A few glaring differences in the horses south of the equator...

When I have a few minutes I’ll sit down and write an in depth account of the fantastic seven weeks I spent at the southern tip of South America… But from the equine related aspects here are a few of the glaring differences I saw in the time I spent around the horses south of the equator.

1.) Treated Like Horses
The animals are bred in natural settings, born in nature without human assistance and raised in a herd.   Because the seasons are reversed, I was present to see several births (from a distance) and then watch within a few days the colts climbing sheer 6,000-10,000 foot cliffs.  They learned how to find wind blocks from the consistent 50-70mph winds.  They learned how to find the snowmelt and fresh water.  They learned how to forage and find the freshest grasses.  And when the “unknown” approached, they were alert with a sensibility, rather than reactivity.

2.) Exposure
Although for the most part horses are kept in open range scenarios, there was also the reality that basically horse trailers don’t exist.  The roads are bad at best, and it is often easier and faster to ride to where you need to go.  So as you rode down the road you’d pass a variety of cars, mini semi’s, barking dogs, piles of equipment waiting to be used, the hides of various animals hanging on fence lines (as all parts of a butchered animal is used, not just the meat), etc.  Keep in mind the wind is a constant, so any discarded trash, flapping tin roofs, etc. were continually flying about, making obnoxious noises, never mind the never ending barrage of random barking dogs that would appear out of nowhere.

3.  Get with the program
Once you arrived, there was nothing to tie to.  So it was totally normal to have a horse standing fully tacked, with the bridle on, ground tied in three feet deep lush grass, in the middle of nowhere, and wait.  This could be for five minutes or five hours. During this time other horses may come or go, but if you dropped the reins, the horse realized his “job” was to watch and wait.  When moving livestock on foot, the ground tied horses would move themselves to watch the working dogs and humans sort animals.

4.)  Thoughtfulness vs. fleeing
I witnessed on more than one occasion if gauchos were passing through the area, they would appear and randomly let three or four of their horses loose on the side of the road to graze.  FOR SEVERAL DAYS.  The horses would stay put only meandering a ¼ mile or so during that time.  Then the gauchos would easily catch them and ride on.

5.)  “Ride or die” kind of partnership
Most people don’t realize the hidden ecosystem and phenomenal landscape that awaits at the “ends of the earth.”  I’ve traveled to most continents and have been to many, many beautiful places in the world, but what I witnessed on this trip was jaw dropping.  Often with amazing scenery it is gorgeous to look at from a distance, but impassible.
Unless of course you have the 4x4 version of South American horsepower. For those of you who have seen the movie, The Man From Snowy River, and know the classic “off the cliff scene,” well, that had nothing on some of the places I rode.
And I can honestly say I’ve only ridden maybe two horses in my life that I would have trusted in that extreme environment, but down south there was this confidence in the animal that truly renewed my faith that there were still some horses that had maintained what “horses used to be”- mentally, emotionally and physically.
Oh yeah, and remember whatever goes straight up, must ride straight down, and yet I never felt worry, a misstep, or concern from the horses, even when asking them to do something they hadn’t planned to do…

6.) The horses that had issues
Ironically were the ones whose “training” was based on western society’s police/classical programs.  They were not the typical 14.3-15.1H local rough stock but rather imported Thoroughbred types.  They were tacked in standing martingales, double bridles, with officers holding crops and wearing spurs. The horses (and I saw this in several cities) displayed frazzled nerves as they “paroled” (or my guess would be probably “survived” in the horse’s mind) the streets of a town.  Agitated, fussy, worried, and insecure and stressed out. Hmmm…
I'll be adding more about the trip when I have a few minutes!
Sam

Summer 2015 Hoofprints & Happenings Newsletter

Enjoy the latest Hoofprints & Happenings Newsletter http://bit.ly/1MzU1KW

Humans, Horses and Pressure

Horses, Humans and Pressure

When we work with a horse we primarily use two forms of pressure to communicate, physical pressure (the lead rope attached to the halter, the rein, the leg, the seat, etc.) or spatial pressure (not touching the horse but able to influence his brain and movement.) Vocal commands are the third, less common form of pressure.

A horse’s natural response to pressure is to flee from it, become defensive towards it, or to physically “challenge” it, which causes him to be unable to “hear” the person.  The horse needs to learn that pressure offered by a person can be a positive way to communicate.

It should be thought of as a tool that affects the clarity of communication between a person and their horse.  It can be used to teach the horse to be respectful towards personal space, defining literal and imaginary boundaries.  Whether from the ground or in the saddle, teaching the horse to follow, soften and yield to the pressure of a lead rope, rein, leg or your seat are quality and necessary aids.  It should and can be used to teach the horse to become mentally available before offering physical movement.

The term “pressure” often has a negative association due to the misuse of it through a person’s attempts of controlling and micromanaging the horse.  Pressure forcing a horse into submission whether through physical dominance, using gadgets and devices or physically wearing down the horse tends to evolve into a battle of the wills.  Pressure by forcing something upon the horse until he has to choose between the “lessors of two evils” has no quality outcome. Physically aggressive pressure or “driving” the horse as a tactic basically scares a horse into doing something (crossing water, trailer loading, passing the scary spot on the trail) and contributes to distrust between horse and person.

Due to a misunderstanding, inattentiveness, distraction, and lack of awareness, many people unintentionally communicate a constant barrage of chaos through both spatial and physical pressure.  A “busy-ness” from a person in their activity with the lead rope/rein/leg dulls the horse and teaches the horse to ignore the person and become defensive towards pressure.  Having slow, after-the-fact critical responses towards their horse, inconsistently allowing behaviors, and not establishing clear boundaries are common contributors leading to a horse’s resistance towards any form of pressure. 

People tend to hurry in life and often the same applies to their horsemanship.  Accomplishing the “task” often becomes the focal point, rather than addressing the quality of communication they have with their horse. As long as the horse mostly “goes along” with what is asked, people tend to accept the horse’s behavior.  But without effective “tools” (I don’t mean gadgets, rather how a person uses pressure to communicate) they often wind up at the “mercy” of the horse or “surviving” the ride.  This then creates a cycle of worry, fear and insecurity in both human and horse.

Take a few minutes to evaluate your relationship with your horse, considering the following questions:

If you walk into the pasture/stall does your horse automatically move away from you (fleeing from your spatial pressure)?  Does he approach nicely but “hover” in your personal space (delegating the pecking order of where you’re at in his herd)?  If you raise your hands to halter him does he move his head up, away, or “dive” into the halter (defensive, anticipative, disrespectful)?  When leading him is he lethargic and slow in response, does he try to “hide” behind you as you walk, does it feel like he is “leading” you and rushing, or does he constantly walk with his head cranked over his shoulder with his body bumping into you? 

If you walk past grass or a buddy horse does he try to drag you over to where he wants to go?  If you ask him to stop moving using the lead rope lightly does he respond slowly, is over-reactive, or completely ignores you?  If you walk faster or slower does he mimic your energy with his, or does he only offer one speed irrelevant of what you’re asking? 

If he is tied does he paw, wiggle, chew on the lead rope, pull back against the rope, or move away from you as you groom/tack him?  When you mount, does he stand still, walk off before you’re ready, or fidget if asked him to stand longer than he wanted?

If you’ve answered yes to any of the above questions, there probably needs to be a re-defining (even in “accomplished” or “broke” horses) as to their interpretation of pressure and the quality of your communication.  A person can be actively supportive of the horse through the use of respectful pressure.  But if the horse feels defensive towards pressure, you are limiting your tools and options when communicating, helping and supporting your horse.

The mental availability and physical behavior your horse offers while working with him from the ground typically decreases in quality when you ride.  If you dislike what your horse is offering now, don’t wait until later to address it.  The horse feels a fly land on him, he can feel you.  If he disregards you when you ask something minor, what will happen when you ask more of him?  Any initial display of resistance will only increase as you put him in situations that are stressful or not his idea.

Taking the time to refine the quality of the basic use of pressure while on the ground will set the standard for the upcoming ride.  Remember, the conversation starts with your horse the moment you halter him and does not end until you turn him loose again.  At times it may feel like you are going “slow” but in the long run you will accomplish more with a quality physical outcome and at the same time achieve a rewarding partnership between you and your horse.

Sam

Gratitude

Today is a day of celebration here in the USA, and it is fitting that I have had an ongoing “theme” in my head that keeps becoming more apparent in everything I do.

In my lifestyle every time I check one thing off of the “to do” list, I always seem to add four more things.  There is never enough time nor enough hours in the day.

But I’ve come to accept that it is not selfish to make time for myself to mentally, emotionally and physically re-center; this of course affects everything that I do.  So after a 10 year gap, I have finally prioritized taking the time to restart practicing yoga.  For me it isn’t about physically contorting myself into what feels most unnatural and difficult positons.  It is about allowing me the opportunity to mentally, emotionally and physically learn to be “still” and to regroup.

One of the many things taught in yoga is gratitude.  This concept has been running through my head for a while over the last few weeks, but as I was mowing in the blazing heat today (my time-to-think) urgency came over me, that I should write a blog about it, so here it goes. 

This will be more of a rambling of thoughts to put out there into the universe.  Perhaps you’ll be able to relate to some of my thoughts, laugh at some or they may be something for you to consider in your own life and time spent with the horses.

I am grateful that during the past 20 years of working with horses I have learned to listen more and more to that little “voice” in my head that has steered me through many “forks in the road.”

I am grateful to all the horses that have taught me much more than I will ever teach them.

I am grateful to have “been there” in the last moments of a horse’s life, and to watch the moment they have accepted “letting go” and peacefully passed.

I am grateful of the moments when I have been overwhelmed and emotionally hurt, and having a horse walk up and gently rest his head near mine, breathing softly down my neck, as if he were attempting to comfort me in my moment of pain.

I am grateful for the opportunity to participate in the on-going journey in both horse and human lives.

I am grateful for all of the clients who have put their faith and trust in my words and teachings and have felt the benefit of it, not just within the partnership with their horse, but also the trickle down affects it has on the rest of their lives.

I am grateful for all the kids in pigtails on resistant ponies who I have watched grow, evolve and mature into quality human beings now leading fulfilling lives of their own.

I am grateful for the resistant, difficult and troubled horses that force me to be the best version of myself in order for me to be able to help them.

I am grateful for clients’ kind words that give me energy, reinvigorate and feed my desire to continue helping those who are truly committed to learning.

I am grateful that in all the ups and downs and inconsistencies in the horse world that I found enough resolve within myself to not “change” the quality of what I offered in lieu of making more money.

I am grateful to everyday be mentally present enough to slow down and watch a butterfly land on a flower or a mama deer teach her newborn fawn how to cross the big infield, as I sit on a horse learning how to just “stand and wait.”

I am grateful for the hours of sweat, labor and dirt that goes into running The Equestrian Center and am proud that when people and horses arrive, they immediately respond to the “stillness” and sanctuary the facility often provides.

I am grateful for all the quality horsemen who opened their ranches and shared their knowledge with someone who didn’t “come from their world”.  Their stories of the vanishing west, their innate understanding of the animals and their profound respect for nature still continues to have a daily impact on my life.

I am grateful to have witnessed “behind closed doors” the drugging, politics and abuse of the animals that during the initial years was the only way I knew about “doing horses.”  The opportunity to have to make a choice, go against the “grain,” stand on my own and make a moral and ethical choice at a major fork in the road were the first steps leading to the journey I continue, even to this today.

I am grateful for small local groups to nationally recognized organizations that have taken a risk by inviting me to share my “alternative” perspectives and teachings with their groups.

I am grateful for the varying folks from all walks of life who have allowed me the opportunity to share my world and spend a few weeks to a few months here on the farm.  Their initial goals of learning about horses tend to evolve into life lessons and seem to have lasting effects.

I am grateful to the challenges nature and her weather has served me over the years; from extreme down pours, freezing temperatures to scathing heat and 80 mph windstorms with severe damage; it is always humbling to remember just how little “we are” in the grand scheme of things. 

I am grateful for having to learn how to do things that don’t come naturally, running and fixing equipment, building and mending fence… Learning how to manage pastures, grow gardens and develop sustainable farm practices.

I am grateful for learning how to back the 42’ horse trailer for the times I’m in a jam and have to “squeeze in” to some inconceivable spot while traveling on the road.

I’m grateful for the always seemingly happy tow truck drivers who have repaired and assisted in 2am snowstorms all the while maintaining a smile on their face.

I’m grateful for the random folks who have arrived at the facility during their own personal growth journey and quickly realize the shared connection we have in living a proactive life.

I am grateful for all the times I’ve proved to myself I could do things I’d never imagined doing years before, and that years before choices I’d made had prepared me for the moment I was at.

I am grateful to have found a calm and inner peace that allows me perspective on anything that seems initially overwhelming, and as I’ve learned, a few minutes, a few hours or a few days later, it just doesn’t seem that bad anymore!

I am grateful for the hilarious antics I’ve witnessed the horses get in to over the years.  To watch initially shut-down, unavailable horses re-emerge as curious creatures is an amazing experience.  The brightness in their eyes, the lightness in their movements, it is breath taking.

I am grateful at the end of a long, hard day, to watch the wild animals and horses comfortably graze in the fields with not a care in the world. As I always say, a field just isn’t the same without a horse in it.

My list goes on and on… but I just thought it was appropriate to share on this day.

May you carry gratitude with you in all that you do…

Sam

Gratitude

Today is a day of celebration here in the USA, and it is fitting that I have had an ongoing “theme” in my head that keeps becoming more apparent in everything I do.

In my lifestyle every time I check one thing off of the “to do” list, I always seem to add four more things.  There is never enough time nor enough hours in the day.

But I’ve come to accept that it is not selfish to make time for myself to mentally, emotionally and physically re-center; this of course affects everything that I do.  So after a 10 year gap, I have finally prioritized taking the time to restart practicing yoga.  For me it isn’t about physically contorting myself into what feels most unnatural and difficult positons.  It is about allowing me the opportunity to mentally, emotionally and physically learn to be “still” and to regroup.

One of the many things taught in yoga is gratitude.  This concept has been running through my head for a while over the last few weeks, but as I was mowing in the blazing heat today (my time-to-think) urgency came over me, that I should write a blog about it, so here it goes. 

This will be more of a rambling of thoughts to put out there into the universe.  Perhaps you’ll be able to relate to some of my thoughts, laugh at some or they may be something for you to consider in your own life and time spent with the horses.

I am grateful that during the past 20 years of working with horses I have learned to listen more and more to that little “voice” in my head that has steered me through many “forks in the road.”

I am grateful to all the horses that have taught me much more than I will ever teach them.

I am grateful to have “been there” in the last moments of a horse’s life, and to watch the moment they have accepted “letting go” and peacefully passed.

I am grateful of the moments when I have been overwhelmed and emotionally hurt, and having a horse walk up and gently rest his head near mine, breathing softly down my neck, as if he were attempting to comfort me in my moment of pain.

I am grateful for the opportunity to participate in the on-going journey in both horse and human lives.

I am grateful for all of the clients who have put their faith and trust in my words and teachings and have felt the benefit of it, not just within the partnership with their horse, but also the trickle down affects it has on the rest of their lives.

I am grateful for all the kids in pigtails on resistant ponies who I have watched grow, evolve and mature into quality human beings now leading fulfilling lives of their own.

I am grateful for the resistant, difficult and troubled horses that force me to be the best version of myself in order for me to be able to help them.

I am grateful for clients’ kind words that give me energy, reinvigorate and feed my desire to continue helping those who are truly committed to learning.

I am grateful that in all the ups and downs and inconsistencies in the horse world that I found enough resolve within myself to not “change” the quality of what I offered in lieu of making more money.

I am grateful to everyday be mentally present enough to slow down and watch a butterfly land on a flower or a mama deer teach her newborn fawn how to cross the big infield, as I sit on a horse learning how to just “stand and wait.”

I am grateful for the hours of sweat, labor and dirt that goes into running The Equestrian Center and am proud that when people and horses arrive, they immediately respond to the “stillness” and sanctuary the facility often provides.

I am grateful for all the quality horsemen who opened their ranches and shared their knowledge with someone who didn’t “come from their world”.  Their stories of the vanishing west, their innate understanding of the animals and their profound respect for nature still continues to have a daily impact on my life.

I am grateful to have witnessed “behind closed doors” the drugging, politics and abuse of the animals that during the initial years was the only way I knew about “doing horses.”  The opportunity to have to make a choice, go against the “grain,” stand on my own and make a moral and ethical choice at a major fork in the road were the first steps leading to the journey I continue, even to this today.

I am grateful for small local groups to nationally recognized organizations that have taken a risk by inviting me to share my “alternative” perspectives and teachings with their groups.

I am grateful for the varying folks from all walks of life who have allowed me the opportunity to share my world and spend a few weeks to a few months here on the farm.  Their initial goals of learning about horses tend to evolve into life lessons and seem to have lasting effects.

I am grateful to the challenges nature and her weather has served me over the years; from extreme down pours, freezing temperatures to scathing heat and 80 mph windstorms with severe damage; it is always humbling to remember just how little “we are” in the grand scheme of things. 

I am grateful for having to learn how to do things that don’t come naturally, running and fixing equipment, building and mending fence… Learning how to manage pastures, grow gardens and develop sustainable farm practices.

I am grateful for learning how to back the 42’ horse trailer for the times I’m in a jam and have to “squeeze in” to some inconceivable spot while traveling on the road.

I’m grateful for the always seemingly happy tow truck drivers who have repaired and assisted in 2am snowstorms all the while maintaining a smile on their face.

I’m grateful for the random folks who have arrived at the facility during their own personal growth journey and quickly realize the shared connection we have in living a proactive life.

I am grateful for all the times I’ve proved to myself I could do things I’d never imagined doing years before, and that years before choices I’d made had prepared me for the moment I was at.

I am grateful to have found a calm and inner peace that allows me perspective on anything that seems initially overwhelming, and as I’ve learned, a few minutes, a few hours or a few days later, it just doesn’t seem that bad anymore!

I am grateful for the hilarious antics I’ve witnessed the horses get in to over the years.  To watch initially shut-down, unavailable horses re-emerge as curious creatures is an amazing experience.  The brightness in their eyes, the lightness in their movements, it is breath taking.

I am grateful at the end of a long, hard day, to watch the wild animals and horses comfortably graze in the fields with not a care in the world. As I always say, a field just isn’t the same without a horse in it.

My list goes on and on… but I just thought it was appropriate to share on this day.

May you carry gratitude with you in all that you do…

Sam

Behind the scenes… A trainer’s perspective on what is really entailed when a horse arrives for training.

When I get a call from an owner about a potential horse to participate in training, a lot runs through my mind during the conversation.  First I always try to really listen to what the owner is (or in many cases isn’t) saying.  Often by the time people find me, if the depth of my website ( learnhorses.com ) hasn’t scared them off, they’ve usually been to several mainstream trainers and have experienced a bit of “what they don’t want,” and now are realizing they have to become more picky about what they do want. Sadly (for the horse’s sake,) anyone can (and will) hang a sign out that says they are a horse trainer.  The horses are the ones who wind up “paying” the real price in the long run.  Often there is a set program or training style that is rigid and unforgiving to the horse that doesn’t comply.  The consequences and outcome for those horses tend to be fearful, insecure, and a reinforced distrust towards humans. At that point, the owner realizes the horse they sent to the “professional” has now come home with more issues than when they originally sent them.  And that is where trainers like me come into the picture. Even the term “horse trainer” makes me feel a bit uncomfortable and isn’t appropriate, though I still use it to help communicate what I do.  I think “horse helper” might be more accurate.  But back to the typical phone conversations of potential clients.  I am a realist, which often leads me to see a less than “pretty” picture when I start hearing the details of what someone tells me…  Let me explain. Common Conversations/My Interpretation: Owner comment (OC): “I’m not completely comfortable riding him.   He’s never done anything wrong so far, and he’d never buck or do anything bad, but he doesn’t seem relaxed.”  My Interpretation: He is a ticking bomb that is tolerating whatever has been asked of him and it is not a matter of “if” but rather when, he is going to explode if someone doesn’t help him. OC: “He was really easy to catch and start riding in the beginning of last season, but this year I’m having a much more difficult time with him.” My Interpretation: Whatever you “did” with the horse last year did not make him feel confident, this year therefor he is attempting to prevent that discomfort through being difficult to “catch” or resistant when you work with him. OC: “He’s very sweet and loves me, he is always rubbing on me, but he can get a bit strong when I ride.” My Interpretation: Starting from the ground the horse is defending himself by spatially dominating your personal space by physically rubbing on you. Hr continues with his taking over when you’re in the saddle, hence you feeling him heavy on the bit.  His “leaning on the bit” also means he has no concept of softening to pressure, and my guess is starting when you lead him with a lead rope he is heavy, disrespectful, and pushy because he’s never been told otherwise. OC: “He’s a bit fussy about saddling and mounting but after that he’s fine.” My Interpretation: Anticipation.  Defensiveness.  Usually, unless there are pain issues- which often there are- saddling and mounting “issues” are the symptom, not the issue.  The horse is anticipative about the upcoming experience and so his mental and emotional concern is reflected through his excessive physical movement.   Putting it into people terms, if you’re worried and stress do you sit still, relaxed or are physically agitated?  Same for the horse.  When he is confident, comfortable, and clear, he’ll stand quiet and relaxed. So you get the idea.  But I also know that most owners have limited experience and exposure whether with horses in general or their own animals.  So it is my job to have some honest conversations with the horse. For a person to hear what the horse is offering, they must be “clear” and available to honestly see what is going on.  If they are not a 110% present for their horse, a lot will be missed when interacting with him. Many people live in the grey area.  They frequently have difficulty making decisions and lack confidence in establishing boundaries in general, which is reflected in the interactions with their horse. So when working with a herd animal who is instinctively searching for support from a leader,, if you add an inexperienced/unconfident/unaware human to the “herd,” it isn’t long before that horse takes over.  Not motivated through dominance, but rather by survival instincts. The longer the relationship continues with the horse “taking” the human, rather than vice versa, the more uncomfortable the human will become as they ask more of their horse.  Eventually there will come a point where the person gets scared.  Then they finally ask for help. Being the leader to the horse has NOTHING to do with dominating or physically constraining him, though often that is how people interpret being a leader to a 1,000lb animal. In fact just as with other people, it all comes down to how we communicate with one another.  If someone were to just keep screaming at another person all the time, eventually their loudness gets “tuned out.”  The same goes with the horses.  People are overactive, “busy,” distracted, rough, and clumsy, etc. and eventually the horse just learns to tune them out. Fork in the road But what if we came back to the standard that if a horse can feel a fly land on him and twitch in response, how lightly, softly and clearly can we HUMANS communicate with the horse? And this is where owners arrive at the fork in the road.  Initially it may have appeared that “it” was about bringing your horse for training.  And yes often horses need more than what the amateur rider can offer education wise to their horse.  Even more important than that, it really is about PEOPLE “training,” and I don’t mean the traditional biomechanical lessons or the “do’s and don’ts” of horse management. What I’m referring to, and I wrote more about this in another post, The Mirror.  People often have to set aside their own emotions towards their horse, and get honest with themselves in order to get quality, long lasting changes in their relationship with their horse. I know, I know, there are plenty of folks who just want to hop on, get “away” from life, enjoy their horse and go home.  Which is fine.  IF you have a confident, experienced, and curious horse.  IF you don’t, you find out rather quickly that the “ride” isn’t JUST about you, but rather you and your horse.  And if you don’t start working with your horse and address HIS needs first, you’re going to get into trouble pretty fast.  But again, most folks don’t believe it’ll go wrong as fast, as big or as dramatic as it does, until the day it actually happens.   “All of a sudden,” is not really a statement I agree with.  My thoughts are that the root cause of the “all of a sudden” moment may have started six months, six weeks or six minutes ago.  And if the person did nothing to address the initial signs of a problem, the problem will just increase until an unwanted outcome occurs. I write this based on personal experience of working with hundreds of horses over the last three decades.  I write this out of a moral obligation that SOMEONE needs to educate horse folks because so many dramatic events for humans and horses, miscommunication, and emotional stress could/can be prevented. 

Spring 2015 Hoofprints & Happenings Newsletter

Please enjoy the latest edition of the newsletter!

A gallop across the field... An alternative perspective

It had been a long time since I’ve galloped.  Literally.

So very often I have people tell me their horse “loves” to gallop, and as I watch the horse move at a faster pace, I often see fear in the horse’s eye and body.  In my personal experience more often than not, the horse displaying what is typically interpreted by the human as having the “desire” to run, when really it is a horse trying to flee the scene.

For me, the more I learned about all the “stuff” I’d missed in regards to my horse’s brain and emotions, the more I realized I had no right galloping for many, many reasons.  My priorities have since shifted to the concept that not until the horse is mentally, emotionally and physically with me, do I ask for the faster speeds. 

Looking back I now would classify most of my galloping experiences as A.) A challenge of surviving the ride based on my ego vs. doing what was best for my horse, B.) A frightful experience for the horse due to lack of effective support I offered to the horse, and C.) Something I’m surprised I’ve did so frequently with as little crash-and-burns as I have had for how sort-of out-of-control I was.

Now you may be imagining me as having been on one “of those” scary riders on “crazy” or “difficult” horses, but I was not.  I actually blended in quite well with the rest of the riders.  Same strong horse, same strong bits to stop, spurs to go, and devices to help keep the horse's head down, and a hopeful mentality every time I swung a leg over the saddle.  

No one thought it was odd to exchange equine related ER stories over dinner, to have dramatic rides or heart stopping experiences.  The collective "we" in my world at that time thought that “that” was what it took to prove that you were up to the task.  Accomplishing the end goal whether within a certain time frame, over specific obstacles, or just surviving better and faster than anyone else had, was our sole focus.

An ex Chef’d Equipe to the USA Eventing team once told me in a lesson to keep a riding journal.  It was some of the best advice I had ever received.  But it wasn’t until years after most of my entries had been made that I then realized the power of what I’d written at the time.  When I read it in present day, it seems as if someone else wrote the journal, as if I can’t even remember how “I” used to be in my approach towards horses.

I have always naturally been analytical, and I believe part of what interested me in teaching others was my “problem solving” mentality.  But when I review the old journal entries I realize, as literal as I was in taking the instruction back then, and how much of it (classical) was addressing major and valid points in my riding and my horses, every single instructor no matter their background or discipline had “missed” presenting the pieces that would allow me to mentally connect the whole picture of the whats, hows and whys I was supposed to be do something.

It was like lessons would focus on what seemed (from my student perspective) as to be some random problem, rather than addressing the root cause, which in my own  riding (and many other riders) was a weak foundation causing the unwanted results.  We kept trying to band aid symptoms, rather than do surgery and fix the foundation.

Most of the instruction was often focused on both what my horse and I were NOT supposed to be doing, rather than creating a clear concept in my mind as to what we were supposed to be accomplishing.  No one mentioned that when the little pieces were connected it would create the ideal “ride” we were striving for. 

I was basically learning how to ride defensively and in a critical manner towards the horse; critiquing each wrong move, rather than communicating to the horse what I wanted from the start.  It was sort of like a game of chess.  I’d wait for his move, he’d wait for mine.  Then it was a mental challenge to see who’d “win” the round.  It was exhausting.  To work so hard to get “it” right and feel like I was still grasping at air and even with the compliments from mentors, I never really felt my horse recognize any relief from my constant demands. 

There was a time when I rode race horses from 6am-10am, then headed to ride for a Dressage international USA representative and judge for three hours, then early afternoons were spent at an internationally competitive jumper facility and finally evenings with my own horses.  I was riding a LOT of horses.  Ranging from mediocre racing lines to hundreds of thousands dollar “super-star” steeds.

And I approached each place as if it were a completely “separate” world from the previous one.  Why?  Because that’s what I’d been taught.  “These” are ______________ (discipline) and this is how we _____________ ride these _______________(breed) kind of horses.  And I believed what I was told.

Never, ever, ever, EVER did I consider the horse was still a horse, no matter the breed, background, discipline or experience level.    I was taught to consider lots of things ABOUT the horse, such as if the swelling I felt in the leg was new or a result of an old injury.  I considered the level of “excitement” the horse would have if he was turned out too long or not lunged enough.  I was taught a lap of walking around the barn as equivalent to a “hack” or let down time for the horse.  I was told trotting on the side of a narrow European back country road in the pouring rain with cars flying past as “quality training” to teach the horse to be reasonable even though every muscle in his body was taut with fear.

I didn’t give a second thought towards the fidgeting, fussy horses.  Or ones that had vices, didn’t like to be groomed or tacked, and were a bit “hot” to start or ones that I had to do things a certain way in order to get the horse to comply.  I worked at barns where horses were kept sedated and with cages on their face to prevent them from attacking humans. 

I didn’t realize that a horse could be respectful when led out of the stall or gate, could stand while being mounted or that his pinning of his ears when I applied leg pressure was not a fluke.  I didn’t worry if he swished his tail, or couldn’t halt in the middle of a “work” session. 
I laughed at the horse and all the things he was scared of and “forced” him through those scenarios.  The ones that were difficult I was taught you just had to sedate to shoe or load into the trailer, and these were just normal occurrences.  “That” was just how it was, and I had lots of other things to hurry up and do.

Now you might be thinking, sheesh, maybe I just wasn’t “getting it,” and that it had nothing to do with the quality of the instruction.  Over the years my learning experience has ranged from the local Pony Club volunteers to Gold Medalist Olympians to the dying breed of what I call “real world horsemen.”  It is very, very, very rare to have someone who can communicate in a way that makes sense to “everyone,” and who can offer both the detail oriented instruction and still offer the big-picture perspective all the while prioritizing the horse’s needs first.

Way back then I could rattle off all of theoretical cliché dos and don’ts of “classical” riding.  But I had no feel.  I had no timing.  I had no rhythm.  I had no finesse.  I had no awareness toward’s my horse’s brain, emotions and body.  I had no sensitivity in how I used my energy.  I had no concept of pressure, whether it was physical or spatial.

And yet I was still going through the motions of appearing to have somewhat successful rides on a multitude of horses. 

As most people would agree, the horse is usually the best teacher of all.  The problem is most people (not purposely- such was the case for me) are completely unavailable to honestly hear and/or consider the horse.  I know that may sound funny, but it is true. 

Give the person the option of A.) Sneaking past the “scary” object and continuing on as if it didn’t exist, or B.) Stopping and addressing what was bothering the horse and nine out of 10 folks would (and do) pick option A. 

Are they trying to avoid a conflict?  A blow up?  A potentially dangerous ride?  Yes.  And smart of them to think that.  But I mostly believe they choose option A. because they don’t have enough effective “tools to communicate”, they don’t have enough tools to give them options in how they communicate, and they don’t connect the dots that if something is bothering the horse now, that he will not just “let it go” and move on, but rather he will continue to carry that emotion and stress and it will increase as the ride continues if it is not addressed.

So it wasn’t until one day at some low level competition in England where I was grooming that I started for some reason to look around me.  I saw stressed out riders.  I saw stressed out horses.  I didn’t see anyone smiling.  Even the rare pat offered to a horse for a good performance was perfunctory rather than heartfelt.  I saw injured horses being asked to do things too soon in their healing process.  I saw horses still willing to try, even with injury or fear or both.  I saw how much “masking” was going on, all for the sake of the “end result.”

Now don’t get me wrong, I think competition can be awesome.  But what I was finding was that more often than not, the end goal became such a focus point that the quality of the journey to get there was lost.  Perspective was nonexistent.  Why was I having to hand walk  a soaking wet (with sweat) horse at 8pm on a cold winter night after a top international level rider/instructor/Olympian decided the horse wasn’t “getting it” and rode the horse for three, yes THREE, hours for the horse to “better understand.”  Hmmm.

You may say, “oh bad trainer.”  Well this same person is currently coaching top level competitors worldwide.  For me, that was the beginning of the breaking point.  The preparing of horses for photographing the “ideal "ride" to go along with the idealistic and inspiring magazine article by another big name trainer, and then behind the scenes when no one was around next day, to have the same horse run into the ground to “teach him a lesson.”

I also started realizing the more “soft” I was getting towards the horses, the more severe the judgment, criticism and harsh instruction was directed towards me.    And as with anything, once you start questioning the fundamental “basics” of a specific belief, the rest of the thoughts and things you thought you knew start coming crashing down at a rapid pace.

So long story short, I extracted myself from the horse world as I knew it.  I had to mentally and emotionally heal from a life long trauma I hadn't even realized was happening through my experiences.
I had to reintroduce myself to the horse the years later.  The most basic fundamentals of being around an animal, showing it respect, offering my own availability to actually recognize what the animal was trying to communicate.  

For the first time EVER I had no agenda, other than trying to figure out how to get my fire-breathing-red-head-thoroughbred at the the time to keep all four feet on the ground when stressed.  And oh how my world changed.

Every time I thought I’d tried, offered and experimented “enough” to get a change in that horse, he’d demand more of me.  I think he was my karma horse for all I’d unintentionally “done” to past horses I’d worked with.  EVERYTHING was a big deal.  He was either 100% okay or 110% not, and there was NO middle ground.  You couldn’t manhandle his athleticism, you couldn’t “make” him do anything and I certainly was not someone he trusted. I tried everything I knew, and nothing worked.  At all.  In fact it just made things worse.  So I finally had to ask for help. 

I remember laughing when I reminisced about the “old” galloping I used to do at a break neck speed, and here I was just trying to get this darn chestnut to walk a straight line at a reasonable pace without rearing, bucking or _____________. 

On one hand I was in awe of him because of his acute awareness, his infallible timing, his athleticism and his persistence at not becoming “submissive” towards me.  On the other hand it was overwhelming to feel no progress, and only a worsening in his fear, worry and discontent.

With nothing to lose, I reconnected with an old timer who wasn’t fazed by much.  When I unloaded my red steed, the cowboy straightened up by about four inches.  His eyes danced with enthusiasm at my “project.”  I was open to trying anything, so we started at what should have been the “very” beginning of establishing a connection with the horse in order to create a mental availability. 

I was standing in the middle of a round pen while my horse was having a nervous breakdown over something happening a mile away (literally), when that cowboy stood up and asked if he could go in the pen.  Ever have that feeling where you can’t wait to “get away” from your own horse?  I had it.  And then I watched. 

It didn’t even take a full two minutes and there was this HUGE but almost unintelligible conversation happening between my horse and the cowboy, courtesy of using the lead rope.  He’d wiggled the rope with a finger.  He’d shift his hand ever so slightly; he’d pick up the energy in his fingers just a notch.  My horse hadn’t moved; no circles, no fleeing, no dramatic behavior other than what at first appeared to be just a few nods of his head.  And suddenly, he was blowing his nose.  Over and over again, dropped his head and let all tension out of his body, passed manure, sighed, breathed, relaxed his eyes, and cocked a hind foot.  The worry peaks over his eye were gone; there was a softness and alertness in his body, rather than defensiveness.

I wanted to scream, “Why hadn’t anyone told me about …. About… THIS?” How had no one ever, EVER offered me the idea that my horse’s emotions could change everything?  I mean, we talked about stressed out horses, and how to contain them, sedate them, wear them down, etc. but never had anyone I known even considered that we could influence a mental and emotional CHANGE by doing so LITTLE if we were specific and clear.  And then to imagine what we could ask physically of a mentally and emotionally happy horse?  Wow.

So that week I had to re-evaluate everything I thought I knew.  Years after the fact, I was still having epiphanies about what had happened that day.  And from there everything gradually became clear.  There was NO option for me to NOT address my horse’s mental and emotional availability in order to accomplish the physical tasks I presented.

Which brings me to my most recent present day galloping.  With a refined sense of awareness and understanding of the horse, as I increase my horse’s speed, I want it to be a reflection of his brain.  Although the steps may be larger and faster, there still needs to be softness, lightness and balance.  If at any moment I drain all my energy, my horse needs to immediately halt balanced on his hindquarters, WITHOUT me pulling on his face.  If while cantering I feel him asking to drain into a slower gait, I need him to relax if my aid asks him to go forward, rather than pinning his ears or becoming defensive towards me.  The irony is the faster you go with quality, the slower it feels, and the more time it seems you have.

So I spend a lot of time going slow nowadays.  Very, very slow.   I mean slower than you’ve probably ever imagined asking your horse to go.  As in, one-step-at-a-time slow.   I always joke it takes me forever to go nowhere.  

In the long run, by the time I’m asking a horse to move forward, my goal is that the horse offers to do so with a willingness, confidence and availability, and perhaps that carefree romanticized version we all have in our heads of what galloping across a field felt like as a kid.

And the other day it happened.  I hadn’t planned on it, it hadn’t been my goal.  But there I was working with a horse that had come a long ways from his shut down, fearful, insecure self that I’d met a while back.  As we rolled up into a light canter, there was a moment, almost indescribable, but where you can “hear” the horse reaffirming he is okay.  So I asked for a larger stride, and as my seat instinctively lifted out of the saddle and I lowered my upper body, almost floating above the horse, I could feel us shift gears and we were off… He stretched out all 17 hands of himself and all I could feel was the softness of the gigantic stride below me.  Time stops in those moments.  Nothing else exists.  It is why we all ride.  It is the ultimate escape and emotional release for us humans.

As I slowed him back to a lovely trot, I realized my adrenaline had kicked in.  When I sat back down in the saddle I instantly felt my fatigued muscles quivering in my lower back and legs reminding of just how long it’d been since my last gallop.  So even if for the rest of the day my legs felt like Jello, I was still grinning, and so was the horse.  And to me, that is what the gallop is all about.

Sam