Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels, doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles..." So goes the memorable song from The Sound of Music.
Those of us with a passion for a good trail ride on a good horse have our favorites, too. We like things that work for us, things that suit us, horses, and experiences that keep us heading out for new country year after year.
In a time of economic stress, maybe it's good therapy to reflect on some things about our activity we truly love. So, in trail-riding context, here are some of my favorite things.
A Good Horse
The horse (of course) is where we begin. For me, they're arched-necked beauties who carry themselves like royalty, who "look for the next town." I guess I'm in good company, because artists and sculptors from caveman days until recent history have always depicted horses with beautiful arched necks and bold head carriages and with eyes that rivet your gaze.
Humans in our history have conquered continents on such horses. I like them willing, ready, smooth-riding, and game for whatever is around the next bend. I like them honest (like people, they vary in this respect), the sort who gain your trust, the sort with whom, in a tight spot, you can trust your life.
I want my favorite horses short-backed, high withered, and moderate in width up front with that inverted "V" between the front legs when viewed head-on (rather than a flat span) that to the old-timers spoke of endurance.
Good bone, compared to the animal's weight, is a given. I want a horse neither slight of build nor heavily muscled, but built instead like the equine equivalent of an athlete in Greek sculpture.
Such a horse need not be spirited, exactly, but he must have drive, go, a natural desire to move forward, an innate desire to "get it done." The best of them are cool in an emergency, as if they're trying to think the situation through.
And once I've trained them, I never, on my favorite horses, have to be remotely conscious of guiding, of steering. It's done with reins in one hand, the movement of hand and leg so light, so subtle, that I forget I'm signaling at all.
My favorite equine companions seem, too, to have a sense of humor, a personality that radiates enjoyment of what they do, even if it brings sweat to their hides. Horses are second only to dogs in the length of time they've been domesticated. Every horse on the planet, including those we call "wild," is the result of this domestication, so working with humans is deeply vested in their genes.
Though modern clinicians often focus on past equine behavior "in the wild," the horse is a domestic herd animal, and human interaction is natural for them. And just as you hit it off with some humans better than you do with others, some horses simply "click"; they're friends from the start. These quickly make your list.
Whether smooth-gaited or not, horses that qualify for my "favorite things list" must walk! In the non-gaited breeds, an unfortunate side effect of some competitive arena events has been deemphasizing the walk, sometimes rewarding only a poky one.
All horse types, according to Deb Bennett, PhD, founder of the Equine Studies Institute (www.equinestudies.org) are physically capable of walking six miles an hour. But putting the walk on the back burner has resulted in horses that break into a trot at speeds slower than the walk of a human hiker. Never should our most important trail gait be put at low priority.
Functional Gear
The tack that most pleases me isn't trendy. Some might find much of what hangs from the horseshoe hooks in our tack room old-fashioned or even archaic. (Yes, to handle the chiseled-from-granite trails of our Montana wilderness, we shoe our horses.)
I like old things that worked well for my forebears, people who used their horses as constantly as we do our automobiles, people whose daily work involved horses and who, I truly believe, forgot more about horsemanship than most of us will learn in a lifetime.
Tack that worked for decades of such interaction has much to recommend it, and although other things may work, as well, certain favorite things seem to work best for me. So (meaning no criticism, since we're only talking preferences), you won't find in my tack room mecates, slobber straps, rope reins, treeless saddles, or any sort of gear declared to be the only solution for a host of horse problems.
I like stout, deep saddles, with horns strong enough to hold their end of a dallied rope when I straighten out a recalcitrant pack horse or mule, or drag a heavy firewood log to camp. I like mild curb bits, which, if I've done my job earlier with the snaffle, let me be all the lighter on the reins, to ask my horse for a turn or a stop with pressure measured in mere ounces.
