November 2022. It’s day 2 of clinic, and halfway through class Joel has me switch horses. I had been working with Cramer, gentle giant, and he’s responsive and floaty on the end of my line. “Terry,” Joel calls, “go get her Tiva.”
I had brought Tiva into the covered arena maybe a handful of times for Terry. Tiva was working on getting caught by other people, as she’d only been haltered not three months prior. One of the more recent times I brought her in, acting as a post as I awaited the hand-off, Terry had gestured and said ‘do a little with her.’ She coached me through the very basics, as if this were my first time doing groundwork. Send her around you in a circle. Drift the hind. Bring the front. I had been practicing all of these asks with other horses, but this one was so new to it all, it rattled my own confidence. Each time you touch a horse you teach them something, but the stakes do seem higher when they are first learning.
There were no disasters that afternoon, and as I walked her back to her paddock, I said thank you, thank you. I didn’t yet know what this chestnut mare would mean to me, all that she would teach me, and all that I would teach her.
Back to clinic, 2022. I hand off Cramer and take hold of Tiva, his mellow energy replaced by her nervous uncertainty. This was perhaps her second time in a clinic setting, the first having been with Terry, who was far more experienced at supporting green horses in new spaces than I was. But this opportunity was one I was thankful for, and as we carved out a circle for ourselves amidst the rest of the clinic participants, Tiva looking to me for direction, I knew that this was a different level.
Over the next two years, I partnered with Tiva in all of the groundwork portions of Joel’s clinics. We worked through some tricky spots on the ground – changing eyes was a particularly challenging area for her – and improved in spades during that time. I remember during a leading exercise, merely walking past the crowd sent Tiva into a snorting, nervous spiral. As the other horses walked around us, we spent a good deal of time just working in front of the spectators, helping her relax.
It’s October of 2024, and I do not have Tiva in the groundwork portion of the class. We are both sitting this one out. Instead, I pull her out in the afternoon, tack her up, and grab my boots and helmet, and lead her out for the riding session.
Over the course of the three days, Tiva and I both worked on a lot of our basics. It hearkened back to our first clinic together, me feeling uncertain in my role as a leader and she as my trusting (though, fairly, questioning) partner.
Tiva feels very safe despite being so green. That is the reason why the two of us were able to take our relationship off the ground and into the saddle. She doesn’t balk at too much, and the reactions she does have have so far been quite manageable. But not feeling as though she will buck me off is not the same as having her feel like an old schoolmaster. Those who know about these things say that riding a green horse is a lot like driving on ice. Being from Florida, I don’t have much experience with that, but I understand it as a general concept.
A horse is meant to be an extension of your body, of your legs. As currently stands, Tiva currently is a drunken sailor, weaving this way and that despite my attempts at direction. All this to say, we don’t have much of a line. More of a squiggle. We worked on this over the course of the three days, her staying more centered in the general direction of where I wanted to go, and while marginal improvements were made, there is still a lot of work that is needed in this realm.
It is easy to get bogged down in all that still needs help and not pay attention to where things are improving. At the beginning of clinic, Tiva had a difficult time staying on a circle bent to the right. She wanted to get straight so she could see out of her left eye again. By the end of the three days, she was having a much easier time bending right, and if anything, our circle to the left needed work.
We also practiced bringing the front quarters across, something that neither of us had worked much on previously. She gave a ton of effort and search, and although it’s far from perfect, she made some great attempts. I don’t know if I can say the same about myself.
In the arena alongside eleven other horses and riders, Tiva remained chill. Often the more experienced of the bunch would come trotting or loping up behind us, and not once did she feel tight or play off the energy of the others. Even having Joel ride up alongside us did not cause the uptick in her life that it once did. At one point, he helped us through hindquarters-frontquarters, and changing eyes on him (from the saddle!) did not get her bottled up.
We also worked on picking up a soft feel, and our back up. This was also something that neither of us had really done before, and she really stepped up to the plate despite being so new to it all. By even the second day when I would pick up on my rein, she was hunting for something, and I had to remind her that we weren’t picking up a soft feel right now, but thank you anyways.
Three hours is a long time to be at work, but Tiva stayed game the entire time. This is a smart, willing horse who tries very hard despite a clunky rider getting in her way and oftentimes giving confusing cues. She had every right to get bothered or upset with me, and yet played it very cool even when my releases were off and my timing was bad. For being so new to things, she was very willing to fill in and search for the answer, even to new questions she had only just been asked. It is no secret that I love this mare dearly, but I think it is an objective fact that she is truly special, and is well on her way to making someone a wonderful partner!
