The foul fiend Flibbertigibbet

One of the things I continue to enjoy about Pat's class is that she pushes us to try things we're not sure we can do. This week, the horse list tossed up a trifecta of ponies, only one of whom I'd ridden before. I don't mind working with Grayson and would have pushed for him, but we had a new student who none of us had seen ride. Since Grayson's not a wild card, Pat put them together.

Leaving me with a choice between Lear, who is very tall for someone with a single neuron, and Lady, who is unpredictable. I waffled; I have seen Lear be extremely squirrelly, spooking at corners and invisible birds, he's still mentally a teenager, and only very calm riders seem to be able to work well with him. But faint heart ne'er won fair chance at concussion, so I told Pat I'd stop if he scared me. "He's mouthy," she advised. "Not malicious, but, you know. Very much a boy." (New student El Bandito looked amused and aggravated: "Is this going to be one of those classes?" We laughed and assured him that it wasn't; although we haven't had guys in the class before, there hasn't been any single-sex griefing. But it's trufax that boy ponies are more likely to be nippy.) I hiked up my courage and went in.

True to his rep, Lear was very mouthy, to the point where I would consider wearing tacked gloves next time, but he didn't ever quite get me. Here, as in so many areas, my time with Grayson proved a boon; at least I know where to look for teeth. Once I climbed into the saddle (way way up: 16.2 hands, at a guess, and maybe a smidge more), the biting problem receded and I was left with just my nerves about being knocked off by an ill-timed spaz attack. Pat cautioned me to keep my leg on to keep his attention. Lear tends to zone out and wiggle if he's not kept constantly focused with leg, and when he's thinking nonwork thoughts he's much more likely to spook at invisible beasts. We managed surprisingly well, once I figured out how much leg was enough: he shied only twice, both times barely more than a hiccup, and by the end of class he was on the bit more often than not. He then started rooting, dropping his head low low low even on the bit, so we worked on correcting that as well. Turns out that the key is core muscles, and again, to everyone who says that riding isn't exercise for the rider, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Ahem, hee. Anyway, I didn't try the canter, settling for a swinging walk and a pretty suspended trot. Once he settles into his groove, his trot is springy and comfortable; it's slower and higher than Cappi's and a lot less effort than Grayson's. He's also the king-hell champeen of turns on the forehand, giving me hope for the current bugbear, the haunches-in (status: continued fail).

All in all, it went better than I'd expected: Pretty horse, nice gaits, slight foxing, would ride again. One of the senior barn staff has been working with Lear all summer, much to his benefit, and he'd force me to quiet my hands and bring my seat more to bear. Pat clearly has an eye toward having us work together more often, now that I've found out that he's not a complete terror to ride, and while I will not agree to be gnawed on as part of his entertainment, I think we can reach a detente.