What I Learned From A Liz Graves Gaited Horse Clinic

I am not a “gaited horse person.” But over the years I have been constantly exposed to these mysterious horses, first by students who came to me for equitation lessons, and later because I found myself with three Tennessee Walking Horses in my lesson string, loaned to me by the stable owner who bought them in a “package deal.”

When the opportunity to audit a Liz Graves clinic came my way I wanted to go meet this lady. I’d read articles about and by Ms. Graves, and even corresponded with her via email. It was my last $25.00 in what had been an especially lean month financially, but I was sure it would be a good investment.

The first quote I wrote down was, “It is a horse before it is a breed.” I’d always suspected that to be true. So, it was nice to hear the country’s premier gaited horse expert confirm my gut feeling.  That was just the beginning.

The first part of the clinic was like sitting around the kitchen table talking horses. Liz talked about biomechanics in a way that made perfect sense. Her dot-to-dot demonstration, twisting and turning poor Darby of Beanie Baby™ fame, and a line graph of the gaits from trotting to pacing, and all that’s in between, presented a mental picture of how form-to-function relates to gaited horses. Now, I’d read about biomechanics before. No, let’s be honest here. I’ve skimmed over articles about biomechanics, and promptly zoned out on the subject. Liz made it simple, and made biomechanics make sense to my then fifty-eight-year-old brain.

The models for her dot-to-dot demo were two Icelanic Ponies who charmed us almost as much as Liz. Liz anointed her hands with lavender oil and let the curious horses sniff and examine her like she was some new pasture toy. Liz made us laugh and I tried to hide a tear now and then just because some moments seemed so magical between her and the horses.

The two horse were the same breed, but structurally different. We learned how the two of them were suited for entirely different jobs because of how they were put together. Neat-o.

“Not all gaited horses gait,” Liz informed, and then she told us, “If you love the horse, gait [or not gaiting] doesn’t make it any less a horse. Don’t make it do what it is not built to do. Go buy a horse that does the gait you want.”

Liz gave several “for instances” of breeds being forced into doing a gait that is harmful to the horse just because someone along the way decided this or that was the way it should go. You can bet she knows exactly what she’s talking about, and she isn’t intimidated by anyone who disagrees. She made her listeners feel like they’d really let the cat out of the bag with some of their questions, and Liz Graves gave us the intimate feeling she was giving us the real scoop on things.  I got the feeling she could hold her own in any discussions about gait quality. And, if she ever buys you an ice cream cone and tells you to have a nice day, just know you did not win your argument.

After lunch, the riders had the joy of getting a personal one-on-one critiquing session with Liz. Here again I had one of my emotional moments just because I knew I was witnessing a true equestrian, someone gifted in the art of horsemanship. Liz’s intuitive spirit was most evident with one particular horse that was giving his owner a hard time. His antics were frustrating his handler—don’t our horses love to pick a public forum to tell us they are not happy campers—by nipping and wiggling around while she handled him from the ground, and crow hopping under saddle.

Liz took this beautiful horse in hand, talked softly, and tried to relax him. He didn’t seem to be buying into it at all, not even the lavender oil. Liz was calm as she studied the horse. She reprimanded him with a strong voice when he showed aggression toward her, and immediately went back to soft when he behaved.

She stopped and turned to the owner and said, “This is a very disturbed horse.” I felt a moment of awe. Here was truly a woman who could crawl inside a horse’s brain and see it tick. It wasn’t so much that she said the horse was unhappy, maybe even angry, as it was watching the process that brought her to the statement.

So, did I think because I went to a Liz Graves clinic I could go back to the barn and “know my Walking Horses?” Nope. I couldn’t do what her forty years experience has taught her. What I did come away with was the knowledge that gaited horses will make just as good school horses as my trotting horses. I learned that if I teach my students to respect all horses as living beings that we are responsible for, and not expect horses to do things God didn’t build them to do, and to love a horse not because of how it moves, but because it is an honest animal that feels pain and let’s us know (if we’ll listen) when it doesn’t know what to do, and most importantly if I taught my students “that it’s about the horse, not about the entertainment” I and my gaited horses would have taught them well.

Thank you, Liz, for the lessons.