Does your horse have a Night of the Living Dead lurch to the arena? Do you clock in like it’s a factory job? Is there a rut on the rail, and is it you?
Worst of all, is the arena a cell without windows where he gets corrected and controlled? Is it the kind of place where being gate sour, just wanting out, is common sense?
People tell me that their horse doesn’t like the arena and it’s obvious why. If your riding involves arena time, the first priority is to make it a place your horse wants to be. What if, instead of a horse being barn sour, he was arena sour. What if he pulled toward the arena because that’s where all the good things happen?
I learned a new word this week. It’s the German term funktionslust. Try to pronounce it; it’s juicy. It refers to the pleasure taken in doing what one does best. It’s birds flying, dogs playing ball. It speaks of a horse taking thunderous flight, feeling the glory in his physical body. Shouldn’t funktionslust be the sign on the arena gate?
For horses, living in the moment means what their body feels. Our words will never matter as much as his physical state. He doesn’t care what you think about horse slaughter or nutritional supplements or Nuno Oliveira. Right now, is his neck short, is his back is tense, is his movement is restricted?
A riding arena should be a blank slate, not intrinsically good or bad. Not the scene of a competition or a cool beach at sunset. We can create the arena as a playground, a dance studio, or a torture chamber. We can spend time trying to heal our horse’s attitudes about the arena by hacking on long trails, or we can make the arena a place they don’t need therapy to recover from in the first place.
Start here: all great rides begin with a curry. I don’t care if you ever use a brush for grooming, but the curry is a thing of magic. As you move over every inch of his body with energy and focus, feel your own body. It’s your primary tool for communication. Let the circling of the curry on his rump, soften your shoulders. Roll your neck as you curry his poll. Shifting weight from one leg to another, relax your own hips. Stretch your back as you bend to pick his hooves. Curry your horse until you lick and chew.
At the same time, make a plan for your ride. Vow to be happy in the saddle, lightly eloquent with your cues. Think about your own energy and don’t expect more from your horse than you are willing to put out. Have a plan because horses read that focus as confidence. Then be aware that you’ll stick to the plan 11-13% percent of the time. Laugh about it, out loud so he can hear you.
Head to the arena with a long step. Communicate through your body, let your feet be forward but don’t you dare pull on the lead. It’s the cue to him that you’ll be pulling on the reins later.
He doesn’t have to go to work right away. If you are taking the halter off and bridling there, spend too much time in between. Let him look. If you have friends riding when you get there, say hello to them but then ignore them and focus on your horse.
Are you a perfectionist? Call a moratorium on any of your behaviors that might fit in well in a 1950s Catholic girls’ school. Are you the silent, brooding type? Lift your energy. Smile. Show some teeth. Be interesting.
Start slow. Take a stroll with your horse on the ground. No hands, pay attention to your feet. Breathe. Walk big arcs. If you lunge before you ride, let him play in the beginning. If he lets out a buck, cheer for it. Let him shake it all out before you begin to ask for transitions.
When you get to the mounting block, have a scratch fest. Mount up and breathe. This is the dance. Breathe some more. If you are a longtime novice rider, you’ve been taught to sit still and be quiet in the saddle. If you’re timid, you might be unnaturally quiet. If you don’t have a plan, your horse is bored already. So right now, lift your own energy. Feel the funktionslust in your own body. Riders ride! It’s you, doing what you love. Cheer up, for crying out loud.
Walk on. Crank up the music. Focus, go to work with energy. You’ll need discipline to keep your own energy high, to allow the freedom of movement your horse needs to find his balance and feel strong.
Do not punish your horse in the arena. Punishment destroys trust and if it happens every time he goes to the arena, it’s like returning to the scene of the crime. If your horse already has a history of being punished in the arena, it’ll be obvious. Let him know he has all the time he needs.
Go to work with purpose, forward and relaxed. Let him feel his body strong. Sometimes do it his way. Find a fair challenge because it keeps the conversation interesting. Know that he’s giving you what you asked for and adjust yourself accordingly.
Sometimes take an arena trail ride. Drop the reins and don’t care where you go. Sometimes when you are on the trail, do a spiraling exercise or practice light transitions. In the end, riding is just riding. Never location. It’s about a conversation between friends.
Finish the ride a long rein. Energy high, striding out. Halt and take a load off. Your horse, of course. No lingering, being the cool kid on a horse. Don’t make him hold you when he can’t mitigate the weight by moving.
Step a few feet away and give him a full release. Wait for him to take it. Wait for the yawn, the neck shake. No need to rush, let the arena be a sanctuary; the place you congratulate each other on your obvious brilliance. Let your voice be low and soft, with a hint of a nicker.
Sent from my Samsung GALAXY S4™, a Cricket 4G LTE smartphone
I have an even better idea. Long ago my trainer insisted that ALL the show horses (these were Quarter Horses shown in peanut roller classes with supreme control of everything) go out on the trails. No heads to the ground, no cantering in slow motion, no nearly trotting in place. Just all out fun walking, trotting out and cantering in the woods near by. We loved it and the horses loved it. And, when we were at the show grounds, none of our horses were fazed by odd sights and sounds. We had happy horses that knew the difference between the show ring and the woods.
Thanks, Sharon. Variety is good. I’d still like to see horses equally engaged by both environments.
Oh my. Deep sigh. Your words flow into my mind, opening it to the conversation of the horse. My horses can see into me. You have helped me to not only understand that, but to make that a place that is comfortable to see. And we are grateful.
My sympathy for your recent loss. I hope you are comforted by not only providing peaceful passing for your wards but by the peace you bring to the lives of so many horses that you never meet. You have a special gift with horses & humans; thank you for sharing it.
Thank you for the kind words.
My horse loves to hear me laugh. Sometimes it’s at him, sometimes it’s at me. Sometimes it’s just sheer joy at sharing a moment together.
Thanks, Lynn. Laughing is a calming signal.
Love this so much. It’s hard not to get caught up in barn conversations. I am truly interested in what is happening in other’s lives. But I am more interested in my horse. I can see him check out when I start talking to someone. Exactly how I’ve checked out on him.
It’s a fair response. Great comment, Patty.
Ahhh, perfect! Thank you!
Thanks.
I’ve always thought of the arena as a bubble of safe space (for the both of us). I love the relationship stuff that happens there. As for the curry comb… it’s better than meditation. And sometimes when I can’t sleep, I will phantom curry in my mind over every memorized bump, whorl, and hair- I think in the past you’ve referred to that as psychic grooming- regardless, it works like a charm.
The power of intention is never lost on a horse… thanks Wendi.
Love it. We will be returning to arena work in the spring and I couldn’t ask for a better game plan. I have practiced breathing so much with my horse that when I exhale out my mouth I sound just like a horse. My daughters swear I do it just to embarrass them, (teenagers of course). Now when I practice speaking low and soft with a hint of a nicker my girls are gonna just die!
Tormenting teenagers is just so fun. Thanks, Karen.
Thank you. As always, this is beautiful and a needed reminder in many ways, even though we don’t have an arena. I need to remember this just for riding inside the pasture or on the trail.
Riding is riding… good luck, Celeste.
I love it! <3
Yet another of your posts that had me nodding and chuckling at the screen one paragraph after the other!
It rang twice as true for my younger mare, who in the beginning was almost always entering the arena with that "Crime Scene" air you described. It tool a lot of patience, and some creativity to get over the worst of it. Thankfully, coach is one of the women who subscribes to the "If it's stupid but it works, it ain't stupid" philosophy and went along with my hare-brained ideas.
So we went the playful route, with traffic cones and chairs and re-purposed oxer rails. Keeping her too engaged and interested to tense up and – there I think is the key element you mentioned about plans – improvising all the time. Not giving her time to dwell on mishaps, adjusting plans on the fly. Making time for stretching and flexing (Coach: “Horsey-yoga”) even in the middle of a lesson if needed. Having bellylaughs at “Mario Cart with Horses” – tossing balls while evading traffic cones (Trú and I lose all the time, I think mowing down the cones tickles her mischievous side).
Feel the funktionslust in your own body. Riders ride! It’s you, doing what you love!
Magnificent word 😀
And I’ll definitely make that my new mantra whenever I have a ‘blah’ day!
let the arena be a sanctuary; the place you congratulate each other on your obvious brilliance
Not enough words to express how much I adore this! With your permission, I just may scribble this on a bit of cardboard and pin it over my saddle in the tack room.
Thank you, Training is a spontaneous artform. Yay.
What a serene photograph of a moon-lit dusk (or was it dawn?) over horse and rider.
Dusk on my beautiful prairie. Thanks.
Omg! In my heart, I knew it?!
Teehee.
Ah, truth be that it is I who hates area/ring work. I love the challenge of an obstacle course or the natural peace of the trail…..
No worries.
This is something I will have to try as my OTSTB sees arenas as claustrophobic and unfun no matter how we try to keep things short or do things he enjoys doing. It is just stunning the difference in his mood and body language in and out of the arena. I will try more games or fun things to annoy him with (he takes himself way too seriously) to see if that will help with “arena time”.
Thanks and again, great blog!
You are working back from his history. Glad you are listening to him.Thanks, Jane.
I am a sympathetic rider, I can understand going from a track to an arena can be difficult for some horses, especially if they are a) larger my guy is 16.2 or b) been a track rat for a while, my guy raced til 9 in stakes and open company so he likes his space.
His true love is the trail, and I try to take advantage of the 100 miles of dedicated horse trails our town of Davie maintains.
Keep the inspiration coming.
He has a “rich” history. You are smart to be sympathetic…
Love it! Specially “We can spend time trying to heal our horse’s attitudes about the arena by hacking on long trails, or we can make the arena a place they don’t need therapy to recover from in the first place.” Alleluia 🙂 Or maybe even the place they go to recover from old crappy riding too. 🙂
Thanks, Jenny. It’s like people think some horses are born hating the arena. Crazy.
This has been the best part of my day, speaks to my hear. Thank you!
Wow, thanks, Tracey.