TRAKEHNER:
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I had been contracted to hold a yearling handling demonstration to show what could be done without the use of force. People from the surrounding area had gathered at the Thoroughbred stud. A stunning, big, brown\black horse was led into the round yard. It was certainly not a yearling. “What is happening here?” I asked. “Well,” came the reply, “a lot of people in this area can already handle yearlings, but no-one can handle this horse, and if you could ride him, they just might listen to what you have to say.” I didn’t see this as a challenge, but more that this horse needed some sort of help, and he might be able to direct me to where I need to go to be able to give him that help. So I started to develop my friend over the next three hours and then took a break, during which I was informed of his history, something they had omitted to tell me. He had been a five year old stud until just recently. He was too difficult to handle, difficult meaning couldn’t be ridden as he reared, bucked, etc. He had already been to a trainer who’d sent him back after a short while because of his behavior problems. He had also put one of his owners in hospital twice. He was gelded, just to get even with him. The owners were surprised to see how far I had gone with him in such a short time, but they were sure it was all about to come to a sudden end when I went to get on his back. Back to the horse, which I had left in the 50ft. round yard, where I had been working him. I wondered if he had thought about what had taken place when we first met and I mused on how different he might be after a short spell. Well, he just seemed to be the same to me, no problem at all. He was most obliging to my commands and seemed settled in my presence. It was time to climb aboard and ask a bit more of him. What a beautiful horse, I thought as I asked him to do a few simple manoeuvres at the walk. He remained soft and free flowing, not one bit of trouble. I felt confident that we could have some fun. The property where this was taking place was set in a beautiful, lush green valley, with streams meandering through the thickets of tea-tree, set amongst what seemed to be a never-ending abundance of the very best pasture I had ever seen. The homestead which was octagonal in shape with large windows, was set high on a small hill overlooking this majestic scene of tranquillity. This was home to two beautiful people who ran it as a Thoroughbred and cattle stud. They were not the owners of the Trakehner. Once the gate of the round yard was opened, the enjoyment of entering into the open felt so good for me and I could sense the horse was feeling the same. It was pointed out to me later, that he had only ever been ridden in a yard of some description and never out in the open. Everything was going just fine, until I decided to take him across a small stream by way of a narrow cutting in the bank, that the cattle had eroded away by fording the stream at the same spot. No way was he crossing at that particular spot. Was it the water, or was it something else? I was not sure and nor was he for that matter, as everything that I asked him to do, fell on stony ground, so to speak. The more I asked him to go forward, the more he got flustered and seem to lose all kind of direction, mentally as well as physically. At this point, I decided to dismount and proceed to ask him to cross the stream from the end of a 5 meter rope, which I felt would be a much better option for both of us. I could see the reactions in his body much better from the ground, and he could express his feelings a whole lot more without having the burden of a human on his back. This move was to become a wise one, as I could observe his reaction without interfering with his direction and thus giving him more time to make a lot more lateral decisions without upsetting him. What I was about to learn, has remained with me, so that I can help so many other horses that might have similar problems. Each time I asked him to go forward down through the cutting, he would run out into open ground and rear. When that option was closed, he would stand, put his head down and eat the grass. “Time to make a change,” I thought. “Let’s move on down the stream, away from the cutting and enter the stream by dropping off the bank without the steady lead in.” Not a problem. So then we were both standing in water up to our bellies. “Let’s walk up the stream to the cattle crossing and see what happens.” All went well, up until we had almost reached our destination. He stopped dead in the water and refused to go on, but instead took to eating the water reeds rather than move his feet. This was his same reaction as before, to eat rather than to move his feet, but why? By now I had observed quite a few changes in his personality, especially when his feet got stuck (the term I now use for this syndrome, of being too frightened to move). I decided to get out of the water as it was so cold and the cold was interfering with my thinking. We left the stream the same way as we entered, by jumping out, up onto the bank. First, I had to get the water out of my boots and then we went back to the crossing. Just like before, his feet stopped, his head went down and he ate grass. It was time to look at the real problem. It was not the stream, nor the cutting and definitely not the running away and rearing. It was the eating of the grass which took away his willingness to reason things out. He quite simply shut down his mind. I recognised what was happening to his mind, and that it was an emotional problem he had. I was then able to work out a way to direct and support him, so that he could reveal himself and recognise that there were other options. I showed him that he could make a mistake and, rather than being punished for it, he would be supported. What I showed him was that every time he moved his feet in any direction indicated to me that he was trying. Before long his feet were moving forward in the desired direction. Pretty soon he walked down the cutting and through the stream as if he had done it a hundred times a day. What followed can only be described as breathtaking, as I was about to receive the ride of a lifetime, the ride that every horse person dreams of. As we left the stream , I sensed that a change had taken place deep inside him. He was about to give himself to me unconditionally. I had a feeling for the trot and the trot came, so smooth and free flowing. We made a change of direction together then glided into the canter. The feeling of him setting himself free while I was aboard was so overpowering that all I could do was to throw my arms up into the air, lift my head up and look towards the bright blue sky, smiling and laughing. We cantered over the lush pasture, gathering a little speed. A fence line was looming in our direction at a somewhat rapid rate. “Stay with the feel,” I said to myself. “Are we going over the fence, left, right or maybe even stopping. What’s it to be and can I go too?” This horse was without a bridle, but did have a halter, which at this stage was for show only. I got the feel, just in time as I really didn’t want to go over the fence, at least not until I had more practice. We were going left. Two strides before the fence, left we went, just as he had told me, not that I disbelieved him. What choice did I have anyway? As we veered to the left I helped him out by way of a cue, right leg forward, left leg back and out, my left arm out. This is how it went: the horse said, “ I’m setting up to go left”, and I say, “ I’ll show you the way on through.” Right then we had unity. During the rest of the ride, which was to last for around forty minutes, we walked, trotted, cantered and galloped in both directions. We crossed the stream numerous times, jumped a stand of logs and even managed some flat work, just so that he could impress his owners. He did this extremely well and you won’t get an argument from me about that. One of the owners approached me after the ride and congratulated me on a brilliant piece of horse riding, which I had no way of doing without the main star, the horse. The only mention he got was, “ I would still like to beat him to death, for what he has done to me.” The other owner, however, couldn’t wait to get on his back and go for a trot around the pasture, which he did quite successfully. This horse died some eighteen months later from a snake bite, but he had a good eighteen months of emotional freedom.
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