The Importance of Good Grooming

Yesterday I took a break from trimming hooves and sat down under a tree at the Little House. My granddaughter was behind me and begin "fixin' you hair". I gave it no thought at all until she began to say, 'Now this will be fine. This will not hurt."

I felt a brush slip through my hair and I must admit that it felt good. As I wondered where that hair brush came from I turned around to see that she was brushing my hair and giving a scalp massage with the same filthy hoof pick and hoof brush that I was using in the trimming.

Which reminds me--got to go wash my hair.

Killers of the Dream II

This week I was shocked to learn that our local government is again considering regulations that will skyrocket the cost of horse ownership and make it that much more difficult to get kids who need to be on horses on horses that need homes. It is heart breaking to see such policies promulgated by those who mean well.

The effect of those proposals has been immediate. I intended to add a Shackleford mare or two to our breeding program this weekend, but it seems irresponsible to do so as long as these proposed ordinances are on the table.

I have been invited to do a series of demonstrations at our county fair but I cannot help but wonder whether it is appropriate to do so as long as these proposals remain viable.

In the picture above Katie is mounting Swimmer, a barely ridden wild Corolla mare. It is an experience that she will never forget. Katie visits here several times a year from California. I hope that kids from all over will be able to continue to learn what it is like to get on a wild horse at our place for years to come.

To Do A Man's Job

This week I have not ridden at all. I have not been on a horse in seven days, one of the longest breaks without riding that I have had in years. Last weekend we had temperatures that exceeded 100 degrees and I cancelled riding for the first time that I ever have had to for an entire weekend.

For the past three mornings I have been doing what I love best, training wild horses to gain their confidence for the saddle. Yesterday Emily mounted up on Looking Glass. It was worth being late to work just to see it happen. To my greatest surprise, Valor is becoming a beautiful, powerful horse. Abbie has worked her a few hours while I was in court and proudly explained that she no longer will kick you on her right side. (Perhaps we have different measures of progress than is found in other facilities.)

The shot above is from over the winter when Emily W. was the first person to get on Valor. Since that day she had had no training until Monday. Tomorrow I have a hunch that Valor will be ridden again and that Emily W. will be involved. Like all of my best students she is smart, tough, and mature. She is every bit as afraid as anyone else would be but she simply has learned to control her emotions.

For a variety of reasons modern society does not produce little boys with these attributes. Television, video games, facebook, and a new parenting model that focuses on giving little boys what they want instead of what they need have all served to produce fragile little boys.

Ironic indeed that we have a culture that makes it easier to teach little girls to be a man than it is to teach little boys.

On the Road Again

I despise travelling. In my case, the feeling may be genetically rooted. My first white ancestors landed in this part of Virginia in 1674 and since that time I have had at least one (and often many) relatives living within a twenty mile radius of my horse lots. (It seems that I come from hearty, though not adventurous stock.) Such a lack of movement leads to a restricted gene pool. Like the Corollas, my ancestors were a genetically homogeneous group. This weekend the national Gwaltney family reunion was held here in Smithfield. I got a chance to learn exactly how close kin I am to myself. We are a people who are well suited to multi tasking. For example, my father's grandmother also found time to be my mother's great aunt.

However, judging from the size of our individual families it does not appear that we are approaching genetic collapse. That means that it will not be necessary to develop an off site breeding program to keep our genotypes and phenotypes around for centuries to come.

While Gwaltney/Edwards/Jones have sufficient genetic diversity to insure our survival the same cannot be said of the Corollas.

For that reason I am strongly inclined to take a trip down to Shackleford this weekend to bring some more first rate Spanish genes into the offsite breeding program. The young mare in the picture above is the type of mare that would produce great colts when bred to one of my Corolla stallions.

Freedom

Like the sound of fingernails on a chalk board, some words evoke discomfort in me merely upon their utterance. Words like "constraint", "restraint", ""rules", "proper","organization" and "correct" all create an instant feeling rather akin to claustrophobia. I have never been a rebel in the sense that I seek out rules to break. Instead I have simply spent my life ignoring rules that complicate life. I nearly never wore a coat as a child. If one never wears a coat one does not have to waste time looking for a coat. As a young teen I hunted all winter in the swamps of our area wearing tennis shoes because boots made too much noise. Early on I realized that people waste an enormous portion of their life spans lying in bed and sitting at a dinner table. The faster one eats and the less time one sleeps the more time is available to accomplish things that matter.

Of course, the end result is a personality that is essentially a collection of eccentricities. On the positive side these eccentricities have driven me to develop a style of horsemanship that I believe greatly benefits the horse and the rider. All of my teaching methods are designed with one purpose--to eliminate the arbitrary requirements of "proper" riding and to break real horsemanship down to a level that that can be understood and practiced by kids and novices alike.

In short, we disregard every concept that does not lead to increased comfort and lightness for the horse and comfort and confidence for the rider. Like Emerson, we simplify. How does one learn to ride? By riding hundreds of miles and thousands of hours. What is the proper, balanced seat? Heels lower than toes, toes in front of knees, sitting one one's pockets, spine collapsed into a big,slouching "C".

As I look at riders in horse shows I cannot help but wonder where the "pleasure" is in western "pleasure" riding. The riders all look like they sitting outside the Principal's office awaiting their punishment.

Our horses and our riders are comfortable because we absolutely ignore that model. I want my riders to look like exhausted, aged, alcoholic cowboys with tuberculosis who chain smoke Camel cigarettes.

Such a posture causes horses to relax, lower their heads a bit, and move on out in comfort. As long as they keep moving I encourage my horses to grab a bit to eat as we ride on through the woods. (Those few riding instructors who have been able to read this far along in this post are now yelling at their computers "Heresy!Heresy! Burn him! Burn the heretic.")

I recently came across a book of great wisdom in my 2 year old grand daughter's library. In fact, its timeless message has made it into her current favorite book to have read to her. Of course, I am speaking of the classic, "Go Dog Go."

For those few of you who have not read the book, I will give a brief approximation of a portion of one chapter. There is a picture of a dog on top of a tree with brief, riveting prose to the effect of "One dog on top of a tree." The next page might have a picture of two dogs lying under a tree. One's eye is quickly drawn to the bottom of the page where, in Shakespearean tones, the text, "Two dogs lying under a tree" solves the dichotomous mystery.

Perhaps the most meaningful portion of this work of literature is the discussion of seeking the approval of others. A hatted dog approaches another dog and asks, "Do you like my hat?" only to be told, "I do not like your hat" by a judgemental, rather pompous canine.

The hatted dog's strong defense of his choice in coifs is instructive for all. "Good bye", he says with a smile on his face and then he moves on.

And to all of those in the established horse world who do not like my horses, my methods, and my deeply held beliefs, I bid you a fond "Good bye."