Over the last few months, Moe has been earning his keep as a lesson horse. It’s still surprising to me that he’s pretty good at it.
|Toting around a western friend.|
You see, I still think of Moe as the sorta spastic, very fast, not-totally-bombproof horse I had years and years ago.
|Dutifully showing my student the ropes of dressage.|
Inevitably, I’d throw them on Moe because I could trust him to be relatively sensible. I’d always warn my friends that he was basically obedient, but would move very quickly if they squeezed him too hard. Off we’d go down the road, me riding Jethro, my friend riding Moe, and Moe would do his very best to understand what the inexperienced person on his back wanted him to do. Usually, we’d have to turn back pretty quickly from our ride when my friend got scared after Moe started flinging his head in frustration. (What’s a horse to do when someone’s kicking and pulling at the same time?)
|Letting Fat QH’s owner get back into the swing of jumping.|
I suppose age and experience have mellowed my once-fiery horse. He’s a perfect gentleman on the ground, letting the greenest of horsemen groom him; he carefully lifts each hoof for cleaning so that even Johnny doesn’t feel nervous. Under saddle, he is almost lazy on the flat, as if he knows he shouldn’t go tearing around at top speed. Even over fences he is relaxed, an old pro. He will never have the easy pace and rhythm of a hunter, but a simple half-halt between fences is all that’s needed to check his speed.