as a living art. DeKunffy is internationally known for his dedication to classical dressage, a passion he has shared through his roles as trainer, coach, clinician and author. His words were so inspirational that I have reread the DT piece countless times, and continue to share it with those who aspire to become teachers themselves.

    Charles deKunffy, taken from his official Facebook page

    In the article, deKunffy says that the teacher’s obligation is to the art he teaches, a dedication demonstrated through total commitment to teaching correct classical principles. He believes that a teacher must teach all students as if they are a future Olympian—in his words, “to conduct a lesson impeccably as if it were given to the greatest rider, deserving of the greatest attention in the finest way, suitable to the horse and the rider at that particular time. This concept must be your guiding light.”

    Clearly, not every horse or rider is capable of reaching elite levels of equestrian sport. Yet the fundamental concepts of horsemanship are the foundation to that work, and should guide the education of every equestrian. Therefore, the teacher who helps every rider learn the art of compassionate, empathetic, thoughtful and progressive training; who rigorously schools every rider in correct equitation, until the student has developed the necessary suppleness and strength in her body and tact and empathy in her aids, will positively impact the countless horses those students will go on to ride.

    My late mentor, Verne Batchelder, always believed that every horse and rider was capable of great things. Here he helps me with JEF Anna Rose.

    DeKunffy goes on to say that “The ethic of teaching—the job of teaching—is to stick up for what you know is right.” A horse that has been properly trained stands the best chance of remaining sound and useful for as long as possible. And we all know that when times get tough, a trained, sound horse has a greater probability of finding a caring home than one that is unsound in mind or body. While the teacher has a responsibility to her student, ultimately she has a greater responsibility to the horse.

    I took advantage of some quiet moments recently to read two of deKunffy’s books, The Ethics and Passions of Dressage (1993) and Dressage Principles Illuminated (2002). These two works offer a great deal of insight into deKunffy’s philosophy of teaching and training horses and riders. If I had tried to read either of these books when they were first published, I am certain I would have tossed them aside. As a student of horsemanship then, I would not have been ready for this teacher. But in reviewing them now, decades later, I continue to find inspiration and confidence in deKunffy’s words.

    Published in 1993 by Half Halt Press (ISBN 0-939481-33-2 and reissued by Xenophon Press in 2013.

    The Ethics and Passions of Dressage reads like a series of short essays, almost an annotated “FAQ” of classical horsemanship (please forgive me if that sounds flippant). In particular, I appreciated the chapters detailing deKunffy’s definition of Baroque art and why horsemanship is part of that tradition. I especially valued a chapter explaining why classical horsemanship and competitive horsemanship should be synonymous terms. Let me explain why this last chapter was so meaningful.

    When I first began seriously studying dressage, it was just after several elite international competitors were seen using a “new technique” called hyperflexion during their warm ups. These horses then went on to give winning performances in the competition arena. Now called rollkur and formally prohibited by the FEI, the use of this practice ignited a firestorm of passionate debate that ultimately drove a wedge between “competitive” and “classical” dressage riders.

    At the time, my barnmates and I bristled whenever we heard someone say (often in a haughty manner) that they were a classical dressage rider, seemingly looking down their nose at those of us who enjoyed competition. In defense, we interpreted the term classical to mean ‘those riders too scared to test their skills in the show ring’, and wrote them off as irrelevant.

    I have held onto nearly every completed dressage test I have ever ridden. One afternoon, I read back through some twenty years of comments. I would not recommend doing this.

    But in Ethics, deKunffy points out that there are not and should never be two kinds of dressage. Instead, the purpose bred sport horses of the modern era require an even greater commitment to the art of horsemanship, an art form that can only survive if its students are taught the correct fundamentals. A former FEI and USEF “S” dressage judge, deKunffy looks to these organizations and their judges to protect classical dressage in the competitive arena.

     But he is equally adamant that competition is not the only, or even the best, way for a rider to prove her skills. He explains that the rules of classical horsemanship have been tested by thousands of riders on millions of horses. Following these rules should lead to success, and success should be defined as ‘elevating a horse to the level of art’. Whether that happens in a competition arena or at home in the schooling ring is ultimately irrelevant.  

    In Dressage Principles Illuminated (currently being updated), deKunffy shares his insights on the “how-to” aspect of classical horsemanship. This book is divided into three parts and covers classical philosophy and exercises for developing horse and rider in some detail. It is illustrated with photos of dancing horses, clearly light and happy in their work, who have soft mouths and eyes, lowered haunches and rounded backs.

    Originally published in 2002 by Trafalgar Square Publishers (ISBN 1-57076-233-3; Xenophon Press expects to release an “expanded” edition Spring 2021.

    Dressage Principles is full of quotes that I want to print and post in my barn and tack room so that I must remember them constantly. Here are a few of my favorites:

    “Learning from horses is compulsory for riders, and those who resist it must suffer the consequences of ignorance through pain and damage.” (pg. 5)

    “Competition can be a rewarding tool for goal orientation and discipline…Competition sharpens riders by focusing them on improved equitation and by making them aware that they are public performers.” (pg. 29)

    “The horse is a perfect creature, an evolutionary wonder, without the rider. However, there can be no rider without a horse. To be an equestrian is to take a position in life dedicated to the well-being of horses in terms of their needs.” (pg. 119)

    There are so many more. But again, when this book was first published, I am sure that I would have been in too much of a hurry to thoughtfully hear what the Teacher had to say.

    I recognize that as a riding coach, I take my time and preach a more conservative approach than perhaps some others I know. I believe that it is always faster to go slowly. The rider who has committed to developing a strong and supportive lower leg, centered balance and an empathetic hand in the long run will be safer, more horse-friendly and have more fun that one who has not. It is my role as teacher to meet my students wherever they are and help them to achieve this goal.

    As students, we can all be too greedy to show tangible progress. As teachers, it can be tempting to give in to the student and let her jump a larger fence, or move up a competitive level, especially if you worry she will leave and go to another teacher if you say no. But it is essential that the teachers of horsemanship maintain their principles in order to protect both the student and the horse.

    We live in a world where everything moves so quickly and we have come to expect near instant gratification of our desires and responses to our requests. Horsemanship is not, and should never become, that type of pursuit. The true horseman understands that “It is a meditative art. You are a student of the horse.” (deKunffy, in the Chronicle article cited below).

    It is perhaps only when a student shifts her thinking in this way that her Teacher will appear.

    Charles deKunffy was born in Hungary and survived Nazi occupation before fleeing Soviet rule in the 1950s and emigrating to the US. He attributes his status as an elite equestrian for saving his life, literally and figuratively, both in those dark days and the years to come. He has dedicated his life to “advocating on behalf of the animal that saved him, acting as a link between the prestigious training he received in classical dressage from the masters in Europe and students of today.” (“Charles deKunffy: Saved by Horses, by Jennifer B. Calder, The Chronicle of the Horse June 5&12, 2017)