I didn’t ride for two months. It got hot and I got frustrated and started to think of my pony as a shut-down beast sick of my ineptitude going through the motions to prevent discomfort, albeit stubbornly. He snatched grass, he balked, he made me feel like a 6 year-old with spaghetti arms and toothpick legs trying to move a fat, obstinate pony. I love this horse, but he is smart, and while I hesitate to use the word “lazy”, he prefers not to work and knows exactly how to work me to get out of it. Finally I said, you win. We took a break. We still spent time together, but it was easy time, standing and licking and chewing and breathing. It was exquisitely boring.
We’re back at it now, going slow, trying to be patient and firm, but enjoy each other. We took a couple lessons before the snow fell and they went OK. They cemented my feelings that it’s all me, and my inability to be firm and ask for something and stick with it until he takes the suggestion. I vacillate between wanting to take the time and effort to become one of those horsemen full of finesse and exquisite feel who can get animals to do their bidding with tiny cues and no resistance, and just wanting to do enough to get my horse to go where I ask him to at the speed I request. I don’t feel like I can stand forcing him into work, and I’m not sure how to convince him without force. He clearly came with innate ability as a trail horse, but thinks the ring should be left for those fancy purebreds. I have deep moral and ethical struggles about all this that leave me flummoxed.
But did I mention how much I love him?
When we weren’t riding, he still came through as a pack horse, helping to drag a deer three miles through rugged country. He still nickered every time he saw me, and responded with aplomb to forays into clicker training. He stayed relaxed, but aloof. All the things I love about him didn’t change. He’s still smart and funny and I throw children and beginners on him without a worry in the world. On New Year’s eve, I rode him all over the property in a halter in snow up to his hocks and then joined friends at a bonfire where he hammed it up, drinking beer and kissing dogs. He was the life of the party.
In 2018, we didn’t complete an endurance ride. We took as many steps backward as forward. We didn’t go to any clinics, and our lessons were inconsistently scattered throughout the year. But we didn’t have any wrecks, I don’t believe I outwardly wept over any rides, I successfully re-trained us on trailer loading after we got really bad at it, I got better at not leaping off his back every time he showed the slightest bit of resistance, and I tried some trail rides in new places without dying. Room for improvement? Sure. But it could have been worse.
As I said last year, I’m not much for goal setting and resolution-making. But who doesn’t love the potential of a nice, clean slate?