Horsaii

On her blog, Mugwump talks about a class of people she calls Horsaii. People who have loved horses for as long as they can remember, strove to spend as much time as possible with them and sacrifice a great deal to keep them in their lives, not out of mere desire, but out of necessity.

I'm pretty sure I belong to that group.

Horses always fascinated me. I can't remember when I realized it at first. Perhaps it was when my mom first read "Black Beauty" to me when I was 5.

I was sick with the stomach flu, my head hurt, and my insides felt like they were either tied in knots or made of rubber. As I lay in bed, my pillow covered with an old towel and a metal basin on the night stand, I was more miserable than I ever thought possible.

Then my mom came in with a book. It had only one picture, a black foal with a star and a sock on the front cover. She opened the book and began to read.

As I listened, my headache subsided and my stomach unclenched. I felt better, not totally well again, but better. It was like the story of the horse swept away my childish pain. The book didn't need pictures, I could see all the horses in my head as clearly as I could see the walls of my room.

Even after I got better, I begged to hear the story over and over again. Each time I cried when Ginger died and each time I was filled with fear over Beauty's suffering, feeling horrified even though I already knew the ending.

Eventually I was a good enough reader to read it on my own, and for my 7th birthday I received a new copy of Black Beauty, this one full of line and ink pictures.

I read that book so much the spine broke and pages began to fall out.

Thoroughly entrenched in my obsession with horses, I began my young quest to find them. Living in the suburbs, nobody I knew had horses, so I made due with my imagination.

I had a large stuffed horse that my mom made a bridle for out of ribbon. I would clamp the horse between my thighs and waddle around the house, pretending to ride. I even took my horse (named Ginger, of course) to the grocery store with me, eliciting a lot of "Awww, how cute!" from other shoppers.

Then, a new girl came to school wearing riding pants and a local stable's t-shirt. I asked her where she got the shirt, and immediately started begging my parents for riding lessons. I wanted them so badly it hurt.

Neither of my parents understood. They did not grow up with horses, and the only thing they knew was that Christopher Reeves broke his neck in a fall from a horse. My mom was reluctant, and stalled me with "I have to think about it" and "we'll see".

Finally, after a year of asking, I showed up with my report card and reminded my mom that she said if I got good grades, I could have lessons. She finally relented and over spring break when I was 9, I got to go to horse camp.

Horse camp was everything I had ever dreamed of. The smell of the barn, the (to my eyes) wonderful lesson horses, and last but not least, friends. I had few friends at school, but camp was full of giggly little girls who wanted nothing more than to be and do everything Horse, just like me.

I learned to lead a horse, how to groom, how to tack up and how to ride. I even fell off on the 4th day of camp, which only left me wanting to ride even more.

I probably alarmed my mom with my happy babble of how I came off and got right back on and how much I loved the huge TB mare I fell off of. I wanted to ride her again and again. Not only that, I wanted to ride all the time.

Soon after that, I got into weekly riding lessons and was sent to summer camp at the same stables. I wonder how long it took my protective mother to come to terms with the fact that I loved these huge, dangerous beasts and wasn't going to quit any time soon.

Eventually I leased a few horses and finally got my own horse at age 12. (See my other blog about her!)

She became my world, more precious to me than my own life. I stayed out of trouble in high school b/c losing my horse was a terrifying thought, and no amount of weed or sneaking out was worth that. I only wanted a driver's license and a car so I could drive myself to the barn whenever I wanted and stay as long as I liked.

I hid in my horse's stall and cried into her neck when my boyfriend dumped me. That was the only time she ever permitted me to hug her. I wonder if she knew.

People told me that having a horse would ground me, tie me down to a place and a life. That's okay, I would reply, I wouldn't have it any other way. It wouldn't be a life without horses in it, and if that means sacrificing other pleasures, than so be it. I have yet to find something worth trading horses.

We had our troubles, but Cherry was My Horse, something I'd been dying for since I first heard the story of Black Beauty as a 5 year old child, sick in bed with the flu.

Patches

Patches was a grumpy old paint gelding I used to lease. Part of the lesson horse herd, he had long ago decided not to work for a living. He would poke along at a slug-like crawl and buck if you tried to get him to go any faster. I have no idea how old he was, but he was likely much older than my preteen self.

I loved Patches. He was loudly patterned, small, dumpy and so ugly he was cute. His barrel was almost perfectly round, and I would ride him bareback as none of the lesson saddles seemed to fit him. If you insisted on using a saddle you could look forward to a ride full of balking, bucking and general disobedience. Not really understanding why, I soon learned that he was much more tractable when ridden in a simple fleece bareback pad.

So that’s how I rode him. I even rode in lessons bareback. Full on w/t/c group lessons where I posted the trot for at least 30 minutes. My thighs had never been as strong and lean as when I rode Patches in my lessons.

I had a secret weapon I used to make him move. Spurs. Patches hated the whip, and would buck if you used it. If you tried to discipline him with the whip for bucking, he’d just buck harder. I found a pair of teeny tiny ½ inch spurs at the tack shop and tried them. Magically, those tiny little spurs did the trick. While Patches was never about to beat land speed records, the spurs definitely worked. The afore-mentioned slug-like crawl became a decent walk, a slightly pokey trot and a really nice rocking horse canter. I could even get him to hand gallop if I prodded him enough.

Riding bareback with my spurs, I could get Patches to do anything I wanted. Well, almost.

He had a knack for catching me off guard and dumping me. He never bucked me off, but he expertly stepped out from under me on more than one occasion. Mostly this was my fault, as I spent long hours sitting or laying on him jabbering with my friends. When Patches had had enough of the chit-chat, he’d take a big, sudden step sideways and I’d tumble off. I swear he was laughing at me.

When I bought my first horse, Cherry, I didn’t have much time for Patches. I felt bad, and took him carrots and treats whenever I could. He was showing his age, starting to have trouble using his lips and would take the treats as gently as he could with his teeth. He moved even more slowly than before.

When Cherry popped a splint right before a big summer campout, I was devastated until I remembered Patches. I asked his owner (also the barn owner) if I could take him. She agreed, as long as I didn’t ride him too hard or do anything too stressful. He’s getting up there in years, she told me.

I was ecstatic, but then I remember his lips. Maybe he’d have trouble with a bit too. I hunted in the lesson tack room for something to use and came up with an ancient mechanical hackamore. It was old and huge, with giant shanks and a big leather noseband.

It fit Patches’ head, so I figured we were good to go. As I didn’t want to go out bareback, I hesitantly looked for a saddle to use. My wonderful saddle, the saddle that fit every horse I’ve put it on, didn’t quite fit Patches. He was too round for the medium tree. Luckily a lady at the barn had an extra wide saddle that she was willing to loan me.

I saddled him up (for the first time in over a year) and off we went with my friends to the campout. Patches’ normal distaste for the saddle was overshadowed by the fact that he clearly loved being out on the trail. He still didn’t move very fast, but there was no bucking and no resistance.

We had a great time plodding down the trail in our borrowed saddle and stolen hackamore. If they didn’t fit, he never complained.

I don’t remember details of the night, but the next day we went out for a big group trail ride. Patches was almost speedy, keeping up with the other horses. I was worried that it might be too much for him, but he never complained and was anxious to stay with the group.

When we got home from the campout, I gave him a bath and spent the rest of the day letting him graze awkwardly on the grass around the barn. The hackamore I kept, as nobody seemed to want it, and I had delusions of taking Patches out again in it.

Poor Patches died not too long after that ride. I don’t know if he was put down or died naturally, but one day he was gone. Even though I had my own horse, I was grief stricken. I’d had so much fun on that horse, and he’d been “mine” for a few short months. In an impulsive act, I stole his bit from the tack room, to keep as a memento of him. I still have that full check snaffle in my tack trunk.

Thinking back, I’m glad I was able to take him to that campout. It was a “last hurrah” of sorts for us. We were able to do something together that both of us enjoyed. He was loved, he was part of my life, and there was something incredibly special about that ugly little paint that so many passed by. I hope he died knowing that was loved and will never be forgotten.

Bits vs. Bitless

I’ll start off by saying that I am a big fan of bitless bridles. Just to get the obvious bias out of the way right off the bat, I’m a bitless bridle user and I don’t see myself going back in the near future. That said, I’m no longer the close-minded teenager I once was, and am capable of seeing both sides of the bit vs. bitless argument. My intention is to provide each side as I personally understand them.

Moving past the hysterical “but bits are so meeeeeeen!” and the stogy “this is how we’ve done it for hundreds of years” arguments, each side has something to offer. Bitless bridles are by no means a new idea, they’ve been around for centuries as training tools. What is new about them is the fact that more and more people are using them as an alternative to a bit, and they are being used on mature, finished horses.

First I will present the case for bitless bridles.

Many people have horses with bit issues, myself included. It seems that no amount of training or trying different bits improves the situation. All you’re left with for your efforts is a horse who is just as uncomfortable and unhappy as when you started. This manifests in head tossing, bit grabbing, leaning on the bit, head tilting, difficulties bridling, bracing against the bit and refusal to work on the bit.

Conventional wisdom tells us that the horse has a hole in his training and must be made to accept the bit. Alternative wisdom tells us that there’s another way. Maybe the solution to the problem is simply to remove the bit. Many riders have found this to be a highly effective answer. I have read reports of “miracles” where a rank head-tosser was transformed into a quiet mount simply by using a bitless bridle.

I experienced such a miracle myself. My own mare had resisted the bit for many years, and no amount of training was helping. Eventually I was able to coax a transitory, grudging acceptance of the bit, but never for very long. Down the long side of the arena, for instance, then it was back to bracing and head tossing. This being my first horse, I didn’t know what to think. Every other horse I rode had little issue with the bit and didn’t fuss when contact was taken up in the reins. Both my trainers and I were stumped.

When I moved away to college, I took my horse with me. I could no longer afford lessons, so I resigned myself to continuing to struggle with the bit. Then a friend introduced me to bitless bridles. I tried out her Dr. Cook’s bridle (a cross-under type bridle) on my mare. It was like riding a whole new horse. She was relaxed, kept her head down, didn’t pull on the reins and didn’t react with irritation to the slightest movement of my hands as she had in the past. Naturally I rushed right out and bought one of my own.

This was my first taste of the world of bitless bridles. I was 19 when I made my discovery, and immediately went overboard on my praise for them. I even went as far as claiming that bits were wrong and that all horses should be ridden bitless. Ah, the sweet smell of close-minded hysteria. I admit it, for a time I was one of the crazies.

Since then I’ve learned more about the realities of life in the equine industry. Many people scoff at bitless bridles and turn up their noses at horses ridden exclusively in them. This knowledge came to me gradually. It might have come faster if I’d had to sell my horse, then I’d have learned that riding bitless tends to turn off potential buyers.

Back to the pro-bitless argument. The reason my horse was so against a bit is the fact that her mouth is not designed to hold one. Where a normal horse’s palate is thin and concave, hers is thick and convex. There’s no room in there for a bit, and when one is used, it bangs against the roof of her mouth with the slightest twitch of the reins. No wonder she never accepted the bit, it was always causing her pain! Bitless bridles offer the perfect solution to those with “special mouthed” horses. Whether caused by a naturally occurring mouth conformation or prior injury, bitless bridles are a life saver for those horses not able to carry a bit.

Not all who chose bitless bridles do so to alleviate bitting problems. Some people participate in sports like endurance that require long hours in the saddle. These folk are constantly on the prowl for lightweight equipment that will enhance their horse’s comfort. Naturally bitless bridles appeal to these riders, as the horse’s mouth is spared and the bridle is lightened. If you go to the staging area of an endurance ride I guarantee you will find all breeds of bitless bridles from rope halters to complicated cross-unders. The nice thing about the endurance world is that it revolves around practicality and usefulness, not looks or tradition. They tend to be the first in pioneering new tack b/c they are not concerned with what others might think, only with what their horse thinks.

So now I’ve covered horses unable to carry a bit for various reasons and people interested in the highest comfort for their horses over miles and miles of trail. What are some other reasons people choose to go bitless?

Here’s where we get into some sketchy territory. This is where the Natural Horsemanship Clan resides. These are the people who want to be friends with their horses and are firmly convinced that bits are evil, painful and nobody should use them. These are the people who attend peace rallies and vote for gun control laws. These are the people who adoringly lap up touchie-feelie BS training methods that promise unparalleled communication and oneness with the Horse. This is a dangerous area to be in, for there is no real argument here, just a series of passionate opinions, usually held by the ill-informed.

Here is my take on their side, and I’m attempting to leave out the hand wringing and “poor horsie” wails of the bleeding hearts. The thing is, I believe they are right, but not for the reasons they usually give.

I don’t think bits are evil, but I think bitless bridles are better. Just b/c we’ve been using bits for thousands of years doesn’t mean they’re the best thing to use. I believe that we should strive to better ourselves as horse people, and I think one step on that path is removing the metal from our horses’ mouths.

We’ve graduated from “sacking out” horses to starting them with gentleness and trust. One could argue that we’ve been sacking horses out for hundreds of years, therefore it’s perfectly acceptable. I would say that it is not, and we’ve moved on from that. Slavery was around for a long time and widely accepted, and we’ve moved on from that idea too. I see no reason why bits should be any different.

To sum up, the three basic reasons people choose bitless bridles are they have a horse with a mouth unable to carry a bit, they want to spare the horse’s mouth and make him as comfortable as possible, and they believe bitless bridles are a better option than bits.

Now I will present the case for using a bit.

It has long been standard in the equine world that a horse should work in a bit. Nearly all of our training techniques are geared towards acceptance of the bit and working off the bit. Horses can be trained to very high levels of performance by gradually incorporating different bits into the training program. As of now, there are very few examples of horses reaching high levels of training without a bit. Those that do perform bitless were likely trained with a bit.

There’s also the show argument. Many people show their horses, and when showing you have to abide by the show rules. Nearly all shows (outside of small schooling shows) require the horse to be bitted. They are very specific about what types of bits are allowed, and in general bitless bridles are NOT. Therefore, to have a successful show career, the horse must go in a bit.

Someone wishing to sell a horse as a show prospect must train the horse to accept a bit. Western horses over age 5 show in a curb bit, while in the English world a snaffle or Pelham is the accepted standard. Depending on the horse’s intended purpose, he is trained to accept a certain type of bit. A horse without such training will be passed over by those wishing to purchase a potential show horse.

Acceptance of the bit is considered a very basic skill for a horse to possess. If he does not, there is likely something wrong with him or with his training. Most people who are in the market for a broke horse will not give a second glance to a horse lacking bit training.

This makes going in a bit very important for the horse’s future. A horse that rides well in a snaffle has far more potential homes than a horse who only rides bitless. The market for a completely bitless horse is very small, and with the current economy and sales prices, a bitless horse is at an extreme disadvantage. He is much more likely to be auctioned off than his snaffle bit peer, meaning he is far more likely to end up in the kill pen. Not a happy ending, especially for a horse that was likely ridden bitless out of the notion that it is kinder to do so.
For the horse’s basic safety and future, he needs to ride in a bit. In educated hands, even a severe bit is not cruel. One of the merits of a good rider is quiet hands. If you’re using a bitless bridle to make up for lack of finesse in the hands, then it is you who require more training.

Riding with a bit has been around for thousands of years, horses are trained to very high levels using them, and they are not any more cruel than a halter would be in the wrong hands. Except for horses whose mouth does not allow the use of a bit, every horse should be ridden in one. Not only does this indicate complete training, it allows the horse to be used in competition, something that dramatically increases the value of the horse.

What Do I Think?

In this matter, I agree with both sides. I think that going in a bit is necessary for every horse to do, if only to ensure him a good home should he need to be sold. I also think that bits are not the be all end all of horse training and equipment. A horse’s face is highly sensitive, so I see little reason he could not be trained to high levels of performance without a bit. It would just take slightly different methods.

People are scared to make changes, therefore they hide behind tradition and scoff at anything that falls outside of the accepted norm. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been laughed at for riding my horse without a bit and even claiming that “she doesn’t like it”. It’s true, she doesn’t, and neither would you if you were in her position. Therefore I don’t use one. I’m happy, the horse is happy, why does anything else matter? Resale value isn’t a problem, she’ll be with me until she dies. Some people have said that I just haven’t found the right bit yet, but she goes so well bitless, and the fact that she’s 19 years old means I’m not going to mess with it anymore. I’m done experimenting with something I’m 99% sure won’t work. It ain’t broke so I ain’t fixing it.

Desperate Girls

Desperation is never attractive. Neither is self absorption.



We all knew that though, right? Well, it turns out that there's more than one way to be obsessed with yourself.





Yesterday was 4th of July. Beer was drank, hot dogs were eaten, and very unsafe fireworks were lit. All in all, a smashing good time.

A friend of a friend showed up to hang out with us, and through my drunken haze, she seemed alright. Kinda sheltered and strange, but alright.

Turns out I was wrong. She is all kinds of crazy, and subjected our mutual friend to insane ravings after the festivities were over and I had passed out on the front lawn.

She's one of those girls. You know, the ones who always think they're too fat, their bosses are too mean and that men will never find them attractive.

In their twisted minds, men can be lured if only they were skinnier, sexier, or put out more. They just want a Boyfriend, and any human with a dick will fit the bill.

The thing is, ANYONE can find a boyfriend. Hell, there are 400 lbs women out there with a man, it's not that hard. So these women do find boyfriends, they just end up being complete dicks.

I had a friend in high school like this. She was obsessed with how men viewed her and was terrified that men wouldn't find her attractive. She constantly asked questions like, "Do guys like this?" and "What would a man like?" *Yawn*

Guess what? Men didn't like her.

Oh, she had a boyfriend alright, but he was an inconsiderate assclown. He cheated on her so many times we lost count. Part of me didn't even blame him. Sure, he was a complete dick, but who's the bigger idiot? The jerk who cheats or the dumb bitch who's dating him (and knows he's cheating) who sits at home wondering if he'll like how her boobs look in her new top.

This girl on 4th of July took the crazy to a whole new level.

Her mom's currently pregnant, and she was worried that if she got married, that her (totally hypothetical) husband would leave her for her (as yet unborn) 18 year old sister when she was 40. Who the hell thinks like that?!

You haven't even MET this person yet and you're worried that she'll steal your 40 year old husband from you 18 years in the future? Even if that highly unlikely scenario does happen, good fucking riddance!

It means you married the wrong man, that he's a complete fuck head and she's a total whore. End of story.

Hot damn, who the fuck worries about that?! That's like me not wanting to buy another horse b/c at some point in the future it might colic and die in 18 years. Well, yeah, it's totally possible, but who the fuck worries about that shit? If it comes up, you deal with it. You don't lie awake at night panicking over it.

This poor girl is the kind of self obsessed that isn't quite so obvious. She's not vain, doesn't put on airs, and certainly doesn't have an inflated ego.

She's the kind of self obsessed that can see only herself and her problems. It didn't occur to me (but it did to my BF) that the only subjects she could talk about involved herself. Her weight, her crappy job, her workout routine, her classes, her blah blah blah.

See? Men notice this shit, and it turns them off.

They don't like it when you have an ego problem and they don't like it when yo hate yourself so much you can't talk about anything else.

My prediction for this girl is this. She'll find a boyfriend. He'll likely be good looking too. However, he's going to be a total dick and walk all over her, possibly even cheat on her. She won't notice though, she'll be too busy alternating between being stoked she's got a man and terrified that if she doesn't look *just right* he'll dump her.

*Sigh*

My Clever Pony

My horse is very smart, probably smarter than me and certainly smarter than I give her credit for.

Let me give you a couple examples. One was a serious epiphany for me, the other is just funny.

The funny one happened two days ago during a lesson. I was teaching my student how to get the horse to move laterally for the first time. We were working on a simple sidepass and a few turns on the forehand. Nothing terribly complicated.

Well, Cherry did NOT want to move sideways, and acted as if she barely understood the command. I thought, "Well, we haven't done this since last fall, so maybe she's rusty."

Eventually we got a few grudging steps sideways. Whereupon Cherry promptly threw a mini hissy fit and tried to leave the arena.

Alright, so my student wasn't a pro, it was her first time sidepassing, but seriously, Horse! Yeah, you work *so* hard, walking and trotting (poky trot, mind you) for 30 minutes twice a week. My heart just bleeds for your suffering.

So we get a couple more steps sideways and call it a day, with me secretly making a note to school her on lateral work before the next lesson.

I get on today (two days after the lesson) and after a nice easy warm up, I ask her to sidepass.

Guess what I get? Beautiful sidepasses going BOTH directions. I make her do a couple rollbacks just for kicks, and she does them perfectly.

Hmmm. She acted like the had no clue what to do in the lesson, and I get on and she bumps right over.

Me thinks the horse was dicking with my student! She knows perfectly well how to sidepass, she just wasn't going to do it.

I had a stern talk with her (I pretend she understands English) about going sideways when asked, even by the incompetent. She snorted all over my face, so she might have understood me after all.

Now on to the epiphany.

My horse has never really bucked. Her idea of a buck is to put her head up (yes, up) and hump her butt around while grunting. Obviously this does nothing to unseat the rider, and when disciplined she quits immediately.

For many, many years I thought my horse was just stupid and didn't know how to buck properly.

Then, I noticed something. She can bronc perfectly well out in the pasture and throws epic bucking fits when free lunged after being cooped up in a stall.

She can buck, and she can buck hard.

So why doesn't she do it right under saddle? Then it hit me.

She doesn't do it under saddle b/c she doesn't want to. When she bucks she has no intention of getting her rider off, she's just trying to tell you she's really pissed about something.

For all these years I'm thinking my poor little horse is an idiot b/c she puts her head up to buck, and all this time she's just trying to communicate and doesn't want to hurt me.

Wow. I definitely apologized for that one.

Cherry doesn't have a mean bone in her body, and has never, ever attempted to hurt a person. She's got several grumpy bones in her body apparently, but no mean ones. She's attempted to rattle, drag and totally ignore people before, but never hurt them.

Even when she does "naughty" or "scary" things, she's never tried to unseat her rider, plow over a person on the ground (drag to grass, yes, but never run over) or bolt out from under you. Sure she's bucked (with the head up), reared (never all the way up and never twice in a row), spooked and all those things horses do, but she takes great care not to harm you.

Damn, my horse is smart. Good thing she isn't mean or she'd have killed us all by now. In our sleep.