Blog
January 2007
Things are going to get a bit techy
ou know, I started writing my first blog because I wanted to prove to myself that I could code a content management system. I wasn’t interested in blogging, per se: just the code. But after I built it, it seemed silly not to use it… and after I was hooked on blogging, I wanted more features, so I shifted over to WordPress.
It was inevitable, I guess, that I’d want something more sophisticated than WordPress. Not–let me be clear!–that I don’t love WordPress. But this site, for example, is growing into more than a “blog” and could benefit from a flow-blown content management system.
So I’m migrating to ExpressionEngine.
Why am I telling you? For one thing, this is an involved move and for the next week or two I won’t be making any new blog posts. Also, anyone who submits new blogs to the HorseBlogs directory may find there is a slight delay in having them approved. (But please keep submitting! Your entries will be migrated over to the new database even if they don’t show up before then!)
More than the time issue, though, I’m telling you because there will be some new features available with EE that aren’t possible now.
For example, better searches. You’ll be able to search my main blog, the HorseBlog directory, or both.
And the HorseBlogs profile pages will be better organized. I’ll be able to split actual riding disciplines from other topics, like Hoof Care–and maybe even add other categories, like Breeds. Or Regions.
With EE, it’ll be possible for me to allow people access to their blog profile(s)–so you can log in and update your own information. I haven’t decided if I want to do this, but I am considering it.
I’m more interested in the possibility of adding an Admin or two for the HorseBlogs section of the site–others who would be able to add/edit existing profiles. (Interested in having that sort of role? Email me or leave a comment; we’ll talk.)
It’ll be easier to add new features to the site, like (perhaps) writing a weekly in-depth Feature Review of a blog in the HorseBlogs directory and having that connected to the HorseBlogs section of the site (and not this blog).
If I ever upgrade from the free version of EE to the paid version other features will be available, like a mailing list. Wait, maybe it’s just as well I’m sticking to the free version–I wreck enough havoc here; I probably don’t need to invade your email box as well.
So this should be a positive thing, overall. More and better features, while at the same time making it easier for me to manage the entire site.
In the meantime, I won’t be making many (any?) new posts to this blog. I will try to keep approving entries in the HorseBlogs directory, though. Bear with me–I should be able to get everything sorted out in a week or so, even with all the regular work I have lined up this week.
Also, once I switch over to the new system things may get a little bumpy–hopefully you won’t notice anything and it’ll just be little things I have to deal with on the back end, but if you do notice any glitches, well… let me know. The big problem will be broken links, but I can minimize 90% of that. I’ll announce when the site is officially switched over; prior to that, you shouldn’t notice anything at all.
It’ll be worth it. I’m sure. I hope, at least. There’s always the possiblity that I’m just enamored of this more complicated code, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take. You don’t get a choice in the matter. Heh.
Meanwhile: if anything I’ve said here sounds really exciting to you, or you have questions about what will/won’t be available, or you want to help with the HorseBlogs project… leave a comment. I’ll keep an eye on this entry, at least.
And if this whole post bored you to death and you don’t care what I do with code as long as I get it done soon… stay occupied with the cool links currently in the HorseBlogs directory. I’ll be back soon. Promise.
Why I Learned to Ride Bareback
I rode bareback today. It’s not something I get much opportunity to do, but I enjoy it. (Back in the day, with Super Saint, I could have ridden bareback. Well, “could have” in the sense that it was, yes, possible. But Super Saint, bless his TB heart, had TB shark withers. I didn’t want to ride him bareback.)
I didn’t discover the joys of bareback until a year or two ago. I was staying with my grandmother to help her for a few months, and one of my cousins has several horses. He offered to let me ride one of them, and I took him up on it.
I went out one day for the grand tour of the farm: here’s the saddle, here’s the bridle, here’s how to manage the electric fence, here’s the field you can ride in, Tibi’s ok on the roads if you prefer that, have fun, I have to go to work.
It had been eighteen months since I was on a horse, and even then I’d been lucky to ride twice a month. I was, to put it nicely, out of shape. Still: I saddled Tibi up with a nice, comfy-looking Aussie saddle and headed out for a trail ride. What could possibly go wrong with that?
For one: Tibi is a big, broad Quarter Horse–not a narrow TB like I was used to. For another: the saddle had stirrups that couldn’t be adjusted. They were custom-made for my cousin. My cousin is a good deal taller than I am. While the stirrup length was great for mounting from the ground, once in the saddle I couldn’t get my feet to reach the irons, much less put any weight on them. For a third thing: we set out and it was quickly clear Tibi wanted to trot, not walk. Well, ok. He has a nice, smooth trot and I was quite comfortable in that big Aussie saddle. No problem.
No problem until quite a bit later, when I realized my groin muscles were dying and we were a couple miles from home. Have I mentioned I was a bit out of shape?
By the time we got back to the barn, well… Tibi and I stood in the yard for at least five minutes while I contemplated my situation.
I couldn’t lift my right leg over the saddle. My muscles just… weren’t playing that game. I couldn’t push down on the left stirrup to help me gain leverage, because I couldn’t get my foot in the stirrup. And the bigger question: even if I managed to dismount, eventually my feet were going to hit the ground. And then my legs would collapse and I would fall down. Who wants to do that?
Eventually, I figured a way out of the saddle. It’s called physics. Actually, it’s called, “Well, if I push my weight up with my arms, I can leverage my leg over the saddle… let’s see… ooomph… oh, no, that’s halfway over the saddle. And now my balance is all off and I’m leaning to the left. And more left. And, oh, there we go! My right leg is un-stuck! And here comes Gravity. [thump] Alrighty then. I’m on the ground. This is progress.”
Not very dignified, but effective.
I gimped back into the barn, got Tibi squared away, and headed home. My grandmother took one look at me and laughed. She has an artificial hip and uses a walker to get around, and if we’d entered a 10 meter footrace together she could have given me a head start, played a game of cards, finished her race, and gotten her hair done before I crossed the finish line.
Kids, remember: when you are out of shape, going on a miles-long trail ride at the sitting trot without stirrups is Not A Good Idea.
After that, I decided to ride bareback. For one thing, when it came time to get off, there’d be no saddle to swing my legs up and over. For another, if I had to resort to falling off accidentally fell off again, I could blame it on being bareback. There’s no shame in falling off bareback, right? It’s practically expected.
Despite the less-than… classical? noble? admirable? logic behind the decision, it was a good one for both Tibi and I. My muscles quickly got used to the situation, Tibi was extremely comfortable, and I discovered the joys of riding a horse bareback.
The increased ability to feel the horse. The immediate feedback if I lost balance or tensed. The way he kept my legs warm on cold days.
And, of course, the easy dismount.
Before the lights go out
Murphey’s Law was written by a horse owner. Probably by a barn owner. Not necessarily a big-time owner with thirty stalls, three arenas, and a decent training program.
Murphey probably kept his horses in a field behind his house, with a three-wall run-in. He took them trail riding occassionally and mostly just enjoyed having them around. But eventually he would have learned, as we all do, that the moment he started thinking work was “done” on his little farmette, the field gate would fall off its hinges. Or Dobbin would throw a shoe, leaving Murphey to try and explain to his mother-in-law that he didn’t, in fact, stand her up for lunch–he had to stay home and hold the horse for the farrier. Or just when he thought he’d finish up barn chores in time to catch the last twenty minutes of a TV show, he’d blithely push the (full) feed cart down the hill and pop! the wheel goes spinning off, the cart goes slewing onto its side, and the feed… well… the birds are going to love his farm in the morning.
After enough of these instances, anyone would coin Murphey’s Law.
But despite Murphey and his spilled feed cart, there’s something satisfying about closing up the barn for the night: hanging all the halters and leadropes neatly for the next day, making sure brushes are all returned to the tack room, rolling up stray polo wraps, hanging up spare blankets.
I love that last moment before I switch the last light off–standing there in the semi-dark, listening to the horses eat their hay, knowing their stalls are clean, their water is clean, the barn aisle is swept and crossties are tidy, the feed carts are prepped for the morning feeder, and–for this moment, at least–you realize Everything. Is. Done. It’s a good moment to be in, don’t you think?
How to teach a horse upper-level dressage
Teaching a horse advanced dressage movements requires years of training and careful consideration of his balance, strenth, suppleness, throughness, etc. Or, you know, go on a trail ride. This method is especially effective if you have an older, well-broke school master of a thoroughbred. One who is an arena flower to end all arena flowers, in fact.
For your first excursion on the trail, choose a sunny but windy day. The noise of the breeze through the leaves will terrify your arena flower relax the two of you the way those meditation CDs do. Ask for a calm, relaxed walk. With luck, what you will actually get will be a lovely passage. Stay relaxed and supple in the saddle, as at any moment the moving shadows may encourage your horse to attempt a half pass at the trot or canter.
Then turn a corner and find a moose blocking the road. You should experience, in succession: piaffe, a canter half-pirouette, and a marvelous extended canter. Do not attempt to maintain a strong contact here–this is the perfect time to return to basics and practice looping the rein at the horse to check his balance (think of all your hard work on those 20 meter stretchy circles!).
This is enough work for one day; you wouldn’t want to strain your horse with these new movements. Pick yourself up out of the gravel, dust yourself off, fetch your horse from the patch of grass he’s found to graze in, and head home.
When he’s had a few days to almost but not quite forget about the moose, recruit some friends to trail ride with you and view your horse’s new skills. Good riding partners: the green, just-broke mare, the “hottest” horse in the barn, and Spooks-At-Everything Dobbins. Gather together in the barn parking lot. As the other horses stand waiting for the signal to head out, your horse should begin demonstrating his new piaffe abilities.
As you walk out the farm gate, allow your horse to transition into passage. If he does not do this on his own, whisper “Moose” in his ear. You should feel an immediate elevation in his gait. When you are ready, encourage the other riders to trot. Your horse will begin practicing his collected canter. Stay loose in your seat and allow your legs to swing randomly; your horse may well begin showing off one-tempi changes. Reward him for his behavior–for example, as the riders in front of you begin to canter up a hill, you may wish to encourage your horse with a confident, “Ohmigod we’re going to diiiiieeeeeeeeee!” When you reach the top of the hill, he may be so proud of his accomplishment that he will again demonstrate airs above grounds.
As you’ve now demonstrated all his new movements, this would be a good time to collect your riding companions from the various ditches and hedges into which their excited horses have thrown them. If they seem inclined to grumble at you, point out the positive: their horses, too, show some talent at these advanced movements. Y’all will be showing Grand Prix by the end of the summer, for sure.
If, of course, you can catch your horses first.
Fantasy Horses
Don’t you get the feeling, sometimes, that fantasy authors have never seen a horse–even in a picture? Which makes it a relief when I can find fantasy authors who know the front end of a horse from the back. And even more of a relief when the authors actually seem to enjoy writing about horses.
Kimberly at I Gallop On got me thinking about this around Christmas when she posted about how much she loves the horses of Middle Earth. Me, too. (Incidentally: did you hear New Line Cinemas has banned Peter Jackson because of some lawsuit he’s brought against them? So if The Hobbit is done anytime soon, Jackson won’t direct it. Can you imagine?!)
I also like Robin Hobb’s writing about horses. I’ve only read her Farseer Trilogy, but I get the feeling she’s been around horses before. Perhaps even cleaned a stall or two. At any rate, the horses in the trilogy are more than a vehicle to get from point A to point B, and that’s a refreshing break from many fantasy authors.
But more than Hobb, even more than Tolkien, I like Guy Gavriel Kay’s horses in Sailing to Sarantium and Lord of Emperors (the two part Sarantine Mosaic series). Also, a plug: if you like fantasy and haven’t read Kay yet, you really should. Avoid his first three books (The Darkest Road trilogy) until you’re already hooked, but pick up any of the others–they all stand alone, so you can read them in any order. In fact, start with the Sarantine Mosaic books, if only for the sake of the horses.
The books are set in a Byzantium-like world, where chariot racing is the heart (to speak in clichés) of the empire. While chariot racing isn’t the subject of the novel, the effect of the sport is felt throughout both books–from an emperor who would rather ignore the races but can’t, to spectators who live and breathe the races, to the charioteers and all their support systems. Several races are described in fantastic detail, and a few of the leading charioteers are major characters in the novel, so there are plenty of behind-the-scenes glimpses of the chariot racing world.
It’s a bit like… oh… if Tolkien had set his entire trilogy in Rohan.
Definitely worth reading–this is one of those times where a fantasy writer has done more than get horses right–Kay does them proud.
(Was that dramatic enough? I’m such a groupie… but I’m not a very good publicist. Buy the books and see for yourself, though–even without the horses, he’s a great storyteller/writer. Having horses in these two books is icing on the cake.)