MANAGING REFUSERS.
Riding refusers is unprofitable work for ladies, yet nothing seems
to be more general in every hunting-field. I firmly believe that
men ground their well-known objections to ladies hunting chiefly on
this very thing,--nor is it altogether to be wondered at. What, for
instance, can be more annoying to a well-mounted straight-going hunter
than to have a lady get in front of him at a fence--the only negotiable
spot in it, perhaps--and keep him and a number of others back, though
hounds are running in the next field, while she whips, and kicks, and
jags the mouth of a horse that is determined not to have it? Of course
the rule in all such cases is that the rider of the refuser shall at
once pull off and suffer the rest of the field to go by; but ladies
never seem to remember that it applies to them, or ought at least
to do so, quite as much as to their brethren or pilots, and so they
resolutely hold the place, dragging first with one rein and then the
other, and shouting “_Go_ on” with great apparent bravery, while the
horse dances and sidles, and shows every tooth in his head, owing to
the continued drag upon his mouth, and disgusted horsemen turn away
with very naughty expressions scarce checked upon their lips, and
gallop off to seek some other means of getting over.
I have seen this sort of thing scores of times, and have felt angry
and sorry about it together--angry at witnessing the punishment to
the horse, as well as at being kept back myself when I wanted to get
forward, and sorry for the ignorance, and occasionally the _temper_,
which was the cause of it all.
Most riders--ladies especially--seem to have a firmly-rooted conviction
that horses only refuse from vice, and consequently they form an
idea that to whip it out of them will be the very best method of
procedure that they can possibly adopt. A more ignorant theory could
not by any possibility be acted upon. Unskilled riders, or those who
are unpossessed of sufficient bodily strength to pull their horses
well together when coming up to a fence (so as to make the animals
shorten their stride and collect themselves before reaching it), will
frequently meet with refusals; whereas, an accomplished horsewoman,
even though labouring under the disadvantage of being mounted upon
a vastly inferior animal, will be carried safely over, without any
attempt to baulk. The truth is, a horse that is ridden either wildly or
carelessly at his fences will be almost certain to refuse them, because
he feels instinctively that he cannot take the jump with safety, or
knows perhaps that, owing to the non-regulation of his speed, he will
be _compelled_ to take-off too soon, or not soon enough. This is
one reason for refusing. Horses do not like endangering themselves;
they are often more methodical, more cool-headed--shall I say more
sensible?--than their riders; and where an animal feels that he cannot
jump a place with safety to himself, he will generally decline having
anything to do with it at all. There are, of course, some big, bold,
fearless hearts--just as there are among riders--that will go for
everything, houses included, should such happen to come in their way,
and give no thought at all to consequences; but they are not always
the best sort for ladies to ride. Something cool and collected will be
found much better.
Allowing, then, that timidity--or, more properly speaking lack of
_confidence_--is the primary cause of refusals, we have to consider it
in juxtaposition with another, which will be far more difficult to deal
with--namely, obstinacy, or sulk.
I know quite well that when readers arrive at this point they will at
once want to be told how they are to distinguish between the two. I
did, when I found that from time to time I had to contend against both
evils. Well, I am about to tell you all that I know of it.
When you are coming up to something which you know quite well your
horse can easily accomplish, and you nevertheless feel him give a sort
of wriggle under you, while at the same time he begins to stiffen
himself and drop out of his stride, you may know that he means roguery,
and consequently be prepared for his sticking his toes in the ground
when he gets up to it, and assuming a stony aspect, as though he
were indifferent to consequences, and would be quite willing to stop
there for a week, or even a fortnight, without grumbling, provided
that you were obliging enough to carry him his water and corn with
tolerable regularity. If, on the contrary, he gallops boldly up to the
obstacle, throws his head forward, pulls it suddenly back, shivers
slightly, and at once commences a _retrograde_ movement, while signs
of sweating break out upon his skin, you may be certain that he is
refusing from timidity and not from vice. He lacks confidence in his
powers, for some reason or another, unknown perhaps to you, but of
which he himself is perfectly cognisant. He may have weak hocks, and be
afraid to venture upon propelling himself, for fear of falling short.
The hind quarters--hind legs, in fact--are the real _propellers_, the
front ones being chiefly serviceable as supports: and if a horse feels
that he cannot depend upon himself behind, he will naturally hesitate
about rising to a leap. Watch, for example, a dog when recovering from
a fit of sickness. He may, perhaps, be very anxious to get upon some
particular chair, couch, or window cushion, which in the days of his
robust health was a perfectly easy jump for him--yet now he is so weak
on his hind legs that, although a strong desire to take the leap is
palpably present with him, timidity nevertheless keeps him standing
looking at it, and moving uneasily about in front of it; crouching at
one instant as though prepared to make his spring, and the next rising
upwards with a sort of whine, as though he gave it hopelessly up. It
is just because he is timid about propelling himself. The goal cannot
be reached by a mere extension of the body, or by any action of the
forelegs, and the hinder ones are, owing to their weakness, absolutely
unable to accomplish their natural work.
It is precisely so with the horse. Where hocks or hind-quarters are
in a condition that deprives him of proper propelling power, he will
certainly hesitate about exercising or bringing them into muscular
play; nor can we rightfully offer him either chastisement or blame.
Again, an animal’s hesitation about taking a jump may arise from a
terror of experiencing painful concussion on landing. Corns will
cause this, so will splints, or injured or tender ligaments of any
description. It is often the case that when a horse baulks at a fence
his rider is able to remember that he jumped the preceding one only
half generously, and landed perhaps very gingerly after his effort.
Where this is the case the animal should never be pressed. To compel
him to take a leap for which he shows unwillingness may entail a
bad fall for both him and his rider: the former being, under all
circumstances, a good deal the more to be pitied.
When a horse refuses from timidity, and you yet have reason to know
that there is nothing whatever wrong with him, take him back a bit from
the fence, and send him at it again, sitting well down in your saddle,
and catching a determined hold of his head, with the hands held low and
the reins well apart. Speak encouragingly to him at the same time, and
press him up with your leg on the near side, and the handle of your
hunting-crop on the other; but do not on any account cut or spur him,
unless you know him to be a rogue--in which case give him plenty of it,
in a wise and temperate way; but never enter into a determined warfare
with him unless you are absolutely certain that you can come off the
victor.
My experience is that once a horse _resolutely_ baulks, with a fixed
determination to continue to do so, no man on earth--and certainly no
woman--can by any possibility conquer him while on his back. Under such
circumstances it will be better to strive to accomplish the desired
purpose in some other way; either get off, if you are in a suitable
place for it, and that your reins and whip are long enough, and by so
doing _make_ him have it, or--which will be better--take him to another
part of the same fence, and don’t _begin_ by fighting him, but rather
leave it to his honour to carry you generously over, and ten to one he
will. I greatly disapprove of punishing a horse severely at one spot;
it is highly calculated to give him a thorough hatred of jumping, and
to spoil his temper also in a way that may not easily be remedied.
Moreover, it is cowardly in the extreme, for the battle is almost
entirely one-sided. Were the dumb combatant able to whip and spur and
swear in return, the rider would have a very small chance of abusing
him for any length of time together; but it is because the creature is
ignorant of his own strength and power that he submits himself a slave
to man’s too cruel rule.
Now, another hint or two before proceeding to a different subject.
Horses will sometimes refuse through feeling themselves “out of
hand,” or being ridden timorously by inexperienced riders. Where this
is likely to be the case, such a bridle as a Pelham, for instance,
ought not to be employed, but rather a good powerful _double_ bridle,
the curb of which may be used when galloping, and the pressure of it
released for that of the snaffle when just coming up to a fence.
I have seen horses, many times, refuse through their riders having
the horrid practice of throwing up the right arm just at the critical
moment of rising: by way, I suppose, of affecting a hard-riding air,
or perhaps of obtaining some imaginary balance of the body. The habit
is a most hateful one, and frequently causes a horse to “rush,” in
cases where he is too bold to baulk or absolutely to refuse. It is also
extremely apt to make him swerve, owing to the fact that the pressure
is retained on one side of his mouth only, in place of being preserved
evenly upon both.
I may say in conclusion that that capital sportsman, Captain Horace
Hayes, once told me of somebody, who, by a very clever expedient,
cured a horse of refusing water-jumping. The animal, it appears, used
always to baulk at water, and then, when pressed, jump right into
the middle of it with a terrific splash. One day a happy thought
struck his owner, and he at once proceeded to put it in practice. An
artificial water-jump was by his direction constructed upon his own
lands, and at the bottom of it, quite sunk from view by weighting, he
placed a quantity of thorny bushes. When the affair was satisfactorily
completed, he had the horse led quietly out, got upon his back, and
rode him boldly at the obstacle. The animal tried to stop as usual,
and ended (as usual also) by jumping slap into the middle; but on this
notable occasion, he scrambled out with astonishing celerity, and ever
afterwards fairly _flew_ every water-jump that he happened to come
across. The thorns, easily picked out, did him no harm in the world,
while the lesson was productive of an immensity of good.
[Illustration: MEANING ROGUERY.]