14 / Sport and Trail Magazine
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Elbow Grease in a Bottle $19.95
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he full size quarter horse stares at me with a sad mournful expression that I resist (except for an inner chuckle that threatens to escape me) as he stands quietly next to me. In his universe back home, his kind puppy-dog eyes must send a vibe that probably keeps the
treats coming from every direction, I muse. I slip his bridle on and climb into my saddle. I am very glad to have this brightly colored dun in my training string for a bit because he is such an honest citizen, through and through. He has a serious motor too, and his owner decided if she was ever going to ride him and be happy, he needed s’more edumication. Considering his lope, you might as well have had a missile under your saddle.
…and they’re off.
Whenever I get a horse in for training, I evaluate the physical condition of the horse. Horse training, at its very essence, is nothing more than getting a horse physically fit. If he’s not fit, you’re stuck in the mud until he is. But you must know that I, and professional trainers at large, sit in the middle of a teeter-totter of sorts. On one side we have to give training progress reports to each horse’s owner. They pay the bill. We give results. On the other side is the horse who’s usually quite happy eating grass, chillaxin’, and eatin’ s’more grass. We have to keep everybody happy while we “turn up the sod.”
Our job, my job, is to create stress in a horse’s life. I burden them with me. Not only do they have to carry my 180 pounds up and down hills (plus my saddle and whatever mud they can accumulate) until the owner says, “Quit,” they have to figure out all the new lines of communication I endeavor to bring to the saddle with me while I ride. Signals and cues they have to learn. It can create a lot of tension, particularly if no one has ever had that much discussion with them. It’s the crux of why I ride out—through woods, and around trees, up and down mountains. The outdoors creates a vibe that seems to minimize the mental stress load. In the words of John Muir, “And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.”