Conversations With My Horses

There are holes in my training. Always have been, always will. I see more, feel more, and understand more, with every passing year, and I've become a pretty decent hand (pun intended), even in my current, crippled, wobbly state, but the holes are becoming clearer too.

My personal horses do really cool stuff. They are soft, responsive, quick off your leg and even quicker off your hand. Horses I trained for other people were shaped to fit their rider. They tended to have a little less handle and much better manners than my horses.

There's a reason for that. If my clients could stay with horses as feely and emotional as mine, well, they'd be riding with the Big K, now wouldn't they? My clients wanted to ride better, get a handle on a tough horse, or work on their own fears. Some wanted to show cowhorse, but if they did, they came to me to fix the other stuff first. Some stayed, some dumped me and moved on to K, it was all good. Those who stayed learned what they wanted, and often, what they needed.

My own horses appear gentle, calm and quiet. I have been told, by those who don't quite know me and my horses, they are boring. Nice,"but I like a horse with a little more fire." Which in many ways is very, very funny.

K liked riding horses I started or fixed, and he liked working with riders who had been through my process. It made me feel successful, during a time in my life where I felt little success.  

***Spoiler alert***What I'm about to write is VERY POLITICALLY INCORRECT. Please remember, I'm relaying a private conversation, a moment in time, a description that fit the situation, that does not represent my actual opinion about, well, anything, except that moment.

"When I'm riding a horse, trained by a client, who was taught to train that horse, by me..." I said.

"Yes?" K asked.

"It feels like I'm riding one of my horses..." 

"Yes?"

"if it was my horse's 'special ed' little brother or sister."

"Snort." K shook his head and studied his saddle horn.

"You, know, everything is there, but slower, duller, not quite right."

K looked at me, with his I-can't-believe-what-rattles-around-in-your-brain look.

"So, it got me thinking," I said.

"Yes?"

"Do you feel the same way when you ride mine?"

"Well, not quite."

"Oh. Good."

"They might have been held back a grade or two."

"Oh."

I have come to understand I have a running conversation with my horses. Not verbal, but physical. They talk to me with their ears, their eyes, how high or low they are holding their head. They tell me things with the tension in their bodies, the swish of a tail, whether their feet are on the ground or in the air and what they do with each one.

This isn't that big of a deal. Any solid horseman is aware of these very same things. I have the habit of digesting everything my horse tells me. I read it, think about it and then respond. I might react, with a correction, an explanation, or a yee-ha! I might ignore what I'm being told, because it doesn't go long with my program, but I still listen.

This creates a horse with an opinion. They tell me when they are frightened, cranky, angry, excited, or just plain ready to go. They expect me to hear them, and respond with a touch, a scratch, a tightening or relaxation of my body, or a slap on their ass, and I do. I work them with the goal of getting them ready for the task at hand by dealing with their mind-set. 

This may sound to some like a true, horse whispery kind of communication. Maybe it is, but it sure as hell can wreak havoc with getting the job done.

I'll give you the best example I can, a comparison of me and K doing a fence run during a horse show. Here's Madonna and I last year. It was our first NRCHA show in five years. Every time I watch it, I want to scream,"Sit back!" We were out of shape and rusty, but I was happy and we got a check.

Me and Madonna

Next up is The Big K and Spart Plain Pep (Rain), kicking butt at the World's Greatest Horseman.

K and Rain

Essentially, what's going on in my video is this.
Me: Let's go.

Madonna: The gates over there. (0:05)
Me: We're not done yet, knock it off.
Madonna: Who's that guy? (0:30)
Me: The cow guy, get back to work.
Madonna: Are you sure? (0:33)
Me: Quit worrying about it.
Madonna: Let's blast past her! (1:16)
Me: Get back here, I want a long fence run.
Madonna: Dammit!
Me: Don't quit me! (1:48)
Madonna: OMG! Where did that tarp come from? (1:51)
Me: You just now saw the tarp? Get back to work!
Madonna: If we weren't behind we wouldn't be stuck on the fence.
Me: Dammit!
Madonna: Here you go --pretty, pretty, pretty.

And here's how Big K rides a horse.

Big K: Do it!

Rain: I'm on it!

You can see where I get in my own way. I don't ride my horses, I ride with them. We chat back and forth, and I like it. Except when we need to keep our eye on the ball, er, cow, and we're arguing instead. K has some good insight on this. He doesn't consider my approach a problem in itself, it's how I implement it. I'll dive into this tomorrow.