Welcome to the Clutch

Welcome to Coffee Clutch With Dutch Henry … Thanks for dropping by on the official launch day! We'll have lots of fun visits and chat about everything from horses, writing, coffee, birds to butterflies, and whatever other happy thoughts pop into my mind while I'm enjoying morning coffee with my mare Kessy.

With this blog it is my hope to accomplish two very important things. Create a place where friends can gather to share a few fun moments, and also this is another way we can help, "People & Horses Helping Horses & People."  Each Friday post will be "Feature Friday" and will include the link of and a few words about a person, organization, horse charity or horse who is devoted to helping others. You might want to share the link, and help them help.

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Thanks again for dropping in, I promise we'll have some great visits and fun times together ... Please tell all your friends. ~ Gitty Up, Dutch

Building Confidence in a Horse and A Building a Character in a Novel

Let's see if I can tie two emails that are worlds apart (are they really), together. One a horse question and one about writing. A facebook friend emailed and asked how I build confidence in a horse. Another facebook friend asked how I build a character in a story. Both emails used the word, build, and they came within 5 minutes of each other!

The writing question came first so … When I'm thinking of creating a character, at first of course I'll need to establish gender. Maybe. But I don't really care about any other physical characteristics, unless something jumps out and yells at me, "Hey I'm tall and very athletic." I might store that for future references. But mostly I'll address the physical characteristics as the story unfolds. I may set the stage with a brief hint such as, "With a delicate, quivering hand, she flipped open her phone, gazed at the tiny screen and carefully considered her next move."

I've never been real big on a horse's conformation, either. I see a horse from within. I believe every horse can perform at the highest level its body will allow. It's our job to make that possible. So I guess, as with my fictional characters, I don't really care about physical characteristics of horses either. We can address them as need be, as we go along. The first thing I might do with a horse who lacks confidence is ask for her to take a single step forward or back. I'll store how she took that step in mind for future reference.

After I establish in my mind my fictional character is tall, athletic and worried, I can paint a bigger picture. I look at the whole scene, like a painting on the wall. But I notice the little things in the picture. The big things will always take care of themselves, if you address the little things, such as how she enters a room boldly with long strides, but fidgets with her hands and dislikes eye contact during tense conversations. I can use these later when I need to add tension, or slow the reader down.

I notice the little things about a horse's confidence. How does she stand, walk, hold her head. How does she respond to requests? Does she focus on me, or look far away? Just as in creating a character, I'll keep them in mind as we move ahead into her story. I can use these foundations to build her confidence.

Now that I've laid the groundwork for my character, I can move ahead in the story and continue to add layer upon layer as I write the scenes in which she interacts with other characters or tackles situations, or thoughts, on her own. As I build the character I can always go back to the basics the reader already knows. She's tall, can be bold, but can be nervous, is athletic and thinks deeply. It's important, as I continue building the character, to keep the basics in mind to fall back on in times of impact or excitement. It's important to the reader to have characters they can rely on. Fundamentals matter.

When building a horse's confidence, after I've noticed her basic characteristics, thought process, what she's worried about, things she can tolerate and most importantly, things she really enjoys and looks forward to, I can begin building her confidence, one layer at a time. I do this by spending a lot of time asking her to do the things she already has a liking for, and the confidence to be able to handle. As we work together, adding layer upon layer of confidence by adding new challenges, I'll keep going back to those basics she understands and enjoys. Those basics are the foundation on which all else is built. They are the things the horse can rely on.

So there you have it, I guess … Whether I'm building a fictional character for a novel or building confidence in a horse, it's a matter of seeing the solid foundation and carefully adding layers until I have the picture I see in my mind established for the reader, or the horse. One little step at a time.

Cookies and Horses

Tom stared at the pack of cookies on the fold down tray as the train came out of the tunnel. Seemed like a good time to open the little bundle of black cookies with the creamy white filling that had been tempting him. Shifting in his seat, Tom was just about to reach for them when the gentleman beside him leaned forward, carefully opened the cellophane and pulled out a cookie.

"Who does he think he is eating my cookie?" Tom made a point of being noticed as he tore the top off the tiny packet and snared 2 cookies. Without hesitation he stuffed them both in his mouth, and licked his fingers. The other fellow seemed unruffled, smiled and took 2 cookies, slowly eating one at a time as he looked out the window. Leaving one lone cookie in the pack. Tom let out an exaggerated sigh, snatched the last cookie, held it so the stranger could see, then devoured it in one bite.

Satisfied he'd bested the cookie thief, Tom settled back in his seat prepared to silently gloat in his victory, and picked up the magazine on the tray in front of him. Then he saw it. Another pack of cookies laying on the fold down tray. He must have laid the magazine on top of them as he took his seat. Tom realized in that instant he had been the cookie thief, not the stranger beside him. He'd been eating the other fellow's cookies all along!

With a smile he moved the tiny pack of cookies to the center of the tray, gently tore the pack open and offered them to the stranger … This is what is known as a "Paradigm Shift."

I think this is a great little story to help us understand others better, family, friends, co-workers … and our horses.

There's lots of talk in the horse industry nowadays about seeing things from your horse's point of view. I love that it has become fashionable to think of what your horse might need to understand, and what kind of brain your horse has, left, right, introvert, extravert … But how do you slow down enough to really see things from your horse's point of view?

I've long held the thought that horses want to co-operate, not obey. Of course they will, and do obey, but if that is how a person sees their horse, as something that must, "obey" … I don't think they can totally see the situation from the horse's point of view ... Would you rather obey, or co-operate?

Our friend, Tom on the train suddenly saw things from the stranger's point of view when he found his own pack of cookies hidden beneath the magazine. What a feeling of revelation, and perhaps embarrassment Tom must have felt in that instant. But now he could also see the first pack of cookies as the polite stranger had seen them, as something he'd been sharing. Not swiping as Tom thought he was doing when he viewed the situation from his own point of view.

It is not always easy to understand your horse's, spouse's, child's or friend's, point of view, but if we slow down and listen with our whole brain, we just might hear a hint or two. It's called a Paradigm Shift, and it really works.

How Much Does a Monarch Weigh?

 How much does a Monarch butterfly weigh? As we rode the mid-morning sun on our backs, our shadow detailing Kessy's every beautiful stride, I couldn't help but ponder that question.

We'd been going along alone, no birds or butterflies when we rode into a thick yellow patch of Goldenrod literally swarming with hummingbirds and butterflies. Far too many to count. I lost count at a dozen Monarchs, and simply sat Kessy to take in the show.

I did manage to count five hummingbirds buzzing about the tiny yellow blooms. Never knew hummers like Goldenrod.

We sat in the sun, amid knee high Goldenrod, listening to the buzzing of the hummingbirds. One swooped so near Kessy's knee she bowed her neck to look at it! I suppose they were trying to steal the show from the majestic Monarchs. It was then that noticed a lone Monarch on the outer edge of the Goldenrod patch drifting from bloom to bloom as if tasting appetizers in order to find the most preferable dish for his mid-morning meal. One tall single spike of brilliant yellow seemed to be to his liking and, as gently as a snowflake, he drifted down upon the tip of the flower ... It bowed beneath the Monarch's weight!

Walking around the flower, spreading its beautiful orange and black wings for balance, the Monarch checked each tiny flower in the tall bloom for nectar. The flower bobbed and swayed with each move the Monarch made! I glanced at the hummers, few of them ever bothered to light on a flower as they do the feeders on the porch, but one did finally settle atop a golden yellow spike, and for sure it sagged, straining under the weight of the massive hummer who thrust his beak high declaring this bloom's for me! … But a flower bending Monarch had come as a surprise to me.

I asked Kessy if she'd ever noticed that before. She had nothing to say. But I wonder now, how much does a Monarch butterfly weigh?

Have a great Wednesday, and Gitty Up! ~ Dutch

Kessy and Dutch demonstrating wrapping the head... Using an Ace bandage wrap a figure 8 starting behind the cheek and around the muzzle. This can have a calming effect much like swaddling. Kessy really enjoys it. .. Note you can also see the front half of her body wrap, which starts at the withers and goes down under the neck, back up over the withers and continues around the rump.

Sleepy Morning

So sleepy was the morning that even the sun hung low beneath the tree tops. Not a bird sang, and even the roosters crowed with less vigor than normal. Spider webs laden with morning dew gave the lawn the look of a patchwork quilt. Saturday was slow crawling from his glider on the porch to gather with Tigger, Miss Kitty and I for Coffee with Kessy, who laid stretched out on her side, snoring. Now I must admit I was 15 minutes early, but come on folks, it's time to get with it. Don't they know it's Friday? Holy Cow!

Ravishin', Robbie and I are off for a day in Charlottesville today, and we gotta hit the road, but I've added a new twist to feeding Kessy, at least for a while. We take her grain and feed tub up to the trailer and my coffee too, and she must come in to eat. Which she does after a few moments of protest. We are making a little progress there, but it'll be a while yet.

Tomorrow too we'll be on the road bright and early, heading to Fincastle for a Diane J. Sept clinic at Marianne Kephart Jolley's … Can't wait to see everybody!

HAPPY FRIDAY everybody and have a fun weekend!

Her First Horse

This little story was inspired by my conversations with Linda Tellington-Jones. I just felt like posting something special today … 
The Move

Her only thought as she ran through the tall, wet grass was how huge her world now seemed. Holding her faded blue gingham dress high in one hand, a pinwheel spinning madly in the other, galloping as fast as her eight year old legs could manage she ran until 

breathless, then collapsed in the soggy sea of green. The wet grass stung her bare feet with a thousand tiny daggers of cold, but her mind raced on with hundreds of imaginary things a girl could do with all the space of a wide open world.

Only a week before her life had been confined to the world of city life where the only green was in patches called yards. The only trees struggled to reach for the sun between buildings. The only animals were dogs on leashes and cats behind windows. Until this moment she hadn't even realized how wrong that was for her. Somehow though her father knew. He always seemed to know the really important things.

The evening her mother and father announced they would be moving to a farm in the country, near a town called Sunnyvale, Patty was confused. She wasn't at all convinced country life was for her. Oh sure the family had driven through the country all the time, their hometown of Edgewood after all was not a huge city and to get anywhere from anywhere you had to drive through the country. But that's just exactly what the country had seemed to be, something you drove through to get where you were going. Not a place to call home.

The family hadn't talked too much about the move, at least not that Patty remembered, but the drives to the country to what turned out to be their new home, had begun to give Patty a different feeling. She was not able to understand why each time they returned to their house in Edgewood, from the farm they did not yet call home, she felt more and more as if they were visiting the city house, and leaving behind their real house in the country. She also began to notice more things in the country, the big fields of corn, and grass, magnificent trees, cows, sheep and horses. She decided almost immediately that horses were the most beautiful thing in the world.

Lying on her back in the cold wet grass on top of the hill, she held her pinwheel high into the breeze. Her brand new girlfriend Elizabeth had given her the pinwheel as a welcome present on her first day to the new school. Silver with red stripes, it looked like a whirling flower of sparkling red when it spun round and round. The school was a long walk from home. Over two miles along a dirt road and a path around a big lake that had a lot of ducks on it. Her father had told her to be careful of the snapping turtles, when he and mother walked her to school the first day, but each day she looked and never saw one. The school sat just off the lake and the boys were allowed to fish at recess on Fridays.

She decided she liked her new school. Everybody was in the same room from her own first grade class all the way up to grade twelve. Sixteen of them all together in one room and Mrs. Brown, the teacher, too. Mrs. Brown's big old desk sat directly in front of the blackboard, it was the biggest desk Linda had ever seen. There was a small woodstove along the one wall near the big window. It was the older boys' job to keep the woodbox full. The first graders had to clap the erasers and sweep the front porch each day. The other children each had jobs too and everyone was expected to have their chores complete by the time Mrs. Brown rang the bell at 8:05 each morning.

Today was Saturday and there would be no school for two days. Two days to explore the farm, after their chores of course. The chores! She could hear her father in the big barn with the hogs. 

It must be near dinner time if father was feeding the hogs. She had a big plan about tonight's dinner so she had better be on time. Her legs flew through the wet grass, the pinwheel whistled in the air, but she was able to dash into the barnyard before her father was finished.

"That's some mighty fine running, Patty," he greeted her at the gate with a smile and an outstretched hand holding three brown eggs.

"I'll carry them father," Patty tucked the pinwheel under her arm, and held out both hands. "Where did you find them, on the seat of that old wagon again?"

"Same place as yesterday. Must be more than one hen laying in that nest." Carefully he laid the eggs in her hands, picked up his buckets and side by side they walked the winding dirt path to the house.

Linda waited for just the right time at dinner to ask her question. The big question she'd been hanging onto all day. The big question that made her lose track of time. Seemed like a great time now that father had finished telling them he'd heard from the neighbor that the price of hogs should be real good in another month.

So, she smiled at mother, sister and then father. She left her gaze settle on his kind, unsuspecting eyes.

"Father, I love our new school and my teacher, Mrs. Brown. And of course all the children. Even the old ones, the ones in the big grades. Did you know most of the children have horses and ponies to ride to school? And you know what?" 

Her father swallowed and made a show of paying attention to only her, "What's that?"

"Well, it's just that some of them even live closer to the school house than we do, and they have ponies or horses." She studied his face and caught him give a sly wink to mother and her sister.

"You don't say." He folded his hands and winked again at mother.

Linda felt her heart race. "Yes, and Timothy said his father has a horse named Sunshine that no one is riding and we could get her really, really cheap."
***********
Hope you enjoyed this sweet story …. Have a wonderful day, and thank you for being friends! ~ Dutch