White Horse Pilgrim

Two years

I make no apology for including another photo of Brena two years ago. On that lunchtime she ate hay and swished her tail at flies whilst I devoured a welcome picnic then walked around the picturesque margins of Giotto's birthplace. It really was all rather pleasant, almost a waking dream.

It seems like an awfully long time ago that I visited Tuscany. I spent the anniversary preparing papers about a technical matter of some importance to my employer - and not a little interest to me. Life moves ahead in peculiar ways. I don't know what life will bring, nor what growth the next change will encourage. Suddenly it's all rather an adventure. Not just riding back from a strange place without warning because my truck had broken down. But other things too - new requests, changes, things that intrigue and attract.

Archery at last

Finally I got Doru into the new arena for a bit of mounted archery practice. I didn't have long, slipping in between other users, however we managed a few passes up the arena shooting.

Doru goes nicely hands-free, not surprisingly as I ride him normally on a loose rein. The sound and sight of shooting did not disturb him. Simply he went as steadily as usual, good horse that he is.

For me the hard part was to reload sufficiently quickly. This is where all that practice at holding arrows in my bow hand and blind nocking began to pay off.

But still it was difficult to get in three good shots even moving slowly. A small 60cm square target doesn't help, but the challenge of shooting at such a small mark sharpens my skills too.

Aiming without aiming

I had a strange yet enlightening experience at archery practice yesterday. Instinctive shooting came a step closer when I began to fire without consciously taking aim. This is hard to describe - really it just happened when, familiar with the weapon and its darts, simply I stopped thinking. All sorts of things went by the board. I didn't draw the string up to the familiar place on my cheek. Nor did I draw the bow in to reload, but fitted arrows almost at arm's length. I looked straight at the target and not at what my hands were doing. I was aware of the target, it became a part of my world and my objective, but not a goal in the materialistic human way of thinking.

Firing instinctively was surprisingly accurate. The lesson was to let go and trust inner processes, intuition, whatever. It wasn't easy, for missing the target would mean hitting the garage door with associated clash, ragged hole and ignominy. But it worked, and kept on working.

The next target is to communicate better with Doru. Larynn has offered me wonderful insights. The image of instinctive targeting, aiming without aiming consciously as it were, has come at the right moment. To stop guessing, cease searching, and be open to what will happen, what will be communicated, that is the point. For I am seeking to receive as well as to give, and to be intuitive in this. It is not the common matter of "telling him what to do" that passes for communication which interests me.

This is exciting. I am at the shoreline where inspiration ebbs and flows, sweeps in like a great wave then floods back into the vast reservoir of the sea. Yet slowly, as I learn to trust, I may enter the water and be comfortable there.

There is a voyage to be made. Human ambition suggests that a journey must be long to be meaningful, length being measured by the league, but this is otherwise. This is a lifetime's journey, but the measure is experience, and much may be discovered within a few steps.

Changeability and stability

Rain was forecast but the day dawned sunny. However growing incipient thunderclouds foretold following rain.

Thus it would prove to be, but not until mid-day had passed and the early afternoon hours also. So I rode in brightness and warmth across a magical landscape beneath billowing cloud-castles.

Meadow grass shimmered through heat haze for perhaps the first time this year. Kites soared on the thermal currents that fed the growing clouds too.

By the field I fitted the new gear in order to see how it hung. There is adjustment needed yet. Eventually I set the arrow quiver lower. The lower straps of both quivers I shall attach to the girth for stability.

But these items work, and now I must seek fluency in their handling. That is the key. I ride as if that were as natural as walking down the street, and to me it is. Now I need to learn to shoot from horseback as if that were a normal part of my daily routine. That will take time.

I took my trailer to the field. It's been modified and the results are pleasing. The addition of 50lbs of steel ballast on the tow bar means that it will run at 60mph without snaking. Removal of the partition gives Doru far more room, and he is responding by loading willingly. Finally, a new breech bar (which the trailer was manufactured without) increases security and makes the trailer legal.

Danielle is away visiting family in the US. For me this is a strange poignant time, and a sign too of how my life has changed. It is a symbol of fragility yet of new security. It's curious how a partner can leave in the grey dawn, then hours later I can speak to her in a different continent.

I remember another one departing, leaving much unexplained though I sensed permanence in her actions. Relief I felt, and sadness, intermingled. This today is simpler, without negativity or confusion, for Danielle is just away visiting. Trust is the difference. In this third relationship I have discovered trust, received and given, for the first time. At last I can be myself, humane if eccentric, without having to watch my back, out-manoever machinations, and guard against deception.

The cats keep me company in the house. The youngest, three year-old Lucky, has taken to drinking from the spout with which I water the cat-grass. All three cats love fresh water. Simply I have to put fresh water in their bowl and there is competition to drink the cool liquid. Yet their water had been refreshed not long previously. Are the felines becoming spoiled? Am I surprised?

Now I have a week free from work. One day I have visitors coming, another day Doru's hooves are due a trim, next Saturday there is a folk festival to attend - what fun. But that leaves days on end to ride, weather permitting of course.

And long hours to write, for there is a story in my head that must be set down.

Breathing

It came to me this evening as I fired down the yard in twilight. I'd ridden in the low bright sunshine, and the dogs had been walked. But there remained a little light, so I fetched my bow and quiver of arrows.

Then it came back to me, a riding instructor's injunction to "breathe". It was a lesson that I passed on to nervous clients - "remember to breathe". How often one forgets to breathe when stressed, and that just makes the situation worse.

So I synchronised my breathing with my firing, turning target practice into a meditation. As I breathed in, I sighted my arrow. Lungs full, I loosed the dart. Breathing out I saw its fall. My arrows landed more accurately too as I fired calm and relaxed, in tune with my body, entranced by the rhythmic motion of the archer and the elegance of his weapon.

Yes, this is a spiritual exercise, the bow a mirror - as in a different way so is a horse - stripping bare my character with its joy and its faults. So I learn to master mind and body, to overcome weaknesses, to see my struggle in perspective - neither to be downcast by darts that miss the gold nor complacent at those which hit the mark.

Now to apply this lesson and become more proficient, for mastery of one lesson leads to unveiling of the next.

All along the horses graze the springy mossy chalk hill turf, untroubled, taking each day as it comes. There is a lesson in that too.

And this is summer, season of joyful outdoor life, when I may walk free in daylight each evening. I am excited at the unfolding possibilities.

More targets

Now I am practicing shooting with several arrows held in my bow hand. This seems like a useful technique when mounted. I'm concentrating on dexterity rather than accuracy, however the complexity of this approach has not totally thrown off my aim. Speed is important too, and I'm looking for at least six aimed shots a minute, which is actually pretty slow by horse archer standards.

Targets at work mean, of course, trips away for conferences. Hence I shall be away for the next couple of days. It's not all bad - I'm going to the conference centre with nice swimming pool and sauna. But, really, all that indoor stuff focussing on targets, "values" and so on just seem so artificial. It's a pity to have to do all that to pay the bills. It does just come into mind that, had I run across good chiropractors and physiotherapists a decade ago, my back might just have withstood a life of extensive riding. But I was in the wrong country anyway. To many might-have-beens make for an unbalancing daydream.

The dogs' target is to get out for a run. Here they have succeeded and are in the truck ready to travel. They do enjoy local journeys.

One of them barked loudly at a hiker who had a walking stick. So, old memories remain of life in Transylvania. Men there carried sticks and were wont to threaten any dog that they disliked. It made for mutual animosity between male peasants and dogs. It was indeed the wrong country to live in.

I am glad to have brought two horses, three dogs and three cats out to a better life. That, too, was a target. When I left that place, I wanted to ensure that as many as possible of my animals went to the best possible situations. In most cases they did. I'd like to go back to Hungary and see the farm where several of my Huzuls now live. Fortuitously they are close to Mr Grozer's bowmaking workshop - another target.

Comparison

This evening I was searching for photos of draught horses, and came across this rather nice image of an Ardennes at work. He seems to be taking part in some kind of competition or display.

But I was prompted to think about Doru, with his part-Ardennes lineage. He, too, is a large roan horse. Indeed not as solid as the purebred Ardennes, but a clear relative nonetheless.

Gone are the feathered feet - and I do not miss them given the mud that abounds in this wet weather.

But the dark points are there, the thick flowing black mane and tail. (Indeed, unlike too many draught horses in belgium, Doru retains his tail.) He has a large draught horse head, and a fair amount of bone. Of course he has the calm temperament too.

Doru was at his calm best this evening. I decided to begin the process of desensitising him to archery. I started by showing him a bow, which he wanted to investigate with his teeth. Then I fired away from him into a foam target block, which barely interested him. Next step was to stand next to him at a higher level, using a mounting block, firing away at the target. He was bored by this, and started chewing his rope. So, noting that this whole desensitisation process is supposed to take several weeks, I sat on Doru and fired several arrows. This not eliciting any response, I untied him and rode around the yard, firing about a dozen arrows. This concerned Doru so little that he tried to put his head down to root about for dropped fragments of feed. Really, he is a very calm horse.

The point is...

Here's another picture from the Grozer website. This is just a small selection of the wrought iron arrowheads for sale. I might buy a couple to help with my writing project, as it's easier to describe a thing that one has handled. I'd like to see how these arrowheads are made too.

Another interesting product is this steppe nomad hat. I am rather taken by it. Presumably it is fairly practical, given that nomads did wear such hats (and, in Mongolia, still do.)

Living in a land with a wet maritime climate, my questions would begin with "is it waterproof" and "will the rain run down my neck"?

I suppose that steppe nomads are supposed to be tough. A bit of rain, the odd blizzard, the appearance of bubonic plague - such minor obstacles did not unduly detain the Golden Horde or lesser groups.

Indeed I recall a soldier telling me that his unit preferred to attack in bad weather, which masked movements and distracted the enemy. Admittedly, the psychological impact of a great mass of mounted Mongols appearing in any weather would be enough to alarm most enemies.

The recorded fact that the Mongol army placed dummy riders on its pack horses does suggest that they rode quite openly, or at least that observation by enemy scouts was expected. 

More gear to lust after

There are some attractive objects out there. A little searching turned up this pair of quivers that are made by an archer in Hungary. It is tempting, but I shall pause and consider, and ask some questions, before buying anything.

One advantage of buying from Hungary is that, within the European Union, there are no import duties to be paid. It does help too that the Hungarians are descendents of equestrian nomads, hence these sorts of products are, well, what would expect skilled craftspeople in Hungary to make.

The next step with Doru's training is to begin to accustom him to shooting nearby. I've found a corner of the yard where I can tie Doru and shoot away from him towards a foam target placed in front of a high wall. It's easy to arrange this safely with no risk of people or horses wandering into the line of fire.

The following step will be to sit on him, still tied, and fire at the target. By the time that we reach that point, I shall begin to feel that real progress is being made. Admittedly, I think that the difficulty will only begin once a moving horse enters the equation.

Meanwhile, archery practice in my garden reminds me that little about this skill is "obvious". Elements make sense once explained or discovered, but this isn't something that one can simply walk into and do.

On the other hand, unlike firearm practice, these sessions don't cost anything (beyond occasional new targets or replacement arrows). That's quite an advantage. A colleague at work who target shoots with a gun did tell me just how much ammunition costs.

Two dogs and the beginning of Spring

Both days this weekend I took two dogs to the barn. There is Blue Eyes on the left, and his mother Mina on the right.

I had taken only one at a time since I was concerned that the two together would roam like a pack. However Mina has slowed down considerably of late. I suppose that all those miles on the trail have taken their toll. Or perhaps simply she has had enough of running for miles when there are empty stables with nice straw beds to sleep in?

Now Blue Eyes runs with me whilst Mina hangs out and solicits attention. He is rather like his mother was at the same age, roaming within a certain radius of me (generally not more than a hundred yards) but not running off after other dogs or wildlife. I don't take him if I will be riding on a highway since he hasn't yet learned road sense. That took MIna a while and some near misses.

So I shall take the two dogs as often as possible when I am going to the barn. They enjoy the outing, and get exercise in proportion to their appetite for running around.

Spring is arriving. The weather is showery and changeable, and the first bright green shoots thrust forth from the dark wet soil. It is a beautiful time, if one that frequently demands a raincoat.

Doru is livelier too, stepping out enthusiastically. Has he noticed that I have lost weight? (A 25lb reduction over three months, with more to come.)

Some further discussion took place concerning archery practice. Now the second landowner (two hours ride away) will agree to mounted practice from a stallion so long as the beast only visits for training sessions. Well, that is all I really need for archery purposes, although finding a place for Doru to cover the three mares is proving to be a problem.

As for the barn where Doru stays now, it is situated on a farm of rolling land with some hidden corners. The advice informally given is to go and practice safely in a hidden nook, firing at a target set on a hillside to catch any arrows that miss.

If the landowner in fact discovers what is going on, the way out is to explain to him that "we didn't realise that archery wasn't OK". After all, there is no mention of archery in the rules. Or, indeed, of any pointy or sharp objects.

This method, aparently, can be quite effective with the individual concerned. Foals were not supposed to be kept at the barn but, curiously enough, now there are two. The delivery of the message, it seems, is the key to success.

Meanwhile, here is a small dog in a large field. Blue Eyes loves exploring within his safe radius of Doru and I. One can see just how much open space there is available for riding around the barn. Soon this grass will be lush and green. Not long to wait now.