This, mes amis, is Evil Grayson. Shortly after I took this picture, as I was brushing his forelegs, he swung his head down and tried to bite my scalp (again). Fortunately, he misjudged the distance, depth perception being a bugger at that angle, and only slammed his teeth into my hairline, so rather than a bleeding flap of skin and multiple stitches, I have a tiny bruise. Nonetheless, I leapt up and hollered and waved my arms and generally made it clear that this is Not Done in polite society. Privily, I re-resolved to wear my helmet whenever he's nearby. Possibly also kevlar bodywears.
This was a private lesson, for reasons involving both weather and social commitments on the regular class night, so it was both useful and exhausting; when the teacher has only one person to focus on, mein Gott can it be rigorous. Pat put us through a warm-up course of bending and circles and more bending and more circles. Then I put Grayson back on the rail, and we worked on my weakest point in dressage, getting the horse on the bit. "The outside rein shouldn't move," Pat kept calling. "Inside leg, inside leg, more inside leg, don't hesitate to touch him with the crop if he doesn't move out under your leg, don't let that outside hand move! Inside hand, squeeze and release, squeeze and release." On and on. Sisyphean labors. My hip was starting to wail with pain. And then, suddenly, there it was: the perfect curve of neck, the forward movement, the sweet contact through the reins. "GOOD!" yelled Pat. "He makes you work for it, but you got him to do it! Look at that!" God bless for a teacher who can be so enthusiastic about students' success. Grayson didn't entirely make it easy; if I let up with my leg for a moment, he would drop out of the frame, but by the end of class we were counterbending through a complicated pattern of semicircles without ever going off the bit. I've been wanting a private lesson for this kind of work for some time now, but I didn't think the results would be so dramatic. Cheerful hurrahs all around.
Also in for some gleeful noises: my new Tipperary sportage helmet, which looks up close like something that has evolved gills and protective camouflage for a very sleek environment. Why St. Croix Saddlery was the only place that carried this model in anything but an extra-small is a mystery, but they did and it was here within four days, so consider this a blogular thumbs-up to them.
5 comments:
"Foreleg" is a fun word.
Biting is the one situation where reciprocal violence is appropriate IMO. If he tries this $#@% again, deck him fast - within 3 seconds if at all possible. He should know that you WILL bite back. Downside: You look like a meanie in the barn aisle. Upside: you get to keep your own skin on.
I try to practice preventive horsemanship, and I've found that for most things, keeping a hand up near his eyes works: he swings around, sees what his deepest prey brain says is a claw, he swings back away. I'm tempted to put thistles on my helmet and let him try the head-bite again. Sigh. Someone did a good job teaching him that people are the enemy; he's treated very kindly at the barn (at least as far as I've seen in the past six years) and isn't particularly spooky, but he's just a pure bastard when it comes to ground manners.
ETA: Which is not to say that the bite-back solution is wrong or something I wouldn't consider; I do try to get the scary reaction in instantly, I've just tried to do it with noise and show (so far, anyway...and of course look what it's gotten me). Somehow as I was editing the comment, the part about how those preventive tactics don't always work got dropped. Mea maxima culpa.
I love St Croix Saddlery and I forgot to mention this in my comment so ashes upon my own head. They have theeee best customer service and all of them are insane horse people so they totally understand.
My anti-bite technique is also my anti-headbutt technique (problem with my John, a "personable" sort of equine): quick elbow jab. It almost seems like a natural consequence: horse butts (or bites) person, horse gets a quick elbow to the big boney jaw. It is necessary for Johnnie, who continues to think his little envelope-pushings should be tried Every Day Without Fail. Elbow Revenge has the one advantage that some tender hearted barn girls don't even see it. But Horsey gets the message.
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