Ella was my first young horse, and she came into my life just as I was graduating from college and venturing out on my own as a professional rider. It was a HUGE transition, going from having Lendon Gray’s eyes on me daily to making training decisions for myself. And knowing what I know now, I made so many mistakes it’s amazing she didn’t stomp me to little blonde bits.

But Ella’s a great kid and has proved unbelievably forgiving when it comes to remedying stuff I did poorly, or in the wrong order, or not at all. But I’ve been thinking about her early education a lot, because it’s time for Fender to learn his flying changes.

I bought Ella as a 5-year-old who could walk-trot-canter, stretch, go on the bit and carry herself in a training level way. That first year I added leg-yield and lengthen and sit down a smidge to the list: all the first level stuff. And when she mastered that, it seemed logical to move onto the second level stuff: collection, shoulder-in, and counter canter. 

That last one she proved particularly gifted at, and I took that gift and ran. She could counter canter to beat the band (and did, in fact, beat every other horse she faced in competition, right down to the HUGE regional championship class, our first show in Virginia). In fact, I did such a great job of confirming the counter canter that when it came time to introduce the idea of changes, I could put her in counter canter on a 10-meter circle, bent the wrong way, and body-check her with my leg, and she would stay in counter canter. She was a genius by nature, and I made her even better at it.

What a monumental dolt!

It took a full year for her to get the idea of a change. They were late, they were running, they were everywhere at the same time. They were the hardest single thing I’ve taught a horse, hands-down. And they were entirely my fault.

But as I am not, actually, an idiot; I learned my lesson the first time around. Midge could barely canter around the ring in a consistent balance the first time I asked him for a change. He learned them in about two weeks, and they are gorgeous.

And I got the memo even better on Fender. At not-yet-4, when I first rode him at his breeder’s lovely Kentucky farm, I picked up the canter, went around for a while, and chucked him across the diagonal. It was late, but it was easy. Bingo.

I’ve had the same approach over the last year and a half. Every now and then, when the timing seems right, I just swap my legs and shove a little. Sometimes they’re clean, sometimes they’re not, but there’s always a reaction. I praise him, take a break, and go back to my regularly scheduled program.

Lately, Fender’s been on a roll; he’s gotten a pretty good handle on the simple changes, the trot half-halt is coming along, and he’s making pretty light work of half-pass at both gaits. It’s gotten hot again in Virginia, which means I’m doing most of my work in my indoor, out of the sun, which has a big row of mirrors. I figured, what the heck? If I bungle the canter for a while, there are no horse shows on his dance card. Let’s do it.

Wednesday: Right lead canter. Diagonal, cue. Perfect, clean change. Left lead canter. Diagonal, cue. Nothing happens the first or second try, but on try No. 3, he nails it.

Thursday: Right to left, perfect. Left to right, as I ask, but one stride late behind.

Friday: Trot work, not wanting to press my luck.

And both Saturday and Sunday: perfect, clean changes, both ways, first time I ask.

Ella eventually did learn her changes, obviously. She learned fours, threes and twos in about three months; the ones took probably another three or four months to get settled and easy, but they were never a problem. And she bangs them out like no big deal; you’d never know.

And Fender could be a total chimpanzee about the tempis when it comes time for that; we’ll have to wait and see.

Until then, everything I own (that is old enough to sit on, of course) can do clean changes. I’ll hang my hat on that for a while!

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