Ginger – part 1
My friend and I had “done” horses together since we were kids with our first ponies. Pony club and treks, show jumping and eventing. She got into racing and did quite a bit of breaking in of young thoroughbreds. I helped her from time to time and then got a job as a technician at University, but still helped out occasionally.
During one of these occasions I started working with Ginger… she hadn’t finished his education as a yearling as he was a bit wayward… he’d had a go at her and meant it. She hoped with a bit of time he would mature and settle down. In the meantime, her marriage was shaky, and the husband resented spending money on horses that weren’t doing anything, so Ginger was living on lawn clippings from a mowing business and was fairly thin. He was still a colt at four but would still foal talk if he met a mare.
The early riding I did with him at her property went ok, he was now allowed a bit of food and combined with grass cut from the road verge was starting to look a bit better. But you needed to be careful, he was very thin skinned. One day I had a different pair of boots on… Ginger not only noticed, he cared!
The small, weedy paddock he lived in was going to be sprayed out and regrassed, Ginger no longer had a home, so I took him to mine.
This was around 2001. I live in the Waikato area of New Zealand, prime dairy country with rich pasture comprising mainly of ryegrass and clover. This was before we all learnt about horses being “grass affected”, before we knew about magnesium deficiencies and mycotoxins on the grass. I believe now that Ginger was severely grass affected, certainly looking back he had all the symptoms, but back then I would never have believed that his problems were food related.
As Ginger got more grass and gained condition so he got more volatile and more difficult. I certainly started falling off him relatively regularly, but initially it was due to birds flying up unexpectedly and so you don’t think too much about it.
One of the weird things early on was that I had trouble getting off. As soon as I took my feet out of the stirrups he would tense up and feel ready to explode. This was before I started endurance riding, so I did much more riding going around paddocks (fields) in circles. I had got in the habit of stopping out in the paddock we were working in, getting off, loosening the girth and wandering in companionably together… at least that was what I’d done with my last horse… With Ginger it was not that straightforward. One day I took him to a corner to get off, to help him stand still. I had planned to just sit there for a while with my feet out of the stirrups until he relaxed enough for the next stage. As soon as were my feet out of the stirrups however he spun 90 degrees and bolted… I had no stirrups! In about 50m there was a fence, open gate to the right… no control but I managed to stay on. By the next 90 degree turn in another 50m or so I had my stirrups back and was able to stop him soon after. I did more therapy with him after that, but I don’t remember having too much trouble again.
Another day he was just being super difficult. He would pop over some poles nearly on the ground on one side of the paddock but wouldn’t go near identical poles on the other side. He wouldn’t steer… I was trying to do a 20m circle and was in danger of crashing into the hedge as he was determined to go the other way. He was absolutely drenched in sweat… although he was always a very heavy sweater which is a symptom of being grass affected. Then suddenly he was light and responsive, from being unable to complete a 20m circle we were now doing 10m serpentines. I didn’t understand it but after only a minute or two I stopped, let’s get off before it goes wrong again, lots of praise. We were in the middle of the paddock, so clearly the getting off problem was no longer an issue… very pleased with him a took my feet out of the stirrups, leaned forward and patted him with both hands on either side of his neck “Good boy”. He gave an enormous snort, his rump dropped about 6 inches and he bolted… I went straight off the back, bouncing on his rump and landing on my tail bone! I didn’t think that was possible! The pain! Ginger bolted out of the paddock, disappearing behind some trees. After a few minutes the pain subsided enough that I could hobble out to see how he was, he was standing by the gate shaking, absolutely terrified. Try as I might to habituate him to patting in the future though he never cared or reacted to any pat again… just that once, and so extreme.
Although over-reactive and difficult when riding he was a delight on the ground. Having been neglected he did not trust people easily and in spite of our problems riding he trusted me and needed me desperately… other people were scary. He developed a love of Oddfellows (large NZ peppermints) and thus anyone who supplied oddfellows could also clearly be trusted, very useful at times.
Once he got used to travelling in the trailer he would never make a mess. And he wasn’t stupid, he is the only horse I’ve known who would bear a grudge… I worked at the University, in animal behavior/ psychology. Animals don’t have language, thus they can’t “remember” the way we do by telling ourselves stories about what has happened… however Ginger, usually a self-loader onto the trailer, would be difficult to load if he didn’t like where you’d taken him last time!
He was around during the time we were doing the horse colour vision study and thus he became Horse 4. And he was the best. Having been through a hungry period he loved being able to work for food and would head to the equipment by himself at any opportunity. He was the star, on yellow needing only 5 days as he was above 90% correct each day.
While he was at work I had the opportunity to test out that theory that the best thing to do with a bolting horse is not let it stop. At this stage I was riding him with a “buck-stopper”, a piece of cord that sat under his upper lip, up to the poll and back to the saddle. Unless he tried to get his head down to buck it would have no effect. Often when I first got on he would have a go for about 30 seconds or so and after that would generally be ok for the rest of the ride… unless you did something unforgiveable like point at something while talking to other riders. Sigh. I would then spend hours riding around the yard randomly pointing at things.
So this day I was just going to be walking as another staff member was going to have a ride on George. The weather was a bit dodgy so I had a oilskin vest on… and it wasn’t done up… but that was ok as we were only walking…. I had not ridden Ginger in a raincoat yet, and would not have done so without much careful habituation in the yard. It would not be safe or easy, this horse would still buck like a mad thing if you put on a different saddle or didn’t have a fluffy sleeve on the girth. So after leading him for a while until we got past a gate I got on, and as usual he did a few plunges… and the jacket flapped! Suddenly he’s not just trying to buck but also bolting down the race (farm track, tractor width, fenced on both sides). I’m still on so I grabbed the buckstopper string and pulled… now I just have a bolting horse he was no longer trying to buck as well. A 90 degree corner is coming up… I’m hauling on the reins trying to get any reduction in speed. We made it around the corner, I relax for a moment before preparing for the next corner which is much closer. Around that safely… I’ve got the corners sussed now and there is another long straight and I’m no longer terrified! So I take the reins in one hand and with the other I deliberately flap the jacket… he goes faster. We ended up doing a circuit that was probably over one kilometer long three times. When I let him stop he does so gratefully, he’s stuffed. I walk him back in triumph, swinging the jacket around in circles.
The next day we go for a walk. No bucking. After a while I ask him if he’d like to trot… jog, jog “No thanks, walking is great!” Just as well, later that ride there was a piece of wire and he managed to get it stuck between his shoe and hoof. On another day this could have been an absolute disaster, but today he very carefully stood like a rock as I strained to pull it out.
That was the way it was with Ginger, it always felt that for every three steps of progress you made there would be at least 2 steps backwards as well. It was always a struggle. He didn’t enjoy riding… and let’s face it I wasn’t enjoying it much either… it was dangerous and thus a bit scary. And our story wasn’t over yet…
