With apologies to Aretha, I've discovered a new spelling for Respect:

S-P-U-R-S.

Of late, it has become crystal clear that Sammie simply does not respect my leg. Upward transitions and forward energy were easy things for our trainer Meg to get from Samba, but whenever I hopped on, fuggedaboudit. Here I was, committed to showing at Intro level in March, and I had to enter into negotiations with Sammie any time I wanted her to pick up a trot. Intro A test has you picking up a trot between C and M. Our attempts at this were more like, ask for trot just after C with a few quick calf squeezes. Nothing. Ask more loudly, with a few flutter kicks against her sides. Head tossing. (Sammie's way of saying "NO!"...I should be thankful she hasn't figured out how much more effectively she could send the message with a buck.) Kick with heels. More balking. Repeat ad nauseum until Sammie finally gives in. I was getting ready to petition the USDF for an addition to the Intro tests: the 10-minute trot transition. Something like: Enter at A. Halt at X. Salute. Proceed to C. Track right. Pick up a trot between C and whatever letter Sammie happens to be in front of when she gives up the fight.

In Wednesday's lesson, Meg, out of any other solutions, called me over to where she was standing and proceeded to remove her spurs and put them on my boots. "But Meg, I don't think I'm ready for spurs." She assured me my leg was plenty steady enough. Visions of the one and only time I'd ever used spurs spun around my brain. In that unfortunate experiment, another trainer put spurs on me (against my protests) so that I could get a lazy school horse to canter. Oh, he cantered all right. Then when I inadvertently spurred him again, he locked his neck, grabbed the bit, and took off around the arena, until he finally rubbed me off on the rail as I tried to spiral him in. Needless to say, I vowed at that moment to never again wear the dreaded spurs.

But Meg wasn't worried, and she convinced me. Spurs on, I asked again for a trot. Balk. Gently brushed her sides with the spur.

Oh, you were serious about that? Gee, Mom...if I knew you wanted to trot...why didn't you say so?

We spent the rest of that lesson on transitions, which were no longer problematic. The following day's lesson was spent on transitions too: DOWN transitions. Now that she was picking up the trot willingly, she was getting strong and fast. Meg had me slow down my posting and do a lot of half-halts. This was fun! If you told me a few weeks ago I would have too much forward energy from Sammie, I would have spit out my coffee.

I gave her yesterday off, and today, put the spurs on again as I rode...without Meg. Gulp. Could I keep her calm and focused on my own? Yes, indeedy. Today was the best day we've had in a long time. I longed her a bit first (just an attitude check!) and then hand-walked her into the covered arena. We had a bit of a spook walking over to the arena, because a tree trimmer was working next to the covered, and she saw a big branch fall. I didn't want to call off our ride, though, so I hand-walked her around the arena until she settled down, and then mounted. She was relaxed, focused, and most importantly, gave me EVERY transition I asked for, when I asked. No balking at the upwards transitions; no walking or trotting through my down transitions. I didn't even have to touch her with the spurs once. So there it is. Spurs = Respect. Who knew?

Now I'll finally be able to start working on getting her balanced and straight. Otherwise, we may end up petitioning the USDF to change the 20 meter circles in the tests to 20 meter eggs.

From my blog: Green on Green