Yesterday was another odd day. My own horse required most of my barn time and it was Matida's day to see the farrier. We did a little bit of work but nothing exceptional. It was like yesterday-lite. Matilda was still very wiggly, but not as bad. She was able to come and back and do a couple of small side steps. She was also more anxious to cut me off as I moved about the paddock.
The big excitement was visiting the farrier. This was the first time I have led Matilda out of her paddock and, although I have been told she is easy to lead, I was anxious to find out for myself how she would do going up the hill. To my delight, she was very easy to lead. She followed behind and responded quickly when I would catch her head as it went down to try and get grass.
Since I had to bring her up, she was wiggly and I wasn't really in a mental state conducive to focused work, we turned it into a field day for Matilda and I.
No one was riding in the ring yet, so I took Matilda into the ring and put her on the fabled longe line just to see what would happen. She freaked.
I intentionally had a tight hold on the line, keeping only about 10 feet of line between her and me. I knew there was a decent chance of some sort of craziness and I wanted to keep any circle she did small so that it would be more uncomfortable for her and she would be more likely to stop or slow down faster. I was SO glad that I did. I snapped that line on her and told her to walk on. She just flew. She trotted and cantered around pulling and pulling away. I had the line in both hands and was able to quickly throw all my weight back and into my heels as I hung on.
For future reference, here is my personal longing rule of thumb: As long as you can keep your elbows tucked into your body, hang on. If you feel your arms extending and you can't bring your elbows back into your body (TOTALLY different from bringing your body up and even with your elbows-you must be aware of the difference), let go. Letting go is always hard, but sometimes necessary.
Matilda and my horse, Bella, are about the same height and weight, but Matilda uses her bulk differently. I don't know how to describe the difference but to say that when Bella has her crazy moments and pulls to the outside, there is always a sense of control-as if she is working something out. With Matilda it feels like she just wants to get away. She really throws all her weight against you and the line. It's intense. I've never had Matilda on the longe line before, so now I know what all the fuss was about.
The chaos lasted about 5 minutes and then simply stopped. She came into me and stood looking at me. I asked her to walk on and she took two steps, stopped turned in to me and stared at me. There was no way I was picking up any kind of whip today. I want to desensitize her to the longe whip somewhere where I don't feel any need to be connected to her, you know? Without any whip, I could not make her walk away or around me. She did do one walking circle around me, but now I can't remember how I managed to get her to move.
For the most part she would only walk when I walked. If I stopped, she stopped. This sounds sweet, and it is, but there is also a passive aggressive thing going on, in my opinion. She hasn't forgotten what longing is, nor has she forgotten that she hated it. I think she is basically saying, "You want me to walk? Make me. I dare you." Not today, sweetheart, but your time is coming.
So Matilda and I walked around the paddock together. We sniffed all the jumps and walked over the cross rails. We would stop every once in a while and she would eat grass or we would do some backing or side steps. I must admit that it was very nice to have the lead in my hand. Like coming home to my comfort zone of pressure, release and control.... but even with me holding her head she can't move laterally down the pole.
When she got a little pushy, we stopped walking and I made her back up a bunch and stand still and back up some more. She was less pushy after I pushed her around a little bit.
When she was grazing, I backed all the way to the end of the line (maybe 30 feet?) and when she looked up at me I said "Matilda, come" very quietly and she did. All in all it was a very pleasant time for us.
After she saw the farrier, it was time for me to take her back down to the paddock.
I have to pause and give a little barn description here. The short way between the barn and Matilda's paddock is a bit of a steep, short downhill trail. On one side of this trail is the giant, composting manure pile. Now that the weather has been so nice, grass has started growing on the giant, composting manure pile. (You are starting to see where I am going with this, aren't you?)
Matilda was walking nicely behind me and, to my folly, I was looking straight ahead at the gate, my goal. I don't know exactly when Matilda saw the grass, because I was not paying attention, but see it she did. And she wanted it. By the time I realized what was going on, my arm was already fully extended. I gave a short tug to see if I could regain any type of link to her, but had to let go and could only watch her cross the giant, composting manure pile as I yelled "MATILDA NO!" as if that might do any good. (I know, it would have been funnier if she had pulled me in, too bad.)
I thought about going after her, but as I watched her sink chest deep into the giant, composting manure pile, I decided against it. Sometimes you just have to wait and pray and hope that an opportunity presents itself. So I did. I watched her cross the giant, composting manure pile, hoping she didn't get stuck, hoping she didn't set tangled in her lead. I watched her go down the far side of the gcmp, where there was lots of nice green grass... well fertilized. It was there she stopped. On accessible firm ground.
I went AROUND the gcmp, walked up to her, picked up her lead and walked her back to the paddock as if nothing had happened (although by now I had picked up a bit of an audience). She didn't balk, struggle or try to get away again. It's as if her brain snaps, sometimes, she goes nuts and then immediately becomes an angel. Sweet as can be.
My mom reads this blog. She thinks it's funny and says that Matilda and I are "two peas in a pod". I don't know about that. Excuse me now, I have to go yell at someone for no reason and then give them a hug.
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