User:Fergusoconnor

The earliest memory that I have is of horses. Strange to say but I only fully came to this realisation when I sat down to write this piece for the website. I was three years of age and my father, Joe, had brought me to visit Liscarton Stud which was managed by friends. I remember walking hand in hand with my father into the stable yard and there seeing this huge creature being led across to us by my fathers friend Mr. Hunter. My father picked me up as the horse came close and stopped in front of us. I was afraid,sensing the huge physical strength of the horse and at the same time fascinated. Both adults laughed at my wide eyed expression of wonder and fear.”His name is Dapples and he’s a very sweet chap” said Mr. Hunter. “Touch him” said my father. I reached out my hand and very carefully placed it on the velevet skin of the muzzle. Ever so gently Dapples responded to my touch and moved his muzzle slightly from side to side. Now it was me who laughedwith a childs delight and wonder at something new and amazing. I had learned that not only were these creatures hugely physically strong but that there was an innate gentleness to their nature, a gentleness that responded to gentle treatment. The first and one of the most important lessons of my relationship with horses had been learned. A gentle hand makes for a gentle horse. The next thing I knew my father was lifting me upwards towards Mr. Hunter who was now on Dapples back. He took me from my fathers outstretched arms and placed me in front of him, “let’s go for a little hack” he said. I still remember the first feel of the horses motion as we walked slowly out of the stable yard and towards the paddocks. I looked back at my father who waved to me. I waved back automatically and as I did so I felt Dapples react slightly. “ Whoa” sounded Mr. Hunter his voice lowering in tone and volume as he did so. “Never make sudden movements around horses” he said '“they don’t like it. Horses frighten easily”' Second big lesson of the day. The rolling circular feel of the walk was soon replaced by the sharper bobbing motion of the trot. I remember feeling as if the whole world was jumping up and down all around me and becoming a little disorientated. We headed back into the stable yard and Mr. Hunter handed me back down to my father and dismounted himself. “Time for you see what it feels like on yor own” he said. I was placed back in the saddle, this time on my own albeit holding on to my fathers supporting hand. Mr. Hunter led us forward and for the first time in my life I was sitting alone on a horses back. The movement of the walk felt big, strong and bold and I still remeber this as one of the happiest moments of my life. I was hooked!

After this I plauged my parents for return visits to the stud farm. I was so besotted that if for whatever reason I became wilful (and I was a very wilful child)all they had to do to get me back in line was say “well I really don’t know when we’ll get back to Liscarton” and I would immediately give in. The next big milestone in my life with horses came some five years later. The Hunters had left Liscarton and from an equine point of view I was at a bit of a loose end (and driving my poor parents nuts) However my passion for horses was deep and necessity is the mother of invention. I knew that not too far from my home was Blackcastle House. Here lived a retired army veterinary officer Capt. Maguire who had chosen Blackcastle as the place to live out his retirment and pursue his passion for breeding horses. Capt. Maguire was avery formidable figure with an equally formidable reputation locally. He was very military in bearing, outlook and temperament and if truth be told I was more than a litle intimidated by him. He had however a housekeeper Mrs. Maher who passed by our home on the way to Blackcastle House. She was also a formidable figure but on the occasions I had seen her she felt as if she might be easier to approach than the captain. I waited until the moment felt right and on a clear summer day in early July I made my approcah. I stopped Mrs Maher as she was passing and asked if I might go to Blackcastle to see the horses. She asked if I had any experience of horses and I said of course. She looked me up and down without comment and then in a stern voice instructed me to come up to the house the next afternoon at two. “Be on time” she warned and walked off. The next day I arrived at Blackcastle (early) and was showwn into the study. Capt. Maguire, a very fit man in his eighties surveyed me in silence. After what felt like an age but couldn’t have been more than a minute he spoke. '“There is a mare and foal in the first paddock and they need to be brought in and put in the stable. Do you think you could do this without hurting yourself or them?”' I was tempted to say yes even though handling mares and foals was something I had never done but something told me that this was a man who required nothing more than comlete honesty. “I think if I was shown how I could do it” I replied. The Captain gave an ill tempered snort and said “Follow me”. He marched out of the study and down the yard with a speed and energy remarkable for a man in his eighties. I trotted along at his side my little nine year old legs fairly twinkling to keep pace with him. This was the beginning of my real education with horses. Captain Maguire was deeply knowledgeable in all aspects of horsemanship and over the next nine years Blackcastle and he were a constant feature of my life. Without my fully knowing it at the time The Captain (as he was known) cultivated not only my knowledge and skills but also developed my instincts, something which as an instructor I now know takes tremendous care patience and diligence. I was approaching my eighteenth birthday when one day the Captain called me into his study, sat me down and asked what I intended to do with my life. I replied honestly by saying that I wanted to work with horses but in what area I was not entirely sure. He looked at me, his shrewd eyes never leaving mine and asked what was the most enjoyable time I had spent with horses. “Thats easy” I answered “last summer helping you teach your grandchildren horse riding.” The Captain continued looking at me, not speaking and then I asked “Do you think I should try to become an instructor?” “I do” he replied '“I think it is an excellent idea. It is an honourable if not lucrative profession”' How right he was!

Ten days after this conversation I found myself walking into Herbertstown Riding School and being introduced to Capt. Ian Dudgeon. The school was world famous having been established by Ian Dudgeons father Col. Joe Dudgeon and attracted pupils from all over the world. Competition for places on their instructors course was fierce and I still had no idea that I was going to be joining them as a pupil, actually I felt certain that at any moment I would hear the words “well very nice meeting you and good luck with your career.” Ian, a very successful international event rider showed me to a stable and told me to tack up the horse that was there take him out, hop up and show what I could do. I led the horse to the schooling arena, mounted and proceeded to warm him up as Captain Maguire had taught me. I went through the paces walk, trot, canter and then Ian put up a small jump and instructed me to run down and pop over it. On landing Ian called me over and said”that’s fine, see you seven am sharp on Monday” I was in, I couldn’t believe my ears. I had just been accepted to train as an instructor at one of the worlds top riding schools! Many years later I was to learn through a friend how I got on a course where places were so sought after. It transpired that Captain Maguire had talked to Ian Dudgeon and told him that he knew of a young rider that had only ever ridden full sized horses ,never ponies, even as a child and so had never developed the habits of a pony rider. To explain, a pony is so constructed that it is possible to ride them using the application of physical strength, a horse is so much bigger and stronger that in order to ride them you have to use skill and timing, applying the right signals at the right time in order to achieve t results. I had never known any different This state of affairs was so unusual that it piqued Ians interest and led to me getting my chance.

The next two years flew by and I had a very happy time in Herbertstown. I had the opportunity to ride a complete array of horses from old school masters to top flight eventers and showjumpers. Ian Dudgeon was very generous in his support and time. Once a week we had what was called “the cavalry charge” which translated as twenty horses and riders charging across a field in line, just like in the movies! We learned about schooling, instructing, breaking, managing a riding school, livery and schooling concerns. The object of the course was as Ian put it, to turn out “top class instructors who will carry on the traditions and aspirations of Herbertstown by striving to instil in others the true joy of horsemanship in all their endeavours” Thes were not idle words and I try always to live up to them. True horsemanship is about understanding and skill which culminates in a joyous experience for horse and rider. When it feels beautiful for the horse it will feel beautiful for the rider.

It was also during my tenure at Herbertstown that a very tragic event occurred. Captain Maguire my mentor, supporter, teacher and beloved friend left this world.. He had been leading one of his treasured mares through to her stable when he fell, banging his head on the cobble stones and one week later  passed away. His passing came as a great shock and with this terrible wrenching loss I could feel a great deal of my youth slip away. I loved that old man very dearly. I miss him still. I had noted that Ian Dudgeon rode in a style that was different to the textbook approach which we were training in. I questioned him on this and he explained that his technique and style of riding was based on a much purer and more precise intereptation of the Caprilli principles. I was intriuged and