Ridin', Reinin' and Writin'

When I first start riding my colts, I work them in one corner of the arena in a small circle. I lunge them in that circle, lunge them saddled in that circle and eventually ride them – still in that little circle! We walk, leg yield, jog, trot and lope and they develop confidence in the circle. That makes learning easier.  If, when we are walking, the colt wants to jog or, if trotting, he wants to lope, I stay in that gait longer. He has to “earn the right” to move at a faster gait by demonstrating patience at the gait he is in. I can maintain control that way and he learns to wait for me to ask.

Gradually, I widen the circle until it covers one end of the arena. Then, at some point in this early training, I ask my colt to leave the circle and use the entire pen, making straight lines down the sides. But, since horses can get stronger and faster in straight lines than in circles, that could be where the trouble starts. If my colt cannot be controlled in a circle, he most certainly will be out of hand in a straight line. So, again, he has to "earn the right” to leave the circle or, as I have said many times to my students, he has to "earn his way out of the circle". If he tries to run off when I direct him in a straight line or will not maintain a steady gait, I take him back to the circle.

I think life is a little like this. I think we have to earn the right to be respected and trusted, earn the right to venture into the world. We do have certain rights from the moment we are born – freedom of speech, freedom of religion, etc – but others are have to be earned.

So here’s the thing. Maybe educating a horse isn't so different than educating our children - or ourselves. We all want to be respected but I see too many times, that respect has not been earned. Maybe if we had stayed "in the circle" and did the work until we had it figured out, we could “earn our way out” without running our life off in to the ditch. Just saying...

"Horses have a way of keeping us young… and mostly broke” a friend of mine commented on Facebook last week.

“You’re right about keeping us broke,” I answered, “But I’m not sure about keeping me young!”

Her comment triggered a train of thought though, one I've travelled on many times - why do we, people in the horse business,  choose a career that demands much and pays little (notice I didn't say "offer little")? Horse trainers and breeders work long hours seven days a week; they rise early and go to bed late; they administer to sick and injured animals, often in the middle of the night; they freeze their hands thawing out water lines and sunburn their faces picking up bales in the field; they rub liniment on over-worked muscles and sometimes eat dinner at 10:00 PM (or not at all!). We drag ouselves to the barn when we are sick; we drag ourselves to the barn too soon after surgery; we drag ourselves to the barn when it’s blistering hot or bone-chilling cold. Why have we signed up for a lifetime of never-ending work and sometimes unbearable heartbreak? And why have we shouldered so much responsibility? The answer is . . . because most of the time we don’t drag ourselves to the barn – we stride to the barn with anticipation, spirit and joy! And that joy makes the  inevitable times of heart-wrenching pain (Beam me up, Scotty!) bearable.

A Time of Joy

There has to be a reason why we do what we do. It’s not the money and the prestige is fleeting at best and almost non-existent at worst. It has to be about the animal - the horse.

A Time of Caution

A Time of Commitment

Last week isn’t the only time I marveled at the tenacity and commitment of people in the horse business. For some reason, it seems obvious to me why I chose horse training for my career but harder to understand why others do. Not sure why that is. Maybe I believe that most people want more - more money, more toys, more holidays . . . and less responsibility. They won't get that if the horse business is their business. So… when someone tells me how lucky I am to do what I do and asks me about becoming a horse trainer, I give it to them straight.

“Yes, I am lucky," I admit, "But I this is my job and some days, when I feel like a day off, it's still my job - rain or shine, summer and winter. If you want to be a horse trainer, you must be willing to work much longer days than an office job for seven days a week for a very small paycheck. Horse shows will be your holidays and there probably won’t be a boat parked in your yard, just a horse trailer. You must accept the responsibility that comes with caring for horses in your care and be willing to attend to their needs ahead of your own. On the other hand, there is not much in this world that can compare to the soft nickers that will greet you when you go out to feed in the morning. If you can live with that, you have what it takes to be a horse trainer.”

A Time of Peace

Last week I brought my two year old filly, Wildwood Mistral, in to begin her training under saddle. She's a quality filly, a reining prospect, with the conformation and pedigree to make a excellent reiner. Still, she won't excel with those attributes alone, as good as they are. Without a solid program of training, she might never enter a reining pen - or be as good as she can be! Although I have handled her since birth (in fact I attended her birth), and I cannot trivalize the importance of any and all experiences she has had up to now, Mistral is entering a new, crucial era of her life - under saddle. There will never be another more important time in her life. Mistral's performance career is a "clean sheet of paper" and what is written on it will be there forever. The responsiblity is mine and, as I do every time I start a colt, I am mindful of writing only good stuff on that paper. It can be difficult to "erase" negative experiences, so I try to keep that from happening. I would go so far as saying the first 3-6 rides (or works) are the most important ones in training. It's kind of like writing a novel - without a good beginning, the story fails.

Since Wildwood Reining Horses is a one-woman operation and everything depends upon me staying healthy, I must also be aware of my safety. Starting colts is, by its nature, risky, but I minimize those risks as much as I can. The first day with Mistral, I put her in a stall (with a buddy in another stall), brushed her, picked up her feet, rubbed her all over with the saddle blanket and eventually saddled her and cinched it down. If she had been at all uncomfortable with the saddle, the training session would have ended after I pulled the cinch up snug around her belly. I would not have cinched up. But, since she did not seem to mind, I cinched tight enough to ensure the saddle would stay should she fuss. She didn't. I left her saddled in the stall for about an hour, unsaddled her and turned her out. I had written something on that sheet of paper and it was all good...

The next day, I bitted Mistral before we left the barn with a snaffle with no reins attached, led her out to the main arena, lunged her in the snow. It didn't take long before she wanted to quit. At that point, I led her to the round pen, which had not been used all winter and had two feet of snow in it. There I saddled her again (with some difficulty on my part in winter clothes, with a hurting shoulder and in the snow). Normally I would have had her on a lunge line at this point to control any bucking if it should occur. Since she could not move much in the stall the day before, I knew she might buck when she broke into a trot or lope. I would prefer to "shut down" any bucking but since I was awkward in the snow, I deviated from my usual program just a little. I did walk her a few steps, then took the shank off of the halter, stepped out of the pen, closed the gate, and picked up my video camera. Through the rails, this is what happened.

After this very short "explosion", Mistral did not buck again. In fact, she followed me everywhere in the pen.

I left her saddled and bitted for a couple of hours, then led her to the barn, still saddled, took the tack off, brushed her and turned her out. Day two. Another entry on that sheet of paper and again, with the exception of the bucking, all good stuff. She had moved around a lot with the saddle, had stayed out of any wrecks (me and her!), carried a bit in her mouth and, most of all, learned that she had nothing to fear.

Since these photos were taken, I have worked Mistral once more. I saddled her in the barn, led her to the round pen, free lunged her a little, stood at both shoulders and brought her head around with the rein a few times, then lunged her again. She did not spook, buck or jump. She's on the program. That clean piece of paper has something written on it now and I like what is there. I'm going to do everything possible to continue to "write" positive chapters.

Several years ago, when I was training a three-year-old reining prospect, I asked my husband if he would like to get on and try a sliding stop. After a few coached rundowns to the fence, I told him he was ready to run Cimarron at full speed and "stop short".

"Collect him for a few strides, slowly lower your hand, keep riding all the way to the stop, say "whoa" and stay out of his way," I instructed. It was one of only a few times Don followed my instructions to the letter. . . and Cimarron slid 30 feet!

A lot of horse training technique is exactly that - staying out of the horse's way. I watch my young horses running and playing (my barometer for their talent) and it's pretty obvious that most of the ones I raise now can do what I will be asking of them - if I let them do it! Check out these two photos of week-old foals doing what comes naturally...