M
eet Patrick. His owner calls him “Perfect Patrick.” He’s a very tall, eight-year-old Arabian gelding. Did you know Arabians are royalty? If you don’t believe me, just ask one. But Patrick needed help. Alas, despite his name, he was not perfect.
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© Rein Photography
he was not perfect. His owner believed with all her heart that
Patrick was in a unique state of equine disrepair. Well, there
might have been a few negative things Patrick had to deal
with in his otherwise over-privileged life. He had to wear a
saddle…and a bridle, at times. Hold on. It was all a bit much
for anyone’s overly sensitive sensitivities. Did you ever hear
the story of the princess and the pea? If you haven’t, go read
it, it explains a lot. So, I was the one hired to therapy and
manage this slightly ruined life.
The problem was this. Touch the reins and Patrick’s head
popped up into the air, nose rutting straight up, while
violently shaking his head. Good grief, has anyone checked
his teeth! The answer is, yes, with dentists, X-rays,
veterinarians, lab work ups—lots of cost in owner’s gray-
hairedness and dollars. Every possible combination of equine
professionals had checked out the bicuspids in this pretty
boy. Found nothing. (Did I mention Patrick had the same
reaction to any common fly that dared stick their toe on his
face?) “What to do?” said the owner. So, she sent him to me.
Patrick was a competitive trail horse wannabe. Well, his owner
wanna be one with him. The other training problem Patrick
had would occur during the veterinarian pre and post check
up on each competitive trail ride. As the veterinarian and any
other attendants approached Patrick where he proudly stood
honored and esteemed in the center, he would get all fired
up, rearing and jumping around, making it impossible to
acquire a calm, quiet, resting pulse rate, and count
respirations—a requirement for each ride. Oh, and one other
tidbit of mental tension that needed my training help would
occur over mud puddles. Patrick would not, could not, ever
touch, go near, or be coerced into walking through a mud
puddle. I hated to break the news to him, but I train every one
for many hours on the trail. And finally, could I please, please,
please de-spook Patrick to all trail bikes, and other trail
vehicles, when they were operated by rude, non-horsey
galoots, and also please simmer down all the rest of his
spooks of certain noises down to a dull roar. The list was long,
but Patrick and me? We got this.
Fast forward almost thirty days of training with me on the trail
(and all the giant mud puddles that reached up and slapped
his knees while we cantered through everyone) to the
morning of the trail ride—my first competitive one. Don’t get
excited, it was all of fifteen miles. It was after all, a training
exercise. The task was this: Could we get Patrick to stand still
for both vet exams, and could Patrick manage to experience
the entire competitive event with a bit in his mouth. The level
of difficulty was about to reach mammoth proportions.
The short answer is and was: Yes, and yes. What came to light
during the veterinarian exam was that Patrick had been shown
in Arabian halter classes as a young horse, so…every vet check was literally no different in Patrick’s mind to a halter class. “We get fired up for this,” he seemed to say.
“No, Patrick, say nothing, just stand there, and think happy thoughts,” I said to him.
The bit problem may have gotten its start in response to saddle fit, I believe, and a reluctance to move through his body fluidly. In other words when you touch the reins to stop, instead of reaching through the horse to stop the hind feet, the movement of the hand was stopped cold at the tight, immoveable jaw, poll, and neck—uh, Patrick threw his head. The movement stopped there.
Collecting the hinds, drawing them up under the horse is important for a horse to ‘stop and go’ smoothly. With any green horse, all movement feels downhill, extended, and rushed. Exactly how Patrick wanted to ride. So, the real problem was getting movement through a rigid-mouthed horse. Flexion over the top line is practical dressage from the start. Patrick’s top line was tight and short. All movement was choppy and poorly tempo-ed. All roads lead to leg yield for me, as I can gather all four corners of my horsey, and he has to get over me touching his mouth with my hands through the bit. “Touch, touch, touch,” I say with a big smile.
At the competitive trail ride event at the Brookfield Horse Trail System, we brought home the blue in our group of eighteen in the “Rookie” division. By the end of the ride, my pal Patrick and I were ahead enough on the time clock, so we were able to walk the last three miles into camp. He was completely dry.
Side bar: During the ride I found a trot gear on this wonder boy that made me scream like a girl I had so much fun.
Upon completion, I could truly read Patrick’s Arabian mind’s disdain upon riding a mere fifteen-mile trail. Fifteen miles was just a warm-up. But my response was: “Thank you, Your Majesty, for using all your royal powers for good.”
By the way, for the record, I like working with Arabs. They’ve been out-smarting their owners for years! I may goof around, but I truly enjoyed Patrick and everything he brought to our partnership equation.
I’m still laying in the dirt with the social media stampede. Please take some time and “like” www.facebook.com/Jeff-Wilson-Cowboy-Dressage so I can stand back up and dust myself off. That’d make me happier than a full breeze from a corn-eatin’ horse. I have been training horses for over 35 years and value the western horse lifestyle in my approach to training. Giving clinics and seminars on how to reach your full potential with your horse through the training foundation of Cowboy Dressage keeps me young.