Making Rollkur Personal

Posted in: In The Media, Rollkur & LDR|December 17, 20095 Comments

It is “easy” to talk about Rollkur from a distant point of view – perhaps not with a clear-cut opinion, but certainly a disjointed and ‘objective’ one. What isn’t easy is to address Rollkur when you’ve seen the effect it has; not on the horses who are succeeding and making money for their international-celebrity riders but, rather, on the horses who didn’t make the cut. The ones who are ‘too sensitive‘ or ‘aren’t talented enough’ for the show ring.

I own one of those.

Her nickname is Andie, and she is one of the most beautiful dark bay mares. She is half Hanoverian, out of a well-bred (for sport that is, not just racing) Thoroughbred mare. When people come out to see our horses they instantly gravitate towards her, oohing and aahing. She has become a little less of an ‘in-your-pocket’ horse now, in part because she doesn’t seek reassurance for constant anxiety. Out of three foals that she’s had only one has survived; one died of a fluke health problem before the idea of starting him could even cross anyone’s mind and another was still-born. Her last foal I admire every morning and evening for his brilliant red coat and the loveliest personality you could ask for.

I bought Andie with the express purpose of being a broodmare, if I had any hopes of buying a riding horse I probably would have passed. She had been in the Dressage show ring by the age of three at Training Level and by 5 had already been retired from riding and her breeding career started. Maybe this doesn’t sound all that different from the life of many broodmares – started under saddle only to prove they are rideable and then turned out to pasture for a spring foal. It is rare for a broodmare to be pulled from the field and put back into a riding career, at least for much more than hacking or lessons.

I was told that she was a “lovely mare to ride as long as the rider is tactful,” a skill her owner admitted not being particularly talented in. She boasted that Andie had been ridden and trained in part by a bareiter from Germany. I can still recall the sales video that was sent to me, the highlight in it being the footage of Andie with her first foal – a handsome bay colt. The rest of it spelled out a different picture: a mare who didn’t know how to interact socially with her herd-mates and behaved quite stallion-like when loose; one who only knew how to run at a frenetic pace at the edge of the lunge line; a mare holding back in such a false frame under saddle at a show that I was convinced she must have been trained in draw reins.

All of this was before I had ever heard of Rollkur or Deep and Round. To me it just seemed like some poorly trained horse who was better at being a broodmare than interacting with a rider on her back.

She has always been splendid though. The first day Andie arrived everyone was entranced. Even in her nervousness on the ground at new surroundings she was regal and majestic in how she handled herself. Never pushy or rude, almost apologetic rather as she looked to everyone for reassurance with a pat or a stroke. She loved to rest her forehead against your chest and nearly nap that way. She was obese from a high calorie diet complete with more supplements than a homeopathic guru could assemble!

My first Dressage trainer warned me not to buy her, saying she looked too wasp-waisted, now recognized as a hallmark of Rollkur horses from the hours they spend in hyperflexion. She has filled out her waist-band since…

Her introduction into the herd was one of the messiest I had encountered up to that point. She roared at any horse that looked at her and would immediately take to striking – even when she was in a paddock with a hundred yards between her and another horse. Once she was gently turned into the group loose the other horses tolerated her but there was a sort of block between communication.

Why do I mention her herd interactions? It was like she wasn’t a horse, but rather I had turned some other creature out with this herd of horses. She didn’t know what the lingo meant, how to interpret it let alone how to respond. In the 7 years that Andie has been with me she has really only begun to mesh into the group and relax to their rhythms and language in the last 2. She is greatly attached to her son who is also pastured with her, but that bond is beginning to relax now as other horses are finally allowed in closer to mingle and give her reassurances.

It makes me think of children who are unsocialized, or even locked away into a room alone while growing up and disallowed the language to interact with other children or people even. Though they might learn the language later on they will always be an outcast.

At some point after Andie arrived here I began to think that her potential as a riding horse may not be such a far-off idea. I wondered if it wasn’t simply that the riders had been just that bad on their own. Certainly a horse as sweet and lovey as this could not be so anxious and hyper-sensitive without due cause.

The first time I rode Andie I was met with a wonderful flying dismount! I landed on my feet beside her, one hand holding the buckle of the reins at the pommel of the saddle, just following the most impressive rear I’ve witnessed (and been involved in). Interestingly enough, it had nothing to do with the riding so much as it was her reaction to us riding near some horses she thought she should inform of her hatred and disgust. She did very kindly warn me ahead of rearing by roaring quite loudly, giving me just enough milliseconds to respond by kicking my feet out of the stirrups.

She was a nervous nelly with almost anything to do with riding. She would grind her teeth and champ constantly in the cross-ties if there was a saddle anywhere to be found. She would fidget being saddled, swish her tail being girthed. Bridling was a challenge only because she would dive her head downwards as quickly as possible. I’ve never had to bend over more to bridle a horse as I did with Andie. Once I got the bit in her mouth and one ear in the headstall she would then change it up and put her head out of reach in the air. Once the bit was in her mouth there wouldn’t be another quiet moment to be found until after she had been turned loose in the pasture. She created a plethora of foam I had never before seen the likes of – from her mouth. It was similar to what is seen in competition today.

Getting in the saddle was a laugh; a mash-up of a tall horse, at the time somewhat short rider (I’ve done a bit of growing since then, thankfully), and her inability to stand still. Once I was in the saddle the only gait she knew was a jig – half walk and half trot. If I managed to keep her anxiety at a cool level after getting in the saddle I had no control because she was behind the bit with no forward energy, and had not been truly educated on what legs or hands meant in any fashion. When she became more anxious she would put herself into hyperflexion and there was no hope but to have my ground person step in so I could dismount. To me there is no point in talking to a wall.

Andie has come a long ways since then. She is for the most part quiet when you get her ready to ride, unless it is fly season. She stands rock solid for mounting and is quite good at positioning herself to a mounting block. She has a walk with variable speeds. She has a trot with variable speeds. Her back swings from time to time! You can canter her but it isn’t pretty. Best of all… she has a quiet mouth, she stretches down and forward, she sighs and relaxes. Her skills on the lunge line developed along a similar track – from horrid anxiety and no communication, to the point that I used her in a lunging demonstration to show how in one session you can help release a horse’s tension.

When I watch video of today’s top competitors who are openly using (though they may not publicly admit to it) Rollkur / hyperflexion, I see Andie in their eyes. I see the inability to stand still for the salute – beginning and end. I see the lateralized walk that is no longer a walk. The jiggy trot. I see a horse who is shut down and just going through the motions, much like a puppet at the mercy of it’s puppeteer.

Even when Andie first arrived she could be made to piaffe, passage, terre a terre and even do a passable pesade. She offered them all up in place of a simple walk step. She could do poor (though visually exciting to the layperson) lateral work but couldn’t take one straight step forward with energy.

She has the breeding to be a great jumper. She has the breeding to do great Dressage. But neither of those talents can be realized to their potential because it has been cut short with the shortcut of Rollkur.

When I look at her son, I can’t help but to feel disheartened knowing that Andie wasn’t given the opportunity to learn at her own pace in an environment that nurtured calmness over a rider’s personal goals. I almost feel jealous of him for her, when I think of the anxious rushed training sessions and the started-then-ended-much-too-soon show career that he will miss out on but were very much a daily reality for Andie. He is now 5 and has barely begun as a riding horse, meanwhile Andie’s riding career had already been retired due to her ‘sensitivity‘.

Andie is enjoying semi-retirement from everything right now, her only “job” is to mingle with the herd. She is fluffy with winter hair and occasionally sassy with the younger members of the herd. She has come a long ways since she first stepped off the trailer at my farm, but no matter how far she will progress she still carries one permanent physical reminder of her past. The tell-tale “bump” at the 3rd cervical vertebrae. I feel it, agonizingly, when I rub her down at each feeding – the only place I don’t linger at with my attention.