On Saturday, June 4th, I had the opportunity to watch my instructor Linda Parmenter ride Tica in a clinic with Gil Merrick. Mr. Merrick has held numerous positions in the dressage world, the last as USEF High Performance Dressage Director. In addition to his busy schedule as a clinician, he heads his own consulting practice, Mastery Concepts, developing programs that enable participants to achieve their goals efficiently and effectively.
This commitment to excellence played out before my eyes as I watched this gentle master of communication skillfully elicit the best from each horse and rider. Through the use of gymnastic exercises--never forced--Mr. Merrick virtually charmed harmony and alignment out of each pair. Tica had never been to this venue--the beautiful Ark in Harvard, MA--and the declining shafts of late afternoon sun that fell in light streaks on the dark footing concerned her. However, in combination with Linda's tact and Mr. Merrick's ability to come up with just the right exercises, I witnessed flashes of brilliance I'd not seen before in my mare. Here is a photo--somewhat grainy due to the declining light--of Linda and Tica:
Gil Merrick clinic
One week later it was off to the beautiful grounds of the Mystic Valley Hunt Club in Connecticut. As I watched the competitors and their teams set up in the temporary stabling in the indoor, I was reminded of the nomadic Mongols and their yurts. Rugs, curtains, chairs, coffee jars with daisies on card tables, foodstuffs and drink, not to mention shavings, hay, supplements and equipment were arranged with a simultaneously efficient and often aesthetic eye.
I myself added a bit to the agrarian dimension. I brought three one-week-old turkeys. (Baby turkeys are called poults.) I had left my husband Jim to take care of eight horses, our two dogs--one aged and incontinent--two cats, a parrot, a bunny, and fourteen chickens. So I thought the least I could do was take care of the the turkeys. Here are Lewis, Clark, and Sacagawea:
Until last year I had never given turkeys a second thought except on Thanksgiving and Christmas. Oh, I'd known that Benjamin Franklin wanted the wild turkey to be our national bird. One reason he cited was its great intelligence and courage. But those were wild turkeys, radically different from the stupid, unfortunate things placed on my table. It would not be until decades later that I had my first "non-platter" turkey experience. I was in my local grain store and saw two cages full of two-day-old poults. They were adorable and so I took two home.
What first impressed me was how gentle and quiet these little creatures were. They didn't panic and run around at the sight of a human looking down at them as did my baby chicks. In fact, they easily allowed themselves to be held and would close their eyes when I scratched the sides other heads. But perhaps this lack of fear and willingness to bond with non-turkeys was just another aspect of their limited IQ. I had also been told that they were of such diminished mental capacity that they would look up into a rain
storm and drown. This called for research.
I googled "turkey intelligence" and came up with the national intelligence department of the government of Turkey. Next I punched in "turkeys and rain." National rainfall of the country of Turkey, anybody? So, then I just hit "domestic turkey" and up it all came, including a Butterball web site with hundreds of recipes. And then, finally, an article about their emotional intelligence. Domestic turkeys--i.e., those engineered by us--carry a defective gene that can cause them to exhibit defective behaviors such as looking straight up at the sky during a rain storm. These are known as tetanic torticollar spasms.
Turkeys have many and varied vocalizations they utilize to communicate with one another. As of yet, very few are understood by us. But we do know they are highly social creatures and will play and dance seemingly for the sheer joy of it. And they appear to experience emotional loss. When a member of a flock is injured, dying or dead, others in the flock will stand vigil for several hours. Biologist refer to this as the "great wake." http://animals.howstuffworks.com/birds/turkey-drown.htm
The two little poults I had last year--more frequently than not--would choose to be with people if they were outside. In fact, they would happily perch on the back of a chair and hang out when ever I had friends over. Once, my friend Anne and I were on the lawn trying to elicit pleasant sounds from our recorders. At the sound of the first notes, the little poults came running up, fluffed out their feathers and took a seat next to us. It was as if they were taking in a lawn concert at Tanglewood.
So, are domestic turkeys stupid? I don't think so. Yes, they're awkward and can't fly but that's because they have been grossly genetically mutated and manipulated by us. Their breasts are so over-developed that they often tip forward and fall down. They've been bred to be so huge that their legs break down because they are unable to support their own weight. They can't fly for the same reason.
Time and again I have witnessed and--and at times, myself-- engaged in the convenient caricature. It makes it easier to shoot, consume, or vilify creatures. More on this in a future blog when I talk about coyotes.
But back to dressage at Mystic or rather, turkeys at Mystic. My little turkey threesome were a charming addition to the stabling area. They quietly slept, chirred, and cheeped and pecked at their hay bedding. The competitors loved them.
The first day was sunny and warm so they were happy, but the second was cold and rainy. My babies were cold! What to do? Here's what I did:
I had an apron with me. All you horse people reading this know it was not to whip up gourmet meals but to protect me from the mud and manure of daily equestrian life. It had pockets which I stuffed with hay and then stuffed with three turkey poults. Now warm, they immediately went to sleep. I sat in a chair with them for a while but was soon bored. I wanted to watch the show even if Linda and Tica weren't in the ring. So, off the four of us went. And it wasn't long before I ran into "S" and four star international judge Lois Yukins. Lois and I have been friends for nearly twenty years and she couldn't resist taking this snap with her I Phone. Thank you, Lois! (I think.)
I will be giving you updates on Louis, Clark, and Sacagawea. I have never had full-grown turkeys. Sadly, last summer my two little poults, as well as six of my chickens, fell victim to a fox who used a rock to launch herself my coop. But the coop has now been repaired, and we're only going to let the poultry out when we're outside to provide some degree of predator deterrent.
Tica and Linda were absolute stars, coming up with scores of 65+ and 68+ for First Level 1 and First Level 3, respectively. Here is a snap taken in Tica's warm-up prior to her best test yet:
The Mystic Valley Hunt Club is a beautiful venue for any kind of event. The cross country course is gorgeous, and I spent a number of hours hand-grazing Tica in the lush grass. Here's what it was like, dragonflies and all:
I am hoping that my finger and shoulder will be healed enough to ride Tica at King Oak. Then Dressage at the Seacoast and--with luck--NEDA Fall. I did miss riding her, though it was a treat to see what she could do with Linda on board.
I should also mention Linda's wonderful dog Jackson who was at the show with us. He came to Linda this winter via a Doberman Retriever Rescue program. He hadn't had much training, if any, when he arrived, but now he is a perfect citizen. This was due to Linda's unwavering commitment and training methods. Unfortunately, he tested positive for heart worm. Happily, he will recover. But what the X-ray also revealed was that someone had fired a round of bird shot into Jackson's chest. Miraculously, it didn't damage any vital organs. I can only hope that when the time comes for whoever shot this dog to arrive at those "pearly gates," standing right next to St. Peter, there will be a pack of Dobermans baring their pearly teeth.
This is Jackson at Mystic Valley:
Mystic Valley
And last, but never least, is Dolly snacking while on yet another trail ride with Tica:
Tomorrow after lessons a group of us will be heading to the Groton, MA, fairgrounds to introduce the horses and Brit the mule to some of the little cross country jumps there. I will be packing my camera, so please check next week's blog.
See you soon and thanks for reading The Windflower Weekly!
-- Ainslie
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