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An Older Horse Teaches a Returning Rider New Tricks

There was much I had to teach Raudi. But at the same time, there was much that Tinni, our older horse, had to teach me, as I duly note in this October, 2006 essay.

Last April, I attended a two-day clinic that was hosted by the Alaska Icelandic Horse Association. The clinician was Bill Burke, a kindly fellow who is also a professional educator. There, in Anchorage, I rode Tinni fra Hellisandi, who is owned by the Barnett family. Tinni came to Alaska via Canada nine years ago—Bernie Willis and Chuck Barnett brought him back with a handful of other Icelandics. His principle rider is Katelyn Barnett 18, who is currently in Iceland, studying Icelandic and training young horses. Tinni is black and 13.2. Now 18, he has some white hairs on his forehead; however, he remains young in spirit.

At the end of the first day’s lesson, I told Bill that I was a returning rider, and added that a 20-year layoff had taken its toll. I further explained that my level of confidence was zilch, and my abilities as a rider were less than zilch. However, the desire to ride, and ride well, had recently resurfaced. I concluded by telling Bill that I’d soon be leasing Tinni, and asked him what specific things I might do in order to become a better rider.

“Get out on this horse, ride him, and just have a really good time,” Bill said, adding, “This horse will be an excellent teacher.”

What, I then wondered, could Tinni teach me? It seemed to me that the best teacher would not be a horse, but rather, an experienced instructor. However, I kept my mouth closed because this was what my inner voice told me to do.

On May 5, Tinni came to our place, Squalor Holler, and in his calm and methodical way, began setting things straight. First, he dealt with Siggi, age 2, and Raudi, age 3, who’d both forgotten that in order to be accepted in the world of horses, youngsters must defer to the elders. Tinni took to eating first, and insisted that Siggi and Raudi ask permission to join him. Moving in slowly on the chow, with heads down and in a relaxed fashion soon became the order of the day. Interestingly enough, there was never, ever any biting, kicking, or squealing, rather, just occasional shoulder and butt bumping.

The first time I rode Tinni on the home front, I was a bit apprehensive. Previously, Katelyn had given me lessons. However, Tinni did what she told him to do. Nevertheless, we crept around the block. After a few more days of this, I asked him to trot. Tinni obliged, and so for the next few months, this was our primary gait.

Come July, Tinni and I began to explore area trails; sometimes we went alone, and sometimes with my friend Karen Hoppe, who was astride her Morgan/Quarterhorse cross, Elmer Glue. One hot summer day, Karen suggested we cross nearby Moose Creek. I agreed to go along for the ride because the trails on the far side are quite scenic and less traveled. When I saw the fast-moving waters, I wished I’d kept my big mouth shut.

“Looks pretty gnarly to me,” I said. My statement went unheard because the roar of the water drowned out my voice. Instead, Karen urged Elmer forward. What really concerned me was related to something that then and still seems implausible – how the hell can a shod horse pick its way through a water-filled rock bed? But there went Elmer and Karen. Tinni followed, and I kept my eyes on the distant shore. Only after we I knew that we were on firm ground did I stop shaking.

I would have enjoyed the ride more, but in the back of my mind was the thought that in order to get home, we’d have to re-cross the stream. I needn’t have worried. On the return trip, Elmer balked and refused to enter Moose Creek, which by this point in time seemed much higher and fast-moving than it had previously. Tinni, who has always considered Elmer to be a dufus, sighed and slowly moved forward. This time Elmer followed. Once across, I gave Tinni a piece of bagel, which is his favorite treat.

In July, I took the Training Young Horse/Centered Riding Clinic in Fairbanks, and in August, I took the Young Horse Training Clinic in Vernon, B.C. In addition, this past summer I took several lessons at Aaskastadir Farm. Susan Faulkner-March, Robyn Hood, Christine Schwartz, and Virginia Crawford were all excellent teachers. But so was Tinni.

For example, he did not tolt until he was ready, which meant that I do as my instructors had told me, and do suppling exercises. He also did not tolt until I was ready, which meant that I had to be relaxed and in neutral pelvis. Oh, but what a great day that was, when Tinni collected himself, lifted his head slightly, and shifted from piggy pace to tolt. Neighbors, watching, laughed as I repeatedly yelled out, “Look, look, I’m tolting!”

I presumed that Tinni and I were now sitting on top of the learning curve. I presumed wrong, as the events of the last two week clearly indicate. The first part of September I entered the pen, and glanced over at Tinni. Much to my dismay, I discovered that Tinni had scraped a 3 by 5 inch patch of hair off his shoulder. I could not ride him—with a saddle. And so I instead applied Vitamin E and Aloe to the wound.

A week later it occurred to me that I might try riding him bareback. Why not? It was not all that far from his back to the ground – and I’d been diligent about practicing emergency dismounts. I brushed Tinni, did some TTouches on his shoulder, and cleaned his feet. Then I put his bridle on, and lead him to the base of our driveway.

I mounted (using an overturned five gallon bucket), and crept around the block, feeling much like I felt that first day of May. In subsequent days I did this again, and again. Finally, a week ago, I got up my courage and asked for a trot. Tinni complied. Then I asked for a tolt. Tinni again complied. Neighbors again watched, as I repeatedly yelled out, “Look, look, I’m tolting bareback!”

Yesterday I decided to go for a trail ride. Together, Tinni and I headed for what I call the Murphy Road Loop, a trail that parallels our residential road. I’m pleased to report that this turned out to be a wonderful ride. The air was crisp, and the remaining fall leaves bright orange. Tinni picked his way nicely through the rutted puddles left behind by four wheelers, and when asked, trotted in the areas in between. The high point of the ride came when a grouse burst out of the nearby brush. Tinni, startled, leapt forward. I stayed on, then seconds later, realized that I was bareback.

On the ride home I realized that my riding-related progress WAS due to the fact that I’d recently received some excellent instruction. But due credit must also go to my equine instructor, who has enabled me to rise to the fear-based challenges, which often beset returning riders. I smiled as I thought about it, that Bill Burke was partially right.

The question that I have been repeatedly asking myself is “What am I to now learn from Tinni?” Well, my statement has become what are WE to learn from Tinni? We, in addition to me, now includes Siggi and Raudi. Next on the agenda is ponying. Can we all work collectively and learn something together? I’m quite confident that we can all collectively deal with this, our next riding-related challenge.

Alys
Pete
Raudi
Siggi
Tinni
Older Horse
Inner Voice
Mistakes Made
Bootleg
Rainbow
Jenna
Goats
Chickens