Out the Gate and On the Bit

Entering the house through the front door, I headed down the hall to my bedroom. After dropping my books on the desk, I changed into jeans, boots, and a light shirt. Grabbing a carrot from the fridge, I went out the door of the glassed-in porch. As soon as he heard the door slam, Buc whinnied his afternoon greeting.

We met at the gate to the pasture and, after Buc crunched up the offered carrot, I snapped the lead rope on his halter. As we walked up to the barn together, I kept my eyes on the grass and found three four leaf clovers. I picked one of them and used it to tickle Buc’s nose. He ate it.

Scratching the white snip on his nose, I told the horse, “Well, there you go, it’s your good luck for the day.”

Once I had him cross tied, I began our grooming ritual. Starting just behind his ears, I curried and brushed his coat until it looked like burnished copper. Then I brushed out his mane and tail. I cleaned his hooves, finishing with the off-hind leg, the one with the white sock.

“There you go, big boy,” I told him, as I smoothed his forelock down his face.

Once saddled and bridled, I led Buc out into the yard and mounted up. Hesitating at the back gate onto Abingdon Lane, I reached out and plucked the bloom of a nearby sweet shrub and tucked it in my buttonhole. Next came the complicated dance of opening the gate, passing through, and latching it behind me. Then I was off down the lane to the neighbor’s field.

Breathing deeply of the fragrant spring air, I began with a walk around the perimeter of the field. Then I directed him to the circle I had worn into the grass during previous sessions. I let him do a relaxed walk in each direction and then put him on the bit. It only took the slightest suggestion of asking for forward movement with my seat and legs and then taking that energy in hand with the reins. The subtle signals I sent the horse and his instant response had taken lots of work and patience. But, oh yeah, it was worth it.

I urged Buc into a trot. He settled into a slow collected trot. Sitting the trot, I’m not sure who was in a state of hypnosis, me or the horse. Perhaps both of us. I praised him and stroked his sleek neck.

I loosened my hands and Buc quickened his pace slightly. I posted the trot. Smiling, I, once again, noticed that I began posting as Buc moved his off foreleg forward. This was perfect when I moved in a counterclockwise circle. But I had to sit one stride in order to rise when his outside foreleg moved forward when performing a clockwise circle.

Bringing the horse to a halt, I asked him to back up three steps. Then I went to the end of the field and asked for an extended trot, once in each direction for the length of the field.

Back to the well-worn circle, I moved Buc into a canter. We prescribed three circuits in each direction, with Buc taking the proper lead depending on the direction of the circle.

Happy with the feel of the horse and the intimacy of our communication, I headed home down Abingdon Lane.