What I Learned from Captain

Thanks for the input on the Regumate. I'm going to work with my hormonal little wack-job for the next few weeks. I'll take her to a day show this week-end, and to an AQHA show in June. If I haven't ironed things out by then I guess I'll cave to her owners and dose her back up.
It just tweaks me to think that the poor thing has been chemically altered since she was two. How can she cope with her emotional little self if she was never given a chance to learn? Isn't that like putting toddlers on Ritalin because they like to run around screaming? Oh yeah, I guess that happens.

What I Learned from Captain

1. Sometimes my ego gets in the way of my common sense.
Captain was dangerous. I have other horses to ride. A daughter to bring to adulthood. A family to make dinner for. A very healthy credit card bill that needs to be paid every single month.
I had no business riding that horse. He intrigued me. He was very engaging in a hopeless sort of way. I wanted to be the one who fixed him. I wanted to be right. It turned out I wasn't.

2. I need to trust my instincts.
I was afraid of Captain. I was working in an atmosphere that continually challenged every core belief I had about horse behavior and training. I felt incompetent because I couldn't get a handle on him.
Part of what makes me a strong trainer is the fact that I continually doubt my abilities. I constantly question every move I make, and worry that I could have tried one more thing and that would be the magic formula.
Part of what makes me a weak trainer is the fact that I continually doubt my abilities.
I should have listened to my gut. I was afraid of him for a reason.
Even when I had him riding well enough to let other people tool around on him, I never truly relaxed. In my heart I knew he wasn't right.

3. Not all horses deserve to be saved.
When a horse is willing to injure himself in order to escape what he perceives as a bad situation, his rider will NEVER be safe.
If he has no regard for himself, you can bet you will never cross his mind in a high stress situation.
The first horse I trained for Reined Cowhorse competition was more athlete than I was rider.
On one of our fence turns I lost my seat and started to come off. She stopped and waited for me to find my seat, and then continued down the fence. She was considered an extremely unreliable and rowdy horse. I trusted her implicitly. She always knew where her feet were. She always knew where I was.
Captain didn't know what planet he was on.
There are a lot of good minded horses that end up at the sales. There are too many people tying themselves to bad minded horses and losing out on the joys of owning a good horse. There are more horses than people who want them. You might as well go with a good one.

4. Horses can suffer from psychoses.
He tried to climb through a window with me on him. 'Nuff said.

5. All horses deserve a chance.
I believe this with all my heart. I will never regret riding Captain. My regret comes from letting it go on too long. Unfortunately I was really fond of the stupid bastard. I have notoriously bad taste in men too.

6. Just because I can ride them doesn't mean I have to.
Captain got me over (forever and ever) the notion that I had to ride every horse I have brought to me. I have finally learned to call the owners and say "Come pick them up." It took me years to get there. I even have a list of other trainers I'll send people to. I've lost a few customers that way, but none that I needed to keep.

7. If a vice has succeeded for a horse in the past, it can always rear it's ugly head again.
Captain was a bolter. Some will buck. Other's will rear or flip over. I have learned the hard way that you can think you have completely rid a horse of a vice. Captain had not bolted since the very first rides. Not once. Until he almost killed my friend.
If any horse feels their life is in danger, and if nothing else is going to make them safe, they will return to the behavior that they feel worked for them. I don't care if they haven't done that behavior for fifteen years. It's still there.
If you can't handle them at their worst, then you shouldn't kid yourself that you'll never see it again. Be honest with yourself and your horse.
Most horses don't bolt, rear, or flip over. Really evaluate if you can stay safe with one that does.

8. I can really stick a horse when I'm terrified.
Captain made me realize I'm a pretty gnarly rider. He tested levels of flexibility and balance that I hadn't tried for years. He pushed my patience to the limits, and made me stretch the boundaries of my training techniques. I still like to think he'll end up with the right rider some day. It's a shame to waste that floaty trot.

Captain three

I've got a mare in training that flunked out of the reining program of one of the big boys. The longer I have her the more I'm beginning to understand why. She's a fruit loop. A bonified idiot.
Her Shining Spark blood can't save her.
I just found out that this mare had been on Regumate since she was two. When she got tossed out of the program the owners took her home and bred her.(Of course) To a pleasure horse. Someone please explain that to me.....They brought her to me after they weaned.
I do not have her on Regumate. She is a blazing freak when she's cycling.
My question is this, did the steady diet Regumate screw up her hormones?
Or is it possible that since she has always been on it she has never been taught how to cope without it?
Or is she simply the PMS queen of the quarter horse set?
Is this a training issue or a chemical problem? Any thoughts?

Captain Three

Captain found he could handle me getting on. He would walk around a little as long as I didn't try to pick up a rein. Or move my legs. Or scratch my nose.
He was still absolutely phobic about any kind of containment.
I understood that my sitting on him was pushing him to the limits of his claustrophobia.
I figured we would add the elements of riding one step at a time.
I didn't figure that he wouldn't let me off.
But he wouldn't. The little pixie.

Forty minutes after I got on I was still trying to ease off.
Every time I shifted my weight, his skinny little neck would hoist that big old, bug eyed head even higher. His butt would sink and he would skitter forward a few steps, I'd shift back, and he'd relax
Talk about keeping to the middle!

I knew I could do an emergency dismount and get out of there.
I also knew it would scare the crap out of him.
He really was trying to be good.

The Big K stuck his head back through the window. "You're going to be riding colts 'til midnight at this rate. Isn't it broke yet?"
"No it is not broke. I might be if I can't get off it."
"Good grief, you are such a gunzel."
The Big K never swears, but he might as well. Gunzel my butt.
"Take a deep breath, make sure you have just your toe in the stirrup, and swing off from the middle. Don't let your weight shift." He said.
"I meant today!" He added.
That's a tall order for an old, sweaty, fat woman. Ever obedient I went for it.
I hit the ground on my feet, Captain launched into space, but turned and looked at me when he landed.
"Hmmm." I said.
Captain snorted.
I'll be darned. There's reasons I put up with the Big K.

Inch by inch Captain started to relax. We were walking around the indoor. I could guide him by lifting one rein at a time. I never gathered him up or tried to hold him. I kept my legs soft, an imaginary quarter inch of air between him and me. I stopped him by, well, waiting for him to stop.
Then I would sink my weight, pick up on my reins, (they only changed position, I never pulled) and say whoa.
It still took at least ten minutes to get off him.

I tried to respect his fear. In return he really tried to cope, and cooperate.
I realized Captain was eager to work every day. He had become interested in what we were doing
Score for me.

We began to trot. Lo and behold, it was the loveliest, floatiest trot I had ever ridden. The increased speed seemed to soothe him. I tentatively began to ride with my seat. He became willing to accept my gentle direction. He had a natural cadence and drive that made me think there might be something to this boy.
I finally added my legs, one at a time. I could rest my calves on his sides and get a response by just tightening my muscles.
He would stop when I exhaled and said whoa. I began to make light contact with the bit.
I had bitted him after the first ride. While I normally ride in a side pull for the first ten or so rides, Captain had made me pee myself, just a little, but still... I wanted a snaffle. I needed to know I had some potential torque whether I could use it or not.
It had only taken two days of him thrashing and banging his head against the tie rail to get him to accept it.

When it was time to lope I couldn't do it. I was just too afraid. The ramming into the wall had made more of an impression than I could admit.
Every time I would encourage Captain to transition up he would gather himself and start chugging almost in place. Remember, I had my reins thrown completely out. He felt like I was hanging on his face, and getting ready to blow.
I sucked up and asked one of the other apprentice trainers to do it. I have slowly watched my pride leach away over the years.The need for self preservation has overcome most of my stiff necked inclinations.
Lucky for me, the other junior trainer was only too happy to show me how much better he was than I. It always works for me when somebody's high self esteem is matched by an equally low I.Q.
I should be nice. He did get up there. He did get Captain to lope.
After they blew around the arena two or three times, and bounced off a few walls.
Once again, kudos to Jr. Big K. He hung in there. He helped me.
He wouldn't get on him again.

I called the Morgan trainer that had started him. I asked him how it had gone with Captain.
He wouldn't give me much, but I did find out that he had longed him in the full bitting rig they use to teach the Morgans that high, pulled back, head set.
He made him stand for hours in his stall bitted in that rig.

That made the light bulb go on.
When I was asking Captain to go forward he was expecting to hit the restraint of the rig.
My poor claustrophbic psychopath had spent five months in a straight jacket and a cell.

I continued to ride Captain with almost no contact. It's not that far a stretch from how I start them anyway. He just brought out the, "please, I want to curl up in a fetal position and grab on with everything I have" in me, so it was harder to do.
I would take him left or right with a single rein, or light pressure from my legs, but never both at the same time.
I stopped him with my seat. If he didn't stop I would wait until he did, then reinforce my relax, exhale, legs off , whoa cue.
I asked him for forward with my calves, and let him find his lope on his own time.
It was beautiful.

He wanted to lope with his nose almost to the ground. It was a little unnerving, but his back stayed relaxed, (even if mine didn't) so I let him have it. I have always figured he was playing with the freedom I gave his head. Or just messing with mine.

He began to back! I would ask with a tightening of my reins in a left, right motion, after he stopped, and he began to take a step or two.
It was my first attempt at containment with my reins, and he accepted it.

His owner called and asked if he had a good turn around.
I screamed something intelligible into the phone.
She added a nice bonus on my next paycheck.

Now that I had a handle on why he was so freaked by any kind of hold, I felt like I had a base to work with. I kept alternating my cues, but made them stronger and more definite. I expected him to respond to me, if he didn't whoa off my seat, I'd give him the back cue. Discipline! He accepted it with grace. We were on our way. I began to relax. Big mistake.

I had forgotten Captain was deranged from day one. I had been happily blaming the Morgan guy for all our problems. I had put Captain in a category, a slot, a place I felt safer in.I was trotting Captain along the arena wall. He was motoring along at a pretty good rate, he was soft in my hands, with light contact. I was drifting off, enjoying his wonderful trot.

There was a series of windows, about five feet off the ground, that went the length of the arena. There was a pen of horses outside windows. A horse stuck his inquiring nose through the window as we passed by. Captain looked at him, nickered, and tried to go through the window. He got his head and front legs through before I grabbed hold of the reins. I jerked hard with my outside rein and pulled him to the ground. Typical Captain, he didn't spook until he had all four back in the arena. Then he bolted.

That was the last straw. I was over it. I sat quiet for about four strides, and then pulled his head to the wall. I kicked hard with my wall side heel. He actually responded, disengaged, and did a respectable turn We did about six of those before he settled into a working lope. I let him have a few turns around the arena and asked for a whoa. He stopped, rocked back and ready, so I backed him five or six steps. Then I slid off. For once he didn't spook. I bent over, hands on my knees, and took some deep breaths. I felt him nibble lightly at my sweat slick T-shirt.

From that day on I rode Captain like any other young horse. He was ready. Still really strange, but ready. I never let my guard down. He kept trying. He kept things interesting. At the end of 120 days he could ride inside or out. He stood tied. The farrier and vet could handle him. He knew his leads. He had a pretty decent turn around. We were down to only five minutes until I could dismount. I sent him home.

A year later his owner brought him back. Nobody would buy him. She had tried to keep him ridden, but was afraid of him."He's never actually done anything, but I never feel like he's all there. He won't let me dismount."

"Yup." I said.

So now I was supposed to tune him up, get him used to other people riding him, and keep him until sold. I had Captain all summer. I rode him. My daughter rode him. My upper level students rode him. My dressage buddy came and rode him. She loved his floaty gaits, said he was "feely". He made everybody a little nervous. Nobody bought him.

The owner took him home in the fall. He spent the winter tearing down fences. His owner spent the winter tearing out her hair. Nobody bought him.

She brought him back for one more shot. He nickered when he saw me. I rode him for a few weeks. He was actually pretty good.

She found a potential buyer. A way too green one in my opinion. I was testily informed that she worked with a trainer and would be fine. When she mounted she lugged herself up, and kneed him in the flank. Captain jumped, the potential buyer hit the dirt. I rode him until he was no longer white eyed. She wanted to try again. Captain wouldn't let her anywhere near. Smart Captain. I called a halt to that one.

A few weeks later the owner called to say she was bringing out somebody else. Their John Lyons certified trainer was coming with.

"That might work."I said.

The afternoon they were coming I got him out and took him through his paces. His ground work was solid. I rode him for about forty five minutes. It was all good. One of my best students was hanging out that day. She is one of my best friends, and a hand. She had ridden Captain before.

"Hop on him for a minute or two would you?" I asked. "I want to make sure he's over that spooking crap with other riders."

She got up without any trouble. She walked him around for about ten minutes. The farrier drove up.

"Just trot a circle and we'll make sure you can get dismounted." I said.

My student, my friend, clucked to Captain. He bolted. As he came through the corner he actually picked up more speed. He slung her into the iron rail of our arena. She ended up in ICU for several days. She had 6 broken ribs, a deflated lung, cracked vertebrae, a broken shoulder and clavicle. I called the owner and told her to get him off my place within the week. No one was to ride him. I didn't want him touched until he was loaded into the trailer.

She gave him to the John Lyons certified trainer. The trainer was sure any horse could be trained if approached the right way. She had a lot of confidence in her abilities.. She thought she was pretty hot stuff.

It turns out the John Lyons trainer was not quite certified. The first and only horse she had ever trained had come up lame before she finished. She planned on using Captain to finish her course.

Captain never made it. I heard stories about how smart he was. How quickly he picked up on his round pen work. (Well duh, he could lead change, half pass, stop and spin) Then nothing. The last I heard the new trainer tried to ride him. Once. Captain is now a pasture ornament. He is fat and shiny, and teases them as he races by with his fluid, beautiful gaits.

Score a big one for Captain.

I guess.

Captain two

Our last new baby was born yesterday. A beautiful, straight legged sorrel filly. We only had three this year. Boss is only breeding two mares this year. Our hay guy called and said the last time he had fuel delivered it was 5.00 a gallon. The market for horse sales is slightly up around here. I wonder if it will crash again when first cutting prices come out?
It seems that the higher priced horses are selling just fine. It's the lower end ones that are stalling out. I guess that means to buy and breed top quality, or stay out of the business.
So getting back to the lower end of the horse biz....

Captain two

I stood and watched as Captain circled me, doing his happy dinner dance. I could tell he felt we had gotten a lot done that day. He had almost broken through my barrier of resistance. He was sure I was ready to join up and board his Horse + Woman + Ship. With his help he knew I could find the way of the horse. One look in my eye and Captain was positive I was going to find true unity, understand him to the depths his very soul, and leave him the hell alone.
Something inside me snapped.
I turned around and took him back to his tie spot. I tied him up securely and left him. I listened to him scream and holler while I went to do my chores. I chewed on the situation while I put up my other horses and fed the stock.
When I came back to my special friend, I brought two water buckets, a full hay bag, and an extra halter. I tied up the hay bag and the water buckets ten feet down, and around the corner from his usual spot. Then I got Captain, put the second halter on top of the first, and tied him to his new feeding station.
Captain assessed his new situation, and promptly struck at water bucket #1. Water flew everywhere. He looked at me with flattened ears and pawed at bucket #2.
I knocked on the Big Kahuna's door, and told him what I was up to.
"Make sure I can see him from the window." He growled.
I'm not going to come out and check on him all night."
Then I went home. As I drove away Captain was knocking his hay bag around with his head.
The next morning my little buddy was wailing with everything he had.
His hay was scattered all around his feet. I don't think he got a single bite.
One of the halters was undone and laying on the ground. It gave me a moments pause when I realized it was the halter underneath, not the one on top. One of his lead ropes was chewed through.
I ignored it all, filled his bucket, and gave him fresh hay.
He very gratefully drank his fill of water, and then went on to quietly munch his hay.
Score one for me.
When he was done, I moved him over to his usual spot.
Captain was horrified. He sucked back, he jumped, he kicked.
I left and started getting out my string of horses to ride.
About noon the Big Kahuna, aka Mr. Communication, loped past and grunted, nodding towards Captain.
He was standing with his hip cocked, dozing in the sun. Silent. OMG!
I rode over to him, crawled over the fence, and took him to his feeding station. I let him tank up and gave him a little lunch.
When he was done I took him back to his tie spot. He sighed, and licked his chops. I scratched his butt and went back to work.
At dinner time he threw a monumental fit. I ignored him until all my chores were done and then put him back at his feed station. With two halters and three lead ropes, all slathered with Chew Stop.
When I left him, he was eating his hay, ears flat back, and his tail wringing, but he was eating.
The next morning he nickered a greeting. He still had half a bucket of water. There was no hay thrown on the ground. He ate his breakfast, ears and tail relaxed. He watched peacefully as I worked my line of babies.
When I took him to his tie spot he immediately cocked his hip, dropped his head and got ready to nap.
So I saddled him.
He tolerated the saddle pad after about ten tries. I was polite the first five tries. Then I just threw it on him.
When I could drag the pad all over him with only mild freak outs, I picked up my colt saddle.
One look and he threw himself on the ground.
I stood and waited.
Then I put my saddle down, sat on it, and waited.
Captain got up.
I put the pad back on him, and picked up my saddle. Captain went down.
After the third throw down he quit. I got the saddle on and cinched without more quivering than any other normal horse.
I left him saddled for the rest of the day.
He bucked in place for awhile. Pawed his excavation pit a bit bigger.
He didn't suck back, or throw himself. No wailing.
He spent most of the afternoon alternately kicking each stirrup and turning to watch them swing.
That night when I put my other horses up and fed, Captain watched. He pawed a little, but stayed quiet.
He was afraid when I unsaddled him, but handled it.
When I took him to his hay bags he dove in. No muss, no fuss. I scratched his butt and left.
The next morning he nickered again. Politely led back and forth to his tie spots.
He only threw himself once when I saddled him.
He was quiet all day.
That night I led him to his stall. He was quiet on the lead rope. He whinnied to his barn buddies as we came in, but didn't pull on me once.
Score two for me.
The next morning he was still in his stall. He nickered to me. Faced up and let me put his halter on. Led out the perfect gentleman.
Got saddled like a grown up, with a minimum of flinching.
Every day for a week he stood saddled, quiet and polite.
It was time to start riding.
With most horses I would be doing lots of ground work at this point. Remember, Captain had spent 5 months with the Morgan trainer.
I knew he had learned something, because he would do that weird Morgan stretch every time he was worried. (It took forever to get rid of that one.)
I felt like I had to use the momentum I had going.
And I was tired of getting razzed by the guys at the barn.
We're cowboys. I had been dinking with Captain for almost 60 days and still wasn't on him. That is not the cowboy way.
So I took him into the indoor, longed the stink off him, and started my "get on the first time" ritual.
I pulled on the stirrups. I swung them back and forth. I pulled the saddle back and forth. I patted his butt. I pulled on the back cinch. I made sure he had a little give to the right and left with the side pull.
I put a little weight in the stirrup. All systems were go. Don't get me wrong, Captain had done his fair share of jumping and spooking. But none of it was out of the realm of manageable.
I took a light hold of my inside rein and bounced up and down in the stirrup. I stood up.
Captain took off.
His head flopped to the side, he took his shoulder and bolted across the arena. We hit the arena wall.
Captain stopped. I stepped off.
We took a breath, I led him to the middle of the arena and tried again.
As soon as I stood up he bolted again. With his head flopped over he was running blind. I could have sworn I was on one of Parelli's finest.We hit the wall again.
I stepped off, and looked at Captain.
He looked at me. Hmmm.
The Big Kahuna leaned in through the arena window.
"You OK? There's an awful lot of banging going on in here."
"He's taking his shoulder and bolting when I stand up in the stirrup." I said.
"Well step off and whack him."
"He gets going too fast. I can't get off."
"Turn him."
He has his head flopped to my knee."
"You're pulling to hard, give him his head."
The Big Kahuna is big on giving them their head. No matter what they're doing.
"I am NOT pulling." I was getting exasperated.
"Show me."
Like I wanted to do that. Sigh.
So I led him to the middle of the arena and stood up in the stirrup.
You know the drill. BANG!
"Well at least he hits first." Says the Big K.
"That's not helping." I replied.
"Tie him up."
"I am not getting on him tied. He'll beat me to death on the walls."
"Don't get on him. What kind of a fool are you? Sheesh. He's afraid of you standing over his head. Just step up and down until he can deal."
"OK." I felt a little dubious, but The Big K is usually right in these matters. Plus I had to do what he said. Always.
"And hurry up, you're behind on your rides."
At least I knew he cared.
After 20 or so tries at stepping up and down on both sides, Captain decided I wasn't going to kill him.
I took him back to the middle of the arena and completely gave him his head.
I stood up in the stirrup.
He shifted around, and slung his head, but he didn't run.
I didn't puke all over my saddle. It was all good.
I got on.
He started to chug. Feet going, but not really moving anywhere.
I lightly picked up his rein and he skittered in a circle.
He stopped.
I tried to remember how to breathe.
He sighed and I felt his back relax.
I scratched his neck, and made myself relax too.
I didn't barf.
He didn't bolt.
Score Three.
This is getting longer than I planned, so I guess I have to go to part three. See you next post.