New Horse Owners, Boarding Barns and Doing the Right Thing

The comments following the latest Tally post brought up some great issues -- some very near and dear to my heart.

While dealing with the result of poor Tim's attempts at independent horsemanship,  riding a horse he owned, but really wasn't ready for, I was getting a crash course in responsible horse training and the human condition.

Here's the thing. The entire situation was my fault. Not Tim's, not the well intentioned, fairly dim advice he was getting drowned with, not the NH wannabe trainers that frequented the barn and were dying to get their hands on Tally. It was mine.

I certainly didn't understand that at the time. There are many reasons this story is tough for me, the biggest being having to face and accept my responsibility. When I took Tally on as a project, I was in the most dangerous place a horse trainer can be. I had just enough knowledge to cause a whole lot of trouble and was still naive enough to not understand the potential repercussions.

Normally, I try to get my philosophy across through my stories. This time, I'm going to break protocol and spell a few things out. I didn't sort this stuff out until many years later and I have reached a limit in my story telling ability. I can't figure out how to get my message out without getting all boring and lecture-y in the telling. Plus, these are concerns I really want to share, without making you guys figure them out, right or wrong, while I sit back and watch (like I usually do). So, I'll do it now, and then get back to the telling.

These are the core beliefs I held at that time. Some I still adhere to, some I have either let go or dramatically modified.

1. All horses deserve a chance.

2. No horse is too much to rehabilitate.

3. Anybody who wants it bad enough can learn to train a horse.

4. "Feel" can be taught to anyone - because I could see and read a situation, anybody could learn to do the same.

5. Because I was developing an effective training method it was the "right" one for every horse and rider.

6. Any horse can be taught to be at least competent in any situation.

7. ***A horse's affection/behavior on the ground translates to behavior under saddle.***

I never, ever, should have sold Tally to Tim. Instead of listening to him and understanding what he needed, I let him talk me into what he thought he wanted.

Tim was new to horses. He loved the animal, the romance of looking like a cowboy and the challenge. All very good reasons to get into horses. He wanted to get into reining. He was 45 years old, had never ridden, was a well-to-do architect with oodles of discretionary income, and had the time to invest in a life-long dream.

He was at the perfect barn for him. It was filled with people of the same ilk, that mostly rode trails and muddled around with some kind of NH training, and run well by a couple who had been working with this type of rider their entire career.

He needed to be mounted on a solid minded, sound bodied, six to ten-year-old ranch gelding, with enough talent to be shaped into a green rider/rookie reining horse. Tim would have had the joy of learning to ride on a quality horse and I would have gotten a healthy share of that discretionary income by teaching them both the basics of reining. He might (probably would) have become something of a rock star at that barn full of bored wealthy horse owners and I might (probably would) have picked up a bunch more clients to molly coddle their way to reining 101.

Tim had potential, drive, a great work ethic and a gentle, horse magnet soul. Tally saw it and was drawn to it. Tim was flattered by my "wild" mare's attention and fell in love.

If I had understood all of this, I would have given him a firm, "Step away from the rehab mare," and guided him on to the next horse he fell for, out of a group of carefully selected prospects that would take us where we needed to go. He would have fallen just as hard, been happier, and certainly safer, if I had done my job.

But I didn't get it.

The barn full of judgmental critics? Personally, I can hardly point fingers. They watched Tim buy a horse he could only ride under my direction -- and then saw why. To them, it translated to "stupid trainer." C'mon, let's be honest, how many times have we thought it, seen it, said it?

They had horses they could ride. Their horses didn't behave like Tally. They were not experienced in the cow horse world, so they didn't recognize her potential or her talent. They just saw a small, snorty, emotional, spooky,maybe dangerous horse with mutton withers that kept rolling her saddle.

They weren't wrong. Tally was all those things. I truly thought she would be OK, because if she was handled just so, she seemed to work things out. I was sure I could teach anybody what "just so" meant. What I wasn't seeing was reality. Not everybody wants, or should even try, to take on the Tally's of the world. My responsibility as a trainer is to factor in who and what people are. Not to try to mold them into my version of Horaii, but to help them find their own.

In the barn chaff's (boarders) mind, with their input, their trainer, their videos, Tim could have the same thing they did -- nice horses.Which he could have, if I had the sense to mount him on the right-minded horse. He couldn't appreciate Tally's abilities, he certainly couldn't ride her to her potential, and he didn't need to. The people who were being so critical couldn't ride her either, but they didn't know that. None of them had been exposed to a horse like Tally before and there was no earthly reason for them to be. I just didn't understand.

Here's the deal. It wasn't ego that caused this big fat swampy morass of a fubar. It was my insecurity, my lack of confidence, my utter conviction that if I could do it, anybody could. I had so little self esteem it never occurred to me that my knowledge, experience and ability might add up to more than what I could teach through lessons. It was almost the undoing of both Tally and Tim.