(” . . . moving with all the confidence and brightness of a husband tiptoeing in at two in the morning, trying not to trip over the coffee table in the dark.”)
An analogy doesn’t have to be perfect to do you some good. If the image evokes the right feeling or clarifies a goal, as long as you recognize its limitations, you’re OK. Here are three that I like. May they work for you.
Many riders don’t quite grasp what it means for their horse to be “quick to the leg.” I see the misconception over and over when horses are allowed to deliver half-hearted transitions or casual, sluggish lateral work. Many times a horse executing a turn on the forehand or turn on the haunches will manage to step around itself correctly, showing the proper rhythm and bend but still lack that essential immediacy in his reaction to the aids. If the horse is moving with all the confidence and brightness of a husband tiptoeing in at two in the morning, trying not to trip over the coffee table in the dark, well, that’s not good enough! The horse may turn around, but the exercise will hardly supple him or produce thoroughness or engagement.
You’ve heard your horse us supposed to listen, but how much? I propose a direct your leg (or seat) to the corresponding leg of the horse connection that feels as hard-wired as a puppeteer’s string to his marionette’s leg. He lifts a finger and—BOOM, no hesitation—that doll’s leg pops up exactly as “requested.” Every time! The horse must also stay calm and confident, but a “see me later” response just won’t suffice.
On the topic of immediacy, what’s a half halt supposed to feel like? Not the aids you give, but the result? I imagine I’m playing with a yo-yo. (Gotta be a Duncan.) One of the most basic yo-yo tricks is called the Sleeper. You throw the yo-yo with a very exaggerated wrist action so that when it reaches the end of the string, it spins in place rather than rolling back up the string to your hand. When you want to “wake it back up,” you jerk your wrist, the yo-yo catches the string, and—ZIP—up it comes.
A meaningful half halt feels like the string is tied to your horse’s withers or down through his withers right into his center of gravity. A tug (and here’s where the image deviates because it’s less your hand and more your abs, thighs, and lower back that initiate it) and up comes the forehand bringing your horse to a better balance. My point: pull the string and something happens!
One other half halting image, again playing to the result you seek rather than mimicking the mechanism which produces it: This time think of an elementary school teacher whose best student sits in the front row of class right by her desk. The girl’s diligence keeps her up late at night studying extra hard, and as a result, sometimes she dozes in class, her chin nodding forward. The teacher notices this occurring, and without missing a beat of her lecture walks behind the girl, places an index finger inside the kid’s collar, and gently tugs her upright into an attentive, alert posture. Don’t go thinking half halts come from your hand—you know better than that—but DO think of the teacher’s maneuver that results in summoning her pupil back to work.