First battle won.

I spent the morning being the cross country ring steward at Somerford event. The weather was fabulous and it was actually quite good fun. I get a free farm ride for my work, and I also got a guaranteed entry, which I withdrew from a week ago. I was able to stand and muse about Jazz, and I came to an interesting awareness of what was going on.

When Jazz was first a problem, it quickly became apparent that you cannot fight him physically unless you have walls to contain him. I used to wait him out instead, and that resulted in a steady improvement over the last 18 months, until he was hacking out happily. At that point, if he hestitated at something I was able to give him a slap down the shoulder or a tap on the bum and he would go forward happily for me. Everyone was happy.

Then the electricity board men upset him for five whole days in a row. They parked in his yard. They had heavy machinery in his field. That probably gave him ulcers and certainly made him feel very insecure. It resulted in him regressing to the worst behaviour of his very early days. But because I had been able to use physical means to get him to behave, I tried to do that and then he became dangerous.

While I was out this morning I decided to come home and ride Jazz and wait as long as it took to get him past that gateway. I warned SH that his tea could be VERY late, and set off. Jazz pulled into the gateway as expected. I made it clear to him with seat and rein aids that I did not want him to, but I did not try to stop him physically. He went to the gate and pawed at it gently. He pushed it with his chest trying to get it to open, but he realised that it wasn't going to, and stopped and stood there.

Now this is VERY interesting. He was making no attempt to go home, it was very clear that what he wanted was to get that gate open and go up to the cantering field and have a whizz. I waited. And I waited. And I waited a bit more. Eventually, after fifteen minutes, I was able to turn him away from the gate quietly and face the road again. That in itself was a major breakthrough.

I waited. And I waited. And I waited a bit more. He was beginning to fall asleep, so I started to tap him gently with the whip to keep him awake. I did it only just hard enough to irritate him, and not hard enough to make him kick, buck or even move. He began to make a suggestion that he might move, then he switched off again.

So I started to tap him in the rhythm of various Christmas carols, don't ask me why carols! Just so that he couldn't screen out a regular tap tap tap. That finally got through to him and he began to shuffle around. After another good while of shuffling one step at a time, and then some circles, I got him facing downhill, and he stretched his head and neck right down to the road surface. Then he walked slowly off down the hill, and was praised mightily.

It had taken exactly half an hour. Next time it will take ten minutes. Soon after that he will give in and go back to his old self. And next time he regresses, because there will surely be a next time, I will remember that Jazz is a horse that you fight mentally, not physically.

Tomorrow we shall see what a Grand Prix dressage trainer thinks of him, and Zippy.

C.

ps George is well, happy and doesn't even seem particularly tired.