11/19/2025
When I started this page during COVID I just needed something to do. At the beginning l told stories about my experiences riding training and learning. Readers asked questions and I began posting more about traditional horsemanship methods and the page became much more educational and it grew. Then the trolls came and defended their ribbon chasing, their 30 or 40 foot reining slides that crippled horses and other people advocating for normalized abuse in their disciplines.
I am going to tell more stories. This is a story about how my education in riding and horsemanship began in the early 1950s. It is about my first instructor, Mr.Gratwick. He had a farm in upstate East Aurora NY, a town with a rich equestrian heritage. I have recreated an image of his barn with its large stone walled barnyard that was our riding arena. Each lesson began with a fifteen minute skill of the day exercise, regarding the use of the feet and legs, how to hold the reins, and more. I was fortunate to have five lessons a week during the summer, each with its unique fundamental skill, followed by a "follow me" ride out of the barnyard and out onto his farmland.
Every day Mr. Gratwick wore a fresh khaki Army uniform of pants and shirt pressed with creases. If you got there early, before he went out to get the horses, you got to see his perfect "uniform" with no insignia that included combat like work boots and a red baseball cap. The horses grazed out on the farm with no fences and with the lead horse hobbled. Students could walk with him to get the horses while he explained, based on the night's weather, where they could be found and he was always right. He'd snap a rope on the lead horse, remove the hobbles, throw them over his shoulder and we walked to the barn, with the herd following, where we helped him feed.
The picture of the wrinkled Army uniform is about how he looked by noon. The only ironed crease that remained was in a sleeve. I was too young to ask him about his Army life, his regiment and all the rest that I wish I knew now. My dad told me he was an Officer and I learned what that meant by the way he addressed us. One memory is of how he taught us to slide a horse down a slope into a creek with a slippery rock bottom that made some horses scramble with their feet once in the water. He led us down the slide in a column, but before descending the slope, he explained that we needed to be in the "C" position during the slide.
A "C" position is when your feet are ahead of the girth and your upper body is folded making a "C". We were instructed to be in a "C" with our head alongside the horse's neck below the crest, which is an extreme "C" position I can no longer do. We were taught to approach the slide with a strong rhythm and once over the brink to do a half halt to lock up the hind to slide and to allow the forehand to "walk" down the slope so as to not get our horse's feet caught on a root. Before he went over the brink, he would ask us, "Why do we descend the slope in a "C" with our heads low?" We'd all raise our hands and he'd pick a student to answer. The answer was, "So we make a smaller target, Sir!
Mr. Gratwick would disappear over the brink and we would follow in a column, sliding one by one. Upon arriving at the bottom in the water, he would be sitting on his big black and white horse in the creek. When a horse would scramble its feet on the wet slippery stone bottom, in his deep voice he'd say, "Be still." Then we would move on to field riding over terrain focused on the skill of the day that we learned back in the barnyard. We learned the difference between a line and a column, military hand signals, silent so as not to tell the enemy where we were, and to stay in formation.
There is so much more to tell. The barn had a big door up in the hay loft that we would open on rainy days. The students would sit on the floor and clean tack with glycerin soap bars while we looked out the open door where we saw and heard falling rain. Everything we did was according to the military standard. When we helped feed we learned the proper way. This was true of every detail, how to place a saddle pad on a horse, how to clean tack, how to groom, clean feet, bridle, mount and dismount. There was the Army way, the best way, nothing else.
In the 1950s Mr. Gratwick was in his late 60s or early70s. He was, therefore, born in the 19th century when horses were essential for life. He had a head of thick white hair you could see when we returned from a long hot "follow me" ride. We would tie our horses, untack, groom and then we could go to the water spicket in the barnyard to get a drink. Mr. Gratwick did the same and after his drink, he'd take off his red hat, soak it in the cold water and put it back on his head. But he was not one of us. When he addressed students, it was an Officer addressing enlisted men. We were treated as men, recruits to the cavalry.
I save one detail for the end. Looking at the picture of the barn, on the right end of the barnyard there was a double gate that went to a dirt road that led to the land we'd ride. After our barnyard lesson, with Mr. Gratwick and all the students were mounted up, he would watch us trot a circle together in both directions to check if all saddles were well secured. If yours wasn't, that was very bad, but it was met only with silence from our teacher as we all stood still and quiet while the failed student dismounted and adjusted their saddle.
After that Mr. Gratwick, on his very tall horse, would walk to the beautiful handmade wooden arched gate and open it from the saddle. I loved it. That was how our "follow me" rides began, through that opened gate. I can still see him leaning over to open the latch from his horse. Young and dumb as I was, I knew each time that I was a very lucky boy.
*link to "C" position post -