Lyle's Curtain Call

We were all a little worried the night before the Tom Curtain horsemanship clinic. Lyle was stressing about being in an arena for two days, Hank couldn't bear the thought of Lyle being gone, and when I told Smooch she would be sleeping on the back porch instead of my bed, you'd have thought the world was coming to an end. I had my own list of worries and fears, but it did not include "horse trailer light failure at 5:30 am halfway to Albuquerque." I thought about waking up the guy who had recently rewired the trailer and demanding he come fix it, but instead twiddled my thumbs in a parking lot for an hour waiting for the sun to come up.



Despite the setback, Lyle and I arrived bright and early and still had an hour to chill out and recover from the trip.



The clinic was held in a huge, beautiful outdoor arena at the village park, lined by tall trees which provided some welcome shade in the afternoons. Gorgeous green soccer fields adjoined the arena, and this being Saturday, it was a busy place. Lyle had never experienced so much social interaction in all his life, and I was very proud of him for calmly handling the steady stream of bicycles, joggers, and dogs, and the cacophony of screaming children and their even-louder parents. He wasn't so proud of the way I was handling it and kept telling me to stop whining.



Most of the 16 participants were experienced clinic-goers, and it was a pleasure to be in the company of good riders who kept their horses under control and who respected each other's space. Tom was a long-time student of Ray Hunt and is a talented horseman in his own right. He tries to get his students to see things the way the horse sees them and uses lots of stories and demonstrations to get his points across.





At the beginning and end of every morning and afternoon session, we would circle up and he would ask each rider, "How you fixed?" (That's clinician-speak for what's working, what's not and do you have any questions.) And during the riding exercises, if he saw you struggling or had a suggestion to help you, he'd say, "come on over here and let's work on that." While I had plenty of questions of my own, I learned just as much from listening to his answers to other riders' questions and watching him work with their horses.



We worked a lot on moving and controlling the front and back ends of our horses separately to get them softer and lighter in our hands. Lyle was reasonably soft when we started out, but by the time we left, I felt how much softer he could be if I asked him correctly. It was a wow moment.

Now as for the demise of Mr. Crankypants... I had heard other clinicians say this same thing before, but it meant something different back then because Lyle and I weren't in the same place. So Tom says: When I was growing up and my dad asked me to take out the trash, I stopped whatever I was doing and took out the trash. There was no "I'll get around to it" like there is with kids today. And when we were going on down the road and there was a gate, I ran out and got that gate and ran to catch up with his truck to hop back in. I knew what was expected of me. Bet you didn't know this horsemanship stuff was so esoteric, huh?

The light bulb finally went off. Sometimes I'd been letting Lyle take out the trash on his own sweet time. And I was fearful of the consequences of asking him again, knowing we'd get into an argument I wasn't prepared for. So I worked on some rein management, getting quicker about gathering him up to deal with the consequences, and when he did say no, I let him know that wasn't an option. It didn't take but two or three reminders for Lyle to understand the new rules of the game. Now it's up to me to always play the game the same way.



At the end of the day, I trailered Lyle over to his motel. There was a mini-Hank stalled next to him to keep him company.



Sunday dawned just as bright and beautiful as the day before, and minus the soccer mayhem. Lyle's full attention stayed on me for the rest of the day, and we had many more wow moments.



The clinic was just the tune-up Lyle and I needed, and I can't wait to work on all the new things we learned. Mr. Crankypants will probably try to rear his ugly head again, but now I've got the knowledge and confidence to put him right back in his box.