Help Is All Around You

This is my column from last week. But I have to add a little here. You guys are going to say HA! And I deserve it. When I brought my yellow mare in from pasture my pattern with her changed. I will get her out and groom her sometimes, just to take a break from work. There are days when I just let her graze. It's a completely new phase in our relationship.

The first time I got out my favorite rubber curry and began giving her a good rub down she almost came undone. Not in a bad way, mind you, I swear she was almost orgasmic.

Madonna groaned and worked her mouth and stretched out. She kept looking at me in complete amazement.

It suddenly hit me. I had never really groomed her before. She is 7 years old, I've owned her for the last 5 1/2 years and she's never been just brushed down.

Madonna grew up as part of my line up while I was training. My grooming was extremely functional. I took off their blankets, threw on a saddle and rode. Afterwards they were bathed, blanketed and put in their stall.

I felt like a total schmuck.

So now my horse is enjoying her full share of spa days. And she nickers when she sees me. She nuzzles my face and gently sniffs my hands. It's great. You guys tried to tell me.


Here's my article.....



I was grooming my mare yesterday and had the chance to observe a fellow boarder work his young colt. The sorrel gelding was moving comfortably around the pen at a jog. His owner was doing some bending and flexing exercises, his light hands and subtle sense of timing were what drew my eye.

The colt was relaxed under saddle and perfectly willing to bend and give where his owner wanted him to.

I was thinking how nice it is to watch a colt being given a good start in life. He was happy in his work, his tail swung in an easy rhythm and his eyes were bright and cheerful. The horse was being ridden exactly the way I like to see a young horse go, exactly the way I strive to start my horses. I can only hope mine look as congenial and forward as this one did.

His nose followed the riders hands, his ribs lined up as the riders legs asked, and his hip stayed lively and mobile.

The rider took the colt out in our big arena and loped him out. There was no panic, no skittering, no nonsense. Just an even, relaxed cadence on a loose rein.

What drew my eye was the quality of riding. This guy can handle a colt. I would let him start one of mine, which is not something I say very often.

Here’s the kicker. This guy is a roper. His real job is horse shoing.

He rides completely different than I do, from the length of his stirrups to where he sits in the saddle. His sport is completely different than mine. The propulsion, balance points and way of going are completely different than the ones I’ve learned.

But when it comes to how he starts his colt on life’s path, it’s all the same.

This tells me two things.

I can find quality riders in every aspect of horsemanship.

I know what I want and can recognize it when I see it.

The first point is one I’ve brought up before and probably will again. I have found I can learn something from everyone I meet. This is especially true in the horse world.

I learned a lot about forward and how to grow a tail on a horse from a Morgan trainer I barn shared with. I’m talking about the kind of Morgans that have their heads cranked high in the air, their feet are kept so long you can’t figure out how they move, and they spend their lives in box stalls wearing neck sweats and cruppers.

This is not a discipline I understand, or, I’m afraid, approve of. I hated the way the horses were kept. I hate the bitting rigs, the feet and their life of imprisonment.

I had a problem with the spoiled brat owners, the snotty little girls in their really expensive riding togs, and the concept of money winning everything.

Because I had to barn share with the guy I kept my mouth shut. He was equally wary of me, I can’t imagine what kinds of crazy heathen he thought I was.

One afternoon I was watching him work a horse on the rail in our indoor arena. His assistant was shooting off a cap gun as the horse would pass. The young gelding would drive even harder, his legs would snap higher and he would get even more air between strides. His eyes were rolling in terror and he was soaked in hot, foamy sweat.

I tried to figure out what the hell they were doing to the poor horse.

When he had finished and handed off the colt to his assistant I went over to talk to him.

“Could you explain what you were doing to me?” I asked.

The Morgan trainer was immediately on the defensive. “What are you talking about?”

“I was watching how much forward your horse has,” I hurried to explain,” and even when he knew you were going to shoot off the cap gun he just pushed harder into the bridle instead of shying away.”

The trainer relaxed and explained the idea behind it. The cap guns were to get a higher level of animation out of the horse. The horses were taught from day one they would get a release from pressure by driving themselves straight and forward. As their hind legs drove forward they met the bit and went higher, driving themselves as if they were climbing a hill. It created the flashy look the Morgan show ring required.

Don’t get me wrong here. I hate, hate, hate the unnatural way these horses were treated. I can’t condone it. I am well aware there are many who can’t condone the way I do things either. So instead of screaming from the roof tops how right I am, I try to glean something useful from everybody I come across. I had all kinds of thinking to do about drive and how to get it from my conversations with the Morgan trainer.

I learned that the snooty little girls were just as anxious about winning, losing, looking stupid or making a mistake as my students were. I also saw the horses showered with love and affection and realized Morgan’s were pretty athletic, kind, and social. Spoiled brat owners? Well, they come at all levels, what can I say. The Morgan guy taught me how to grow out a tail with a minimum of fuss.

My second point revolves around being able to recognize good training. I developed my point of view over a lot of years. From the people who helped or hindered when I was kid, to the trainers I rubbed elbows with as I progressed through the professional world, I learned to recognize what was effective handling and what wasn’t.

I’m one of those people who will watch an entire horse show. After I’ve ridden an my horse is put up I still go to the stands and watch until the end.

I watch my fellow competitors from the warm-up to their go in the arena. I watch the interaction between trainers and their clients. I watch the horses, study their build, their legs, their headset. At the breed shows I watch at least part of the other classes, from halter to western riding. I do a lot of deliberate thinking about what I would like to be able to do and how I would go about doing it.

Again, my obsessive nature is probably showing, but I can’t help it. I study the cowboys on their horses in the old Westerns the same way. How do they ride, how does the horse go, what kind of gear are they using?

So now, I’m retired, my horses are pretty much as good as they’re going to get and I’m still watching and learning. Like the roper on his colt. He got me thinking. Is my colt wrapping around my leg as light as the little sorrel colt? Is he moving out as free and easy? I can’t wait to go check myself and my little colt out.