Cavesson: it’s all about connection
The Cavesson: it’s all about connection
Too much of a good thing, taken to its excess, usually becomes less than ideal. Such is the case with lightness. Its pursuit, or its misinterpretation, often results in horses moving without sufficient tone throughout their bodies because riders or handlers have over emphasized the goal of loose reins. The condition of loose reins is not necessarily synonymous with a horse moving in lightness.
Lightness is best defined as the equilibrium of looseness and positive tension in the horse’s body that allows him to move with flawless balance and coordination. It is always accompanied by a soft, light feeling of connection—not emptiness—to the rider’s reins or, in the case of groundwork, his line. Longe cavessons offer one of the best tools to create this state. They allow a handler to create ideal posture and alignment without pressure on the horse’s mouth from a bit or by twisting his poll as a halter will. It permits the handler to help adjust the horse’s balance without ‘fixing’ him in a frame where he may become rigid or defensive.
Happily, I’ve witnessed an increase in the use of cavessons in recent years. The best ones have a small ring over the bridge of the horse’s nose where a longe line gets attached. The value of this attachment position is its effectiveness in drawing the horse’s topline forward and outward while simultaneously helping flex the poll laterally.
Unfortunately, though, I often observe students standing in the center of a circle with their horses trotting around them on the end of a droopy line that is dragging in the dirt at the mid-point between their hands and the horse’s nose. This negates the purpose of the cavesson, which when correctly used, teaches the horse to actively stretch over the top of his body and maintain positive tension in his topline muscles. When he travels in this state, he creates a “draw” on the handler’s line or rope. The horse adopts consistency in this state by the handler in turn offering the feeling of light, elastic support on the rope.
By maintaining light connection with the rope rather than wandering around aimlessly with it sagging towards the ground beside him, the horse learns confidence towards the riders’ hands. He also consistently experiences the state of his topline remaining actively engaged, which in time gets habituated. Until this happens, the energy and propulsion of his hindquarters will not be transmitted forward over his topline and connected to his front end. In other words, he will not be capable of moving well. The two ends of his body will lack the bridge that connects them.
Remember: the quality of tension in your longe line always mirrors the tonicity in the horse’s body. Excess tension in the body makes the line heavy and tight. Too little tension leaves the line slack. A horse reaching forward through his neck supported by the right amount of tone throughout the rest of his body will fill up your line. This filling up will feel like ounces of weight, not pounds, in your line.
- Begin by circling your horse around you on a 12-meter circle at a brisk walk or slow trot.
- By maintaining a.) a steady rhythm in the horse’s gait, b.) good geometry on your circle, and c.) holding your line at the same height, aim to keep the exact same pressure on your line every stride. (many horses will pull on the line on one side of their circle and then flatten the other halt of the circle, letting the rope drag in the dirt).
- When you are able to do this… now, after each revolution of your circle, jog several strides straight ahead from your standing position (jogging beside your horse while maintaining the same tension on the line)… and then make another 12-meter circle. Keep the same feeling of connection in the line.
- Continue shifting your circle several feet in this manner, showing the horse no matter where you travel, you are keeping the tone in the line.
To Read or Not Read Old Dressage Books
The Scholarship of Horse Training
… or “Is There Value in Reading Old Books?”
My conversation last month with renowned trainer and veterinarian Gerd Heuschmann did not lead where I thought it would, having started with muscles but ending with books. He said he believed many of the disappointments in modern training are due to students no longer being committed to the scholarship of dressage. In addition to physical practice, he wishes for them to read and study and think deeply. But most riders don’t see the point, he lamented.
Or do they?
I personally have always devoured training books and articles. Maybe because of that I mistakenly assumed everyone did this. In any case, our conversation left me pondering just how important it is—or is not—to read the old classical dressage books.
Without doubt, studying these old texts is vital even for the most skilled among us. For one, it illuminates commonality between trainers of different disciplines. I remember riding in a clinic with reining horse pro Jack Brainard listening to him quote one of my favorite passages of Alois Podhajsky’s classical dressage manual The Complete Training of Horse and Rider. Another time I was listening to Olympian Peter Leone discuss strategies for training jumping horses when he cited timeless advice from General Decarpentry’s book Academic Equitation.
Plugging in to the histories of our respective sports through reading the fundamentals they are built upon reminds us that good training, no matter what specialized discipline you prefer, all progresses from the same foundation. If we lose sight of this, we risk becoming narrow vision and incomplete in our approach.
Secondly, reading promotes conscious engagement with subject matter that many of us professionals handle on autopilot. We deploy our skill sets without conscious effort, almost with our eyes shut. Mastery of any skills, however, relies on periodic practice where they are broken back down in to their conscious parts. Several compelling studies neuroscience have shown that in order to avoid an erosion of mastery level competence, an individual must examine her technique and execution from time to time. By revisiting the state of mind of learning something[ecwid widgets=”productbrowser search categories minicart” categories_per_row=”3″ grid=”3,3″ list=”10″ table=”20″ default_category_id=”0″ category_view=”grid” search_view=”list” minicart_layout=”MiniAttachToProductBrowser”] rather than having mastered it, our skills stay strong and flourish.
Lastly, I agree with Hueschmann that because horsemanship has such a long rich history we owe it to our horses to learn at least a little of it. Otherwise, we can be tempted to believe that the entirety of what we need to know rests in the hands of the latest celebrity trainer or on-line video. Granted, reading books is no replacement for hands-on practice. I would not suggest that any student can become proficient by books alone, nor should armchair dressage riders consider themselves educated without consistent time in the saddle.
But if too few riders revisit the classical texts on a regular basis, we will lose our compass. These deep roots that we must study over and over keep our modern training on course. They are our story for both past and present. And while nearly any reading can benefit horsemen, these early books in particular remain vital because they were written solely for education, not for marketing or profiteering. It is through them that we continue to educate ourselves wholly, lest we rely only on the ideologies du jour. We owe this to our horses and to equestrian sports in general.
These are my thoughts, but I’m curious what yours might be. Do you have books you fall back on?
How About We Move ‘Em before it Gets Hard?
Last week as my right hip flexors began to ache from the effort of creating responsiveness in the horse under me, I could not help but wonder if we dressage folks might revisit our ideas about a horse’s early training.
For the first year or so of work, this horse’s training centered around teaching him to move forward with rhythm, in itself an important competency. But in this case, this large Warmblood had become so patterned at moving out– and doing so with energy– that he was almost impossible to move sideways, backwards, and to turn around on his hindquarters. I would like to conjecture that, had equal time been spent on executing turns on forehand, turns on haunches, and going backwards, I would not have needed so much wrangling to get him lighter on his feet last week. If this big fella had learned early on to shift his weight around and move nimbly, he would have found our current task pretty simple.
A commonly practiced dressage trajectory puts other fundamentals ahead of learning these sideways turns. Some dressage trainers de-value them completely, while others wait to teach them until the horse has learned to move very forward and perform the basics of being on the bit, and so on. In other words, these turns might not get addressed until a point at which they are much harder than they need to be.
Taught earlier, however, they can create a horse that is much more balanced over his feet rather than falling forward on his forehand as he is naturally disposed. In the USDF tests, turns on the haunches are not executed until Second Level, which generally takes riders a few years to reach. Turns on the forehand don’t exist at all except for the new Rider’s Tests, meaning they get very little, if any, attention during regular schooling. The lack of early attention on these excellent gymnastic tools is an oversight in my opinion. Even if they do not show up in competition until later or not at all, they should be an integral piece of dressage training for the fact that they make much of the other skills SO MUCH EASIER for the horse.
Learning to step around independently with each front and hind quarters necessitates that the horse remain soft and supple through his body. It eliminates any tendency to brace his top line, raise above the bit, or throw himself on the forehand. Becoming more adept and comfortable with these moves, the horse grows more accountable for his own balance and more tuned to the rider’s seat. All his other basic training in these early stages– half-halts, circles, transitions, etc.– then flows much easier.
Many of us dressage riders learned not to emphasize tuns on the forehand, turns on the haunches, or rein-backs early because they might somehow create more disorganization in a horse not yet confirmed in his balance. I operated for many years as a trainer with this idea in the background of my game plan for each horse. And then I started to change the way I did things. I witnessed the magnificent results that some Western riders were achieving by slightly altering the training progression I was used to. I rode several horses in Portugal that, I swear, spent as much time traveling sideways and backwards as they did forwards. These horses felt as smooth and loose as silk to ride.
Then I began asking my dressage horses to do these turns a lot, and not just as preparation for test movements, and witnessed faster results in terms of how responsive they became to my aids for them to shift their balance while we were in forward motion. All this is to say that I have become a convert. I would like to propose that we use tees tools early on as a great assistance to our horses. They are a very clear and effective means of showing our horses how to improve their body mechanics.
Want a Belt with that Trophy?
I was the only person in the room without reason to stare at my belly button, and now I was starting to feel envious. Never before had I wished so strongly for strangers to stare at my mid-section as if decoding a riddle. In fact, probably not since high school had I felt the sense that everyone around me spent much more time choosing their outfit. Or in this case, strategizing their outfits. Before coming to this Western Dressage meeting, these ladies stood in front of mirrors debating between state fair titles and horse show championships. Then they clasped one of these enormous trophy buckles to their belts and headed out the door. Hair and makeup be damned, their best feature was accounted for.
Owing to my naiveté in matters relating to what I considered gaudy fashions, it never occurred to me that horseman and horse ladies actually wore those things as though they were practical, because let’s face it: they’re not (how many times have I scraped a knuckle or caught a shirt on a too-big buckle?). I figured they placed them like I did next to the other trophies up on the bookshelf next to Steinbeck and Whitman. I looked around at all the shapes and sizes of attendees in the meeting, chubby to skinny, almost all of them donning a trophy buckle from various eras of horse showing. Some had cinched buckles the size of Thanksgiving platters in to fleshy mid-sections, others had paired them up with equally garish shirts tucked in to high-waist Wranglers. While not exactly inviting emulation, these were outfits of pride.
SO this was how you did your bragging in the Western world. I guess I had become accustomed to the way it goes in other disciplines: you do your bragging verbally, or by maintaining an icy chip on your shoulder. If, for instance, you wanted people to know that you won the 1992 Kansas State Fair dressage championship, you would simply act cold and superior during social encounters with the assumption that somehow your accolades got conveyed through snobbery. This way of strutting their achievements allowed Western folks to remain civil and relaxed, just like the horses they rode. They didn’t need to puff themselves up and sling around pompous dialogue.
Other than discovering that Western buckles got their start in Hollywood depictions of cowboys in the 1920s (previously, cowboys wore suspenders) before making their way to rodeos as prizes, my research around the history of trophy buckles only revealed that they have become more ornate over time. The more details carved on their face, the more brag worthy. Perhaps the same applies to the clashing hues of metal I often see. I thought of my Ride & Tie championship buckle leaning in my bookshelf right now against my favorite paperbacks. It had a fair amount of swirling curly details and information carved on its face. In fact, that’s what prevented me from wearing it in spite of being dang proud of winning it at a very difficult event last year. I found it somewhat gaudy. The achievement made me proud, but the buckle?– not so much.
Now I realized that I needed to put my tastes aside. Otherwise I was going to miss an opportunity to brag AND remain civil at the same time.
To draw a parallel, I remember when a race official draped my Boston marathon medal around my neck. A feeling of disappointment quickly eclipsed my elation when I noted that this moment would be the only time I got to wear that medal. After months of hard training and then running 26.2 miles in a heat wave with the flu, I cherished my accomplishment at Boston’s finish line. And, yet, you can’t really wear a race medal at any other time than after a race without looking perfectly ridiculous. So then what happens is you find yourself at a dinner party some months later with some newbie runner prattling on about her far-fetched plans to run Boston one day and this young buck is talking as though you have never heard of the event. In that moment, you either choose to interrupt the conversation to point out that YOU already ran Boston… or you adopt the icy chip on your shoulder for the rest of the evening, because frankly it chafes that this person did not know you were even a runner, much less a Boston finisher. With a buckle, this encounter would have taken a different turn indeed. This realization has given me a whole new outlook. I am taking my trophy buckle down off its shelf and finding a belt adequately sturdy for it.
Now all that remains to be found out is if there are limits to buckle wearing (is there such a thing as wearing them too often?). Even so, I intend to push them. I’m going to wear that buckle as much as possible to make up for lost time. I better go see if I can attach it to my running shorts….