Lesson 5: Where Do I Go From Here?

This lesson, after the student has extensively reviewed the material in lessons one through four, this lesson will continue with information on basic riding theories and philosophies. It will then put those to use in teaching the student how to turn, change direction, work without the guiding boundary of the arena fence line and how to maintain a straight, forward, moving walk, and why. It will give the student some ways to think about horses that will serve him or her well during the more advanced lessons in this series and beyond.

Basic riding theory and philosophy

Xenophon, the 4th Century Greek soldier mentioned before, claimed that riding “makes the body healthy, improves the sight and hearing, and keeps men from growing old.”

Winston Churchill took all that to a psychological level. Said he, “There is something abut the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man.”

And then there was comedian Joe E. Louis. He said, “You can lead a horse to water, but if you can teach him to roll over and float on his back, then you got something.”

These three quotations could almost be a ‘which one doesn’t fit’ exercise. But the fact is, they all say the same thing: the horse, exactly as it is now and has always been, is a fundamental asset to mankind. How’s that?

Riding is exercise, as Xenophon said, and exercise that demands much of the muscles, the eyes….everything. And so, it keeps everything tuned up.

Churchill made the point that getting away for a ride---which, as noted above strengthens the body and consumes the senses—is good for the mind and spirit, a mini-respite from whatever else is going on in one’s life. And it might also be construed to mean that, in view of the horse’s great strength and speed, man may properly be humbled at the same time as he is exalted for being allowed among all creatures to sit upon the horse.

Finally, a horse is a horse. It will always be a horse and can be taught only minimal ‘tricks,’ both because of its nature and its conformation. In short, it will always be for mankind a reminder that while we may be the most intelligent of the biological creatures on earth, there are still some things we cannot do. One of those would be to teach a horse to float on his back.

Basic riding theory and philosophy, developed in all the years since the time of Xenophon, takes that into account. We realize we must work with exactly what is in front of us to get the desired result. It is as hopeless to ask a horse to be other than he is as it is to marry someone we intend to change. Indeed, in either sort of relationship, the only thing you could get out of the attempt would be failure and hard feelings on both sides.

Classical horse training takes the nature and desires of the horse very much into account. FEI (Federation Equestrienne Internationale, the international dressage association) judge Deedee Bierbrauer of Windcrest II farm in Clarksburg, MD, once told me it was a foolish rider who did not change plans for a horse that was having a bad day. “They’re living creatures,” she said. “They are allowed to have a bad day once in a while.”

But many so-called modern trainers treat horses like mechanical objects. If the horse doesn’t behave as expected on a particular day, they simply ask harder and harder and harder. They get mad at the horse, which is about as sensible as getting mad at the rain. It is what it is. Horses do not experience malice as humans do. The horse is simply expressing who he is on that day, not with intent to annoy humans, but simply to be.

So, the trick to good riding—once one has acquired a certain amount of skill so that one can truly feel the horse—is to let the horse be the horse. Influence him 95 percent of the time, but allow that five percent of the time, for reasons completely his own ranging from a slight malady not apparent to you to being shoved down in the pecking order in his field, or something totally unknowable to humans—he is just not quite himself and give him a break. Either let him out of work entirely, or change the program so that you go for a leisurely walk in a pasture rather than jump fences in the arena. Or get off him and give him a good grooming, or hand-graze him in the clover he loves but can’t get in the eaten-down paddock he plays in.

This is a different philosophy entirely from the one you will hear espoused, still, by the majority of teacher/trainers of riding in this country. We are a goals-oriented lot, and we expect nothing to get in the way of our meeting them when WE want to.

Here’s another bit of horse philosophy; your horse has a right to make his desires and goals, if you want to anthropomorphize him a bit, known to you. He is your partner. If you wouldn’t demand that your doubles tennis partner share every little desire with you, don’t expect it from your horse. For in this sport, your partner is, in fact, a member of another species but no less deserving of respect and consideration. You wouldn’t expect your tennis doubles partner to play brilliantly the day after she lost a corporate battle at work; don’t expect your horse to play brilliantly when he has had a hard day in the paddock, maybe with the introduction of a more highly ranked gelding. Or something.

Monty Roberts and John Lyon in the western riding world have done more to popularize the philosophy of equality of value between man and horse than anyone in centuries. That’s surprising; western riding is generally regarded in this country as tougher than English. And yet, so many English riding gurus still ascribe to the aberrant ‘horse as machine’ idea. Or at least, they train horses and riders as if they did.

If you want to be a truly good horsewoman or horseman, you must not only learn the techniques of riding, but you must also develop an underlying philosophy, one in which the theory of riding can be understood. The techniques will work 95 percent of the time, whether you feel kindly toward the horse or not. You don’t have to know theory to use the techniques and have a fair amount of success. But you will never reach the pinnacle without holding the belief that your horse is your partner, deserving of your intense consideration at all times. Irish show-jumper Eddie Macken treats his jumpers to Guinness stout. They like it, and it does, in fact, have minerals that probably help the horses out a tad.

Aaron Vale, one of only two American showjumpers ever to ride the top five horses in competition, treats all his horses as individuals, and he doesn’t overwork them. He takes on mainly ‘problem’ or semi-retired or once-injured horses other jumpers don’t want. He makes them new again—and winners!—by riding well, but by treating each horse as it needs to be treated, not as a machine. He’s one of the most skillful riders on the circuit, because he adapts his technique, too, to suit the horse.

You need not aspire to those heights. But if it works for them, can the philosophy be so far wrong?

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