Blogs for April

April 23, 2010: We Did It

I'm not dead... just busy! The show was superb and Skye was a marvel. To give you the full story Kevin arrived with his horsebox at half past six that morning. Everyone ran around organising things, carrying out perfectly polished tack (Rain Megan Hyde, if you put that sparkling clean saddle on that filthy table, I will ASSASSINATE you!), making last-minute checks on the list (Hoof pick... check. Riding boots... check. Spare reins... check...) and going to fetch Skye (How in the world did you get your nice white socks so filthy?!). A quick brush-over and thankfully the muck came off her socks pretty easily. Kevin brought a red check blanket with a few holes in it, but nobody knew where the holes had come from, and I was a bit nervous about Skye's reaction to the blanket. She was actually fine. Rain and I marched up and down with her for a while, showing off to the workers and making sure she was comfortable with it. The first while she laid her ears back and wondered what was going on but after a while had a lick-and-chew and settled down. She loaded like a dream and was quite relaxed in the box. She was comfortable and picked a bit at the haynet and took the carrots I offered to her (carrots are her favourite) and by the time we left she looked fine, taking the box in her stride, brave dear mare.

It was about an hour-long drive to the show and she travelled well. I sat in the back watching her the whole way and she had no problem with anything except a few trucks, which made her looked up and pin down her ears. Dad drove so carefully, if there had been an egg balanced on the shelf it would not have broken.

Arrival at the showgrounds. Doesn't she look lovely?

She was a little tense for the first few moments after unloading and looked around at the other horses. Then she lowered her head and tried to graze but took a terrible dislike to the grass and spat it out.

Moments after we arrived the loudspeaker - she had no problem with the loudspeaker or the music - began to bellow. "Class one, the fancy dress, will start in ten minutes!"

The fancy dress was Rain's baby but she had disappeared to get dressed leaving Kevin, Dad, Kevin's girlfriend (yuck) Letisha and I to figure out the extremely decorated bridle. Skye sighed hugely, reminding me of her behaviour the first time I tried to plait her mane, and went to sleep. Rain cropped up and we stormed off to the ring.

Rainy tied fourth with another girl on a petite piebald. She positively sparkled, Skye positively sparkled, I positively glowered, these arenas are not made for walking in.

I think Skye was incredibly bored with the fancy dress.

Skye fell asleep in the line-up and was rewarded with a carrot, which woke her up and made her nicker loudly; carrots are her best.

The fancy dress was class one and our entry was class five so we had a long break in between, spent relaxing (or trying to relax) and watching Grethe compete on Mama Thembu, who shot around the course like a rabbit on steroids, which could be the breed standard for Welsh ponies; jump extremely well, run extremely fast. Skye yawned and dozed and ate some hay; there was some grass at the ringside so we spent a lot of time there, letting Skye graze. She stood out amongst the bays and blacks, relaxed and quiet, listening with half an ear to my running commentary. We watched each of the classes and how the horses reacted to the different jumps. A fleabitten grey called Happy Feet tried to join us but she was being ridden and reluctantly abandoned the grass; I closely watched the other horses, who were passing close by, but Skye paid no attention to them and showed neither friendliness nor aggression to any of the horses apart from pricking her ears once at Happy Feet.

Class four came and Kevin started wandering around looking for us, meanwhile we had come back to the box and were busy getting ready. Mom clucked and fluttered and told me to tuck my shirt in and wipe my boots. Dad watched and tried to joke. Rain disappeared to help Grethe with Mama. I groomed Skye to perfection and combed out her mane and tail and saddled her up. She looked glorious.

Tacking up. I bridle Skye while Kevin fiddles with the saddle (how Mom got him in the picture is a mystery) and Letisha is the one on the right.

She warmed up beautifully. We trotted around in the arena and she was a bit uncomfortable with the other horses coming past at one stage, and to tell the truth I was just waiting to get kicked or trampled on, but she relaxed and worked confidently, coming onto the bit and giving me the confidence I needed. She stepped out well and arched her neck and said with her whole body, Fear not. And I trust her, so I relaxed.

We trotted a bit and cantered a bit and popped over a few jumps; she was uncertain of the big wings on the sides but since we only jumped a small cross at first and worked up to the bigger ones, she forgot about them. We were number three and I was a little nervous but as number two had their round and we circled the ring at a brisk walk, I decided to trust Skye and hope for the best. She shied at our bell but soon realised it was all right and off we cantered to the first jump. I looked down, Skye looked down, Skye stopped. My heart jumped a bit but I took her round again and drove her into it but she decided she was not going to be pummelled into anything and remembered that I had looked down, so she stopped again. This time I took a moment to breathe deep and pushed her at the jump again, looked up, let her alone and gave her some rein and she jumped!

My beautiful Skye

"That's my girl, thank you, thank you!" I gasped, letting go of a rein for a heartbeat to touch her solid, well-muscled neck. In that sliver of time I knew that Skye was jumping with her heart. Many many horses jumped that day, many many fine horses, but I still doubt that any of those fine horses jumped for a friend and with as much heart as Skye did. She approached the second jump, rose, flew, cleared. We cantered around the tenth jump and straight into the third; a mutter of thanks and a touch of my heels to urge her into the fourth. The fifth obstacle was a combination and I was a bit nervous of it. I sat tight and pushed her into 5a and made the mistake of looking at 5b to judge the distance and she shied, lost speed... stopped. The bell went.

"Unfortunate elimantion for Firn Hyde and Skye," said the loudspeaker. I turned her away and jumped her over the second jump again to get our nerve back and because it was a lovely jump and I love jumping. We trotted out of the arena and I was a bit stunned, hardly able to believe that we hadn't made it round the course.

I had a lot to think about on the way home. Kevin withdrew us from the second class, and I think he was right, because the second class was higher and we were jumping against the clock and we were already a bit wound up about it all. I watched Skye travelling and I thought and thought and thought. I thought of how through six years Skye had never, ever let me down; of how since I knew what 'horse' meant I had fantasized about my first show, about the perfect clear round I would ride, the perfect blue ribbon I would win. About sixty times I rode that course again and stopped at 5b again. I looked at my horse and wondered how it had happened. I even wondered if I was right, if Skye really was my dearest friend, if she really was the bravest and the most beautiful. All because of a refusal.

What foolish thoughts!

My feelings were mixed when we got home and loaded Skye off. I led her down to the water without looking at her. I think she thought I was angry. I was just confused. Until I reached out a hand to her neck to steady her and looked into those spirited brown eyes, remembered that hertbeat when I felt that power and strength and willingness beneath my hand, thought of the million times she had stuck up for me and proven again and again that in the length and breadth of the world there is not a friend like Skye, and I realised that one refusal and one small show would never be the important thing. Showing, its glamour, its excitement, its brightly painted jumps would never be what it is to have a friend. I realised that Skye had not let me down. She never had. She never will. She will always do the right thing and she will do it with her heart for Skye is a horse and horses are deep.

I am insanely lucky. I have a family, a beloved, amazing family, with mom, dad, and siblings all stuck together with invisible glue. A perfect family. How is it then that I am so lucky to have this most perfect of gifts, and then also a friend, a perfect friend, a soulmate? All I can say is, thank you. Thank you God, thank you family - thank you Skye.

A few days after the show - Skye and my friendship has not been damaged in the least; indeed, it has strengthened - I by chance (or something more) came across an essay written by a child about a horse. It is called The Perfect Horse. Anyone who has ever loved a horse would love to read it. It describes my own Perfect Horse, my dear beloved friend Skye, to the letter. I have a suspicion that everyone who have ever owned and loved a horse have known a Perfect Horse. But there are none quite so perfect as Skye!

What snared my heart in particular, what made me smile, was this line -

"The Perfect Horse has problems; he will teach you to deal with them. The Perfect Horse knows that you can't learn to be a skilled horseman if everything goes your way."

Read this beautiful essay on http://www.ultimatehorsesite.com/articles/theperfecthorse.html

The Perfect Horse

So often when, at that moment, I thought I was teaching a horse, I look back days, months, years later and think, And I thought I was teaching when I was being taught. Horses have a lot to teach us. In comparison what we teach them seems so strangely insignificant. We teach them flying changes, to collect themselves, to clear a jump, to run a race. They teach us the true difference between losing and winning; that the blue ribbon rider is not always a winner, what is truly important, what is right. They teach us that kindness achieves more than cruelty and that there are two sides to every friendship. They give so much and ask so little. We should always appreciate the glory of our horses, dogs, cats, cattle, all the beasts with their soft deep eyes, all the beasts with their pure souls, all the beasts with their amazing hearts. We should always try to learn.

That is why I look back at the show and smile and think of how lovely it really was. Sure, there is a degree of disappointment; I would have liked to complete the course. But despite those words - "unfortunate elimination" - I put my arms around the neck of my glorious Skye and am filled suddenly with the strong and unbreakable conviction that I am without doubt a winner.

*                           *                             *

On the writing side of things I just finished The Morning Star Mare. In fact, I finished it on the day of the show; Skye is very good for my creativity. Mom read it through, bless her, and apparently loved it so tomorrow it and my other novella, Night Eyes, will be sent off to MML. Then a long wait commences until the finalists are announced in January; in other words, just long enough to make me begin to think that my entries were rather second-rate and I ought to have sent in something else.

I've also started to read two horse-whispering books that Mom bought for me; the first is called Train Your Young Horse with Richard Maxwell, a prolific horse whisperer in England, and Ask Monty by Monty Roberts (need I say more?). Both are stunning and Ask Monty is brilliant for finding the answers to problems I hardly even knew existed. Thankfully Skye was and is a very problem-free horse to train, apart from the catching issue she had when she was about three; even Miss A and Achy are relatively easy-going, except that Achilles has developed a new habit of trying to bolt for home and Missy still has some of her napping (rearing) problems.

I wish I could say the same for Little Siobhan. I read the intro to Train Your Young Horse and then skipped over to the six months to three years of age section, since I don't have any horses younger than six months at the moment. I read through the checklist at the beginning of this section, stating that the horse is not ready for the next stage unless it can do these things, and my heart sank. "Does your horse respect your personal space?" My reply: "Er... no." "Does your horse lead quietly?" "Er... definitely no." "Does your horse allow its feet and the rest of its body to be handled?" "Er... not as such..."

It seems Siobhanny needs a bit of work.

I also learnt from Monty Roberts that he decrees the third worst thing you can do in training a horse is feed it by hand. I nearly caught a panic attack. For six years I have been feeding Skye carrots by hand and for two years I have always given her a carrot when I took her bridle off. Yes... I know, any self-respecting natural horseman is now looking down its nose at me. I have never, ever had a problem with Skye; she has never pushed, nipped, kicked, or demanded her reward; the only anticipation she shows is a deep, rumbling nicker, something like saying, "Please?" On occasion I have disappointed her and not given her a reward after all and when I display my open, empty hands to her, palm up, she immediately stops even her nickering. And anyway, I know you are all going to think I'm a big weak silly, but I find it very hard to look into those particular bright eyes and hear that heart-filling sound and say, "No."

But I do realise that feeding by hand can be a problem. That is why Achilles and Arwen only get carrots at random moments when I feel like it, not at a set time like with Skye, so they can't anticipate it. I like to bring them a treat early in the mornings when I go to check on them. Little Siobhan, though, never, ever gets a treat from my hand, especially not since I started reading Ask Monty. Interestingly I have found an improvement in her nipping behaviour. I still give her treats but I stick 'em on the ground or in a bowl instead.

My opinion is, and perhaps I'm not entitled to have an opinion disagreeing with that of a famous horse whisperer, that as long as it does not cause problems it is safe to feed by hand but I would rather not make it a common practice with young horses and I'd rather not do it at all with biting or nipping ones. That's just my view. Maybe I'm too soft. I've got next to no experience but we all live and learn, don't we? Remember the Perfect Horse...

Well well, time is short and the water rises (who said that again?) and I have Ask Monty and Train Your Young Horse to read, not least work with naughty Siobhanny. Got to be off!