The Dressage Training Scale

Pictured above is the dressage training scale. Although several variations exist, the idea behind the visual is a foundation of training eventually leads to upper-level ability in the horse. Much like a world-class athlete, a certain amount of genetics, fitness, nutrition, and other contributing factors lend themselves towards greatness in horses. I love the Fugly Horse of the Day blog, and the author clearly demonstrates the negative effects of poor breeding and ignorance in equine husbandry that leads to an unprecedented amount of "fuglies" born every year.

That said, even talented, awesome horses have bleak futures with bad training. Here is a well-documented case of a stellar Tennessee Walking Horse that was ridden to the ground and is now in constant pain. One look at the picture to the left indicates that Mr. Biggs is uncomfortable simply standing in the sun on even ground.

That's where the training scale comes in handy. Long before we can expect collection and gorgeous upper-level movements from our horses, we must strive to build a strong foundation. This is especially important for OTTBs; these horses have no sense of rhythm, and they certainly are never asked to be supple and bend beyond the sloping turns of the track.

Sadly, and all too often, emphasis is placed on collection of the horse before the horse is fit, elastic, and willing to truly accept the bridle and come onto the bit. I adore the Sustainable Dressage blog, and I highly recommend that anyone rehabbing OTTBs or a rider interested in dressage training should follow the blog and read this post about true and false collection. One of the reasons I love the blog is because the author, Theresa Sandin, advocates practical training methods that do not force the horse in a particular frame, but instead opts for training that slowly strengthens, balances, and increases the flexibility of dressage horses for long, healthy, and successful careers.

Compare that to the racehorse industry, where, at least in the United States, thousands of horses are used up and basically tossed out every year. Although the exact number is tricky to nail down, some sources indicate that 1 out of every 1,500 racehorses will suffer from a fatal injury while conducting racing activity, while others simply breakdown or retire and are quietly disposed of. Thankfully, the sad plight of many of these horses is sometimes intercepted by a group like CANTER and eventually adopted to private owners.

My point is this: ex-racehorses are not performance horses served to trainers, owners, and competitors on a silver platter. They are diamonds in the rough. There's heart, there's drive, hopefully there's good confirmation and a healthy body, but rhythm, relaxation, suppleness... these things take a long time to teach. I printed out the training scale as presented to me by a professor at my college and I taped it to my tack trunk. Every day, I look at that scale, and I know that one day, after lots of training, long days, and patience, I'll strut my stuff in the show ring with a bounding bundle of elastic equine underneath me, but in the meantime, I'll be happy with that nice, rhythmic, balanced trot.

Shorty's Hero

This is Shorty's hero. The horse is named Just Right, ridden and owned by Paula Wong. Paula purchased this horse as a four year old for $2,500 after the horse sustained a compromising, and very painful, quarter crack. Fortunately, he had healed and is sound, and he competes 3rd level.

Here's another hero of Shorty's:


This is Just Fun Stuff, ridden and owned by Melissa Hunsberger. She also rides and shows another OTTB named Expedience. Melissa was named to the USEF developing rider list in 2006 for her awesome work with these horses.

See? It can be done.

While our goals are not so lofty as FEI level, I'd love to make it through first level, maybe even work in second level. While it is difficult to recognize that Shorty does have a few issues and chronic lamenesses that will likely prevent him from doing certain dressage movements, I'm doing my best to be realistic.

One thing that cannot be accounted for is Shorty's heart. He puts a lot of effort into what he does, otherwise he wouldn't have raced for five years on three different racetracks. (Santa Anita, CA, Presque Isle Downs, PA, and Thistledown, OH). However, I do not want this horse to be uncomfortable when he is under saddle, so there's a delicate balancing act. Fortunately, I'm getting a lot of great feedback in my lessons, and riders more professional and experienced in the world of ex-racehorse rahab are setting some great parameters. My newest instructor feels there is no reason why Shorty can't work in second level and beyond once his spine alignment was addressed (and it was on Sunday).

I'm off to the barn to go ride now. I didn't ride yesterday due to Shorty's chiropractor appointment (I needed to give him some time off after being poked, prodded, and pushed around), so we start anew today! I'm excited!

The Chiropractor Is In!

Shorty had a visit from an equine chiropractor today. At first, he wondered why the heck she was up on a mounting block, pushing his neck around, but when she brought out hay to get his head to stretch, he decided he really liked her. When she first touched his tender left stifle he tried to kick her, but eventually he settled down as she continued to work with him and started to enjoy himself as she eased some of the really tense spots.

She made some major adjustments- even I could hear bones creaking. There were a few moments were it looked like Shorty was enjoying himself; licking, chewing, sighing, stretching his head out inquisitively. All and all, it wasn't a bad experience and Shorty seemed none the worse for wear. Time will tell if it was a worthwhile experience.

Truth be told, I was warned by my veterinarian about the "evils" of chiropractors. According to my vet, one person "pushing" on a horse will not influence the bones to move; even band saws barely get through the muscle! I see her point; Shorty has a very thick neck, but pushing on a live muscle is probably very different than sawing through a dead horse's muscle during necropsy. When I asked if hiring a chiropractor would be a good idea for Shorty, she responded, "Well, it won't HURT him to have it done, but don't expect any major results. Just don't let anyone hammer on your horse's head."

I decided to search around and ask some of my horsey friends about who they recommend. I finally called a woman that came highly recommended by a fellow certified riding instructor. I'm glad I called her out; she didn't slam my horse against a wall and hammer on his head (which is basically how my vet made it sound). If you are in the Cleveland area, feel free to contact me through my email address for her contact information.

I'm tentatively scheduled for a "check-up" in four weeks. According to the chiropractor, it is pretty common for the alignment problems to resurface after a few weeks because the muscles will pull them back. A tune up will reshape the horse as the muscles adjust to the new alignment. Shorty will have tomorrow off from riding (but he will go for a nice handwalk) and then we start fresh on Tuesday. I'm not expecting him to suddenly start picking up his right lead canter, but I do hope he will be more comfortable to the right and able to bend a bit more without falling in on my right leg. I'm exited! Yay progress!

Le Sigh

Friday was an interesting day. My car picks very opportune moments to randomly, yet quite effectively, die. I decided to rename my car from her former She-Ra the Princess of Power to the manly man John McClane from the ever-popular Die Hard films. My car died hard, died harder, and died hard with a vengeance. I'm waiting for the final installment; the inevitable live free or die hard moment where the car finally reaches its final resting place, probably in the middle of a busy intersection, on the highway, or at a drive through.

The reason the moment was so unfortunate was because I had just purchased grain for Shorty and was expected to drive back to the loading dock to retrieve my order. I, the triumphant fool, strolled out of the feed store and into the parking lot, thinking "Yes, I bought grain. Somewhere, probably in a city, some girl paid $120 for shoes, but me, I bought GRAIN. I'm COOL." I happily hop in my hoopty, only to to hear the ultimate sound of fail. After three pathetic whines, all I got was a click from the ignition.

"What? How could this be? Surely, I did not leave any lights on and the radio was off." I searched around, looking for a cause to my effect. None were to be had, and that's bad news. That means
it is time to shell out $120 on something other than GRAIN; a car battery. But first, I had to call my husband and asked him to drive over to the grain store and jump my car.

Once the car was running, I drove over to the barn and was careful to remind myself not to turn off my car. Instead, I let my battery recharge with the running alternator while I unloaded grain, turned Shorty out, cleaned his stall, waterer, and feed bucket, measured out grain, brought Shorty back in, rode Shorty, gave Shorty a bath, and gave Shorty his "good boy" cookies at the end of the night. I left John McClane running for four hours. To avoid overheating, I turned the heat on full blast in the passenger compartment to draw hot air out of the engine. While the engine did, in fact, remain in the safe temperature levels, my seats, the steering wheels, and the air in the car was stale and hot.

A new battery later, all seems to be well and good. Hopefully my only convenient means of getting to the barn to see my horse and do my work will not abandon me in the near future. Here's to wishful thinking *raises Dr. Pepper bottle in toast.*

The fine piece of machinery pictured to the left is not my car, but very similar. If the fake wood panels were taken away, it would basically be my car: a 1991 Cutlass Cruiser Supreme, mostly powder blue. Yes, I realize this is a Buick, but back then, they were basically the same thing. Sometime in the near future I'll take a picture of my beauty and post them for giggles. The rust that goes through the wheel wells is particularly amusing.

That said, I did purchase my car for $400 out of a junk yard and have since enjoyed five years, roughly 100,000 miles, of relatively pain-free driving. My horse, on the other hand, has an Albion saddle that cost $1,300 used (these saddles are over $3,500 new - yikes), and right after I got the saddle I had it reflocked and shaped to his back (another $400). Heck, Shorty's two bridles, one Tory leather and the other Courbette, cost more than my car. But, as a dedicated horse owner, driving around a POS while buying the best possible tack for my horse is A-OK with me. :)

Halt!

Last night, while teaching an adult group lesson, I watched one of the new, less-experienced riding instructors struggle with getting her horse to hold still. Exasperated, she grabbed on to her horse's withers, pulled hard, and slammed down on the horse's back. I grimaced and the horse didn't look happy about it either.

For the sake of confidentiality, I will refer to this rider as "A." A started taking lessons because she is interested in dressage and knows that I ride the discipline and work it in to all of my lessons in some form or another. She wanted to work on getting her mare on the bit and said that the mare resists her hand.

I walked over and asked if A wanted to work on some training issues with her mare during the lesson, and she agreed. When I looked at what the mare was wearing in her mouth, I wanted to cry. The brow band was two inches lower than I would put it, the throat latch was too tight, and the noseband was buckled over the cheek pieces. The worst part of all was the bit: a loose ring snaffle that was 1. too tight and pinching the mare's mouth, and 2. really, really disgustingly RUSTY. I held the horse and sent A into the barn to get Shorty's bridle, a full-size Tory leather bridle with a nice, fat full-cheek snaffle (complete with keepers). I adjusted the size of the bridle a bit for her more petite head, put it in, and readjusted, all the while talking to A about things like the 2 finger rule and wrinkles at the corner of the mouth. The horse was relieved to get that rusty bit out of her mouth but she thankfully did not have any rubs or missing skin as a result of A's lack of judgement. (Who the fuck doesn't realize that RUST is a bad thing to put in a horse's mouth?)

A moved to grab the reins from me again, but I didn't give them up. Instead, I took the mare for a walk. As I walked around, I stopped and gave her praise when she held still. If she moved, I lightly corrected her, waited for her to settle and stand, and went right back to pets and praise for being a good girl. After three stops, she had the idea; this mare is no dummy. I walked her over to the mounting block, asked her to stop, and again petted her. Then, I walked away. I walked around to the block again, this time standing on the bottom step, all the while reassuring her. I hopped off and walked around again. I went to the block one more time, asked her to stand, went all the way to the top step of the block and made a big fuss about how awesome she was. The process took no more than five minutes, all said and done.

I handed the reins to A, and told her to do the same thing. She had observed me making light corrections to prevent walking off. For a horse that is accustomed to following me the way Shorty is, I simply place my hand on his chest and he stops. For a horse that is being intoduced to the concept of hanging out with humans, a "whoa" and soft tug back on the reins should suffice. After a few stands, we introduced the mounting block.

Before A was allowed to swing a leg over, I warned her about the evils of flopping onto the horse. "Have a heart," I told her. "You wouldn't want someone slamming something onto YOUR back, would you?" Wouldn't you know it, the horse held still while A got on and we both petted and praised her.

Next, we talked about halting while astride the horse. I told her about what I call the "halt position" where the rider is completely centered deep in the saddle and does not move. "Movement from your leg, seat, even your hand and mean 'Move off' to the horse," I told A. "When you ask for a stop, exhale and settle down deep into your seat. Sit quiet."

The horse danced a little, and A was quick to kick the horse hard on the side with a sharp, "Cut it OUT!" I honestly feel that using leg to teach your horse to stand is a conflicting message; leg means "go" and I told A that. "If she moves, I said, "Gently exhale and halt again, wait for her to settle, and go back to petting and praising her." A few minutes later, the mare stood beautifully for over a minute.

"Okay, that's enough for today," I told A. "That's a great victory for today, and you should be very proud of that mare."

"That's it?!" A retorted. "We didn't trot, canter, or work on getting her on the bit. We just did stuff on the ground."

"What we did today strengthened your communication with your horse. Over time, she should be able to follow you when you walk and stop and stand when you stop without a tug on the reins. In the meantime, these little improvements add up to a healthier, safer, and more balanced horse."

A stomped off, probably feeling like she was cheated out of becoming a brilliant dressage rider in one lesson, but I feel like taking it slow was the best thing for A and the mare. I truly feel bad for the mare. I wish I could find her an upgrade, and it is sad to think that A IS an upgrade from her last owner.

The whole lesson made me think about Shorty and ex-racehorses. The few times I've been on a racetrack, I've witnessed grooms legging up jockeys while the horse is in motion. Many racehorses do not learn to stand still for mounting. When I first started with Shorty, that was one of the first things I had to do. Before I hop on a horse and ask for walk, trot, or canter, I need to know that he/she understands my cues for standing still.

Just like my lesson with A, I had to start from the ground and "earn" my way up, and by "earn" I mean I had to have Shorty's trust, and be able to trust Shorty, before I felt that I was ready to put my foot in the stirrup. And trust, my friends, isn't initially earned by galloping in a field. That kind of work is acceptable for a horse and rider that already has an established partnership, but I wouldn't recommend it for an amateur rider with a new horse. Trust comes from those quiet moments where you and the horse can stand peacefully, side by side, enjoying the peace and sharing, not invading, eachother's space. I love those moments just as much as I love nailing a lateral movement or getting an awesome canter depart.

For the first two weeks, my training methods with Shorty were very simple. Observers would have probably switched over to watching the grass grow. That's okay. We spent most of the time standing still or walking around in big circles. We built an awesome foundation for trust, and even when Shorty spooks he stays near me. Without or without a leadrope, he will follow me and he's a breeze to bring in from the field. And he certainly does not move from the mounting block until I give him a light squeeze to let him know (if he does move too soon, 99.99% of the time it is because I shifted my leg and accidentally gave him the cue, the other .01 is usually because he was off balance and moved up a step or two to be more comfortable).

Too bad the barn is closed. I want to go do some ground work. :)