*****
River thought over Delia’s lesson as he headed out to the lower paddock to work with Oberon. He was glad she seemed very pleased at the end of her lesson with her walk-to-halt transitions. She had enthusiastically told him over and over how much she enjoyed the lesson and looked forward to the next.
It shouldn’t have surprised him, he supposed, but he found he enjoyed teaching Del. He understood that she, like Sierra, Todd, and Katrina, had a genuine love of horses and a desire to learn to ride. He had enjoyed watching Sierra helping Del get Fala ready for her lessons these past weeks; and it hadn’t escaped his notice how attentively the older woman listened to Sierra and tried to follow all her instructions. He never would have thought an adult would have the humility to learn from kids. She was a cheerful woman, pleasant to be around, and joked and laughed about her ineptitude.
But, she had struggled today in the posting trot, and he wasn’t sure how to help her. Sierra had been so easy to teach from the beginning, and so was Todd. Maybe the difference was simply their youth with flexible, in-shape muscles and their ability to go with the movement of the horse without worrying that they were doing it wrong. He could see as he watched Delia, how she focused at different times on her seat and abdominal muscles, then on her legs, then on her shoulders; trying to force them to respond correctly.
Maybe that’s the problem; she thinks too much. The hardest part of teaching sometimes, was watching the rider struggle to control body parts to stay in balance, for he couldn’t remember if he had ever struggled like that. His mother used to put him up in the saddle in front of her when riding colts back from exercise, and he literally learned the feel of a horse underneath him before he learned to walk. I need to distract her enough to relax and let the horse do the work. He’d have to think about that.
As he came up to the lower paddock, and called out to the dark bay horse, he shifted his focus to the wary animal. Oberon as usual, had retreated to the far corner of the paddock with his back to River, his ears flat, and his tail tight to his back end. The message, River clearly understood, was ‘leave me alone’.
*****
When Delia arrived the following week for her lesson, mentally prepared to work toward her new goal, she found that River had other plans.
“Do you mind getting a little wet?” he asked with a wry smile. The afternoon weather shifted between a gray covering of clouds to brief sun breaks, and then short, misty drizzles of rain.
“No…” Delia answered cautiously, turning from fastening Morrison’s girth, and surprised to see River had brought Pendragon to the crossties.
“Give me just a few minutes to get Penny ready, and we’re going on the trail.” He then handed her a rain poncho and helped her slip it on over her shoulders. “It will cover the saddle when you’re mounted, but it’s not going to rain hard enough to hurt anything.”
River had Penny groomed and tacked up in no time. He slipped on a poncho himself and then the two led the horses to the back field’s mounting block. River tightened Morrison’s girth one more notch, and then held his head while Delia mounted. Then he mounted up on Pendragon.
“This is good for Penny,” he told her. “He hasn’t been out of the arena for at least the last six weeks before the championship, and I haven’t had time since then. He’s earned some non-stressful trail time.”
“I see,” Delia said, pleased whenever River disclosed information about horse care.
They rode side by side down the short slope and past field jumps to the entrance of the trail.
“Morris is steady as a rock; I’ve never once seen him shy at anything, so go ahead and slip your feet from the stirrups and do a few stretches before we get to the trail.”
Delia obeyed, liking how her muscles loosened up with the stretching exercises, and actually helped her feel more secure, once she had her feet back in the stirrups.
At the entrance to the trail, River directed her to lead out on Morris so he could watch her. They took a short loop of trail with only a few small, not very steep hills. River explained to her how to step down in her stirrups, grab mane, and pull herself up off her horse’s back to go uphill; and then to push her hips back with her stomach muscles engaged, and push her weight down in her stirrups but pushing heels forward, to keep herself centered over the middle of his back going downhill. He had her practice a few walk-to-halt-to-walk transitions, only allowing her to hold the reins at the buckle.
Delia thoroughly enjoyed herself, and she could tell the little quarter horse also liked getting out of the arena, for he walked forward with more energy than she had ever felt from him. It seemed easier to remain relaxed out in the open air.
But her stomach lurched and her muscles tensed in fear when River said, “Up ahead is a stretch on the level. I want you to try posting trot just until you get to the next hill. The hill will help you bring him back to walk. Try to come back to walk before the hill though.”
“Okay,” she agreed, taking in a deep breath to calm herself.
“You can take up a little more rein, but you really don’t need it.”
Oh yes I do, she thought to herself as she gathered the reins. But as much as she wanted to clutch them tightly, she tried to follow River’s instructions and keep the reins loose. I stop him with my seat…with my seat…she repeated to herself, trying to mentally drill it in. She squeezed her legs against Morris’s sides, stiffening in anticipation of the bouncing gait. He did nothing but walk on at his same pace.
“I’m going to help you out,” River said behind her. “Stay relaxed; keep your eyes on the hill.”
She didn’t know what River did, but suddenly Morris picked up the trot. She bounced in the saddle a few strides before finding the rhythm, and then began to post. She could see the hill not far off, and somehow, looking at the endpoint in front of her, she did begin to relax, and for the last few strides, suddenly found herself letting Morrison’s movement push her out of the saddle, and…it’s easy! A few strides before the hill she sat deep in the saddle, having a sense of ‘stop riding’, and to her amazement, Morris came gently back down to walk.
“Well done, Del,” River complimented as he brought Penny to a walk behind her. “Remember to grab mane to get off his back up the hill.”
Delia obeyed, feeling elated after the short trot and looking forward to the next attempt. That was so much fun!
Her next few lessons were on the trail, again with the short stretch of trot. After the fourth time out, River added an additional longer stretch, this one on a slight incline. Whatever it was about riding on an open trail as opposed to the arena did seem to make it easier for her to relax.
“River, do you think you could fit in two lessons a week for me?” she asked after they returned to the crossties.
“Um…” River stalled, trying to think of a polite excuse. He looked over at Delia, carefully brushing Morrison’s coat and running her hand affectionately down the hairs after she brushed. Even in profile he could see the enraptured look on her face. “Sure,” he agreed, surprising himself.
They began to alternate one lesson on the trail and one lesson in the arena on the lunge line. Slowly, Delia began to feel more in balance with the posting trot, and by the end of the second month, she no longer felt her body begging her to stop trotting. I can do this! she marveled. She had achieved her first goal of trotting three circles on the lunge line without fatigue. In fact, she lost count of the circles because riding in balance with her horse while he trotted rhythmically no longer left her breathless and exhausted. She actually did feel like she could ride the trot forever!
*****
For Oberon’s first month at Pegasus, River did no more than establish a routine with him of politely going out of his stall in the morning and coming in from the paddock at night. At least three days a week he brought him into the crossties for grooming. He hoped to see an improvement in the big bay’s attitude; some indication that he was adjusting to his new home and happier. Althoug
h Oberon understood he didn’t have the upper hand with River and behaved himself on the lead and in the crossties, he demonstrated no improvement in his general attitude. He kept his ears back with a sour expression in his eye; his head up with hollow neck and tight back.
Maybe the company of other horses would improve his mood. River asked Manuel to put Oberon in a paddock with Morrison on one side and Magnificent on the other; the two most mellow geldings at the stable. After a week of getting to know his neighbors, River turned Max out in one of the lower pastures and then brought Oberon in and turned him loose. As he expected, Oberon trotted over to Max and snaked his head toward his shoulder to drive him a few feet away; immediately establishing himself as ‘the boss’. Then River brought Morris down and turned him out into the pasture as well. He watched the expected establishment of hierarchy. Oberon snapped out at Morris as well, and with a squeal, the smaller bay horse moved over to stand with Max. River checked on them throughout the day. He found Max and Morris always together, sometimes head to tail scratching each other’s withers with their upper lips, or just grazing peacefully side by side. Oberon stayed near the other two, but off to the side by himself. It did not appear that being in a ‘herd’ with other horses made him any happier.
Maybe the horse was too focused on himself or just plain bored. Maybe putting him into some very light work to give him a distraction would help. On a Saturday, when he would have plenty of time, River decided to try lunging him. Since Oberon had a good start at Amy’s barn, River assumed he should know how to lunge.
After grooming the bay, River put him into a lunging caveson and led him into the indoor arena. Oberon entered with his ears flat and his eyes rolling, clearly stating he was not happy to find himself on a lunge line. As soon as River tried to move him out onto a circle, Oberon spun and kicked out, and ran to the end of the lunge line and stood with his back defensively toward River. When River raised the lunge whip to urge him on, Oberon turned and charged, striking out aggressively with his front legs.
“No,” River spoke firmly and stepped in toward his shoulder with the lunge whip raised and pushed back, sending Oberon out to the end of the lunge line and then kept after him, pushing him forward into a gallop. He allowed him to slow from his frantic gallop as long as he stayed out on his circle. Every time Oberon started to turn in, River stepped toward him and pushed him to move forward. It didn’t take too many rounds of forced gallop before Oberon obediently trotted and then walked correctly on his circle.
“He really is a bully,” Sierra commented, watching from the rail. “I see why he’s called Brute.”
“We’re not calling him that,” River stated as he finished the session and led Oberon around the arena to cool him out.
Sierra joined River, walking at his side away from Oberon. “What are you going to call him?” she asked.
“If a horse has a mean name, people unconsciously react as if the horse is going to do something aggressive, and then often they will.”
“Yeah, I can see how that could happen,” Sierra said thoughtfully.
“I’ll keep calling him Oberon until he earns a better nickname.”
River gave up on lunging the horse for now. He really did not know what to do with him.
*****
Autumn merged into winter, and in spite of the many cold and wet days, River, Sierra, and Katrina consistently rode out on the trails, as well as schooling in the arena. Todd had progressed to trail riding on Muffin, and occasionally River would put him up on Morris or Fala for his lessons in the indoor arena. He was also learning to ride the canter on the lunge line. Delia’s two lessons a week continued to alternate between trail riding and in the arena, on either Morris or Fala. Most arena lessons started out on the lunge line, but the past few weeks, River began to unhook the line for the last ten or fifteen minutes and she rode independently.
River worked with Oberon several days a week on ground manners on the lead and in the crossties. Oberon had learned to respect River’s space and to submit to his commands. Still, River did not sense any bond developing between him and the bay horse. Rather, Oberon merely yielded to him as the more dominant one in their relationship. He was the first horse River had ever worked with consistently where he could not find a connection. Oberon was also the first horse River could honestly say he did not like.
*****
Chapter 6 Trust
So many times riders attribute bad character to horses having a habit of rebellion, when often it is caused by starting certain work without sufficient preparation. – Nuno Oliveira, Reflections on Equestrian Art
*****
“How are things going with Oberon?” Janice Montoya asked after she had greeted River and they had settled into her office for the mandatory session.
“Slow,” he answered in a discouraged tone.
Janice raised her eyebrows in a questioning expression, and waited patiently.
It had taken weeks before her strategy of maintaining a neutral, safe environment and not pushing, had gradually resulted in River’s attitude softening. He began to answer her questions without sarcasm, and no longer pulled out homework in an attempt to ignore her. But he still answered in as few words as possible and volunteered no information at all.
The next breakthrough came when she followed a suggestion given to her by their mutual friend Laila.
“How are the sessions going with River?” Laila had asked one Sunday morning when the two women met for coffee. Janice had counseled Laila last year when the girl was a senior in high school. After graduating, Laila continued to call Janice for advice or just to talk. They had become friends, and Janice was very pleased that Laila was pursuing a psychology major at the university with the goal of also becoming a counselor.
“Not very well,” Janice admitted, “but you know I can’t talk about it. It’s all confidential.”
“Ask him about the horses,” Laila suggested.
Janice, willing to try anything, focused her questions the next time she met with River, about his work with the horses. To her surprise, he answered in full sentences, and it only took a few responses from her to keep him talking.
She had thought that eventually she could use his willingness to talk about horses to gradually move on to other subjects; the ones she suspected might lie at the heart of his problems – losing his mother at the age of eight; or living with an abusive father; how was he dealing with that? Did he need to confront his father in prison? Forgive him? But as she asked him questions about his horse Corazón, she became fascinated with the story of the neglected animal he had rescued from slaughter, and rehabilitated back to health while gradually gaining his trust. She marveled at the bond that had formed between the boy and his horse. It was almost a fairy tale story of how the horse had gone on to compete in combined training events, winning consistently. She wondered if River had any idea how the neglected horse’s life mirrored his own, and how she too, was patiently trying to gain his trust.
She discovered beneath River’s hostile, cold exterior, that he possessed a kind, patient, and tolerant heart; qualities he had developed through working with an animal dependent upon him for its well-being. Without horses, she could easily see River escaping into drugs or alcohol, which according to his file and confirmed by Laila, had been prevalent in his family.
“I can catch him, lead him around, and work with him in the crossties. He behaves but there’s still a barrier there…I don’t know…I just don’t sense that he trusts me.”
“Hmm…and that trust is important,” she said as a statement.
“Yeah,” River answered, feeling a little suspicious.
“Why is that?”
River’s eyes narrowed and he shifted his posture away from her in his chair. “It just is.”
Janice waited, but after several minutes of silence, she said, “It sounds like Oberon doesn’t trust anyone at all.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“I wonder what that must feel like,
not to trust anyone,” she said, watching River with a neutral expression.
He folded his arms and his mouth deepened into a frown.
Sighing inwardly, she changed the subject. “How is Del doing?”
This was a safe subject and the rest of the session, River answered her questions about Delia’s progress and also about Todd.
Still, he left the session with stiff shoulders and a mumbled goodbye. Janice watched him go and then pulled his file in front of her to enter her notes. She didn’t feel as if she had lost ground, in spite of his resentment of her statement about trust. It meant he understood that she was wondering if that was how he felt – distrustful – and even though it put him on the defensive, she hoped he would think about it.
It wasn’t necessary for her to like the kids she counseled and she always tried to keep her feelings neutral, but at the same time, she recognized that she liked some of the students much more than others. An animal lover herself, she understood River’s connection to his horses, and admired that quality. She was very much a dog person (she smiled as she glanced at the framed photo on her desk of her husband and her with their golden retriever). She believed she had learned as much, possibly even more, from the dogs in her life, as she had in her formal education. Likewise, River’s relationship with horses probably had helped him to develop the qualities of patience, tolerance, and a sense of responsibility. When River talked about the horses, she came to know the person inside that he hid from his teachers and even most of the other students. She genuinely liked River and had many hopes for him.
Unlike the next student. Janice groaned inwardly after closing River’s file and opening the next one on her list – Justin Blomquist, another mandatory session. Like River, she inherited a thick file from previous counseling sessions. Whereas River had been made to attend due to frequently missing school and his teachers reporting him as withdrawn and possibly depressed, Justin was pushed into counseling because of his frequent angry outbursts and reported bullying. He had been suspended at the end of his sophomore year for slashing tires in the student parking lot.
For The Love of Horses (Pegasus Equestrian Center) Page 8
