"The horse is my teacher"

The title of this post is a phrase bandied about by perhaps every natural horsemanship trainer, and many more. It's accepted with a nearly reverential attitude that it's utterer must really, truly be a horseman in it for the horse. It's always bothered me a bit, but it never really gelled why until I read a Buck Brannaman quote on the Buck the Film facebook page yesterday. It is as follows:

"That’s the age-old question, whether a horseman was born or made. It may be a little of both. I always figured that what I lack in talent I can make up for in true grit and determination. There hasn’t been anybody that works harder than I. The horse is the only teacher I have left." - Buck Brannaman

At first blush, having seen the movie, Buck, and enjoying it, some affirmative murmurs went through my head and I thought about how sad it is that the Dorrance brothers and Ray Hunt are no longer of this Earth. I thought that Buck must be frustrated, feeling that he is a lone wolf without contemporaries. Then, I thought, "what a load of horse shit."

I think I was first offended by the notion that he believes there isn't anyone on Earth that works harder at horsemanship than he does. I'm pretty sure his circle of horsemanship is pretty small in the grand scheme of things. There are A LOT of people that work hard at being good horsemen. They don't all wear flat hats and carry reatas, but they work hard to learn, to improve, to coax better performances out of their horses and to communicate better.

It was after I worked through that that I started thinking about the whole "learning from the horse" notion. That's one of those ideas that sounds really good, nearly zen-like and profound, but think about what it really means. It really means that you're out there with an idea of what you want your horse to do and you start trying things until you get the response you think you want. I think your horse would prefer it if you got some instruction from someone who has already figured it out.

Let's be honest, there's not a whole lot new under the sun as far as what we can get a horse to do under saddle or from the ground. You may want a different method for getting something done, but your horse would probably appreciate it if you had some guidance before you jump in. Doctors could learn surgery by trial and error, too, but those who end up on the operating table much prefer that doctors learn from other doctors who already know what to do. It ups the success/survival rate significantly. To posit that a horseman can learn nothing from other horseman-- perhaps a better turn-around from Todd Bergan, better position on cattle from Don Murphy, or a better lead change from Jack Brainard-- doesn't make me think that the horseman has achieved a deity-like level of skill, it makes me think that he has an ego problem.

For the sake of our horses, let's not get caught up in profound sounding pronouncements that can lead to folly, let's commit to learning more and better ways to enjoy our horses, and that includes collaborating with other horsemen.

What's happening to our performance horses?

My mind has been running in a different direction the last few days, pondering the discussion on Mugwump Chronicles about the video of Craig Schmersal and then geared up by the current editorial in The Quarter Horse News.

I have not looked at the video of Schmersal, but I'm pretty sure I have a good idea what it looks like. I've never had the money or wherewithall to compete at a high level, but I've been an observant hanger-on for quite some time, with friends that train and show. I've seen bloody sides, sore mouths and all sorts of mechanical devices and methods meant to make a horse be one thing or another. None of that was in the video. Apparently what has peoples' panties in a pucker is a lot of fencing, strong backing and a good bit of bit bumping/yanking-- the almost-fit-for-public-consumption pre-show tune up. I am torn between thinking, "geesh, you think this is bad, you should see what happens in the barn at home" and pondering whether this is all really necessary to make a "performance horse."

The flip side of this is Katie Tims' editorial on pp 14 of the June 01, 2011 edition of the QHN. It's not online yet, that I can find, but she discusses drugs and the performance industry. (edit, it's here, for now). She starts out by painting a picture of a winning broodmare, so crippled in the hind end that she's flushed because she can't bear the weight of a pregnancy. According to the story, she's crippled from all the loping and schooling it took to get her shown. The premise, seems to be, that if this mare had had some chemical mood assistance, she wouldn't have had to be loped down so much and she wouldn't be crippled. I've heard similar arguments from people who are mounting youth kids on high performance horses-- "What's a little ace, when safety is at stake?" Katie's column seems to be "What's a little tranq, when it can save some wear and tear?"

These two issues really put me in a "how the hell did we get HERE" sort of mood. Why are we talking about severe training methods, overworked young horses and a little help from the pharmacy? It's because someone else started doing it, and it won. Those reiners that are terrified to lift their poll above level and bury their head as soon as they stop? That's difficult to train/intimidate into a horse, but someone did it, and it won. Now it's "the look" that everyone is after. The winners do it. If you want to win, you better do it, too. That super hot, squirrelly cutter that they could barely get ridden at home? A few drops in the bloodstream and he can focus on a cow like no tomorrow and he takes the check. Same thing for the open horse that the non pro wants to show-- a little pharmaceutical safety insurance and he's safe for the bankroll to show. And he wins. Why bother trying to breed better minds when you've got all the cow and athleticism in the world and a syringe of chemical coping assistance?

I remember when some of the drug discussions were first starting. One of the big arguments against drugs was that it was a shortcut for trainers that didn't want to put in the work. They were thought of as cheaters because they didn't want to put in the hours and wet saddle blankets to really get their horses broke. Now they're trying to paint themselves as "for the horse" because they're saving wear and tear on the horse by not loping it into the ground. I have even heard that argument in the rail/show/lungeline horse circles-- don't ruin his legs, just give him a little "help." It's cruel to work them too hard when there are pharmaceuticals available.

But all of that begs the question, "Why DO these horses need so much physical work or chemical help?" Have we lost the brains on what should be one of the best minded horses out there? Have our performance standards become so unrealistic that they can't be met without help from a syringe or a Chinese Olympic Hopeful Training Camp type of training program?

I know that there has to be a "best" and that the best is defined as the sort of performance that only the unusually talented can attain, but our best has certainly not gone in the best direction for the horse. But, what really is the best for the horse? Do the horses care if they get a little chemical help or is it just offensive to our human sense of fair play? I don't know. It's something I'm still pondering and probably will be for awhile.

How time flies!

I was thinking about starting a blog the other day when I realized, "Hey! I have a blog moldering away somewhere!" Low and behold, it is still here. I took a few moments and read through the old posts and was mostly struck by how the very first post was on a day in May, 3 years ago, when it was too hot to be outside. Here I am today, staring out the window at rain. We're in our second consecutive unusually cool, wet spring here in the Pacific Northwest. Ick.

In the past 3 years a bit has changed. My 4 year old who was "on his way to being broke" is now coming 7 and still "on his way." I'm riding him outside in a little jointed mouth curb and he's become quite a good mountain and trail horse, although he still lacks a lot of the arena time that he needs to get really broke. When we do get arena time, we're still in a snaffle.

We have done some of the Mountain Trail clinics at the Oregon Horse Center and competed in the Mountain Trail Championships last November. We did okay, but I was sure surprised to have a terrible case of nerves. When I quit showing, ages ago, I was pretty comfortable and managed my nerves pretty well. Last fall I felt like a kid at my first 4-H show.

Here's a pic of me not tossing my cookies while my gelding enters a water obstacle:
We also participated in a Basics to Bridle clinic given by Mitch and JoLinn Hoover of MJ Rising H Ranch last summer. Boy is it eye opening to start figuring out what you don't know! Mitch is probably the best ground work person I've ever seen, and that includes the TV clinicians. We had a pretty intense session on getting my gelding to give his shoulders. He was great at swinging his hip out, but was always pushing with his shoulders. Getting that respect made a huge difference in his attitude. Mitch also helped me with my turn-arounds. I seem to always be able to teach a horse to pivot on the outside foot. Mitch pointed out that I was correcting backwards with my inside rein too much and letting my outside rein cross over the withers, pushing the horse's balance to the outside of the turn (as Al Dunning says, "Horses are Bi-Lateral!). Balancing back with the outside rein to set the inside foot, leading just enough with the inside rein and keeping my outside rein where it should be is fixing the problem. More riding. More practice.

As always, Dad and I have been talking horses and horsemanship almost every time we get together. It has set me to thinking about some things, like how your horse is a reflection of you and your attitudes, how emotionally difficult it can be to give a horse the kind of fair leadership it deserves and how the more you know, the harder it gets. Sometimes I miss the days when I was a kid and had a "packer." Some days, you don't want your horse really in tune with you, you just want to mentally check out and look at scenery while you get your head and heart back together. Lots of thoughts rumbling around, which I hope to turn into posts.

Well, it looks like the weather is breaking for a bit, so I better get out and saddle up. Happy trails!