Who Are You? -- Part One

The English have this proverb: "Show me your horse and I will tell you who you are." Still one of the best lines I've ever heard, it deserves several posts on the history, psychology, politics, ethics, and meditative aspects of horsemanship.

I'll start with a personal story. My husband grew up in a wealthy Southern enclave, a place where women wore gloves and hats to shop and not just on Sunday. He once described his hometown as a place where people could live long, full lives without ever knowing what others thought of them. This most likely describes the ideal of a community where gatherings were superficial or politely guarded to promote a tolerant yet non-intimate type of social harmony. Such an ideal is, alas, far less likely between those brought up in less proper communities, and almost impossible between horse and rider where the horse will be direct and honest even if the rider isn't. In other words, the intimate relationship between horse and rider reveals the inner self whether the rider knows it or not. Aside from basic horsemanship skills, this relationship shows our ability to communicate, our basic assumptions on the use of force, fairness, reciprocity, and a whole bunch of other things. In short, it shows much about our personalities and even our politics.

Of course a few riders of extreme patience and skill avoid too many awkward and intimate revelations of their flaws and those of their horses. These few make themselves and their mounts look good no matter what problems they’ve encountered. I’ve seen some examples. A local woman regularly exhibits a Shire at the local county fair. In his early years, she rode him as both a dressage horse and a western reining horse. And now, showing him as an exhibition horse, she still makes a member of the coldest of the cold breeds look light and easy! On the international level, Many years ago, I watched a televised interview with veteran eventer J. Michael Plumb where he complained how dull and uninterestingly unpleasant his Olympic mount Bluestone was. I was surprised. Watching him on the cross-country course, I would have sworn they were a happy, harmonious pair. Those who have been lucky enough to see Reiner Klimke's victory lap with the heralded seventy-five consecutive flying changes on the once notoriously difficult Ahlerich will know what I mean. Such tactful, persistent skill in riders is rare indeed. At the very least, it shows a nearly miraculous connection with a horse. At best, it may well show the most noble, patient aspects of a human being.

Most of us can expect our horses to tell the world—at least the world of horsemen—exactly who we are. Non-horseman may argue with this. In fact, one of my daily vocabulary emails arrived just now with this as the daily quotation:

         The animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older
         and more complete than ours, they move finished and complete,
         gifted with extension of the senses we have lost or never
         attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not
         brethren; they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught
         with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of
         the splendor and travail of the earth.
                        -Henry Beston, naturalist and author (1888-1968).

With the horse, Beston was wrong. While most of the elements Beston describes are true, the horse did not arrive “finished and complete.” Man selected and shaped the horse, and, for better or worse, that selection and shaping of the species and finally the development of specific breeds, for work, for war, and for display, allowed man to spread across the world and dominate the earth. This shaping and developing also reveals much about the people who changed horses and horsemanship

That's what I want to talk about over the next series of posts.

Zenyatta and Company

I hope you have some time, because this is a long, link-heavy homage to Zenyatta and her connections.

Before the 2009 Breeder's Cup, I had never seen Zenyatta run. An ambivalent fan of racing, I had read a bit at The Blood Horse website, but that was all. Frankly, I'm not even sure why I watched the Breeder's Cup Classic, but I'm glad I did.

Everything about this mare is unusual--her behavior and style, her speed, and her training and handling.

When I first saw her behavior, my heart almost stopped. My horses only act that way when they have colic. However, diva that she is, Zenyatta had a well known pre-race routine. Several YouTube videos feature just her pre-race "dancing."

Here she is in the paddock of at the 2009 Breeder's Cup.

And here's an edited homage to her career titled "She's a Freak." (At 3:48 of this, she does a respectable Spanish walk, a move I will no longer call artificial.)

Update: I like this homage much better. Some good conformation poses here: "Zenyatta Starstruck"

As to the Breeder's Cup race itself, I again panicked when Quality Road broke out of the gate while blindfolded. That took my concentration off Zenyatta for a while too. After poor Quality Road's panic attack caused the unloading and reloading of all the horses, I wasn't surprised when Zenyatta broke slowly and galloped awkwardly looking around. I just didn't know she had a patented last-to-first pattern.

If you're short on time, here's HGTV's recap of all of her 14 wins.

My favorite now is her second win, one with a great race call.

But it's also well worth watching--and rewatching--the 2009 Breeder's Cup Classic.



I suppose the racing style and the $5,474,580 in winnings would be enough, but from what I've seen and found out since this race, there's a lot more going on here.

This mare is a darling. Watch her eyes and ears. Observant. Charismatic. She's obviously competitive, but from what I'm reading and seeing on YouTube, she's about as far from being crazy as any race horse can be.

Keeping a race horse keen and yet relaxed is not an easy job, but I suspect her trainer John Shirreffs is a master of this. In one article somewhere, I read that his favorite picture of Zenyatta is of her getting a massage. The then filly was flat out in her straw and her masseur was sitting in the straw with her.

Apparently this sort of relaxation is not unusual in his barn. Here's Life Is Sweet, the winner of the 2009 Breeder's Cup Ladies' Classic (G1), in a video uploaded to YouTube by Shirreffs himself.

I'm impressed by everything I've heard, seen, read so far. Shirreffs held Zenyatta's massive body together as well as her brain. The mare was foaled on April 1, 2004 and her first start was on November 22, 2007. I bow towards California. Shirreffs didn't start Zenyatta until she was almost 44 months old--ancient by American race standards.

Most American race horses start as two year olds, which means they were started under saddle as yearlings--a practice I consider obscene. I don't like the Triple Crown races either. Running three year olds is only marginally better than running two year olds. Horses physically mature at five, folks. This is why I'm ambivalent about horse racing.

So kudos to her trainer and owners for giving Zenyatta some time. Over seventeen hands, Zenyatta was a prime candidate for dire injuries. Instead, as far as I know, she retired clean-legged.

I'll end with my favorite video, another one uploaded by Shirreffs. Mike Smith, Zenyatta's regular jockey, was wearing a helmet camera during a regular work session. This video is--well, just watch it.

NOW.

I'll wait.

Did you watch it?

If not, here's the link again.

It wouldn't surprise me if die-hard horsemen watch it again. And, uh, again. I'm already past counting.

Great video, isn't it? Kind, competent people. Kind, more than competent mare. Those ears! And if you didn't feel an adrenaline rush when Mike Smith coos, "Come on, big baby girl" and the mare's stride changes, you ain't no horseman.

All Ears

Some comments left in response to bridleless riding videos on YouTube reminded me that too many people are ignorant of horse body language, specifically their eloquent ears.

Too many people still think pricked ears are desirable. For example, I was at a Saddlebred auction many years ago at the invitation of a would-be owner who pointed to a mare in the ring and said, "What spirit! Look at that noble expression!" To me, the mare's forward ears indicated tension, even terror. Her ears were snapped forward as if she saw in front of her a lion in full crouch. A horse with both ears pricked ears ain't thinking about its rider.

When I'm working in a ring or enclosed area, I want ALL my horse's attention on me. In the field or on the trail, I still want part of my horse's attention. My old Arab stallion used to delight me on the trails because he'd always have one ear forward and one ear back. Watching--or rather listening--where he was going while still being attentive to the rider was one of his invaluable traits.

But, alas, if too many people like snapped forward, worried ears, too few appreciate the position showing relaxed attentiveness, utter submission. I heard a neophyte complain that the Lipizzaner stallions were disappointing because, while they were obviously well trained, their ears were "all floppy."

The only thing that's more dear to me than attentive swept back ears are floppy ears. I remember seeing one of the Spanish dressage team's Andalusians come down the centerline at the end of a test. This passage was probably the best I've ever seen, and the horse was so relaxed his ears were flopping in rhythm. The goal of dressage is for a calm horse to mimic the movements of an excited horse, and I don't think I'll ever see a better example than those ears swinging freely with each powerful stride.

Of course, sometimes glorious submission gets horses into real trouble with ignorant people. Many years ago I had the use of a wonderful Arab gelding as a school horse. The owner had him for sale, and I was around when a potential buyer came out. The would-be buyer asked to bridle the horse herself, which I thought boded well for her savvy. However, it was soon obvious she was unfamiliar with a snaffle bridle. Seeing her fumbling with the bridle, the gelding kindly lowered his head, swept back his ears, and opened his mouth. As he stood their trustingly, she dropped the bridle and punched him square in the nose. Simultaneously, the owner and I yelled, "What did you do THAT for!!" Self-righteously, she said, "He was going to BITE me."

An equine saint, the gelding was forgiving. I picked the bridle off the ground, slipped my index finger under the crownpiece, and dangled the bridle in front of him. He reached down and took the bit by himself. With one finger, I slipped the crown over his sweetly reversed ears.

If I'd had horse ears, mine would have been pinned flat against my head as I stared at the poor ignorant girl who punched one of the kindest horses the planet has ever seen.

I love horse ears and all they tell us.