I did another jump school with His Poeness last night. We revisited the bounce idea, setting a little cross-rail to a pole, then bumping the pole up to a little vertical, then adding another vertical a stride out. We’re trying to make sure he’s seen the kinds of things he’ll encounter at the clinic in a couple weeks: poles propped at the sides of a jump as wings, flower boxes, bounces in general. Every time we got a smooth run through we’d increase the height somewhere or add a little element. We did get in really ugly to the bounce once, on a half stride, but he gamely clobbered on through. I felt bad about it but he’s packing around my ammy butt so he needs to learn how to get out of sticky situations! He ran out of the one-stride once after that, but a bit more aggressive ride got him through the next time around. Lots for him to think about and bounces are hard work!

After we’d built the last jump to an oxer and gotten through smoothly, Lennie pulled out the second element of the bounce and we reversed directions, coming over our previously last jump, then two strides to the former first element of the bounce. He was getting tired by this point, but still jumping gamely and well, and Lennie built the second element up into an oxer and whacked it up a couple times. The last time she raised it I thought briefly about asking if we shouldn’t end on our previous run through. But Lennie’s a lot wiser than I am, and I see some value in asking him to work once more when he’s a little tired (he wasn’t exhausted by any means), and so I just shut up and did it. It rode beautifully; he felt great and relaxed and smooth. After I threw him his little You’re such a good boy! party, Lennie says casually, “You do realize you just jumped 3 foot 3, right?”

I had not in fact realized anything of the sort. It certainly didn’t feel like 3’3″ — it felt like very little effort for Poe at all, and I try not to examine the heights of jumps too closely because I freak out a little if I start thinking they look too big. (Which is a bit funny because as the fences get taller I think my riding in general improves — it’s way, way harder for me to release properly over little stuff.) So I demanded Lennie grab a picture with her phone (I always leave mine in the car) for photographic proof.

It’s blurry so you can’t tell, but I am wearing an absolutely enormous grin, and I’m pretty sure Poe is too. He was quite pleased with himself.

I can’t even remember now when I bought this domain name — sometime last fall? And I’ve been waiting to do any posting because I (obviously) don’t have any grand (or even not-so-grand) design ideas (I spent a while browsing the WordPress Themes directory, and am trying this stylish, simplish one on for size for now), and I just couldn’t summon the effort to do the big First Post, the Introduction, the Here Is My Horse and He Is Wonderful. And I entered serious riding slacker mode in November, so there hasn’t been much to report anyhow.

But now we’re gearing back up. We’ve had a couple fits and starts, but the last two weeks have been pretty solid work-wise. They’ve been pretty frustrating too: we’ve both lost quite a bit of fitness and flexibility. Poe came back from vacation really ready to work and feeling great, but lost a bit of that somewhere. I’ve had a lot of trouble getting his attention the last couple weeks, and just a whole slew of frustrating and mediocre rides. I know we can be better. A LOT better. It’s tough letting go of where we were, what I know is in there somewhere, and just riding the horse I have that day, but that’s what I’ve been striving for. I’ve been digging deep for patience, to keep things simple, and to praise him at every opportunity.

And last night, for the first time in a long time, I felt like I have my horse back. We still have a lot of work to do, but he felt really willing and listening and like he was finally remembering the stuff we’re trying to do together: soft contact, working over the back, supple supple supple, listen to the leg. There are a lot of things I love about owning a horse, but one of my favorites is being able to leap off of them after a particularly good ride, or even just one good moment, and lavish them with praise. I love being able to tell him what a brilliant, good, hard-working boy he is, how clever and spectacular, what an amazing thing he’s just accomplished. I think he loves it too: he gets a sort of glow in his eye, a spring to his step, a brightness. He is such a pleaser, and I think these times when we nail it really buoy both of us up.

Two other things I’m super proud about: Since I got him last year, I’ve been working softly, just a little bit every time, on him standing at the mounting block. He is a really good boy; when I get on him he wants to go straight to work, and staying still right then has always wound him up. I can feel him get more and more tense; it’s like sitting on a powderkeg. He’s never done anything untoward, never bolted or bucked, but I’ve also always taken care not to push these tense moments too far. So, I let it slide a little bit. I’ve always corrected him, made him stand for at least a few breaths (some days are better than others and I’ve always let his mood dictate how far we can take it), but I’ve always had to correct him at least a little — until last week. Last week we had a small Come to Jesus. I was very stern (I hate being too stern; I always feel like a bully). He twitched and sidestepped and pawed and got himself all balled up but finally, finally, he stood and relaxed. He sighed, and I made a huge deal over him. Since then? He no longer takes that single step when I swing my leg over. It’s still early, but he’s been really solid on this the last few rides. It seems to have finally clicked. I know I could’ve enforced it harder earlier, but this timeline worked for us.

Thing two! Related to thing one, really. He can be Mr. Antsy-Pants in the cross-ties. He dances a lot, and paws, and I feel like I’ve been working nonstop for the last year to try to discourage all that annoying nonsense. It’s another one of those choose-your-battles things, and I’m taking a long-term view of it. I have definite small goals (he is not allowed to bulge into my space or he gets to jab himself into the business end of the hoofpick, no pawing, etc), and as he gets more solid on those he can graduate on to more complex goals. He is usually more receptive after we’re done riding, so that’s when I leave him off the cross-ties as long as possible and try to teach him about ground tying. It’s much easier when there aren’t a lot of people around (Poe is under the impression that pretty much anything that moves needs to have his nose stuck all over it), but he’s really starting to get this one too. Last night I stepped away to grab his brushes from the next grooming bay over — I wasn’t more than two horse lengths away, but he kept his feet glued to the spot and when I turned around he had his ears up and he was staring at me with the most earnest look on his face, absolutely bursting with pride that he had stayed right there, and that was what I’d wanted, right? Right? (I’m pretty sure I look like a complete lunatic throwing these seemingly random parties for my pony, all “AAHH Good Boy, What a Smart Dude! Look At You!”, but hey, it seems to be working.)

I didn’t actually intend to go off on this big, specific tangent, particularly not before I actually did the Here Is My Horse and He Is Wonderful thing. So: Here is my horse, and he is wonderful:

His registered name is Reliant, but I call him Poe, and I plan to show him this coming season as Poseidon. I got him at the very end of December 2009, after a long, arduous search, which is probably a tale for another time. (My dear friend Lennie helped me, and sometimes on these cold dark nights sitting in her Durango I have flashbacks to last winter, and feel an immense rush of gratitude that I’m not still looking.) He’ll be five this spring, and we’re eventers. We spent last year doing a lot of flatwork and some baby jumping, lots of larking around in the cross-country field, a handful of shows, and a fall full of trail riding. He is an absolute joy, and I still feel so lucky every day to have him in my life.