How Is a Lipizzan Like a Teapot?

Blame the title on S.

Lesson today. Pook is not ready for prime time--he has some more work to do (of the kind described below) before I feel safe riding the rocket. Ten days, and then we'll do the next lesson with the Wild Thang.

In the meantime Ephiny was very much in favor of the grooming and the saddle and all. She even offered me a foot to clean, which is a first. I've always had to ask. Small milestone, but significant.

We took our time starting, in part to teach Miss E the art of waiting patiently for the humans to get around to working with the horse. She was very patient. No fretting or fidgeting. Girl knows how to wait--which is more than I can say for myself. :P

Eventually however we got around to talking about the homework we've been doing, engaging the back end and teaching her to rock back and come forward, aka the Pendulum. She was not in favor in the last lesson, but given a few days to think about it, she allowed as how it wasn't so bad. Even with the right hind, which tends to get stuck somewhere in the recesses of her twisty little brain. She actually stated that she was going to walk on out now, and keep pace with me, and demonstrate her homework.

Good! said S. Now the next step of the work in hand: instead of me standing in front of her watching as she positioned each foot, I had to stand beside her and feel it.

Sneaky, evil S. That meant true work in hand, aka the horseless riding lesson, aka where is your core and how do you feel what the horse is doing without looking to see?

Because if Pook is going to start back to work in the next week and a bit, I had better have a core, because Pooka is merciless. The mares I've been riding, well, aren't.

Ooops.

Also, being out of shape, ow.

It was somewhat reassuring that S also had interesting times with Ephiny, who could not see why she had to just step back and step forward in diagonal pairs when she could: Go Sideways. Go backwards. Step over behind. Step over in front. Cross her legs.

But not flip her head, except once. That's huge progress. And not bite S, which is also progress.

Gifted-kid problem. Why bother with the ABC's when you're hardwired for Proust? She did not see why she should worry about still being sound when she's an old lady, because she plans to live forever. (After all, isn't that Pandora's plan, too? And Pandora's her sister. So.)

She wasn't sulky about any of this. Or angry. Or resistant. Soft ears and soft eyes. Asking questions. Not always getting the answers she wanted, but willing to entertain the notion.

We took a break with a walk in hand, and instead of the imminent explosions I've had to deal with before, she only became irritated when she got rushy. Rock back, engage, balance. Get brain inside head. Walk on softly and lightly.

Then we went back to work in hand, this time along the fence on both sides, for support. That worked. I braced, she braced. I got soft, she got soft. Amazing. Spine straight--no kinking the head, neck, or body. Feel the movement, don't kink or twist. Use whip as aid wherever she needs it--for hindleg, as near the top of the croup as possible, just tapping. Pointing: Engage Here.

We could have done this under saddle today, but she was a pooped pony. Little grey cells all fizzy and whirry. Next time.

And the teapot? Rear-wheel-drive equines, which Lipizzans are, can only really keep impulsion (and go forward comfortably at all) when their balance is in the rear. If they tip onto the forehand, all the impulsion runs out. So you have to keep tipping them backward till they stay tipped on their own.

So, teapot. Keep the tea in the rear. Don't spill it out the nose.

Makes sense to me.