“Do you really want to take this on?”
“I promised Amy, so yeah, I want to give him a chance.”
“Don’t get hurt, River.”
“I won’t,” he assured her, and he hoped it would prove to be true.
*****
Chapter 5 Lessons and Schooling
The rider’s seat is the beginning and end of all his problems. – Anthony Crossley, Advanced Dressage
*****
“Up you go.” River stood at the head of Muffin, a black-and-white pony, holding his bridle with one hand while he pulled down on the off stirrup. Todd, a small-framed, ten-year-old boy stepped into the near stirrup and grasping a handful of Muffin’s mane, eased himself into the saddle, a grin on his face. River waited patiently while Todd wiggled his feet around to position his toes in the stirrup irons, and then pushed his heels down.
“Now what?” River asked him.
“S-s-stand up!”
“Right.”
His grin spreading, Todd stood in his stirrups, and then when he could balance without holding onto Muffin’s mane, eased his seat back into the saddle.
“Good,” River praised. “You’re now sitting perfect. Ready to ride?”
“Yes!” Todd stated emphatically and without stuttering; his eyes shining from beneath the shadow of his riding helmet.
“Okay, walk on!” River stayed at Muffin’s side as Todd picked up the reins and pressed his legs against the pony’s sides to move him away from the mounting block. As they walked around the perimeter of the arena, River quietly coached Todd on his position, his hands, and helped him make minor adjustments. After several months of lessons on the lunge line, River believed Todd was ready to ride the willing pony on his own. Todd had been using reins on the lunge line, and although River had the ability to take over control if Todd lost his balance, in the last several lessons Todd had been able to go from halt to walk to trot to walk to halt all using his own aids.
“Practice some halts, just like on the lunge line,” River directed.
Todd obeyed, remembering to ‘just stop riding’ as River had taught him – a relaxing of his aids but sitting deep and still with his legs on Muffin’s sides.
“Good, now walk on…good,” River praised him as Todd moved the pony back into a walk with barely perceptible aids; just a slight increase of pressure with his legs.
Delia Evans, passing by the outdoor arena on her way to her car, stopped for a few moments to watch. She had just finished her own lesson; another frustrating, stressful experience. I’m an adult and I do not need someone yelling at me. I need to be told what it is I’m doing wrong, she thought to herself, thinking of how Tess had actually shouted at her several times, ‘do not let her pull the reins from your hands’. Delia had no idea how to keep Fala from pulling the reins. She could barely keep her balance in the saddle and was happy just to be able to keep the mare from speeding up her trot to the point where Delia feared she might fall off! I’m too old; how ridiculous of me to think at the age of forty-five, I could learn to ride. She felt a twinge of envy as she observed the bright face of the young boy on the pony. How happy he looks!
A woman sat on a two-tiered bench near the arena, watching the lesson while she knitted something with a dark blue yarn. On a whim, Delia went over and sat down near her, to watch the lesson for a few minutes.
“Is that your son?” Delia asked the woman.
“Yes, well, he’s a foster child but my husband and I are trying to adopt him,” the woman answered with a pleasant smile.
“That’s wonderful; I certainly hope all goes well for you.”
“Thank you. I’m Gwen Marshall and that’s Todd.” The woman set her knitting down and extended a hand.
“Del Evans,” Delia introduced herself and shook the proffered hand. “So, River is teaching your son, not Tess?” she observed.
“Yes, River is giving Todd lessons as a favor, even though I’ve tried to pay him. River stayed with us a few weeks and he and Todd got along very well. They both share a love of animals.”
Interesting. “River was a foster child?” Delia asked.
“He was injured last summer and he stayed with us after his discharge from the hospital, until he was healed enough to be on his own. He lives here now,” Gwen related openly. “He’s a very fine young man. My husband and I are so grateful to have had the opportunity to help him. It’s amazing how things work out. Todd has a stuttering problem, but when he is talking about animals, he manages sometimes complete sentences without once stuttering. We never would have discovered this if it hadn’t been for River. His speech therapist is using conversations about animals now in his sessions and he’s making good progress.”
“How fascinating,” Delia commented with genuine interest. They watched the lesson for a while in companionable silence.
River had been coaching the boy in several exercises at the walk; transitions from halt to walk to halt, small circles, and then walking around three cones that River had placed in a cloverleaf pattern. Now Todd rode Muffin out on a twenty-meter circle, and urged the pony into a trot.
“Good,” River called out to him. “Try not to let him move in on the circle,” he said as the pony began to trot in toward River. “Take your outside rein and guide him back and push him out with your inside leg.”
“Oh my,” Gwen said, proudly. “Look at that little boy ride!” She turned to Delia. “This is his first lesson completely off the lunge line and the first time he’s trotted on his own.”
“His lessons have been on a lunge line?” Delia asked.
“Yes; he started out without any reins at all and River had him do all kinds of stretching exercises. He progressed to learning to post to the trot, and then River took his stirrups away. It was amazing to watch Todd post without stirrups. That was great for his confidence, and obviously helped him develop a secure seat. River let him start using reins a few weeks ago, and then he let him finish the lesson riding on his own, but only at a walk. Todd was so excited on his way here today because River had told him he was going to trot on his own. And look at him now!”
Delia did look, and again experienced a sense of envy…loss…unfairness? In spite of her confused emotions, she was sure of one thing - she felt an aching desire to experience the same joy she observed on Todd’s face, riding his pony.
“Good, Todd,” River said, “now, can you change direction? Circle in front of me.”
Todd, smiling proudly, guided the pony off the circle to cross in front of River and change direction.
“Keep him out on the circle,” River called out as Muffin again tried to move to the inside. “Good.” After two successful circles River directed, “Now practice coming down to walk, just like you did on the lunge line…good.”
Delia watched in amazement as Todd somehow brought Muffin to a walk and the pony stepped out with his head bobbing in rhythm with his walking steps, never once jerking his head up. It seemed like every time Delia had tried to slow Fala from trot to walk, the mare flung her head up and then took mincing steps.
“River says when Todd is consistently making transitions he’s going to take him out on the trail. That’s all Todd talks about now,” Gwen commented. “He can’t wait.”
The two women watched as Todd now practiced moving his pony up into a trot for six steps, then walk for six steps, and then trot again six steps. River told him to count them out loud. Only once did Delia notice a stutter as the boy obediently counted.
“Wonderful!” Gwen exclaimed proudly.
The lesson ended, and Delia watched a very happy boy and a relaxed and contented pony leave the arena.
Wait just a minute here! Delia had a sudden idea. “You know, I think I need the same kind of lessons as Todd!” she exclaimed.
“Talk to River,” Gwen said, gathering up her knitting now that the lesson had ended.
“Gwen, it was a pleasure meeting you,” Delia said and the two women said goodbye. Instead of going to her car, D
elia went to the office to talk to Tess.
*****
A week later, Delia stopped at the corner and waited quietly as River finished grooming a tall, handsome black horse in the crossties. That must be Corazón, the horse he rescued. She had heard the story from Sierra. She watched a few moments, how the horse lowered his head and extended his muzzle as River walked in front of him; and the gentle manner in which River moved around the animal, talking to him in low tones. They care about each other! It filled her with a sense of reverence at the respect she observed between two living species.
When River finished grooming, he stroked the black’s neck with his face close to his horse, taking a few last moments with him before unhooking the crossties and leading him out.
“Hello, River,” Delia greeted, stepping forward and feeling in a way she had trespassed on a private moment.
He half smiled and did not seem annoyed at finding her watching. “Hi, Mrs. Evans.”
“Am I too early?”
“No. Morris is in the first paddock. Do you think you can bring him in while I put Cory away?”
“Of course,” she replied, and added with a smile, “please call me Del.”
River led his horse away and Delia walked out to the paddocks to bring in Morrison (nicknamed Morris). She hoped River didn’t detect her disappointment in riding the stocky bay quarter horse. Tess had her ride Morris for her first lesson, and he was so stubborn and lazy that Delia could barely keep him walking, much less get him to trot. After that, Tess had her ride Fala, who was easier to get into a walk or trot, but also seemed like a very tense horse. After three lessons on her, she at least felt somewhat familiar with how the Arabian mare would react. She had no idea how much either horse’s behavior was a reflection of her own lack of ability.
At least she now could manage to groom and tack up a horse by herself. She finished getting Morris ready and led him up to the indoor arena’s mounting block, mounted up, and began to plod around the perimeter, attempting a warm-up, having to kick and push to keep the bay moving.
River arrived and watched his new student struggle to keep Morrison in a walk. He immediately noted the tenseness of Delia’s posture, how she gripped with her thighs and kept her back rigid. She clutched at the reins and pulled hard on the bit every time Morris attempted to turn back toward the exit gate. Both horse and rider looked stiff, and neither looked happy.
“He is very lazy,” Delia said as Morrison cut across the upper corner of the arena to walk toward River, his ears back and with an expression that pleaded, ‘rescue me!’.
“He can be,” River said, although he understood that Morrison’s temperament was such that he turned off all his forward motion when stressed rather than become flighty. As Morris came up to him and stopped, River absentmindedly stroked his neck as he considered how best to proceed with this first lesson. Lunge line? That had worked very well when he first started teaching Sierra and also with Todd.
“First of all, I think you need to relax,” he said quietly. “Drop the reins and put your hands on your waist. For now, that’s going to be your neutral position. If you ever feel like you’re losing your balance, then grab that strap on the front of the saddle, not the reins.”
Delia obeyed, feeling apprehensive with no reins. How will I stop the horse if he startles?
River attached the lunge line and taking over control, moved Morris out on a circle at the walk. “Close your eyes for a few minutes and just feel him,” River directed. “Try rolling your shoulders…deep breaths in and out…good, now backwards…try to breath in rhythm with the swing of his walk...good.” River continued to direct Delia in a series of loosening exercises; asking her to drop her stirrups and swing her legs back and forth and then out and in, twisting at the waist to look over each shoulder, and then leaning forward to try to touch Morrison’s ears and backward to touch the top of his tail. When Morrison’s flattened ears began to flop or flick around and he walked forward with more energy, River believed that Delia was finally starting to relax.
“The first thing you need to learn is stop.”
“Do I pick up the reins?” Delia asked. River had twisted the reins beneath Morris’s neck and secured them with the throatlatch to keep them from dangling. He could see Delia eyeing them longingly.
“You don’t need reins.” He gathered up the lunge line and stepped in to walk alongside of Morris, talking through each step. “Try to think of it as if you are now just going to stop riding. Sit still with your seat deep in the saddle…relax your shoulders, no don’t hunch…deep breath in and out…”
Morris stopped in a square halt.
“You did it,” River said.
“I did?” Delia could hardly believe it. “You sure you didn’t stop him?”
“No, it was you. Okay, move him forward into walk. Touch his sides with your legs.”
Delia obeyed but got no reaction out of Morris.
“Don’t stiffen up; squeeze again with your legs and if he doesn’t step out, you can use your heels, but quickly. Make it feel to him like you mean it.”
Delia tried again, and to her surprise, Morris lumbered forward into a shambling walk.
“More leg again…don’t stiffen your back…good. You want him to step out. Come on, Morris,” River spoke to the little bay to encourage him. “Now stop him again…no, don’t stiffen; relax into it…just…stop…riding.”
Once again, when Delia took a deep breath in and let it out, allowing her weight to sink into her seat, Morris came to a halt. “Oh my,” she murmured in surprise, and smiled with pleasure at her success.
They practiced walk-halt-walk several more times in each direction. Then River moved Morris out on the lunge line. “How about a little bit of posting trot? Tess said you were doing trot work.”
Delia nodded, but began to stiffen her muscles in apprehension just at the mention of trot.
“Don’t tighten up,” River said with a little laugh, “stay relaxed.”
Laughing along with River did help her to relax. Delia tried closing her eyes again a few minutes. With her vision obscured, it really did seem like she could feel each one of Morrison’s muscles move beneath her.
“Better,” River said after two rounds and Delia finally let her spine move with the motion of Morrison’s walk and her shoulders shifted back and dropped in a more relaxed but correct posture. River asked Delia to stand and sit in the saddle at the walk a few times, and encouraged her to try to keep her hands on her waist, but allowed her to grab the front strap whenever she lost her balance.
“I’ll control him so don’t worry,” he encouraged when Delia felt she was ready to try the trot. “I want you to stay as loose and relaxed as you can and just let his motion push you up out of the saddle.”
“Okay.” I can do this, she thought to herself. After all, she had been riding posting trot in the lessons with Tess, but I also had the reins. It was a little frightening to think of trotting when she had no way to control or slow down her horse. She couldn’t imagine it would be possible to halt him the same way she had just learned at the walk.
“Press with your legs, but I’ll help you get him into the trot,” River said.
Pressing with her legs and holding onto the strap to begin, and as River gave a voice command, she felt the jouncing movement of Morris in trot. She moved out of the saddle and back, trying to keep in rhythm with his motion, but no way did she feel balanced enough to let go of the strap.
“Relax,” River called out, keeping his voice calm, trying to coax her to relinquish her stiffness. But as Delia continue to struggle, becoming stiffer and more unbalanced, he brought Morris back to walk. “Take a break; get your balance back…that’s good,” he said when she rolled her shoulders to release her tension.
A few more times River had Delia practice posting trot in both directions. He watched her struggle to maintain balance, and even though she posted in rhythm with Morrison’s trot, he could see that she exerted too much effort and tir
ed easily.
“Okay, that’s enough trot I think,” he said and appreciated the look of relief on Delia’s flushed and damp face. “Let’s finish with some more practice of walk and halt.” He gathered up the lunge line again, and walked alongside, coaching her step by step to make the transitions using only her weight, posture, and legs. He wanted to end the lesson relaxed and with a feeling of accomplishment.
*****
Amazing, Delia thought to herself, thinking over the thrill of stopping her horse without using reins. Okay, maybe she needed many more lessons to get comfortable trotting, but for the first time since starting at Pegasus, Delia found herself looking forward to the next lesson. What a difference to end with a happy horse, nudging at her as she led him back to the crossties, instead of upset and drenched with sweat as Fala had been, or balky as she remembered her first ride on Morrison.
And for just a kid, she found River to possess surprising wisdom. She smiled to herself as she thought again of his last words to her before saying goodbye. “I think you want to ride to enjoy horses. Let’s take small steps and keep each step fun.”
When she signed up for lessons, she had in her mind the magnificent image of the dressage championship and the beautiful harmony of River on Pendragon riding to stirring music. Not that she consciously expected it to be easy, but somehow, she realized that was what she was striving to achieve.
“Face it, Del,” she counseled herself, talking out loud as she sometimes did when by herself. “You’re never going to ride in the Olympics, or even a championship. Set your goals somewhat lower, but something you can accomplish.” She smiled to herself, thinking of her usual over-ambitious tendencies. “For now, the goal is to ride posting trot without getting tired!” River had told her when she could control her core muscles and stay relaxed, that she should feel like she could ride the trot for hours. So for now, she wanted to be able to ride at least three circles without fatigue – goal number one.
For The Love of Horses (Pegasus Equestrian Center) Page 7
