Piero della Francesca

My husband gave me a great book for Christmas - Horses and Horsemanship Through the Ages, by Luigi Gianoli. The author says that the Renaissance brought fundamental changes in horsemanship to Europe.

Piero della Francesca is known as an important Italian Renaissance painter. From his c. 1466 fresco cycle "The Legend of the True Cross", which includes this painting:




The Queen of Sheba in adoration of the Wood and the Meeting of Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, Gianoli has selected this detail:

The striking white horse must belong to the Queen of Sheba. And the black horse to the left is certainly communicating something to someone.

But the thing I find most charming is how the artist depicted the horse who is looking out at us over the white horse's saddle. I imagine this tells us something about della Francesca as a horseman as well as an artist.


 NB: Wikipedia notes of Piero della Francesca, "As testified by Giorgio Vasari in his Lives of the Artists, to contemporaries he was also known as a mathematician and geometer."

Note: The book is: Horses and Horsemanship Through the Ages, by Luigi Gianoli, translated by Iris Brooks. First published in Italian as Il Cavallo e l'Uomo, 1967 by Longanesi and C. First published in the United States by Crown Publishers, Inc. 1969.

The deer

A few nights ago, my husband and I were coming home from a party. We saw that a number of cars had pulled over, so we did too.

There was a deer lying in the middle of the road, badly hurt. No one knew what to do.

My husband got out of the car and went over to the deer. He rested his had on her briefly to be sure she wouldn't panic. She raised her head and looked around. Then she let him pull her over to the side of the road, while someone else called the police.

Although no one could have alleviated her suffering, he made her safe from further injury. He will always be a hero to me.

When Molly Goes Walking

When Molly goes walking, and I am walking beside her holding her lead rope, there's almost always a point at which I am positive there is someone walking behind us. I keep listening, trying to hear their steps, and I eventually have to turn around and look. There's never anyone there. It's her hind feet that I'm hearing, the second and fourth beats in the 1-2-3-4 rhythm of her walk.

When Molly goes walking through the field, I sometimes think about what to do if a bear comes charging out of the woods at us. You may have heard the story of the woman leading some children on a trail ride in the Rockies. She and her horse charged a bear and managed to scare it off, and - so the story goes - she bought the horse. That is not going to happen with us. I am completely confident that Molly will get herself out of there right away. My job will be to make sure I don't get left behind. So I imagine sitting deeply, with my hips almost disconnected so that my legs can counter balance me. First she'll spin very quickly, so it will be important to let my seat go along with her and just let my shoulders catch up. Then we'll take off. I've seen her gallop but never ridden at that gait. Keeping your seat at the canter, which is similar to a gallop, means using a slight scooping action, and not leaning forward which is my usual fault. Galloping will be really hard for me. Worse comes to worst, I can fall forward and wrap my arms around her neck. Heaven only knows what direction we'll be headed in.

When Molly and I go walking with me mounted, I'm always amazed at how much motion there is. Her back ripples as each leg moves. Horseback riding is said to be good physical therapy for people who have trouble with their own legs. I keep trying to feel the four beats of the walk, but I often can't. So I just let my seat go along with her back. There is a trick to letting your seat move but keeping your shoulders steady. I love it when I can do it.

It has been great to ride more often, and sense my body catching up to the instruction that I've had over the years, while I ponder the theory and the reality of equine movement.

Coming along

Today Molly came to me when I called her. It was amazing.

We worked on this while still at Duane's. She would stand at her gate, gazing out at the grass beyond. I stood about 15 feet away, waiting to groom her. Because I am supposed to be the herd leader, I wanted to see if I could get her to come to me instead of me going to her. So I used consistent hand signals and a consistent voice call, which included her name.

She seemed to figure out pretty quickly what I wanted, but immediately began to look all around, up at the sky, over at the other horses, anywhere but at me. I persisted, and she eventually came over. It probably took three prolonged attempts on separate days. I rewarded her with praise and petting; then again I was also standing near her hay.

Here, Molly is coming toward me as I approach her paddock. But this is because she thinks we may be going to go get some grass. She is wearing her new turnout sheet from JP's North.

This time, I was taking off her (new!) turnout sheet when she just ambled away with it all unfastened but still resting on her. To the gate. With her halter on. I was disappointed but tried not to get emotional. I hadn't called her in many months, but I figured, why not give it a whirl? Imagine my surprise when she obeyed me.

I did use the same motions and voice call as previously - they were simple so they were easy to remember. I tried to keep my energy low but still sound happy at the same time. The sheet slid off (mercifully not into the manure) as she headed back my way. She also stepped on the halter rope a couple of times, but she was moving at no great speed and has had this happen to her a lot, so she knew how to get out of it.

And there she was in front of me! She received much praise, kissing, and patting. I can hardly imagine that that is meaningful to her, but I do it anyway. To me it always feels like her outlook lies  somewhere between an understanding that I won't hurt her, a hope that I will give her food, and the knowledge that I won't shut up. In this I think she may share her ancestors' perspectives.

I am wary of anthropomorphism. She is developing a familiarity with and respect for me - I don't really get the feeling that she has much of an attachment to me personally. Much as I wish she enjoyed our exercises in some way or other, I don't imagine that she ever will. They seem to be meaningless to her. Also, she probably worked hard for many years and she has no desire to please me. But she does, especially when she surprises me.

Coats and Blankets

We’ve had our first snow already this year. I put a turnout sheet on Molly last night because it was  supposed to be a wet snow, with temperatures rising into the 40’s.

Molly grows a heavy coat for winter and keeps it through the summer (it’s unbelievable). Her heavier coat is gorgeous and rich. Connie told me that once you put a winter blanket on a horse, it needs to stay on because it flattens all the winter hair that has grown in and lofted to trap warmth. The blanket can also inhibit further growth.

This is a picture of Molly's coat in October.

Blanketing a horse takes more thought than I would have ever imagined. One of my coworkers once asked why some horses have blankets and some don’t, and I rattled on for probably 5 minutes about weather, weight, work, age, and breeds. She politely murmured that it sounded "complicated" and the conversation turned to another topic.





But horse people will talk about it endlessly, each and every season. What brand did you get, what color is it, how does it fit him/her, can she run in it, did he tear off the straps again, when are you putting it on/taking it off/putting it on? Last year I bought Molly a winter blanket for the coldest months, and this year I got her the turnout sheet, which is a single uninsulated layer, for the warmer months. The work she does is considered to be very light, so I can afford to let her to grow as heavy a coat as possible - there’s no danger of her working up a sweat and then getting a chill. The turnout sheet is mostly to keep wet snow and cold rain off of her. Soon it will be cold enough for the winter blanket, and cold enough for me to savor her warmth when I take the blanket off and press my head to her side.

Grass

A widely held tenet of horsemanship is that your horse should regard you as the leader of your herd of two. This is a conversation I often have with Molly because she is so headstrong and I am really, I suppose, inherently democratic.

Still, I press on. The latest arena in which this dynamic is playing out is the grassy field. Molly gets plenty of good quality hay but she adores grass.

Many people who have horses will wait to feed them till after they work, both as a reward and to avoid digestive issues. But Molly had clearly often gone hungry by the time she came to Duane's, and she was anxious and ill tempered prior to feeding time. I used to get to the barn early enough before lessons to give her her morning hay. This way she was noticeably easier to work with. Then I would take her for grass afterwards.

Later, I took to letting her have grass while I groomed her and tacked her up, thinking this would make her even more amenable. At the new barn, there is a gorgeous grassy patch on the way to the tack room, so this summer I have been letting her eat grass while I groom her.

Experienced reader, you can see where this is heading. She recently began charging toward the grass as soon as we got out of her paddock. This is dangerous as well as rude and I clearly had to take her in hand. Connie and Duane had had to do something similar because early on, Molly was just unmanageable. So I learned from them how to correct her and insist that she mind. It is not easy, and requires absolute consistency in order to be effective. We are making progress again.

So much has been written about horsemanship. Mules seem to need both a firm hand and a certain sympathy. It is a journey to learn about all these things, and decide what to try, and see what works.

The River

Molly and I went into the river. Intentionally!

The first couple of times I hand walked her in following C. on Monet or Koda. When I first rode her in she displayed her usual caution by stopping, going to the left, then the right, and backing up. I kept tapping her with my legs and encouraging her. Finally she walked right up to the edge, stopped dead, and dropped her head low, staring down into the unknown depths.

It must be very disconcerting for our equines when we ask them to do new things. This is one reason it always knocks me out when Molly goes ahead and gives something a try. What is she knitting together in her mind, from all her past experiences along with her current observations?

What I finally did was keep her between my legs and hands and keep saying, "You can do it! I know you can!" while C. and her mount gave further support. And in we went.

Keeping your horse between your legs and hands is one of those bits of equestrian instruction that you read in every book and hear from every instructor. You may be thinking, "But she is already there!" or "If she's not there, then where is she?" or even just "Whaaat?" This is the first time it's ever worked for me. It seems like the type of thing you can't really do until you know how to do it. This is one of the mysteries and challenges of riding, this weaving together of an idea, a feeling, and a body over time.

I often think of all my instructors, who must have looked at me in my nervous, middle aged, poorly postured form and just sighed and got on with it. In the hours that they spent with me they were laying a good foundation for both my intellectual and physical development, but the going was so slow it often seemed like nothing was happening at all.  

Here's the river, without two equines and two humans to make a ruckus.

Fields

I thought I lost my cell phone the other day, so I retraced the steps of our last trail ride with C. and her other horse, Monet (eventually I found the phone at home). It was a nice stroll and I was able to take some pictures.

When we were growing up, our grandfather had some property, including two fields across the road from our house. He used to mow them every year using an old mower and a vehicle he had built himself (!) and named the Doodlebug. I thought this was amazing then, and even though I've since learned that other dads and grandpas did the same, I find it even more so now. Who on earth can build a car?

Our dad had the Doodlebug hauled to our house. When we sold the house, we had it taken away. It made me wonder yet again why everyone can't keep everything forever. It also makes me think of the days when everyone rode horses.

It was slow and strange to walk the trail that I usually ride. How great must it have been to buy a good horse and get to your destination faster and in more style? How long did your horse stay shiny and new? What kind of larger radius did you now travel in?

Large animals are a lot of work to own. Then as now, rich people could pay less rich people to do some of the work for them. But I imagine that most people did most of their own work. Most people must have kept one or more horses and cared for them. I sometimes get exhausted caring for Molly, even though C. is caring for her most of the week. I often wonder how people managed it. A smaller radius to travel? More children? A longer day and a shorter commute? Perhaps they tried to accomplish fewer things in a day, and still the days felt just as full as ours do.

Autumn Trail Ride

We went on a trail ride under tall pine trees with thick soft beds of needles everywhere. It was much like where I grew up. It was so quiet. We could hear a barred owl hooting.

 It was bright shade, so Molly wasn't scared. We were walking easily and together. Also, we were following C. and her horse Koda. I think that they trail ride with Molly and me for ballast.  Koda is extremely well trained, and Molly is pretty steady, so it works out.

Photo of oil sketch by Frederic Edwin Church, American, 1826-1900

Today Koda jumped a mud puddle and Molly lurched it, which was interesting. It was when we were turning around at another point that Molly found herself sinking into some mud.

We have practiced long and hard with puddles, which she assiduously avoids with side steps, back ups, and every other contortion possible before eventually going through them.

So I nearly panicked myself when I realized the mud was so deep she was sinking. We tried backing up but she couldn't push off from the front. Before I knew it we had turned together and managed to pull out that way. It was a triumph! I was so proud of her!

I'm so excited when we meet a challenge, and I always wonder how it will pay off in the future as well as what has lead up to it happening at all. How many things do we do now that we wouldn't have been able to do a year ago? Molly was a farm mule for perhaps 18 years, and she was not really interested in starting riding lessons with me. Even so, I pressed on. When we first started riding outside of lessons, without my teacher, we rode just around her pasture (with the gate closed!). I was really nervous, but in fact it was a very safe way to get started.

Shelter

Here's a picture of Molly's new shelter. This was a very generous Christmas gift last year from my sister, S. and her boyfriend, J. (I gave them each...a pair of gloves. *sigh*). Today it happens to be raining steadily, so I went up to the barn to see if Molly had decided yet to use the shelter. She hadn't. 

I put her halter on her and walked her into it, until she got the worried look. We stopped, praised, and petted for a couple of moments and then backed deliberately out.

I've tried this a couple of times in good weather, and she has made it all the way in and also managed to tolerate my tapping on the fabric sides. Then we backed out. As far as backing in goes, she eventually got one foot in and that was good for that day.

Other winters Molly has made do with only a winter weight blanket. We wondered what her previous winters in Pennsylvania were like. We wonder about the rest of her life, too. How she came by all her scars. Why she hates being in a stall. How her feet got to be so bad. Whether any of her 20 years were very good or very bad.

Though I love her and provide for her now, it would really be great if she had an owner who could get her a larger shelter and work her 3 or 4 times a week. Also who could get a full set of x-rays taken. Still, I'm always surprised that she does sometimes learn new things, even when she clearly doesn't want to at first. She's learned some groundwork tasks and has learned that even if she refuses my first request while mounted, she will eventually have to obey. 

I often wonder why she will learn one task and not another. One which I had anticipated would be nearly impossible turned out to be effortless. When I knew she would be moving, I was certain she would not load. At all. So I asked an acquaintance if we could practice with his empty trailer. A few times I just walked Molly up the ramp, paused, and backed her down. One day I asked him to stand by when I walked her all the way in. She walked right in and kept her composure as the trailer creaked and groaned. I literally could not believe it. He said she trusts me. I wonder about that a lot.

The Summer of 2014

This has been an amazing and important summer for Molly and me. Not only did we begin riding outside of lessons, but Stephanie and Duane sold the barn. They moved into a well deserved retirement, and Molly and I moved to another family farm a little farther away.

At this farm, she seems very happy. It's quiet and pretty, and she can see three other horses and four miniature donkeys.

We can walk through many of the fields, and she walks very well indeed. She even trots! Totally unbelievable. At Duane's arena, which was very nicely maintained, she was known for not trotting, and would slow down and moan when asked. After much suffering, she would trot slowly and more slowly, and halt immediately at the slightest excuse, looking very put upon. In the new fields, I asked for a trot and was nearly left behind when she popped right into it. She keeps going, too. It's like a different animal alltogether.

All of this walking has been good for me. I've been more conscious of my posture this year, both on and off the mule (and I am always surprised at how fast my body reverts to its slump). After many years studying books and videos, and all of my instructors pleading to "Relax your back!", the knitting together of posture, contact, and rhythm is finally beginning to make sense.