Driving Miss Beth

I need to get some horses sold before next winter. The three that are on the market are Maddie, who's green broke, Beth and Amy, the two "babies." There is a small private treaty sale the middle of July, sponsored by our local rescue group, Rodeo City Equine Rescue, that all three are signed up for.
I would like to get Beth at least started under saddle before then, and more ground work done with Amy (who's just barely over two, so I'm not planning on getting on her before late summer or fall). I've been working with both a little sporadically since school got out. It's time to get seriously consistent.

When I first saddled her up, Beth pranced and danced all over the place. So I left her to stand and think about her manners, and went to work the two-year-old, Amy. Only a fifteen minute session, her second saddling and first time wearing the bridle, but it was a good session. (Sorry, no pictures.)

In the meantime, Beth stood tied in the spare stall, ready to go--and got absolutely NO attention for her pawing and carrying on. When she finally stood quietly, I went and got her, and we went to the round pen.

First, a little lunging off the halter.

Then feed the long lines through the rings (hanging from her cinch rings), and I ask her to bend each direction a half dozen times, towards me, on each side, then ask them across their withers to bend away from me--not as reinforcing for them.A nice, soft give.
Ask her to move forward, with me still in the lunging position towards the center of the round pen.

Reverse to the outside, feeding the new outside rein out, while gathering the inside line up. (This is new--it is the opposite of lunging, where they turn towards you.)

Walk and trot both directions.

Beth still does a lot of jawing at the bit--this is only her second time feeling it's pressure. If she doesn't relax a little about it, I may put a little figure-eight noseband on her, so she doesn't develop any bad habits--but I'll give a few more sessions before I go there.

Starting to settle in behind her.
She didn't seem as worried as some do by my "disappearance." Her ears indicate she's still listening for my cues.
A decent whoa.
Next big step: out into the "almost-an-arena."
A good forward effort....
Yikes! What's that?!?
You want me to go where?
What is it that's got her so worried? There's a plywood "bridge" along the fence line, but even as we work back and forth, trying to get her closer, that doesn't seem to be what's worrying her.

I finally gave up and snapped one line to her halter and led her over to the fence. What was the horse-devouring monster predator?
The backyard hammock!
Silly girl!
Went back to lunging past it.
Then drove her up and down the fence line a bit.
Just to prove that it wasn't the plywood "bridge" that was the issue...
First try!
(And the hammock is to her right, just past the board.)Back into the round pen for one last mini-lesson:
Stand next to the straw bale (stump, tailgate, rock...) so the old lady can get on.
There are several reasons for this important lesson:
1) I don't move as well as I used to.
2) I don't want the saddle tight enough to keep my weight from pulling it to the side (youngsters will quickly learn to resent the girth being this tight).
3) I don't want to surprise a young horse by pulling them way off to one side.
4) I don't want to be struggling half-way up, if they decide to be naughty.
Basically, it's safer for both of us.
Leaning over her back, "flappin' and slappin'."
I actually got my weight in the stirrup for a few seconds, then stepped down again. Then Beth figured out (she's too smart for her own good) that if she moved away from the bale, I couldn't reach. We went back and forth a few times, but it was just rewarding her, so, after getting my foot in the stirrup a time or two more, I decided it was time to quit for the day.
I was getting tired, and Beth was still full of energy--she wouldn't stand quietly enough for me to feel ready to step aboard. So we called it good for the day.
I'll let her stew on all of that for the night, and see how it goes tomorrow.

Step Two: Long lining

I'm sorry to say I don't have many photo examples of long-lining (ground driving). I believe it's an essential step before mounting, because it teaches all the basic bit cues, as well as the go-forward cue of a touch on the rump from the buggy whip. Then, when the time comes to climb on, all that is new is the rider's weight in the saddle--they already know whoa, left, right, eeeasy. and the tap of the dressage whip on the rump.

This is Adagio--"Dodger." He's actually the older brother of both Maddie and Kate--out of Misty, Maddie's dam, and by Max Tardy, Kate's sire. This was at a private treaty sale, early in the spring of his two-year-old year. (Lousy lighting in the indoor accounts for the poor picture quality.)

I start with him on the lunge line, but you can just see the other line hanging off the horn on the far side of the saddle.

Next, I drop the second line from the far side and behind his hocks, and return to lunging circles, but now with some pressure on both sides of his mouth. Having been blanketed for a couple of months during the late winter (to start shedding them out), the babies are all well-accustomed to having the sensation of straps below their tails. Here the lines are run through a ring tied to the saddle strings, but sometimes I just run them through the stirrups (which I tie together under the horse's belly). Dodger is listening, soft in the bit, and bending nicely.

With the lunge line, the horse needs to turn inward to reverse; with the long lines, he has to turn to the outside. It is during one of these outside turns that I move in behind and just move them on forward. It may seem that I'm a bit too close, but having worked with all of my babies since they hit the ground, I am pretty attuned to their body language. I've never had one of mine kick out at me. I would probably be farther back on a horse I didn't know as well. We'll do some circles and serpentines at the walk to start off.

Then, depending on how fit I am, some similar trot work. I really like how Dodger is reaching forward into the bit and, again, bending on the curve.

At home, once I feel they've got the idea, I usually do my long-lining out in the neighborhood--either down the road or on the dirt irrigation-canal path. We stop at the neighbor's house and chat, for patience practice, and at the mailbox for compliance with objects. We ignore (hopefully) noisy dogs and chickens. We cross puddles and irrigation "creeklets." That way, when I do ride them out, again, nothing much is new except for the fact that I'm on board.