When the junior riders at the barn were working on exercises based on the book “Bombproof Your Horse” by Rick Pelicano, I thought it was a great opportunity to get my ex-racehorse, who is afraid of everything, to build some confidence.
Objects were strewn all over the arena—wood planks, a beach ball, brightly colored squishy foam logs kids use in the pool, and, most frightening of all—a big blue tarp, tentatively anchored in four corners by orange pylons.
As soon as we entered the arena, Lady’s head shot up and her eyes went wide. The girls had been walking their horses over the noisy planks and onto the blue tarp both in hand and under saddle. Getting Lady even near the objects was going to be a challenge.
I remained on the ground, leading her in hand through most of the scary objects, saving the worst for last. Surprisingly, she walked over the noisy wood planks and stepped over the bright squishy foam things, though snorting the entire time.
Then a well-timed wind gust blew up a corner of the blue tarp so it stood nearly three feet. I almost lost Lady as she ran backward with her weird lunging hops. When I caught up to her, I began leading her again, toward the blue tarp.
She snorted at it, her hooves dancing along the edges, as she refused to actually step on the tarp. I stepped on the tarp and faced her. Lady paused and looked at me with the closest look to disbelief a horse has to offer.
“See?” I said, hopping a bit. “It’s noisy, but it’s okay.” If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought she was mulling the idea around in her head. She snorted, sniffed the tarp, went to lift one hoof onto it, then thought better of it and jumped backward again.
After 20 minutes of this, through sheer exhaustion or the final realization we were not leaving the arena, she stepped onto the tarp with both front feet, and leaning way back on her haunches. It didn’t take much coaxing out of this awkward stance to get all four feet on the tarp. She stood and trembled.
After about 10 repetitions of walking onto the blue tarp, I decided to attempt the entire exercise mounted, which was a challenge because Lady had greater confidence when I was on the ground. She seems to forget I’m there when I’m astride.
But I did my driving seat, imaging that I was moving a book across a table with my hips, while closing my calves against her sides, and she walked over the noisy wood planks, the brightly colored squishy logs, and circled the beach ball.
Now it was time to attempt the tarp.
Driving seat. Squeeze calves. Driving seat. Squeeze calves.
Dead stop on the edge. Snorting. Trembling. Leaning backward.
Driving seat! Squeezing calves! Driving seat!
And she was on the tarp. For a second, we were both equally shocked. She sort of tip-toed quickly off of it, but with more urging, walked over the tarp several more times, and with each approach, she moved more boldly than the last.
Once we were done, as a reward, I let her trot long and low around the empty part of the arena. I was talking and laughing with the girls who had been secretly watching our successful tarp adventure when Lady suddenly halted, front legs splayed wide. Not paying attention, I nearly ended up on her neck. There was nothing around to spook her, so I was a bit perplexed. She snorted, lowering her head to the spot on the ground that spooked her.
That spot was her own hoof print.
I sighed. Driving seat. Squeezing calves. Driving seat.
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