Me and the Big K and the Pointless Horse

The paint gelding was tall, smooth gaited, pretty handy and crabby.

Robin was a retired pleasure horse. His show career had been successful until he had enough and rebelled.Over a period of months he slung his head and bolted in the arena, wrung his tail with every touch of a spur, buried his head in the far corner of his box stall, threatened to kick anyone who entered and finally, bit the hands, arms,or legs that fed him. He was put up for sale.

A wealthy family bought him as a guest horse for their 1200 acre weekend place. Their barn manager turned him out for six months, hoping to cheer him up by letting him "be a horse." The problem was, he didn't know how to be a horse. The wide open spaces frightened him and he paced the fence line for hours. Other horses had always been separated from him by walls, ropes or riders and he didn't know how to socialize. He was aggressive, yet a crappy fighter, so he ended up ostracized.

 It was a long six months for Robin, and when he was brought back to the barn he was thin, anxious and beat up. He wasn't happy to be back in a stall and run though. He cried for his herd mates and lashed out at the other horses in the barn.

Robin didn't have a lot of success under saddle either. He was clumsy out of the arena, and so slow moving he was always lagging behind the other horses on trail rides. He was smooth and easy to ride, but soon fell back into his old, cranky behaviors. The unhappy gelding was on the market again.

One of my clients bought him as a husband safe horse. Robin settled in well enough, his only company was an elderly Arab gelding. He had a walk in shed, plenty to eat, and a corral, big enough to run in and small enough to help him feel safe. The husband didn't really want to ride, so, for a while, life was pretty good for Robin.

Then, the 12-year-old who rode the Arab decided to ride Robin in 4-H. It didn't go well. She wasn't one to give up, and tried a few reining patterns on him. To everyone's surprise, the pretty paint got along fairly well, and earned a few ribbons.

Next thing you know, I've got him in training, to see if he could actually have a career as a youth reining horse.

Robin wasn't bad. He had a fluid, effortless lead change and with a little encouragement, turned his showmanship at halter pivot into a decent spin. He liked loping fast fast circles, it was the happiest and most relaxed I had ever seen him.

There was a bit of a problem though. He consistently  threw himself on his front end for his stops and backing him up was like yanking a pulled easyboot out of a bog. He sucked.

Transitions didn't improve things, hill work made no difference, I didn't need much but I needed something.

I finally talked to the Big K about Robin. It was a short conversation.

"He isn't going to stop," K said.

"Why?"

"He's built wrong. If you push him, he'll go over." He untied his next ride and walked off.

 I stood and pondered Robin's hind end. It wasn't set up like a nice cowhorse, but it wasn't the worst I'd seen. I had taught a long-backed, off the track mare with string halt to slide and a 17 hh hunter jumper. When you are a mid level trainer at an upper level barn you get all kinds of interesting problems and didn't let them stop you. He was a pleasure horse, they were trained to step way deep. Maybe K was cranky. Maybe he didn't like the horse.

I saddled Robin up and took him out in the arena. K was loping colts, giving a lesson and coaching his wife. I warmed the gelding up, loped him until he was relaxed and then started playing with backing him up. If I couldn't see it, then maybe I could feel it.

I asked him to step back one foot at a time. I moved his haunches, flexed his ribs, moved him in a reverse circle, thinking, feeling, trying to find the elusive stickiness that was stopping this horse from stepping under himself.

I felt for each hoof as it came up of the ground, was he stepping deeper with the left hind than the right? I moved his haunches to the right, so I could push for a longer step. I was so deep into what was happening, when I felt his stifle stick, his leg lock, and our launch into the sky, all that crossed my mind was,Well there it is.

As we tipped over backwards and went crashing to the ground, two more thoughts whipped by, I wondered if it was conformation or injury, and just how pissed K was going to be.

I got up, Robin got up, I dusted off my jeans and checked the gelding over.

K came at a gallop. "Are you OK?" He asked. He looked scared.

"Yeah, feeling kind of stupid, that's all. I guess I found the hitch."

"You just refuse to believe me, don't you?" K didn't take kindly to being scared. "I told you that horse would go over, but you had to keep at it until you made it happen."

"I, uh, no, that's not it."

K was gone though, back to work and geared up to be twice as hard on everybody. The glares I got from the other riders let me know they were aware my nonsense just turned their day to hell.

It was a week before things simmered down enough to square things with him.

"I've been fretting," I said.

"Well,  it doesn't do to have you fret,"  K said and smiled.

"I don't want you thinking I don't listen to you, because I do. I just didn't understand what was wrong with that paint."

"I know. It was hard watching you go over, that's all."

"I know." I turned and headed back to my barn.

"Janet?"

I stopped. "Yeah?"

"It's the trainer in you. That's why you can't leave it alone."

I gave him a half wave and went to collect my rides.