I was not the kind of kid who picked just one instructor to take lessons from.  I enjoyed hauling my horse to various trainers and clinicians.  I felt like utilizing various resources was the best way to soak up as much knowledge as I could, rather than limiting myself to just one person’s ideas.

Occasionally, I would try a new instructor and instantly knew they were not for me.   The reasons varied.  There were the ones who sat on a chair at the end of the arena talking with the barn moms, and each time I rode by they’d offer something as educational as “good, now change direction” and return to gossiping. There were the ones who wanted me to change my bit, tighten my noseband, and strap my horse down with gadgets before even seeing me ride.  There were the ones who tried their best to offer insightful training theories that were probably helpful, if only my juvenile brain could have comprehended them.  On the other hand, there were times that I tried out a new instructor and felt like I learned more from them in the first lesson than I’d learned from someone else after several months of lessons.

Regardless of how I felt about their communications styles or training techniques, one thing was consistent: I always respected that they knew more than me, and that I should keep an open mind and try what they asked of me, just in case they were leading me toward an amazing epiphany that would change my life as a horseback rider forever.

Unfortunately, my blissful naiveté came to a crashing halt when I was 15.  I’d started riding with a classical dressage trainer who was a beautiful, elegant rider.  I didn’t particularly care for her on a personal level, but when I took lessons from her I always felt like she explained things in great detail and I was able to feel a positive difference by applying her techniques.  She commented that she appreciated me as a student because, unlike some of the other kids who would mindlessly ride around in circles, she would see me riding on my own and practicing the exercises that she taught me during our lessons.  After a few months of lessons with her, she suggested that I ride with a clinician who was coming to town.  She told me all about him, his extensive accomplishments, and said that she’d ridden with him many times and appreciated his methods.  He was quite pricey but my parents were impressed with his resume and trusted the instructor’s opinion of him, so they agreed to let me try one ride.

I won’t go into specific details of the who/what/where of the clinic, let’s just say it was not a pleasant experience.  I was riding a nervous horse that I hadn’t had for very long, so I got on early in order to warm up and settle him in.  It turned out that the schedule was running ahead of time, so when the clinician noticed I was on early he put me right to work.  He immediately began asking me to do difficult things which my nervous horse was obviously not ready for.  I had difficulty understanding him because he had a foreign accent and was yelling at me.  This only made me feel more tense, which made it difficult for me to help my horse to calm down.  I asked permission to have a few minutes to do some of our usual suppling and calming exercises, just to get the horse into a better frame of mind.  He responded that I just needed to keep trying what he was telling me so that I could get it.  After several more minutes of trying my hardest to do what he asked, and still failing to receive any good results from my horse, the clinician became increasingly irritated.  He asked me to get off the horse and said that he wanted to lunge the horse to get the horse’s mind focused on working.

Just to be clear, at this point the horse was not misbehaving or out of control.  He was not bolting, bucking, rearing, or anything of the sort.  He steered in the directions that I pointed him, and when I asked for an upward or downward transition, he complied.  He just was very tense, rushing in the trot, a little bit jiggy in the walk, and distracted, occasionally whinnying for his friends.

The clinician put the horse on the lunge line and instantly chased him into a gallop.  He seemed to alternate from chasing the horse with the whip to yanking on the lunge line and expecting the horse to instantly halt.  I watched in horror – this was NOT how my horse was used to being lunged.  Having never experienced this sort of ambush from a trainer before, I didn’t know what to do.  My instructor who referred me to this clinician was standing there watching and she didn’t give me any sort of sign that she was not satisfied with the way things were going.  There was a small handful of auditors and I remember glancing over to see if they where whispering or wearing facial expressions that would give some indication that I should run over and take my horse back.  Nobody else appeared overly appalled, so I held on to my good faith a little longer, thinking “This guy is a pro.  He is trying to get a result, and if I’m patient, I will see the light bulb go off in my horse’s head and some amazing transformation will occur.”  That’s about the time that my horse flipped over, scraped the inside of one of his legs with the shoe from his other foot, jumped back up, and galloped back onto the circle, dripping with sweat and looking very stressed.

At that time, I do remember looking to my instructor and several others and asking “shouldn’t we stop him and check to make sure he is okay?”  Allow me to remind you that I was 15 years old.  I had been raised to be polite and respectful toward adults, so mustering up the courage to question an accomplished professional took all the guts I had.  The response was a collection of awkward faces with sympathetic smiles, as if they agreed with my concerns but did not think it was socially appropriate for me to tell Mr. Big Shot that I wanted my horse back.  So, regretably, I just waited.

I think the clinician did hear my question (which I intentionally asked just loud enough that I thought he would) and stopped lunging the horse just a few moments after he fell.  He led the horse back over to me, told me to get back on, and had me trot a few circles.  The amazing transformation that I’d trustingly waited for never came; I was left with a horse that was even more nervous than he’d been 30 minutes before, but too broken and exhausted to protest.  To me, that is NOT training.

The clinician told me he thought my horse had had enough for one day (no, really?) and that I should hose him off and put him away.  I had not signed up to ride the second day, but he said he’d be happy to squeeze me into the schedule (how generous, squeezing in another lesson that he’d be making a lot of money for!) because he thought that my horse would benefit from it.  At that point, my brain was frazzled.  I just smiled and thanked him for his time, and told him I wasn’t available the next day.  I felt so many emotions at once, which in turn made me feel emotionally numb.  I felt betrayed by the clinician and by my instructor, and I also felt angry at myself for betraying my horse.  I beat myself up over that for a while, and still feel tremendous guilt when I think about it today.  I was taking a sociology class in school at the time, and it reminded me of the research studies that showed examples of humans in groups witnessing an atrocious event.  Each person is hesitant to step out of the group and do anything about it, because they assume someone else will, and because nobody does, they all assume that allowing the atrocious event is acceptable.  I was THAT person, the one who allowed an atrocious event to happen to MY OWN HORSE, knowing it was wrong, and didn’t even try to stop it.

I remember thinking what a shame it was that my parents spent such a hefty amount of money (and we were NOT big spenders) to ride with a clinician that not only traumatized my horse and me, but I learned absolutely nothing from him.

Oddly enough, once my emotions recovered and logic kicked in, I realized that I learned a lesson from that clinician that was worth every penny.

That was the day I took control.  I learned that while it’s good to have an open mind and a hunger to learn as much as I can from multiple trainers, there is another side of the coin.  An eeeevil side of the coin.  A side of the coin that says that some trainers do not have my best interest, nor my horse’s best interest, at heart.  A side of the coin that says that some trainers are arrogant pricks who think that just because someone is paying them for a service, they have the right to do whatever they want with that person’s horse.  A side of the coin that says that some trainers are downright abusive to their students and to their horses.  And the most important part of the lesson I learned was that when I encounter trainers like that, there is only one person who can protect my horse, and that person is me.  I have the power to step in and say what types of interactions I will or will not allow them to have with my horse.  If they do not choose to respect my boundaries, I have the power to pay for the lesson and politely excuse myself early.  Suddenly, as I vowed to myself that from that point forward I would raise my hackles and protect my horse anytime I needed to (which is only fair considering he protected me every day that I rode him) I began to feel quite empowered.  I had visions of myself and my horse being partners in crime – us against the world – sticking together and watching each other’s backs through and through.  A dressagey version of Batman and Robin, if you will.

I mentioned earlier that when I was a child, I blindly trusted my instructors, knowing that they had more knowledge and experience than I had and could guide me to be a better horse person.  It was much easier when I thought that was always true. Now that I’m all grown up, full of knowledge and experience myself, I have pretty good judgment on the types of training techniques I am willing to use, and the horses I ride are very happy and trusting.  I occasionally see green riders in a predicament, wearing the same questioning look on their faces that I wore during that clinic, as they watch a trainer work with their horses in a destructive manner.  I have sympathy for them and, if it feels appropriate, I share my experience with them in hopes of building their confidence to stand up for their horse.  It is very difficult to tell the professional “You’re doing it wrong!” when you yourself don’t have the knowledge or experience to know for sure if what they’re doing is, in fact, wrong.  Even if your gut feeling tells you something’s wrong, it’s difficult to confront the professional who will possibly respond by defensively asking “do you, miss know-it-all green rider, know how to train this horse better than I do???”  It’s easy to become intimidated by the professionals, but we should never forget that everything that happens to our horses, good or bad, is because we allow it to happen to them.  Even if we don’t know correct training from incorrect training, we can’t forget that we still know right from wrong.

It’s unfortunate that I had to endure such a horrible experience in order to learn this lesson, but I’m infinitely grateful that I learned it.  That clinic was the first and last time that I ever allowed a trainer to mistreat one of my horses.  In case you were wondering, the horse from the clinic progressed into a happy dressage horse who is now partially retired and offering rides to dressage students who want a “preview of coming attractions” should they stick with their training.

This guest post is by a regular reader; you may know her from the comments section as “Charm”.

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The Rescue Fetish

1. I would like a sound horse. Yes, I know it; it’s really unreasonable for me to want a horse I can ride. And because I want the horse to be sound longer than a week or a month, I’m also demanding a horse without a structural defect that is going to turn into lameness soon.
2. I would like to try out the horse first. I get it—the truck is coming! Someone is going to buy her first! I can’t go to the feedlot or babies in Africa will starve to death! That doesn’t change the fact that I want to try the horse out. Otherwise it’s like buying clothing at Walmart without trying it on first—it might fit nicely, or it might not. At least at Walmart my purchase is $3 on the clearance rack, instead of hundreds. Besides, I can return items at Walmart.
3. Papers that are up to date would be nice. I don’t need to breed or show, nor do I get a kick out of waving my papers in random strangers’ faces screaming, “Look! Her great granddaddy is Northern Dancer!” However, I do like knowing where my horse came from, who handled her, and whether she has ever actually been ridden outside of a barn aisle in an auction lot. Unfortunately, in this modern day world of genetic diseases, I won’t even look at a stock horse anymore without a set of papers; HYPP is too heartbreaking.
4. I want to pay what the horse is worth. I just read a Facebook post that was trying desperately to find this lovely nice Tennessee Walking Horse mare a nice new home. She deserved it! She was in terrible danger! She was going to slaughter! She was ON THE FEED LOT! And for the low low reasonable price of $600 plus Coggins plus shots plus quarantine plus shipping she could be mine.

I sort of want people to read this even more than I want them to read my blog! Read this, read this, read this if you don’t want to meet the Dead Horse Guy!

Spot on and GREAT advice, especially for those of you who know you are beginners and not yet experts in horse health!

“One parting piece of advice: if you are lounging your young horse while riding a 4-wheeler, stay very alert! She might get scared and jump in front of you. If you don’t stop fast enough you might hit her front leg and break it. Yes, sadly, this really happened.”

Jesus H. Christ. JUST DON’T DO STUPID ASS SHIT LIKE THAT, people! Are you that fucking lazy? Oh wait, you are. I know you are. Try standing on your damn feet while you longe, it’s also a good way to avoid getting kicked in your stupid head.

“If by writing this I help one young filly to become an old grey mare, it was worth my time. ”

David, I am sure you did. Bless you for writing it!

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I’m adding to the old blog at this point: Always remember, when hauling, that OTHER PEOPLE DRIVE LIKE IDIOTS. You must ALWAYS play them for the WORST POSSIBLE DRIVING CHOICE. You will rarely be wrong! They are going to swerve into and fill up your beautiful lane of open space in front of you…coming down a hill…toward a red light. If you ALWAYS play other people for the worst driving choice, you will be much, much safer and so will your horses.

I also want to add: MAINTAIN YOUR EQUIPMENT. No one wants to be the person who has a horse fall through the trailer floor. Floors should be checked out every year, and lights/turn signals every use. Make sure your trailer brakes actually work. Do your oil changes and regular maintenance on your hauling truck. Check your tire pressure every use. All of this is way more enjoyable than having a breakdown on the road with horses in the trailer.

All of that said…happy hauling and feel free to ask questions if you’re new to it!

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I read a story once – it might even have been a reader of this blog’s comment – where a young lady found the man of her dreams and headed off on a European honeymoon with him.  She entrusted her much-loved cat to her best friend, who promised to come by and care for him.  Confident that kitty would be loved and provided for, she got married and headed off for a wonderful two weeks.

She came home to…a dying cat.

Yes, Best Friend had completely failed to do as she had agreed and stop by to care for the cat.  Without even water, he was too far gone and could not be saved.  The newly-married girl, who should have been enjoying one of the happiest times of her life, was plunged into deep depression and guilt over the entire incident.   It brings up a great question – really, who CAN you trust to care for your pets?  With so many of us heading out for holiday trips, it’s a timely topic.  Here are my thoughts on ensuring a similar train wreck never happens to you.

1.  Backup.  Even the most responsible person may have a crisis of their own.  Ensure that whoever is watching your pets has several numbers to call of people who can come by in a pinch and provide care.  Discuss whatever system will work for ensuring those people have the access they need – keys, gate codes, etc.  If you are using someone you have not used before, having someone else make some visits to ensure all is well is a great idea.

2.  Site-Check Yourself!  Look at your property like you are a rescuer inspecting it to see if it is a safe place for an animal to live.  Check for places in the fence where an animal could escape or get injured, loose nails, loose wire and other hazards.  The last thing you want to have happen is an escape or a horse get hung up in fence when someone is only stopping by twice a day to feed.

3.  Plan and Prepare.  Have plenty of everything – hay, grain, etc.  And label things!  One friend came home to find that her non-horsey hubby had fed the horses straw the whole time she was gone.  It is always best to have a real horseperson care for the horses for just this sort of reason, but if you are trusting a non-horsey family member, make it easy for them with clear signs, labels, and measuring cups/scoops.

4.  Plan and Prepare for ANYTHING.  What happens if the power goes out?  Do you have a generator?  Does the sitter know how to use it – for sure?  Any chance the pipes will freeze and getting water will be a problem?  What then?   We ALL know how often Murphy’s Law applies around animals…odds are if you’re ready for anything, it won’t happen, but if you’re not, you can bet on it taking place.

5.  Hire like a H.R. Director!  Actually check references, and ideally use someone that someone you know has used before.  Look them up in your local court’s web site, if they have a search feature.  This is not an invasion of privacy. I don’t care if someone does that to me because I know there’s no animal cruelty case with my name on it.

6.  Consider commercial boarding for your dogs and cats.  Commercial boarding is not always bad.  I would particularly recommend Petsmart, which offers 24/7 supervision at their Petshotels.  Commercial boarding is a great choice for (a) animals that pose a high risk of escape – door dashers, etc.  (b) animals that LOVE to socialize, like the dog who loves to play with other dogs and is lonely alone.  (c) animals that are destructive – the chewers, the stress-pee’ers, the diggers.  Stick with in-home, if possible, for kitties unless they’re social and outgoing, and small dogs that are always cold and are very upset by change.  Check out the facility that you use and find out how often the animals get out of their cages, what the standards are for cleanliness, and what the standards are for disease control.  Don’t use a place that lets anyone in the door without all vaccinations, or a place that does not have a quarantine area that is totally separate for an animal that comes down with kennel cough or an upper respiratory.

7.  Inform!  You know that Levi and Buffy will kick the living shit out of each other if turned out in the same field, that FluffyPony doesn’t straight tie, that Shadow can’t go anywhere near the goats or he’ll have heart failure and snort all day, and that Champ has been known to kick if you try to clean the stall with him in it.  Your pet sitter has no way of knowing information like this unless you tell her.  Barn stuff too – the hot water won’t come on unless you switch the valve 5 feet higher up the wall on, etc.   Sit down when it’s quiet and write down everything you can think of.

8.  Be accessible.  Most likely you are not going to some remote corner of the world where there is no way to contact you.  Make sure everybody has your cell phone and your cell phone is always on, loud enough to hear at parties. Give some backup contacts like good horsey friends who have the authority to make decisions about whether or not to call the vet in your absence.  And make sure everybody knows which vet you prefer.  This information should always be posted in the barn. Vets enjoy the holidays, too, so list at least 3 choices in case some of your vets are out of town.

9.  Don’t leave your petsitter a problem.  If an animal needs to go to the vet, get them in there early this week before you take off.  Don’t think that maybe it will be okay ’til you get back – that almost always goes bad!

10.  If you have pets that are elderly or in some way in a chronic precarious health condition (including pregnancy!), pay the money and get someone who actually stays at your house and is there almost all of the time.  Someone dropping by twice a day to feed and water is just too risky – what if something goes wrong and the animal suffers for 8 hours, or worse yet, your pet sitter arrives to find a dying pet?  Just among my circle of friends this holiday season, I’ve seen a mare – that was ultrasounded without this being discovered – turn out to be carrying twins and abort them and prolapse her uterus.  If they had not been home, she would have died.  Can you imagine coming home to that scene?  Just pay the money – you won’t regret it.

What experiences can you share about petsitters that worked out or didn’t?  Who was great?  Who was a nightmare?  How do you make sure your animals are safe and cared for without totally giving up any ability on your part to travel and have a life?

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I have said repeatedly on this blog that someone should make a calculator and put it on the web to help people figure out what owning 8 or 12 or 15 horses is actually going to cost them, since so many people seem to conveniently ignore this fact until 38 head are starving in their backyard. Horsechannel.com did it:

Very interesting to look at. My horses in California cost a little over $5,000 a year to maintain (I estimated $300 miscellaneous vet annually). My rescue horses in Washington, less than half that, due to the much lower cost of everything from hoof trimming to board.

Give it a try and post if you dare your actual annual cost of keeping horses! (I promise, I won’t share this information with your husband, ha ha!) Mine is over $20,000 which doesn’t really surprise me. It seems like it’s more but I didn’t factor in purchase costs for rescue horses, so that’s a chunk, nor did I factor in horse transportation, which I end up paying for a lot of. I chose to totally ignore the 2010 show season costs, because, honestly, when I think about that bill, I see a nice, shiny BMW convertible flying away from me on Pegasus wings, and it’s just tooooo depressing…(wanders off grumbling about big yellow accident-prone money vacuum…)

East Coasters, check out cutie pie War Action at Mid-Atlantic Horse Rescue! He is the size I like…the size I can get on without pulling a muscle