The Effect of Spurs
Just yesterday I switched the spurs I use on my mare. She’s always been one to ignore me, so I like to jam metal points into her ribcage. Well, that sounded mean, but isn’t that what spurs really are? The ones I’ve been using for dressage are an inch and a half long and solid. To the left they stand her up wonderfully and it’s just a matter of catching her before she leaps sideways. To the right she just leans more into the spur. Yesterday I borrowed a pair of wheel spurs (they’re really called dime rowels but I will forever be set in my hunter vocabulary) and she magically listened to my right leg! Everything cleaned up so well that I really wish I hadn’t dropped a level for my test. But it’s still probably for the best, I have at least another three months to try for first level again. Now, as I’m sure everyone knows, when one thing goes right, everything else has to go wrong. What’s going wrong? My mum is coming into town. I have to pick her up from the airport in less than an hour.
So all that spurring that I do to Abs? Mum does it to me. Picks on everything, annoys me until I either do what she wants nicely or throw a fit (Abs throws lovely fits that usually involve leaps through the air and unexpected changes of direction). She gets after me for everything. There’s no methodical pressures with her, she’s relentless. At least I can see why we don’t train horses that way. If you want to focus on one thing, it’s okay to get harsh about it but when you go after every little problem, it’s too much. How do I explain that to my mum? Neither my psychology degree or my horse training experience has helped with that. She’s just my mum. Who makes me want to pull my hair out.
Well, I need to go pick her up now. I’m sure there will be some angry, stressed-out entries coming soon. In fact, there will probably be one of those in a couple hours here if she doesn’t yell at me for being on the computer. Lord, this should be fun.