The Oakley Diaries - 25: Nice Problem to Have

Oakley rushed a fence.

He's never done that before.

Eeeeeeeeeeeee! <= squealing sound much like an excited 6-year-old.

From the time I got him up until last year, he insisted on stopping to carefully inspect each fence to see that it meets safety standards and to ensure there are no lions hiding in the shadows before suddenly leaping over, but as we have spent the better part of this year carefully working our way through "101 Jumping Exercises", constantly jumping over small obstacles every time we ride, two things have changed.

First, he has become much more inclined to go over new fences without much fuss.

Second, in consequence of the first, my jumping position has improved significantly, since I'm no longer assuming a crash position before we actually crash.

He still almost always slows down before a jump and tests me to see if I really mean he must go over. There are still times when he tries to do anything but go over. Having experimented with different advice on how to deal with this situation, I've found, in his case, the best way is to just keep him there, facing the jump, and keep my jumping position solid and stable, until he decides to jump. That way it becomes his choice to trust me, it's safe.

If the blue tarp pretending to be a liverpool (where did that name come from, BTW?) is too disconcerting and he decides not to risk a shark attack, well I'm not going to smack him for stopping to look at it. But I am going to make sure he doesn't get to move away, back up, or avoid the jump. I patiently keep bringing him quietly but firmly back in front of the obstacle until he figures out that he really only has two options, viz., he can dance around on this side of the jump all day (and miss dinner) or he can go over it.

But I won't punish him for being afraid, only for trying to take control. Eventually, having carefully and thoroughly inspected the jump, the tarp, the log, the x-rail, the ditch, or whatever, he gathers himself up and goes over, invariably in a such a way that tests the solidity of my seat, but nowhere as violently as he did even last summer.

After six months, his hesitation has become markedly less, his pauses much shorter, and his jump is no longer a panicky leap. He is deciding to trust me to do this, even if he's still unsure. And his hesitation has become a slow-down, not a refusal most of the time. I'm sure we could have pushed harder and faster, but I have learned that faster is usually not better. Take time, build carefully, develop steadily and there will be fewer surprises in store. I am working to create a trusting partnership, and that takes time.

Oakley is also what I call "an honest horse". (My own idiosyncratic definition.)

I've heard people say things like 'oh, that's and honest horse who will jump no matter what.'

I beg to differ.

I don't see a horse that will jump no matter what as being particularly "honest". I see such a horse as encouraging, even helpful to inspire confidence, at first. Obviously one cannot learn the basics while hanging on for dear life or learn confidence while being thrown into the ground. All that does is teach you to unconsciously assume you are about to refuse which, in turn, tells the horse to refuse, and so on. But after a point, jumping position becomes vital and that is why such a horse is not honest, in that, after a point such a horse will never let me know that my jumping style is off and that we're going over in spite of me, not because of me. Kind of like trying to run around with an unbalanced backpack, it's very hard to do.

An honest horse will let me know when my technique needs improvement; when I need to become a balanced backpack that makes jumping easier, not harder.

Oakley will truthfully tell me if my jumping position needs correcting. He'll coach me, he'll say, sort-of, 'You're not sitting in balance; I'm not comfortable and we are not going over this jump until you are sitting correctly.'

Now, Oakley's verbal skills being admittedly somewhat lacking, he nonetheless has his own means to communicate when he is not happy with my position and clearly explains to me exactly how unbalanced I am.

After I dust off the dirt and climb back on, and when I am sitting properly, with my legs in the strong, stable position, heels down and gripping closely, my head and torso erect and steady and over his center of balance, my arms and shoulders flexible and responsive, well then, Oakley jumps smoothly and agreeably even if reluctantly, he's not constantly refusing any longer. As long as my position is correct, he'll trust me and hop over the fence. This has become our normal lesson.

Thus it was such a thrill recently when, instead of slowing down to inspect the jump or stop and look for an out, as usual, he instead sped up and eagerly charged towards the jumps with a power and enthusiasm he has not hitherto displayed. It felt marvelous as I, for my part, merely concentrated on maintaining the correct posture and balance and let him take us over.

It was an awesome feeling.