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I tried to link to these in a comment, but the links didn’t work. Sigh. The only pictures I can find of Ky, the horse who was my model for Paks’s paladin horse, are the ones my webguru had on one of her computers.
Surely the links will work here. Both are from the same stable schooling show, the first show I was ever in, and the class was adult novice over fences. I sure was! That was 32 years ago. It was the first time I’d jumped “in public” (in front of a crowd), the first time I’d jumped eight fences in one round, the first time I’d jumped a triple combination, the first time I’d jumped a hogback, and the first time I’d ridden Ky in that kind of crowd. I was still leasing him at the time.
Many horses that day refused the hogback; Ky had no doubts about it at all and took it on the first time around very smoothly. Next came the triple combination. I’d ridden in-and-outs, of course, and fences with two strides between, but never the triple.
Here we are coming over the last fence of the triple: my expression is relief and glee, and the horse’s expression is “I have this under control, just stay in the saddle.”
Experienced horse people will notice that he’s on the left lead and preparing to turn left. (And they’ll have things to say about my form, too!) After this we had a diagonal line over a low wall, and then turned back right to the original line–the hogback and then crossed rails–to finish. I made a mistake in judging the turn back to the right, and put him in a very bad position for the next jump–coming in at an angle and without room for a final balancing stride. So I did what his then-owner advised: closed my legs on him firmly and said “GO!”
He jumped from way out, straightened over the middle of the jump, landed softly and cantered right down the middle of that line to jump the crossed-rails. The jump was big–an enormous takeoff shove–and the turn he made in midair caused my (inexperienced) left leg to get out of position. But he saved my bacon.
My expression in midair is pretty much a mix of terror and amazement; the horse is clearly focused on doing his job and saving his rider. His takeoff point is out of the picture to the left.
But you can see why he became the model for Paks’s paladin horse. And got lots of carrots after this class. A bold jumper like this is a wonderful experience for a novice to ride; I had experience with hot horses, so that side of him didn’t bother me, but in jumping he knew way more than I did, and gave me the feel for what it should be.
(EDIT: She just found one more picture!)
This about two years later, after our move to our present location, in a field of bluebonnets.
Comment by Adam Baker — November 28, 2010 @ 6:02 pm
Excellent pictures, thank you for sharing.
And that last picture is just amazing. I can only imagine the joy of being able to ride in an area like that.
Comment by elizabeth — November 28, 2010 @ 6:18 pm
I think it was the same spring that I rode on the land we now own–again with bluebonnets and gaillardia (red and gold, known as “firewheel”. For riding in that big open space, I used a saddle (jumping saddle.) On one incredible day–crisp, cool, a nice breeze bringing up the scent of the bluebonnets–we warmed up on the way to the highway end of the place, and then–halfway up the highway fence, I turned him to the west and away we went. (I’d shortened my stirrups so I could get well off his back.) He loved to run; I loved to ride a gallop. And he was fast, even at 21. The wind was blowing the gaillardia so it looked like running flame with blue showing below–and under me was that joyful and powerful horse body, snort-grunting a little with every stride as he accelerated and then settling to this wonderful gallop…oh, it was a moment to remember, and I have.
We don’t get bluebonnets like that every year. And I haven’t had a horse like that since.
Comment by Gustovcarl — November 28, 2010 @ 9:46 pm
Ahhhh! Beautiful!!
Just what I pictured. Now I know what Pak’s horse looked like, & why you gave him that great personality.
Thank you!
Comment by Kristine — November 28, 2010 @ 10:03 pm
These are lovely pictures. So vivid.
Comment by elizabeth — November 28, 2010 @ 10:27 pm
Thanks. They were taken long before I had a digital camera, but with a good camera and fine-grain film.
Comment by cdozo — November 28, 2010 @ 11:25 pm
What a fine looking horse (and rider). He sounds like he was a good friend. I can see how you got Pak’s horse from him.
Comment by B. Ross Ashley — November 29, 2010 @ 1:46 am
I am no judge of horses – but he looks and sounds like a wonderfully intelligent horse.
Comment by green_knight — November 29, 2010 @ 4:03 am
Lovely pictures. He looks like a game horse, and I love the idea of putting him into the book.
Comment by elizabeth — November 29, 2010 @ 8:13 am
Before I inherited Illusion from my friend who died of cancer, Ky was the smartest horse of my experience. For instance–to let me know that his water (down the pasture in an old bathtub beside a well) was undrinkable, he came up the pasture and whinnied. Fine, that’s typical horse. I didn’t get it and didn’t come out. So like a trick horse in a movie, he pounded on an old washtub that we’d used as his water tub before having the well dug. BANG! BANG! He had done that before, when that water tub was empty (small enough he could empty it in a day. I came out then and said, “I know there’s water in your tub.” BANG! BANG! BANG! Trotted off a few steps, came back: BANG!!! I finally went down to see, not convinced–but yes, there was a problem with the water–a drowned rat. Ick.
Another example: we had old fences then, but he was good about fences (unlike Illusion, who uses his intelligence to outwit fences.) I had let him in the back yard and little “orchard” area, which had once been part of the pasture area and had a typical sheep-wire fencing around it. He was grazing along the fence and got a hoof caught in the wire. Most horses panic at that point and badly injure themselves. (The local saying is “Horses are born looking for a way to get hurt.”) Not Ky. He whinnied in a distress tone and I went out to see what was up. He lifted a forefoot and shook it–the fence wiggled. I said “Whoa…I’ll be there” and dashed for the wirecutters. He put the hoof back down and stood perfectly still until I came and cut the wire away. Not even a tiny cut.
He had been whipped and spurred enough to leave scars, and was initially headshy, bridle-shy, scared of spray bottles and horse trailers, and terrified of anything that resembled a whip (such as a long stalk of grass.) He learned to lower his head and open his mouth for the bridle and bit (not the harsh bit he’d been in before), let me check his ears for ticks, and eventually tolerated (without trembling) being gently stroked with a riding crop. Back when I was still in South Texas at his original stable, he stepped on a nail (they were doing some construction) and punctured the sole of the hoof. He let me pull the nail out and pour in the medicine–and never took a lame step after the nail was out.
He was totally unafraid of dogs, and delighted in chasing them if they tried to chase him or other horses. He also delighted in teasing the resident stallion at the place I moved him before coming here: the stallion was confined to a smaller pen, so Ky wasn’t in danger. When we rode in the town parade, he showed off–arched neck, tail high, prancing–but not out of control, just “I’m the prettiest horse here: watch this!” He was a flirt with visitors, again with the arched neck, big eyes, pricked ears determination to be admired and petted, and very safe with small children, paying attention to their balance and tension. Somewhere I have pictures of a friend’s three year old sitting on his back (and again when she was four.)
So yeah…really, really good horse, and I’m glad I could make his last few years happier.
Comment by Dave Ring — November 29, 2010 @ 11:23 am
Your anecdotes about Ky’s behavior when his water was bad and when his foot was caught in the fence have me almost in tears (happy ones). I find it very lonely being the only “intelligent species” around, and I’m grateful when we get the occasional reminder that that notion is just another of our many dumb/vain mistakes.
Comment by elizabeth — November 29, 2010 @ 5:01 pm
It’s been pointed out that horses rarely get the time and attention from owners that dogs and cats (generally thought smarter) do, and dogs and cats are both predators–horses are prey animals. Too many horses are locked up in stalls most of the time, let out to exercise only in small, flat, fenced paddocks, and then ridden as if they were nothing more than programmable exercise machines. They can’t develop their intelligence (or show it) in those conditions. (And they aren’t all equally smart…and in some the intelligence is clouded by temperament or other problems.)
Karen Pryor has a story about a woman who trained her horse for pulling logs out of the woods. She not only trained the horse to voice commands (not that hard) but also trained the horse to make choices (sometimes they took the left fork, sometimes the right, and sometimes the woman said “Pony’s choice” and let the horse choose when it really didn’t make a difference.
So one day, she wanted the horse to walk up one side of a log to be hitched to it and the horse (uncharacteristically) stopped and wouldn’t go forward. Instead of getting mad, the woman thought about it, and said “Pony’s choice.” The horse hopped over the log and then willingly walked forward. Afterward, the woman found that though all was muddy, there was a mudhole on the side the horse refused–the horse chose better footing. (And if given a chance to make significant choices, horses will do so more often.)
Horses have better night vision than people, and also have way more peripheral vision (and a blind spot right in front.) They have excellent hearing and sense of smell, and riding out with a horse is an education in what else is out there. If you can “read horse” you’ll see a lot more than on your own (barring the really experienced outdoors person.) But you’ll see it from the prey’s point of view: it’s moving…is it dangerous? Oh, it’s a deer…but it’s running, so something’s chasing it, is THAT dangerous? They’ll see the snakes below, the hawks above, the coyote, the rabbit, the skunk…everything.
Some horses have a sense of humor (Illusion and Ky definitely) and play tricks on other horses and on people. There was a horse at the stable where I took lesson that had a sense of humor–he was a perfectly safe, cooperative beginner/intermediate ride, even over low jumps, until the instructor raised the wall jump with a bar over the top and the rider was doing well on that. Then…he’d canter up to the jump normally–no warning, no shortening of stride–and do a perfect canter-to-halt transition, lowering his head and neck. Most riders slid right off and landed on the jump, to which his neck pointed them. He only did that once with each rider…he did it with me, and I didn’t come off (those years of western riding); he let out a deep, heartfelt sigh…Oh, well, sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. Turns out he had been well-trained to a higher level of dressage so he could do a canter-halt transition from his normal canter. Though he tolerated beginners wobbling all over his back, when they progressed to jumps and then slightly bigger jumps and were beginning to feel secure…boom. Once per rider, just for a joke.
They’re all different. Ky, Cricket, and Kuincey were all honest and willing, but they weren’t alike even so. Cricket was a sweet mare with bad legs and a great attitude–never shied, never evaded. Ky was…as described. Kuincey, a very hot and also spook-prone mare, was in many ways very trainable, but never trainable to ignore anything that struck her as scary. Many things struck her as scary, and longer exposure didn’t help. She was sorry, after she spooked, but she spooked. Macho, like Mac, believed that “a ride” meant going down the pasture and making one circle, then stopping. Macho had an excuse, having been a breeding stallion until age 15, when he was suddenly gelded and given an insufficient amount of professional training. Jezz and Mac, not so much…but not alike, either. Blue Moon was squirrelly to a high degree. (Retired polo pony.) Illusion is work-averse but will work at some things (his choice) for enough praise and petting. He’s dumped me twice. I don’t bounce well these days.
Comment by Vikki W — November 29, 2010 @ 10:54 pm
Horses are great! and I can see you have as many horse stories as James Herriot. Definitely more interesting than cars (although there are some of those that I swear have personalities, too – mostly cantankerous.) Thanks for sharing the great pics & stories of Ky.
Comment by Margaret — November 30, 2010 @ 12:11 am
I am so enjoying this discussion – have always thought horses were magical and have only had a few encounters with them. A few rides on very tame horses, a couple of brief gallops (on horses heading for home!) and one very uncomfortable ride on a pony who insisted he only had one gait, which I suppose was a trot.
I have been thinking of my students, who have a variety of disabilities and some of whom are lucky enough to get hippotherapy. For these kids, horses truly are magical. It is hard to get this therapy; there just aren’t enough slots so the waiting lists can be long. But I have seen incredible changes in kids who connect with horses.
I would love to go on sabbatical and write a book about this, telling the stories of the kids, the horses, the people who own the business, the volunteers. I wonder who the horses are, where they came from, what makes them good for this work. And the business owners – they can’t be in it for the money -what interesting stories they must have.
Thanks for sharing your love of horses, Elizabeth, here and in the books. I did enjoy how you incorporated horses into the Serrano books, and how essential they were to Lady Cecelia’s recovery. How bold of you to think you could write science fiction stories with lots of horses in them!
Comment by elizabeth — November 30, 2010 @ 8:06 am
Hippotherapy’s fascinating–and the approaches are different in different places. Back when I was taking several horse magazines, it was just really getting started in the US, so I had a chance to read about it, see pictures, discussions of what types of horses were good at it, etc. Then in 1995, on my first trip to the UK (Glasgow WorldCon) we stayed at a B&B near Loch Ness that had an associated riding school. And with it, a hippotherapy center. For the first time I got to watch a session, and was fascinated. In the magazine articles I’d read in the US, the emphasis was definitely on the therapy, and there was almost no mention of horsemanship, or riding skills. (I had found, with out kid, that “hippotherapy” and “aquatherapy” and “music therapy” had little to do with learning to ride, swim, or learning to play music.) Very different at the Highland Riding Center. One child needed a sidewalker; another needed help getting from wheelchair to saddle, but beyond that, it was a riding lesson, with a BHS instructor also qualified to work with disabled students. Each child was expected to guide the horse or pony, follow directions (“A and B, come to the center; C and D, trot!”), stay focused. The instructor and assistants were totally alert to each child’s physical strength and stamina, level of concentration, etc. But they didn’t treat the kids as passive receptors of “therapy”…but rather as riding students who had a few extra challenges. The wheelchair-bound kid (the eldest) was able to manage her mount at walk, trot, and canter, including doing large and small circles at the end of the indoor arena. The kid who was brewing a meltdown (our son’s autistic; I spot these things) was called into the center for a very brief break and a reminder that it’s not fair to the horse to lose control–it’s not the horse’s fault. He went back out and kept the horse (a horse I later rode, so I know what it was like) deep into the corners. Etc. I thought the different emphasis was great. The kids weren’t just being treated (though the instructor, from whom I later took a couple of lessons, explained that they did have treatment plans, and the riding exercises were tailored to fit those) they were being helped to competency in something that other kids also needed instruction in.
As you say, there aren’t enough places for all the people who might benefit–and it’s expensive, so not everyone can afford it. When our son was little, I had already taken the route of trying ordinary lessons for him, but had explained to the instructor what the limitations were. When I got a horse that was quiet enough, I could lead it around, or put it on the longe line, and by the time he was able to attend a non-disabled camp, where horseback riding was available, he rode out on trails with the others.
I don’t know if US hippotherapy centers are now actually expecting kids (at least some of them) to advance to learning to ride, or not. The only close contact I have now is that one of my best friends’ grandsons, between two and three, has CHARGE syndrome and has weekly hippotherapy, so I hear about it. He has no inner ear structure, and thus besides being deaf has balance problems, breathing problems (breathes through a trach and must be monitored constantly to ensure the trach doesn’t plug up), etc. In that family (old ranching background) if he gets to the point where he can balance alone, his grandfather will ensure that he learns to ride, but I don’t know if the hippotherapy center has that kind of program.
But at any rate, my (limited) experience with hippotherapy was behind Cecelia’s experience–I did additional reading in that period on hippotherapy for adults following stroke or head injury and corresponded with one center.
Incidentally, I remember a Dorothy Lyons book (just looked it up, Dark Sunshine) about a girl who’d had polio and couldn’t walk, her struggle to ride again, and so on. And the first woman to win an Olympic medal in equestrian sports was a polio survivor with partial paralysis, Lis Hartel of Denmark who was the silver medalist in dressage in 1952. Though many individuals from horse-owning families had continued to ride, and benefit from riding, after illness or injury, Hartel began to advocate for opening riding to the disabled.
Comment by Ruth — December 6, 2010 @ 4:27 pm
How fun to find this website, this blog, and this thread. Part of what I love about the Deed books, and now the new one, is the excellent representation of horses. I have five myself, and two Mammoth jennies. Really enjoyed the pictures.
Comment by elizabeth — December 6, 2010 @ 9:24 pm
Hi, Ruth. Tell us more about your critters.
Comment by Ruth — December 7, 2010 @ 1:39 pm
Well, okay.I used to live in Texas, for 17 years, in fact, and rode with the Texas Ladies Aside, which is a sidesaddle drill team on Peruvian horses. I had to move to Illinois a few years ago to take care of my folks and ended up staying and now I have 5 Peruvians here, one in TX, and the donks. I got to ride my gray gelding Tres in Obama’s Inaugural Parade, which was a thrill, and I rode my young black gelding Fiel at a sidesaddle demo at the KY Horse Park last August, another life goal. For dogs, two TX-born catahoulas (accurate plural: catahouligans), an ancient australian shepherd we adopted last summer (never expecting him to last this long, but he seems happy here), and 5 cats, all either unwanted by former owners or found here in the woods. I, um, like animals. I also have a VERY patient and kind husband to put up with it all.
Off topic, I think we have a mutual friend, someone who used to live in Austin and said he used to bake Moravian ginger cookies with you at Christmas a time or two.
Comment by elizabeth — December 11, 2010 @ 12:26 am
Ruth, I’m kicking myself for not watching the Inaugural Parade, because if they showed the horses on TV (which they don’t always in parades, darn it) I would have remembered someone riding sidesaddle on a gray Peruvian.
Comment by Fyre — January 11, 2011 @ 9:05 pm
Love this thread! As with others, I appreciate the personality of Paks horse, as it reminds me of an Arabian my cousin rescued when I was a child. I have always loved horses. As a child, they were how I escaped the reality of abusive parents. With this poor abused Arab, I had an understanding companion who understood me as I understood him. We saved each other. I was the only one he would allow to ride him…and I could do anything I wanted on that Arab. I found out that he loved to jump (he jumped the fence into the arena and bounced over all the jumps all by himself) and after that, he and I would jump every chance we got…no bridle, no saddle…just him and I bareback. I look back on that experience now and think I must have been rather crazy to even attempt it. But, though I fell off once, I was never hurt and we enjoyed a truly magical relationship for many, many years. I’m pretty sure the reason I became a farrior and a vet tech as an adult, was because of my special equine friend. So, thank you for bringing such characters to life for everyone to experience for themselves. Fyre