How it Happened!
My One to One with Christoph Hess one Monday morning at the coffee bar in the hotel breakfast room. Me in my slippers!
How incredible that both Christoph and Walter Zettl were staying at the same hotel as Courtney and I were. I had the opportunity to chat just a bit with Mr. Zettl the day before.
The Place: Dressage Summit – Feb. 9, 10, 11, 2013. W. Palm Beach, Florida.
The Characters: Christoph Hess, Head of Instruction and Head of the Personal Members Department at the DOKR, or German National Federation (Walter Zettl, the Parellis, Charles DeKunffy also part of the Summit but not my story here), my daughter Courtney and me and a Grand Prix rider on her International Gran Prix Dutch Warmblood.
Sunday afternoon session: The request–forward moving canter into a forward moving trot with long-ish reins (sort of long as their ‘regular’ rein was so short) and light contact. Seemed a simple enough request from Christoph of the rider/horse combo.
Went like this: Forward moving canter–check! Christoph had to keep imploring her to “Let loose the rein!” When he wanted her to transition into a forward trot, she shortened and pulled back on the reins and drove her seat into his back. “NO, NO!”, he shouts. “Let loose the reins and don’t stop the forward motion. Forward, forward. Forward canter straight into a forward trot.” Well, the work set in.
Each time the rider wanted the trot she wanted to stop the canter or tried to go to the really short, stubby, slow canter to get it. Plus, Christoph didn’t want her to use her reins to make the transition. It was evident to me that she didn’t understand how to do that. After twenty minutes with no success Christoph was trying different suggestions to get the desired result to no avail.
He had her circle smaller and smaller around him at canter while doing shoulder-in.
I should probably mention that all the riders (all training Grand Prix level) in the sessions were scared of their horses spooking and bolting off if the reins were loose. Each presenter spent a considerable amount of time–frequently seconds apart for 8 or 9 times in a row saying some sort of “Let loose the reins!” comment.
Anyway, the horse would start to think about transitioning because the setup was intended to make it difficult for him to continue cantering and in order for the rider to think about getting a forward trot she would drive her seat in again. However, since the horse was cantering, her movement was a canter rhythm.
No Good! We are now 30 minutes past the time allotted for the segment. Christoph is asking the audience, several times, if anyone speaks Dutch because the horse is not understanding his German and German accented English. He also mentioned a few times that he was going to ask Pat Parelli about some options to accomplish this as what he was doing certainly wasn’t working.
About 45 minutes past the time for the segment, they finally gave up and ended the session.
Meanwhile, I was explaining to Courtney, and the ears around me, why what was happening was happening and how to change it. She could see immediately that that was what was going on. Even though this was the first event of this sort she had ever attended, being brought up my daughter, she was able to grasp all of the nuance and such as I pointed out to her both good and bad. We also had a great time comparing it to ballroom dancing as that is what she does for her hobby. Those surrounding us had their ears tilted and whispered, “Oh, yes, I see!” and “She did it again!”
Monday morning: Repeat opening line–My One to One with Christoph Hess at the coffee bar in the hotel breakfast room. Me in my slippers!
We both said ‘hi’. My mind is racing. When in my life will I ever have the opportunity to speak to Christoph Hess again? Should I? Can I get up my nerve? Is there really anything to lose?
I say, “Excuse me. Could I have a few minutes to discuss the later part of the session yesterday?”
In the middle of the breakfast dining room, he launched into an explanation using his middle of the arena voice. He said that the horse was older and internationally trained and didn’t understand. It was a difficult task and… Yes, I’m leaving out a little, but… When I got a chance, I opened with, “The horse was doing what he was told. The RIDER didn’t understand how to effect the change.”
He stopped, stood still, shifted sideways and gave me an intent look – and let me tell him what I thought. I said the rider was riding the canter rhythm and every time she tried to stop the canter to get the trot you wanted her to go forward, so she drove her seat into him. But, as the horse was cantering at the time, she was cantering with her body motion. I then suggested that if she had gone into the rising trot the horse would have trotted as he was trying his best to do as she indicated. And yes, I did the body movements to boot.
While I was in my explanation, I literally SAW it hit him. He was completely still, then his eyebrows went up and his eyes widened. He put his hand on my upper arm, looked right in my eyes and said, “Your observation is fabulous. Your analysis and explanation are incredibly clear and I do believe you are right.”
That’s my moment! That was worth everything. Like the MasterCard commercial–PRICELESS!
I was her last stop before the Alpo can. This girl is the most dangerous horse I’ve ever been around in my life. What did “they” do to her to make her so dangerous? And by dangerous, I mean: She allowed no one near her. Within range for her was anywhere she could reach or get to. She’d charge you, even lunging over the fence. Just hope you get through it and far enough away to live. She struck, bit and kicked, launched whatever cowboy got on her and then, like a bull, turned and attacked. Broke bones in several trainers bodies before coming to me at the ripe old age of three. The trainers who owned her could not get within thirty feet of a fence without her trying to attack them. They purchased her as a one-year-old at the World sale in OK and when the breeder went into the stall, she sent him flying over the stall wall and broke some parts. The trainer/owner had gotten on her, but she launched him and then like a bull, turned and attacked breaking his collar bone. She had to be removed from the stable where they trained because no one could even clean the stall. They sent her to a trainer whose business card USED to read “Problem horses a specialty.” She launched him and attacked again with the same result. he told them to come get her, she was hopeless. They turned her out in a 100 acre pasture for six months hoping she’d settle down, but the other people who had horses in the pasture couldn’t get their horses because she’d attack them. She was temporarily contained in a round pen of a mutual acquintance while they tried to figure out what to do with her. They had the vet out to draw blood to check for hormone problems. If anyone even placed a hand on her, she’d squeal and kick and squirt pee. While in the stock for the vet to draw the blood, she managed to kick him and break his arm. Blood tests were negative. The mutual acquintance said if they wanted to give her one more shot before they took her to the killers, she needed to go to Lauren’s. (I keep a low profile. They didn’t know me.) They said drug her, throw her in the trailer and get her over there. I was gone to lessons the morning she was to be delivered, so I left instructions to leave her in the round pen. Now I was not given any info on this horse, just that they wanted her to “go long and low at a lope.” I had a message on my cell that said, “Hope your pen is still up when you get home.” Hmmmmm….. I walked out to see the new arrival. As I approached the fence, this beautiful horse ambled toward me and started to put her head forward. I noticed that she had a rear hoof that was completely broken up to the hair line at the quarter line. Lots of fresh blood. Don’t know what happened getting her here. I reached up a hand to pet her face and suddenly, both hind hooves were over the 5 foot rail right at my head. “Oh sweetheart,” I said, “that’s not the way we do things here.” She then pinned her ears and lunged over the rail at me with her teeth and eyes snapping. Yikes! I got my stick and string so I could work with her in the pen and hopefully live. She didn’t have a halter on and I was pretty sure I didn’t want to be close enough to put one on her anyway. I had to do some pretty good swinging to even get in the pen and keep her off me. She didn’t care. I felt bad about the broken hoof, but it was obvious that that would be a long time healing and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. She didn’t seem to care either. High, shut-down pain threshold. I sent her off while she tried to attack and then bolted off squealing and squirting pee about 4-5 feet straight out behind her. I tested several options for her to come in or quiet down, the answer was a resounding “NO”. I was running around with her so I could touch her with the string and also use it when she attacked to start our conversation. Getting her to go away was important as a precursor to her giving to pressure and not killing me. She had no inclination to do so and there were many times that I knew my life was seriously in danger. To make a long story short, two hours later, both of us were covered in sweat and pee. She was changing direction and sometimes coming in half way to me. Then, suddenly she just stopped, turned in to me and walked up to me with her head down at her knees. She stood there heaving and dripping with her tail hangling limp between her legs and pee just started pouring out of her. I petted her forehead and said, “Sweetheart, where in the world did you even have that after two hours of squirting it all over?” Whatever happened to this horse before, she decided that she was going to get the human before the human could get her. I found out later that in addition to the multitud of broken bones she left in her wake, the owner had tied her legs and thrown her and left her laying in the sun under a tarp for several hours. She also had several serious wounds that they had stitched up on her lower legs without the help of a vet. Those scars will remain, the mind scars have mostly healed. I absolutely adore this horse and she’s like a barnacle. Follows me everywhere and always is a huge help teaching other horses how to do tricks and work with sidepassing over barrels or walking in the tire bundle or tarp work. She’s always right there on her own (frequently in the way) to show the newbie how to do it.
She was ten years old and had been kept in a pen for so long her legs hardly held up and sometimes didn’t while she scrambled to bolt away. A jet black Morgan, stunningly beautiful with black eyes, flowing mane and tail and crooked hind legs and strangely shaped hind hooves. Talk about spooky – I ducked between the rails of the pen she was in and she tried to jump out the back side. The guy who ‘trained’ her, well, he thinks standing in a round pen while she frantically runs so out of control that she’s at a 45 degree angle with the footing flinging hither and thither 30 feet out. She was in a total lather and had to be blocked to stop. Her eyes were white with terror. He, meanwhile, stood there in the ‘position’ with his arm cocked leaning on his stick while she lost her mind. Then, he saddled her up and got on and kinda rode her. Meaning he stayed on at a very tense walk and trot with reins only a few inces long and couldn’t get her any where near the rail or canter. A year later, after standing in that same pen the whole time, I brought her home amd turned her out with my herd. BTW she couldn’t be caught. What a lover puss. While she will come, she still has a thought that if you have a rope it may not go well for her. I’ve only been on her a handful of times and that bareback with a halter, but she’s doing very well. Updates as I get around to them.
Would you take that one with you, too?” the owner asked me. I made a face. I was there to see about a throw away (by them) horse for my daughter (Gryffindor is on the cover of my book with her). “No.” I said. “That’s like a large Great Dane. I don’t have any use for a tiny Arab pony.” But, the little bay horse whispered, “I’ll be your best horse ever.” Believe me, I throw that up in her face every once in a while when she gets a hair up her butt and she’s not being my best horse ever. She weighs about 200 pounds more than she did then. And with only about 225 rides in her, she’s a phenomenal horse. She’s perfectly behaved galloping in the mountains bridle-less with just a string around her neck that I don’t have to use. She’s so smooth in her gaits. She jumps like a bird; completely quiet and composed and we’ve started working on piaffe. I can put someone who’s never been on a horse before on her with a halter and take them for a ride in the desert or mountains. She’s also the one I’m on laying backward reading a book and in the un-spooky horse blog post. As to the reading picture, she had never been in the backyard, I had never laid backward on her. She didn’t even have so much as a string around her neck for that photo shoot. Very smart, but that’s an Arab for ya. Tell her what you want and be clear about it and she’ll give it her best try. I’ll keep adding blog posts featuring her and stories of old as we go.
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