Saturday turned into a warm day, a reminder of spring. I drove up to the stables and we saddled up Pepper and CJ, and then headed towards Sutliff Hill Road. At the base of the hill CJ picked up his head. He directed his ears towards a large white sign painted with thick black letters and newly hammered into the trunk of a maple tree which stood by a driveway. Immediately, he did a little hip-hop dance indicating he wasn’t going any further past the sign. I figured the best thing to do was encourage him to go up to the sign and take a good smell. That way he could familiarize himself with the object and relax. CJ balked but finally walked toward the newly painted board, and then stretched out his neck, his nostrils flared, he took a deep breath and smelled the sign. That calmed the horse. Even though he didn’t completely trust the new object tacked to the tree, he was ready to return to the road and continued our ride. I assumed that the sign frightened CJ because it was big and new. But could it be that the new paint smell caused some of his apprehension?
We rode up the street. At the top of the hill a man standing near a barn, quite a distance away, lifted a pitchfork full of hay into the air. Then, he heaved the hay into the pasture to feed his horses. CJ picked up his head, took in the smell of distant hay and quickened his pace. Unfortunately he wasn’t invited to dine. On and on we rode, occasionally CJ paused to smell a pile of horse poop at the side of the lane; maybe left by someone he knew. Briefly, I had the sensation that CJ was some kind of really big dog rather than a horse.
Perhaps when it comes to the sense of smell dogs and horses aren’t that different. Amazing as it may seem, a man named Terry Nowacki has been training police horses to track lost people and perform searches much like bloodhounds. He explains that horses can ‘air scent’; pickup a scent simply by smelling the air. Of course, horses can follow the scent by sniffing the ground too.
It may seem odd but horses have a tremendous sense of smell, far better than humans. If you look at a horse’s head, the first thing you’ll notice is the nose. The head is mostly nose and nasal passages. A horse can smell an odor in the air from a substantial distance. They use their sense of smell in many ways from predator detection to herd member recognition. Horses acknowledge each other by touching noses and taking in the scent of the other animal. This is how they greet and recognize people too.
Occasionally, when I ride in the neighborhood someone working in their yard will ask me if they can pet the horse. Before they get too close I speak to the stranger, so the horse can hear that I recognize the person as friend. And then, I tell the person to hold out their hand so the horse can smell it, just as you would when greeting a dog. During this process, I can feel the horse relax as if to say, ‘ok you can pet me now’.
A few years ago, I stood in a stall at Windy Ridge saddling a horse for my weekly lesson. Suddenly, the horse lifted his head straight up and curled his upper lip. At the time I hadn’t heard of the Flehmen response which many animals use to localize the scent of a female in heat. A mare in heat stood a few stalls away in the barn, so I assumed his weird behavior had something to do with mating rituals.
Horses perform the Flehmen response not only for breeding but also when confronted with a new or strange odor. By curling the upper lip, the animal directs the smell to the vomeronasal organ, also called Jacobson’s organ, located near the roof of their mouth. The vomeronasal organ is a chemoreceptor highly sensitive to scents and allows the horse to better analyze smells.
Truly horses are amazing creatures with highly developed sense organs. Their sight, hearing and sense of smell alert the horse to danger. As a rider it can be hard to understand what triggers a horse’s survival instinct, since at times we may not be able to hear, see or smell the threat. Possibly a good first step toward communication between horse and rider is to understand how the horse perceives his world.
Cold grey clouds covered the sky a few days ago when I saddled Pepper. I pulled on a ski mask, fitted the winter helmet cover’s strap under my chin, slipped on thick fleece lined gloves and headed up the road for an afternoon ride. Pepper briskly stepped into a quick walk, head alert and ears pointed forward. I watched the movement of her ears; every few minutes one ear then the other turned to the side or backward. She alternated her ears as if they were antenna picking up sounds I couldn’t hear. Halfway up the hill, I saw a calico cat slicking through the dried weeds near the edge of the road. Pepper sighted the cat in her peripheral vision, turned her ears and head towards the cat and instantly decided to sidestep a few paces backward.
“Pepper, it’s just a cat,” I said. “Walk past it.”
Pepper complied with my request and quickly walked past the cat which by this time had retreated further into the field. Yet her ears were on guard, rotating and turning in alternate directions attempting to pick up a predator that might be lurking in the field.
Horses have cone shaped independently mobile ears which allow them to funnel sound waves into their ear canal. The equine sense of hearing helps the horse locate sounds which aids in the horse’s survival as a prey animal. Unfortunately for riders, the horse may translate an unknown sound as “get out of Dodge as quickly as possible – ask questions later – save yourself!” Sometimes the result is a major “spook” causing the horse to buck, rear, bolt or employ some other maneuver for self-preservation. To compound the problem, the horse hears much better than we do.
Researchers have discovered that horses hear about 2/3 of an octave higher than humans. Although the horse can hear higher pitched noises, they are not very good at localizing sounds. Often they point their ears forward or rotate their ears to search for the location of the noise. Horses rely heavily on their vision to locate danger. Since horses can see almost 360 degrees around themselves their ears don’t have to be that accurate in pinpointing the sound’s exact location. Once the horse hears a noise, the animal turns his head to see where it is coming from. Generally, horses don’t stop to analyze a scary situation; instead they run away to a safe distance then turn around to see what spooked them.
A couple of weeks ago, I rode Pepper on a very windy day. The gusts blew up to 15 mph and the wind was so loud it was hard for me to hear. Pepper from the start was nervous, often turning her head to look at branches moving in the wind. Plastic tarps and bags blown by the wind startled her. Pepper couldn’t hear very well and that made her jumpy. Since her hearing was limited she had to rely on her vision.
The wind whipped through the valley, across open fields and along the ridges on Round Top Mountain. High winds are not uncommon here, especially in spring. I rode down one hill with no wind blowing at all, no sound, everything still. A ridge or stand of trees blocked the wind, forming a solid barricade, a wall which held back the airstream. Then suddenly, Pepper and I turned a corner and a blast of cold air hit us dead-on. The wind roared so loud it sounded like a truck barreling at full speed down the road. Several times I looked back just to make sure it was only the wind and not something else headed our way.
Pepper and I returned to the stables. I unsaddled the horse and brushed her down. Inside the barn we heard the roar of the wind beating on the outside of the barn. There were other sounds mixed with the wind which I couldn’t distinguish. Of course Pepper’s hearing was better than mine. I really didn’t hear whatever it was that made her pick up her head, prick her ears and listen.
“It’s ok girl nothing’s going to eat you today,” I told her in a reassuring voice.
I walked outside and stopped for a moment. The dark of night was about to fall. I listened to the lonely howl of a pack of coyotes some distance off in the woods near Murray Creek. The howls lifted into the air and were carried away on the wind. Quickly, I opened the car door, climbed in and locked the door. ‘Maybe Pepper knows something I don’t,” I thought as I started the car, pulled away from the barn and headed home.
Since my last article the Valley area received a little less than a foot of snow accompanied by high winds brought to us by winter storm Nemo. Most of Nemo’s snow was dumped on coastal Northeast, but Round Top Mountain did get a nice covering of the white stuff. Then a few days later came rain and warmer temperatures resulting in most of the snow melting except small amounts clinging to fields, hidden under trees or in the higher elevations on the northwest ridge of Round Top. Along with the rain came high winds, then the thermometer suddenly dipped into the teen’s and everything froze. Needless to say, this type of weather makes riding problematic. I enjoy riding in snow but not so much freezing rain and 20 mile an hour winds. Thus I turned to writing poetry. The following is a poem inspired by my observations while riding on Round Top Mountain. Hope you enjoy the poem.
Close Encounters
By Pat Miran
‘Twas early morning in pale pink light
When a hunter began his weekly hike,
With a long rifle heavy and cold
To a mountain draped in soft white snow,
He paused near a fox’s burrow,
His orange vest mirrored the dawn,
The loyal black lab lagged behind
Tracking vermin in velvety white snow,
At the hilltop near an old home site
The man inspected the rifle’s gun-sight,
Blackjack lifted his muzzle toward the sun
As the man cradled the long cold gun,
Rapidly from deep in the pasture,
Came the rumble of flying hooves;
As horses charged towards the fence,
Dashing swiftly o’er fresh white snow,
The dog howled a strong protest
And the horses stopped dead cold,
All retreated except one,
Standing defiant in pitiful white snow,
The horse snorted and stomped
While the dog barked a ravenous response,
The man scoped the animal within his sights
For a standoff in deadly white snow,
The huge black horse, a real hellfire,
Advanced dangerously towards the barbwire,
The creature snored, nostrils flared
As the horse issued a boldfaced dare,
The man and the dog stood their ground,
The horse looked warily at the hound,
Then spun in midair and galloped off,
Dancing and prancing o’er joyous white snow,
The hunter firmly held onto his dog
As the animal whimpered and whined,
Slowly they turned towards an old cornrow,
And left the horses in soft white snow.
The weather has fluctuated this January like a yo-yo, first down into the teens then up into the 50’s all within a few weeks. I haven’t taken very many winter rides since along with the ping pong weather, came freezing rain and high winds. A few weeks ago when the temperature reached into the 50’s, I made it into the park for a few hours. The following poem was inspired by my winter ride.
A Winter Ride
by Pat Miran
Neighbors watched as I rode past,
They knew not where I headed though;
My horse stepped into woods so vast
Sprinkled with freshly fallen snow,
Down the path my horse quickly trotted,
Through the woods and round the pond,
Her hooves cut footprints in the snow
Near where the mighty willow stands.
The silent killers tracked small game
And forced prey to cross the trail,
Frightened rabbits, mice and shrews
Skillfully plotted a simple ruse,
As I rode into late afternoon
My heart embraced the backwoods
Until arctic winds began to blow
And cold nipped fingers and toes.
Snow drifted earthward a gentle force,
Quietly touching me and my horse,
As the moon rose big, yellow and round
I headed home safe and sound.
Several years ago, a group of riders from the stables decided to go for a ‘moon ride’. We waited until dark, and then, when the full moon rose into the sky we mounted our horses and rode into the night. Unfortunately that night thick cloud cover blanketed the moon; however, the moon gave enough light for us to see the road. As we turned into the park deep shadows crisscrossed the gravel road, tree silhouettes surrounded us and in places we found ourselves in total darkness. On we rode, three abreast. At times we had a hard time seeing the way; nevertheless, the horses remained calm and enthusiastically moved forward. Their eyes seemed to possess an inner glow as they serenely walked through the darkness. The horses could see far better than their human companions.
A horse’s eye contains cones and rods which are located in the retina or back of the eye. The horse has two types of cones which permit color vision. The rods allow the horse to see black, white and gradations, as well as, enabling the animal to see in dim lighting. The rods are highly sensitive to light and provide excellent night vision for the animal. However, the horse’s eye does not accommodate sudden changes in lighting very well. This slow adjustment to changes in light explains why horses exhibit apprehensive behavior when transitioning from or to different lighting conditions. It takes about 15 minutes for the horse to fully accommodate radical changes in lighting. So when leaving a well lit barn for a night ride remember to give the horse’s eyes time to correct for the dark. Once their eyes have adjusted, horses can see at night about as well as humans can see during the day.
Equine Monocular and Binocular Vision
It’s a rare trail ride that doesn’t involve at least one ‘spook’. After a while it’s not hard to anticipate what objects scare the horse; a huge rock at an intersection between driveways with trashcans and mailboxes on both sides of the road, a large stack of building materials covered by a piece of plastic, whirligigs or flags flapping in the breeze. But why should such mundane objects cause terror to the horse? Most of the trouble stems from how the horse sees the world.
The horse has highly evolved senses which permit a quick escape from predators. The horse’s eye is set far to the side and back on the skull allowing him to see laterally and to the rear with approximately 290 degrees of monocular vision. If you add the horse’s forward binocular vision, the horse can see almost entirely around himself. When the horse holds his head up, there is a narrow blind area behind the rump and directly in front of him. Often if you approach a horse or stand in the horses blind spot he will move his head to see you. The horse’s peripheral vision is highly sensitive to movement, especially movement from behind. It is this ability to detect slight movements or objects within the range of the horse’s monocular vision which contributes to the horse’s flighty behavior.
A few months ago, Karen Sykas and I began training CJ to jump. At first his natural response was to go around or avoid the jump altogether. But since I wasn’t keen on him doing that, he turned back to the jump, raised his head and sailed over the obstacle. Much of CJ’s behavior had to do with the way horse’s see.
The horse has poor depth perception and it is difficult for him to judge the width and depth of a jump. Add to this problem a 2 to 4 foot blind spot directly in front of the horse’s head and you can see why the horse may prefer to avoid the jump. However, if the horse decides to jump the obstacle, he rotates his eyes to engage his binocular vision and focus on the jump. The horse’s binocular vision covers an area approximately 55 degrees around his head and allows the animal depth perception. The horse doesn’t have a focusing lens like humans, instead to correct his vision he must raise or lower his head. This allows light to fall on the retina which is in the lower part of the eye. As the horse rises into the air to take the jump, there is a point where the horse literally can’t see the obstacle.
The more we understand how the horse sees his world the better we can predict and modify the animal’s behavior. Science still has much to learn about equine vision and perhaps in the years to come more interesting facts will be discovered. In the meantime, we can use the knowledge we have to improve our understanding, safety and enjoyment of horses.
Sources: http://www.horsewyse.com.au/howhorsessee.html; http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://thinklikeahorse.org/images/horse%2520vision%25202.gif&imgrefurl=http://thinklikeahorse.org/index- ; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Equine_vision; http://www.equisearch.com/horses_care/health/anatomy/nightvision_091003/; http://www.equmed.com/?p=334;http://hyperphysics.phy-astr.gsu.edu/hbase/vision/rodcone.html;’Basic Training for Horses, Eleanor Prince and Gaydell Colleir, published by Random House, 1979
A few weeks ago, Karen Sykas and I began ,training CJ to jump. The first step was getting him to walk over a series of ground poles or cavalletti. At first CJ was afraid of the white poles on the ground but after some work he relaxed and walked over them. Karen suggested painting some poles with red or blue strips. That sounded like a good idea and I painted one of the poles with red stripes. I wasn’t surprised when CJ was afraid of the new pole since when I rode him on the road brightly colored vehicles, especially red cars, frighten him. Sure enough, he didn’t like the new pole. I was convinced that CJ could see red but after doing some research on-line I’m not so sure what CJ really sees.
The research data was scant. Behavioral studies were conducted on a very limited sample group: a few horses owned by the researchers. In statistical terms that wouldn’t be a large enough sample size to base an outcome on. Also, since the researchers owned the horses they may have influenced the results. Another problem is that different horse breeds may see different colors.
So what do we know about color vision in horses? The current research tells us that horses have dichromatic vision which basically means they see two-colors. On the other hand, humans have trichromatic vision and see all of the colors of the visual spectrum (unless the person is colorblind). Basically, horses have two types of cones in their eyes; a short wavelength-sensitive cone that allows the horse to see bluish-grey and a middle-long wavelength cone which allows the horse to see yellow. This means that colors like red appear greener to the horse.
One researcher, Dr. Carol Hall, found that her horses could distinguish any color from grey. She also found that horses see better at ground level than at eyelevel. Hall undertook experiments when another researcher concluded that horses can’t tell the difference between yellow and white.
“I had a horse that would ignore white lines on the road but had a real ‘spook’ if she came across yellow ones,” Hall said. “Hence when I read that one study … (which) concluded that they couldn’t tell the difference between yellow and white, I felt strongly that this was not the case.”
It’s not a bad idea to design jumps with the knowledge that horses have limited color vision. Many people paint jumps a different color and shade from the surrounding landscape. Studies have shown that it is less likely for the horse to knock the rail down if the jump is painted with two or more contrasting colors. The poles I’m using for jumps are white which has a high contrast to the green of the surrounding landscape. However, it does seem that CJ jumps the red and white pole with more gusto. So in the spring I’ll paint a few more stripes on those white rails.
Although, there is conflicting information in research studies about what colors horses see, the important thing to remember is that horses see the world very differently than we do. If anyone has had a “color” experience with a horse please leave a comment. It’s always interesting to see what other riders have encountered and how they dealt with problems. In the coming weeks, I plan to write more about equine vision. Happy trails to everyone and stay warm.
Sources:
http://www.us.elsevierhealth.com/media/us/samplechapters/9780702026348/9780702026348.pdf;CA Hall, HJ Cassaday, AM Derrington
Journal of Animal Science (2003) 81, 1715 – 1720; Hall http://www.hindawi.com/journals/ijz/2009/721798/;
http://www.sjsu.edu/people/steven.macramalla/courses/c2/s1/Saslow____understanding_the_percetual_world_of_horses.pdf; http://www.thehorse.com/articles/21019/equine-color-vision-research-seeing-things-differently; http://horsetalk.co.nz/2012/11/21/vision-horses-more-than-meets-the-eye/;http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Equine_vision;http://www.equineresearch.org/support-files/hanggi-thinkinghorse.pdf; http://www.equineresearch.org/support-files/hanggi-colorvision.pdf
At 6:30 Moe and I put on jackets and walked out our front door headed for the Tinsel-N-Ice celebration at Muldoon Park in Waverly. The dark winter sky provided a backdrop for orange and red flashing lights produced by a crossing guard at the end of the street and a fire-engine parked nearby at the intersection of Chemung and Lincoln. Up and down the street parked cars and trucks lined the curbs. Horses headed towards us, walking down the middle of the road pulling long wagons filled with people.
“Why don’t we take a wagon ride this year,” I said.
“Ok,” replied Moe as we rounded the corner and entered the park.
In the park it was wall to wall people. Three different wagons offered free rides to the public; Max Weed and his Haflingers and Al Fargnoli from Sweeney’s Market in Apalachin, NY. We made our way through the crowd to the line of people waiting for wagon rides.The line stretched to the other side of the park. There must have been a hundred people waiting to climb into the horse drawn hay wagons for the ride around the block.
“The line looks pretty long,” said Moe.
“Why don’t we have a look at the ice sculptures?”
We walked in a huge circle around the park, pausing at the chain link fence which held Mike Cary’s reindeer. I looked for James Steffen, the young man I met last year, but didn’t see him in the enclosure. A little further on, we saw Santa in his sleigh inside a small pavilion. He handed out red and white striped candy canes and listened to children’s Christmas gift requests. We continued walking and briefly stopped to watch the ice sculptors begin their creations.
“It’s really crowded out here. Why don’t we listen to the Jazz Band concert at the Presbyterian Church?”
“That’s a good idea,” I replied as we turned towards the church, walked up the stairs and entered the massive building.
As soon as we entered the church, we met Cristina and her friend Caleb. All of us stood, listened and watched from the back row near the door; most of the seats were already taken. In front of the towering pipe organ, the members of the Waverly High School Jazz Band played swing music from the 1940’s. Jazzy Christmas music filled the old church. The bright, brassy sound produced by trumpet players mingled with the raspy saxophones and soft woody whispers from the clarinets. The drums supplied the rhythm and the conductor‘s baton delivered the tempo. The air filled with familiar holiday melodies which were enjoyed by old and young alike.
It wasn’t long before I found myself back home again. Going back to the house for a bite to eat wasn’t supposed to take long. However, before I knew it time had escaped me and clock read 8:10.
“Oh no, I hope I still have time to get some more pictures of the celebration,” I said grabbing my coat, camera and hurrying out the front door.
The mood on the street was very different from earlier in the night. The street, almost deserted, all the parked cars wedged next to the curb were gone; although, the fire-engine still sat next to the stop sign at the corner of Chemung and Lincoln and the crossing guard still swung his huge yellow light to stop traffic. When I arrived at the intersection, I knew something was wrong. Huckle’s tow truck was parked behind the fire-engine and one of the volunteer firemen carefully poured gas into the vehicle’s gas tank.
‘They must have run out of gas’, I thought and hurried down the darkened street. A few families strolled towards me, walking away from the park. A tired team of Belgians and their owner headed for a horse trailer. The sculptors from Sculpted Ice Works finished up their work as a few people watched. I stopped at Mike Swingle’s ‘Christmas Bear’ and bumped into Neil Trimper.
“So which sculpture is yours?” I asked.
“Mine is over there near the reindeer enclosure. It didn’t come out as planned. I had wanted to make Rudolph with a large set of antlers but the antlers didn’t adhere well and broke off. So now we’re calling the sculpture ‘Rudolph’s Girlfriend’” he said good-naturedly.
“That’s too bad, but I’m sure it’s still a nice sculpture.”
Now that the crowd had left, I was able to speak to the sculptors and take pictures of their creations. I walked across the park to where John Hanson stood finishing his sculpture ‘Toy Soldier’. Not far from where he worked, Lora Borer evened up the base of her ‘Christmas Tree’.
“So how did you come up with an idea for the ice-sculpture? Do you sketch it out first?” I asked John.
“Yes, we draw a sketch and work out how many blocks of ice we’ll need for the sculpture,” he replied pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. John unfolded the sketch and showed me the blueprint for his work of art. “It’s important to know how the blocks of ice will fit together before we start carving. My design is a combination of 3 different objects; one nutcracker and two toy soldiers. I began with two 20 X 40 blocks of ice, frozen at 16 degrees.”
“So how do you get the blocks to stick together?” I asked.
“First we make sure the ends are flattened, and then a small amount of water is put between the blocks. This glues the two blocks together. If the temperature isn’t cold enough the blocks won’t freeze and tonight was warm. We were a bit worried. It takes about 30 minutes for the blocks to set up. We started with Lora’s and ended with Neil’s.”
“Do you think the ice for Neil’s sculpture wasn’t quiet set up?”
“I think that might have been the problem. It’s warm out here tonight and his project was intricate with a massive rack of antlers.”
“How many days before the sculptures melt?”
“They’ll last about four or five days.”
“Have you worked a long time for Sculpted Ice Works?”
“For 5 years, I’ve done a lot of jobs there, carpenter, ice harvester, design program, and now ice carver.”
I headed back across the deserted park. Mike Cary loaded his sleigh onto the back of his truck and the reindeer waited to return home. The street lights made the ice sculptures shine in the dark as light reflected off their shiny surface. I stopped for a moment in front of Neil’s sculpture. Even without the antlers it was a nice piece of artwork. I thought, ‘sometimes we have to push the limits even if we fail, for with every failure comes knowledge of how to succeed next time.’
I turned toward home and walked down the empty street. The barricades blocking off Chemung Street were gone and the fire engine had left. The street returned to how it was before the festival only the ice sculptures lingered as a reminder of the night’s celebration.
Karen Sykas and I often rode through Round Top Park. Occasionally, we took a trail through a secluded pine forest. Carefully, the horses made their way into the deep woods, down a steep hill to a stone filled creek. Over many years, the creek had cut a small gorge through clay and rock. Towering evergreens bordered each side of the ravine and ferns clung to the rocky sides of the gully. Once we crossed the creek, the horses traversed a sheer bank to connect with the trail on the other side. Pine needles carpeted the ground underneath the trees, muffling the sound of the horse’s hooves. Tall dark trees blocked out the sun offering a secluded canopy. It wasn’t long before we came to a huge, moss covered log that crossed the path providing an impromptu jump. CJ always popped over the log without a problem.
“He’s a natural jumper,” Karen often said.
“He certainly seems to like it,” I usually replied.
“We should set some jumps up and train him,” Karen said on more than one occasion.
“That would be fun. Connie said when CJ was about one or two years old he jumped the fence between the pastures, visited the horses on the other side, and then jumped back into his own pasture.”
For a long time that was about as far as we went with CJ’s training; just talk. Where to get the jumps and where to put up the jumps always proved a stumbling block. The old arena at the stables didn’t offer much room; Ballentine’s Horse Heaven was a place for trail riders, although there was a round pen. We thought about setting up some kind of jump in the park. There were plenty of ditches and logs I jumped CJ over but as far as formal training we were in a fog as to how to proceed.
In early August, I told Karen that I was going to build a jump from some boards left over from my husband’s building project. I figured there was room in the old arena for one or two jumps. Moe’s pile of scrap lumber would provide plenty of material to build the jumps; a couple of 4 X 4’s, some 2 X 6’s and plenty of 2 X 4’s. Besides the boards, I had a half can of white paint left over from my own summer project; painting the porch.
“I have a book that I’ll give you which explains how to train a horse. The book has a good section on teaching a horse to jump. I used it when I trained my mare. And I’ll help you when you’re ready to start,” said Karen.
“Thanks that will come in handy and your help is greatly needed.”
Karen not only gave me the book entitled ‘Basic Training for Horses – English and Western’ by Eleanor F. Prince and Gaydell M. Collier, she loaned me ‘The Manual of Horsemanship of the British Horse Society and The Pony Club’. Both books contained a wealth of information. I turned to the section on jumping and read that the first step in teaching a horse to jump was using ground poles and small jumps called cavalletti. The overarching concept of cavalletti was to gradually prepare the horse to the concept of jumping. The exercises allowed the horse to gauge distance, maintain an even stride, develop muscles, and balance needed to actually take a jump. This approach takes the fear out of jumping for the horse.
I had never heard of cavalletti; although, I was very familiar with ground poles. After reading a few pages I realized that I needed to change my design for the jump. Instead of making one big jump, I constructed a series of small jumps using 2 X 4s; ending up with a total of seven cavalletti jumps.
A day or so before Karen and I were to begin training CJ, I loaded the end pieces and poles into my SUV and headed for the stables. When I arrived at the arena, I arranged a line of poles on the ground, evenly spaced apart, and then saddled CJ. As soon as I rode into the arena, he picked up his head and stopped. CJ saw the white poles lying in the grass and the poles scared him. It took a lot of encouragement to get CJ to approach the poles and finally walk over them. Back and forth we walked, up and down the line of poles. Finally, he lost most of his nervousness, relaxed and simply walked over the poles. Once he did that, the lesson was over and back to the barn we went.
I met Karen once a week and we worked with CJ. Karen stood near the cavalletti, gauged CJ’s stride, arranged the ground poles and gave me valuable advice. She took videos of CJ and I jumping and later sent them to me in an email. The videos were a valuable learning tool. I concentrated on getting the horse to walk down the center of the poles. CJ needed to step squarely in the space between each pole, without hitting a pole with his hoof. This meant that the poles needed to be spaced according to his natural stride. Karen determined that distance for CJ was approximately 5 feet between poles.
‘The Manual of Horsmanship’ listed 6 Stages in training the horse to cavalletti with 4 basic jump heights: ground level, 10”, 15” and 19”. We worked with CJ on the first 3 Stages:
Stage 1: Simply walk down the line of ground poles, gradually raising the poles to about 10” off the ground. I had 2 X 6″ blocks which I placed under each pole. This lifted each pole about 5” off the ground and required that CJ pay attention to where he stepped in order to not hit a pole. Stage 2: The horse trots down the line of poles. The poles are gradually lifted to a maximum height of 10”. Again, we used blocks which lifted the poles to about 5” off the ground. Stage 3: At a trot, introduce a small jump at the end of a line of 6 ground poles. The jump can be gradually widened and raised in height and the distance from the last cavalletti shortened or lengthened.
We experimented with this jump, sometimes making it wider by placing two cavalletti next to each other to make a spread jump or staggering the jumps so the first cavalletii was at about 15” and the second one higher at 20”. Here we made sure our approach to the jump was from the side with the lower cavalletti; due to the fact that the horse can’t see the lower jump. Our aim was to develop CJ’s ‘bascule’ or the arc his body makes as he goes over the jump. Ideally, he should ascend through his back and when he reaches the peak of his jump, stretch his neck forward and down. The horse’s withers should be the highest point over the jump. A small spread jump which is wider than tall allows the horse to develop and achieve the bascule and use his neck and head correctly.
Approaching the jump, I often felt CJ’s indecision as he shifted under me; to jump or not to jump seemed to be his internal question. When he tried to dodge the jump I reined him back towards the cavalletti and over we went. Once he completely stopped in front of the jump and bent his nose down to have a closer look. I urged him forward and even if he hesitated CJ jumped. Many times in the beginning he “popped” over the jump going straight up and down and much too high This propelled me backwards and ‘left me behind’.
“Hold on to the mane! That way you’ll stay with him over the jump,” Karen shouted above the sound of pounding hooves.
“Ok.” I grabbed the mane with both hands and CJ and I jumped some more.
Karen suggested painting some of the poles with red or blue stripes. I tried painting one pole with red stripes. I introduced the new pole into the line of cavalletti. As soon as CJ saw the red striped pole he became afraid. He refused to walk over the line of ground poles. Definitely, he could see the color red and didn’t want anything to do with it. Nevertheless, after some gentle persuasion CJ walked and then trotted over the poles, even the red one.
One day, I came up to the stables to work with CJ by myself. This meant getting on and off the horse every time I needed to move the poles. CJ was very good about that, I carried the pole and he was happy to quietly follow me around as I set up a jump or moved a pole. I set up the usual cavalletti jump at the end of a series of ground poles. CJ jumped the obstacle but once knocked into the pole with his hind leg bringing down the pole. We jumped a few more times and called it a day. When I dismounted and took off his saddle I noticed blood dripping down his back leg. He wasn’t limping, the cut didn’t seem to hurt him when I washed it out and applied Wonder Dust, but I felt bad. I decided to buy some boots to protect his legs.
What type of boots to buy? Luckily, after a conversation with a new boarder, Ashley, I purchased open front jump boots. The boots are designed to protect the horse’s tendons but still let the horse feel the pain of hitting the pole when he misses the jump. I put the jump boots on along with CJ’s Old Mac boots and started jumping again.
The weather turned cold. Colorful fall leaves left their branches, blown away by the chilly whisper of the coming winter. Thanksgiving came. The approaching darkness marched into our lives, bringing sunset earlier and earlier until by 4:30 the day was done. Karen and I stopped working together with CJ. Early December brought frigid weather but occasional a day or two in the 50’s. The ground hadn’t frozen yet. I continued to work with cavalletti jumps to help CJ stay in shape and not forget what he had learned. Advancing into new learning for CJ was put off until spring when the days grow longer and warmer. Then, we’ll move on to Stages 4, 5 and 6, and maybe even try the cavalletti configuration called the ‘Box’.
Sources:
‘The Manual of Horsemanship of the British Horse Society and The Pony Club’ published by the British Horse Society, 6th edition, reprinted 1971, pages 33-52
‘Basic Training for Horses – English and Western’ by Eleanor F. Prince and Gaydell M. Collier, published 1979, Random House, pages 192-216
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bascule_(horse)
With Halloween just around the corner, Hurricane Sandy, nicknamed ‘Frankenstorm’ roared through New York City and the Jersey Shore. Ahead of the storm, Mayor Bloomberg, NJ Governor Chris Christie and President Obama made announcements on all the major networks. They ordered mandatory evacuations and designated areas where people could seek shelter. Atlantic City casinos, the NJ Boardwalk, NYC subways, Amtrak, major airports, the NY Stock Exchange and public schools were all closed. The storm barreled onto the NJ coast bringing a storm surge during high tide, flooding and destroying property in the process. Protective levees broke, half of Hoboken, NJ was underwater and four towns in the northern part of the state had water as high as 6 feet, 50 homes in Queens burned, NYC subways flooded and 8.1 million homes lost power across several states.
In the Valley, people braced for a repeat of last year’s flood which left Athens in ruin. This time around people weren’t taking any chances. When I went to Wal-Mart to buy emergency candles, I found that the store was sold out. People crowded the aisles, filling their carts with bottled water, food, flashlights and batteries.
By Tuesday, we knew that the center of the storm had veered west of us missing our area by a few hundred miles. The Valley experienced high winds, some rain and power outages, but no major flooding. Anne Shaffer called and asked if I would like to visit one of the rescued ponies and of course I said ‘yes’. A few minutes later, Anne stopped by and we traveled down Route 220 along the Susquehanna River. A few fields were flooded, mostly by rain, but I didn’t see any place where the river overran its banks.
“Did you lose power?” I asked.
“No we still have lights, but there are a lot of people without electric,” replied Anne.
We traveled into Ulster, PA following the Susquehanna River Basin and passed Bishop’s Restaurant where several electric company trucks stood in the parking lot. Then, we climbed a mountain slope and headed towards Monroeton. It wasn’t long before Anne turned at Marcy Hill Road and stopped in front of Dale Cole’s garage.
An eight year old Shetland pony named Spitfire stood quietly in a box stall, which took up one corner of the garage. Just outside the stall there was an opening leading into a pasture. Dale, a recently retired dog warden and police officer, agreed to foster the little stallion for the Bradford County Humane Society. The Shelter’s policy was that stallions would not be available for adoption until they were gelded. The other two ponies, Misty and Princess, rescued with Spitfire had already found homes.
“Do you have a lot of experience with horses?” I asked Dale.
“I grew up on a dairy farm just outside of North Gent. As a teen I owned a saddle horse, but most of my experience with horses comes from working a team of Belgian draft horses; skidding wood, pulling a bob sleigh or wagon,” replied Dale.
Dale opened the stall gate and let Spitfire loose in the pasture. The little horse walked a short distance and then began eating grass. “When he first came he was hard to catch and kicked if cornered, but after a few weeks he settled down. Now he allows people to walk up to him in the field. He’s a good little pony, gets along well with dogs and enjoys interacting with my grandkids.”
The wind picked up and a few snowflakes fell from the sky. I took some pictures and Anne played with the pony.
“How was it being the dog warden and working at the shelter?” I asked.
“Being a dog warden was a challenge. The worst was seeing the disgusting way people treated their animals,” said Dale.
“But you only saw the worst cases,” I said.
“Maybe, but I saw some really sickening things,” said Dale.
“He’s right, in this job you see some horrible cases of neglect and cruelty,” said Anne.
We walked back inside the garage to get out of the cold and Dale’s dog, Spirit, followed us. Dale showed Anne a few bales of straw which he planned to use for Spitfire’s bedding. Outside grey clouds covered the sky.
“What happened to the other two ponies?” I asked.
“The pony which lost the eye, Princess, went to a home with kids. She was a well mannered pony and let the kids get on and ride her. The other pony, Misty, was a bit standoffish and shy. She was adopted by a family with four kids. They ride her bareback and she’s adjusting well. The family has other horses too,” replied Dale.
“So Spitfire is the only one not adopted,” I said.
“The shelter has a policy of not adopting out stallions. Once he’s gelded, Spitfire will be available for adoption,” said Dale pausing for a moment then continued, “The vet is coming tomorrow.”
Anne and I climbed into the truck and drove back up Route 220, winding through the countryside along the Susquehanna towards Waverly. The aftermath of Hurricane Sandy was evident in the trees and branches toppled by the storm. We passed the electric company trucks pulled off the road, fixing downed power lines.
A few days later, I received a call from Anne Shaffer; Spitfire had found a new home in Yonkers, NY. On November 11th, Laura Hawbaker, the Humane Officer at the Bradford County Humane Society Shelter, drove to Yonkers to inspect the property; making sure it was suitable for the pony. A few days later, the little piebald pony named Spitfire left Dale Cole’s home and boarded a horse trailer headed for a new life far from Ulster and the Endless Mountains.
Epilogue: The horse world can be a very small place sometimes. An interesting footnote to the story about Dale Cole is that his uncle Erle Cole sold Myrtle, Johnn’s Belgian, to the Balentines many years ago.
September 13 proved to be a typical, pleasant autumn day. The sun shone and the crisp air filled our lungs as Emma and I drove up to the stables to ride and greet newcomers at the barn. A shiny, aluminum horse trailer in front of the stables told us the new herd members had come. In fact, the horses were already unloaded and standing in their stalls eating hay. I pulled my SUV into the driveway and saw Ashley and her father chatting with Connie. It wasn’t long before we stepped out of the car, joined the group and were introduced to the newest members of Ballentine’s Horse Heaven.
The horses belonged to Ashley and Scott; a young couple looking for a temporary place to stable their animals for winter. Samson, a bay Percheron-Thoroughbred mix 16.3 hands high, belonged to Scott. The horse had suffered a hind leg injury and could no longer compete at horse shows. Formally a lesson horse, the gelding now enjoyed trail rides with his owner. Freya a 6 year old mare, 16 hands high and trained to race at the track, now performed dressage and enjoyed jumping with Ashley.
“I’m training CJ to jump with the help of Karen Sykas. She has experience with show jumping, so we’re beginning with Cavelletti exercises. I’m thinking of getting boots for his legs so he won’t get hurt,” I said.
“You’d be better off with splint boots they’re better for jumping. You can borrow mine if you want to try them out,” said Ashley.
“Ok thanks. We’re going to bring in CJ and Pepper and saddle up,” I said wishing the newcomers well.
“Good luck with that,” said Ashley as she gathered her things and left with her father.
We led the two horses through the barn and passed Samson’s stall. Freya’s stall bordered Pepper’s and was across the aisle from CJ. Right away I knew there was trouble. As soon as CJ was released into his stall he raised his head, circled nervously and whined. Pepper felt she had to protect her grain bucket, even though there wasn’t any grain in it. She laid back her ears, squealed and immediately turned her rump towards Freya threatening a kick. Freya snored; half reared and headed for her stall gate setting herself up for a jump to freedom. Emma and I stood in the aisle between stalls watching and waiting for the horses to settle down.
“Emma, be careful she’s going to jump!” I picked up a crop and ran over to the stall gate preventing Freya’s exit. Samson and Freya kept whining to each other and Freya circled her stall. Again the large horse set herself up for a massive leap over the gate. I looked outside the open barn door and saw Johnn near the woodpile. “Emma run and tell Johnn that Freya’s going to jump out of her stall!”
Johnn came in and Freya settled down. Before long Connie arrived to protect the gate. Johnn went to find a stall guard to fit above the gate which would block the horse’s attempts to jump out of her stall. In the meantime, CJ and Pepper were both nervous; whining and circling their stalls.
“Let’s try saddling up Pepper outside and then we’ll come back for CJ,” I said.
We led Pepper quickly past Freya and tried to tie her to a hitching ring on the side of the barn. Pepper kept moving, fidgeting and whining making it impossible to saddle her.
“Ok, let’s give her some distance from the other horses. We’ll take her to the arena and saddle her,” I said.
Pepper settled down once she entered the arena and was able to eat some grass. Emma saddled the horse and I asked, “How about we just work on Cavelletti with Pepper?”
“Ok,” said Emma.
“I’ll run back to the barn and put CJ out to pasture,” I said leaving the arena and hurrying back down the road to the barn.
Connie had troubles of her own. Freya repeatedly tried to jump out of her stall; in fact she reared high enough for her front legs to come over the stall gate. Luckily, the horse was still in her stall. I grabbed a brush and entered CJ’s stall in an attempt to calm him down. After passing the brush over him to get his attention, I opened the stall gate and quickly led the horse past Freya. It wasn’t long before CJ stood in the pasture with the other horses.
Emma and Pepper practiced taking a small jump at the end of a series of poles. Before long it was time to unsaddle Pepper. This time we didn’t make the mistake of bringing her into the barn with the new horses. Instead, Emma took off her saddle in front of the barn. She quickly walked Pepper past Samson to the barn door and released her into the pasture. In the meantime, Johnn had moved Freya closer to Samson and put up a stall guard.
A couple of days later, I came up to ride expecting to see some dramatic action in the pasture. Horses chasing each other, kicking and biting.
“How is the new horse doing?” I asked.
“Fine,” Johnn answered.
I gathered Pepper’s lead rope and halter and headed out to the pasture where everything was quiet. Freya and Samson were tighter than fleas on the backside of a dog as they stood eating grass. The other horses weren’t far from them and they too ate grass. I walked up to Pepper, put on her halter and walked out of the pasture thinking ‘boy that was easy, nothing like when Sam came.’
