The last part of ’93 found me in the great state of Virginia straightening out a couple Arabians for a man and his wife who later became good friends. Once I had these two lovelies going down the trail confidently, I started taking on new challenges and found one that brings back very fond memories of riding through the steep hills of Virginia.
The Marriot family of hotel fame owned a vast cattle ranch near Marshall. Vast in Virginia is measured in hundreds of acres; in the west it’s thousands. The Marriots had about 4000, so this was a serious expanse of land. I’d driven by the entrance numerous times and one day I had a couple hours and it just felt right. It was later in the afternoon with the sun getting low to the west and the day cooling briskly. I donned my cowboy hat and with Montana plates on my car, I looked the part. I sauntered, that’s right sauntered into the office and announced Mr. Fixit had arrived.
“My name’s Frank Bell and I specialize in fixing problem horses,” I announced to the tall manager with a firm handshake.
“Well it is odd you’d show up just now because I do just happen to have a horse that we’re getting ready to sell,” shot back Mr. Manager.
“What seems to be the problem?” I probed away.
“Bucking everyone off that tries to ride him. Broke my head wrangler’s arm and bruised up a couple others who’ve tried to ride him. Yep he’s headed to the auction first of the year.”
“Well this is exactly what I do,” I confidently informed this man who looked interested.
We talked about the financial details and then went out to see “Rowdy” as they’d appropriately named him. Into the paddock was led a 7-year old dull chestnut typey quarter horse of about fifteen hands. He had a mane and tail full of burs and a bit of a worried or suspicious eye.
“Just take off the halter and let him go,” I instructed the ranch hand that’d led him in. I started walking toward Rowdy with my rope halter/lead in hand, and he immediately trotted away from me to the other end of the 25’ x 50’ square pen. I moved right in behind him and pushed him onward and around the pen three or four times pretty aggressively all the while making a hissing sound. I wanted to immediately take charge and did. Just as he was making that fourth turn in the corner I pulled back, stopped with the noise, and drew his inside eye to me. He stopped immediately and watched me intensely for about twenty seconds; then dropped his head, let out a big sigh, and licked his lips. I dropped to one knee and lowered my eyes and just allowed the whole experience to soak into him for a bit.
The crowd had gathered as the end of the day approached and the crisp air of early winter descended into the little paddock. Word had already spread about a cowboy from Montana who was going to take on Rowdy. Rowdy’s reputation had aptly spread around the ranch. There were looks of curiosity and doubt alike on their faces.
I slowly stood up. Rowdy watched me with very close attention as his head raised higher in the cool air.
“Eeeeeeeeasy now boy,” I cooed. “Gonna get ya fixed up here now. Eeeeeeeeeeasy now,” I softly whispered over and over while easing into him with my posture sideways and non-threatening. My first touch was on his neck just below his wildly matted mane. His neck was rock-solid, tense. I kept my stature soft and inviting and worked his neck and withers progressively with more and more gusto all the while cooing away in soothing tones. My fingers found the V under his jaw and there I encountered a plethora of bumps and lumps. Bug bites. Oh yes! My fingernails worked aggressively on those bites and his head rose up in he air at an awkward angle in shear pleasure.
“Got him. Now he’s mine,” I announced and abruptly walked off over to the fence where the crowd was watching me. “Watch this now,” I predicted. Rowdy was wide-eyed watching me and hadn’t moved an inch. Without taking his eyes off me he began a slow and almost indiscernible licking that very gradually became great big licks of gusto as if to say, Wow. That was something. Think we could do that again? Then he lowered his head and while still watching me very closely took his first step in my direction. A few seconds later he had made himself quite accessible. I immediately found “the spot” and indulged him again with absolute delight.
“If I can melt him right in the beginning the rest is easy,” I informed my now very attentive crowd. I slipped my 12’ rope halter/lead combo over his head and began the sequence of exercises that today is helping thousands of horses throughout the world. I taught him to drop his head with the slightest pressure on the lead; then lightly guided his head with my fingers on his nose-handle to each side and blew in his nose. As I held his head to the side with one hand, my other drifted to the dock of his tail. I dug deep into the hair and scratched aggressively. His tail slowly began to rise allowing me to lightly feather the underside with my fingernails. He raised it higher in appreciation.
“That’s a good place to leave it. He’s come a long way and is telling me he really trusts me. I call that last fore and aft deal intimacy. Do I have a job?” I inquired of the lanky manager.
“What time can you start tomorrow?” Asked Rob Northwood with a strong handshake and a genuine smile.
“Pretty cold in the morning, frost on the ground and all. I’ll be over around ten. Got anything to do with this guy? Any jobs for a horse?” I asked.
“We do need to move some cattle from the north section into the one just south. I’ll make you a map. It’s about thirty steers. But you sure you’ll be able to ride him? You know it’s in that first couple minutes that he’s been dumping everybody,” explained Northwood.
“Well I won’t get on unless I have things going my way pretty well on the ground. Never do. Don’t worry I’m pretty particular about my safety. Also, what have you been feeding old Rowdy?” I inquired curiously.
“He gets a coffee can of grain morning and evening, and we feed a grass alfalfa mix,” answered the head wrangler, a big young man named Brent.
“How big’s the can?”
“Here I’ll show you.” Brent produced a huge coffee can that said “three pounds” on the side.
“Well that’s over. If he’s doing nothing he sure doesn’t need that kind of protein. Some horses just can’t take grain at all. It’s better to feed a horse up when needed than to have an over-hyped horse at the beginning. So, no grain for Rowdy until I give the word. Ok?” I asked Brent while really instructing.
“Believe me, there’s a whole buncha people that are going to want to see this tomorrow, Frank. You better take your time and be careful. Oh yeah. I’ve got to have you sign a release for the Marriot’s before you ride. You understand. I’m sure,” Mr. Northwood informed me.
I left feeling great but with that kind of gnawing deep in my gut. What was I going to encounter tomorrow?
Bob Claymier’s Short Story
Back at Camp Claymier I informed Bob and Linda about my new employer. “Don’t waste much time do ya Frank?” Asked Bob.
“Well your horses are doing well and I just love fixing them, so what the heck. Truth is I can’t get enough of this stuff. Kind of addicted to it. And you know I’m still proving this ‘system’ to myself. I just keep succeeding time after time with this sequence. I can’t even believe it.”
“Well that’s a pretty good client for around here, and they do pay their bills, Frank. So have at it, but don’t get hurt,” quipped Bob.
Bob Claymier was an interesting case. He’d been into horses for sometime and had a gentle demeanor; but he had also gotten into a bit of trouble with his quarter/Arab mare. In fact she’d bucked so hard he’d broken his pelvis and was just now recovering. I’d heard about Bob’s plight at a tack store in Middleburg and called him. He seemed eager to listen to this new method of training and turned out to be a real sponge for learning. I’d straightened the horses out and had he and his wife Linda riding in confidence, as I call it. Mutual levels of trust led to an invite to stay with them for a few weeks and well that was that. Today, ten years later Bob is one of my head accredited instructors teaching the same exercises that at that time I was perfecting with his and the Marriot’s horses that fall.
It was a classic fall morning breaking clear and brisk. I fed the Claymier’s horses and played with their lively Irish setter who helped me with feeding every morning; then organized my gear for my new challenge. I was excited about working with Rowdy and arrived a bit early, which in this profession never makes a bad impression.
Manager Northwood was busy on the phone. He looked at his watch, gave me a thumbs up, and pointed to the barn. I quickly found Brent who was busy cleaning up old Rowdy in the alley of the barn. Some of the tangles had been combed out, but most cut off. Worked for me just fine.
“That’s fine Brent. I’m not much of a groomer myself. Just knock off the big stuff in the saddle and girth area. I’ll go get my gear. You don’t have a round pen by any chance?”
“Just that same area you worked him last night, Mr. Bell.”
I looked over my shoulder to see if my father was behind me. “Mr. Bell’s my Dad. Call me Frank,” I smiled, putting Brent at ease.
By the time I got back with my gear Rowdy and Brent were waiting in the paddock. Brent was the head wrangler and interested in learning. He was the one I needed to get through to so when I left, my methods didn’t leave with me. I wasted no time with Rowdy and within seconds he melted right into my hands. Would the saddle present a different scenario?
“I got hurt a couple years ago Brent and decided I didn’t want anymore of that. So I developed a bunch of exercises that improves my safety. Kinda takes the risk, or at least most of the risk out of the ride. So I’m going to work through these exercises with Rowdy and if I find anything really glaring, then I’ll have to either fix it or not ride. I don’t take any more chances than necessary. Feel free to ask any questions. No such thing as a dumb question.”
Brent, a man of few words, nodded; then he did indeed watch very closely as I worked through my program. I taught Rowdy to drive in a circle, and then wind down to a stop, which would later translate into a one-rein-stop. I produced an aerial with a plastic bag on the end. His eyes widened, but with a little nurturing he quickly handled the bag all over his body, first standing still, then moving rationally. Then I taught him my “Ballet on the Ground” exercise. This athlete quickly figured out this game and was doing perfect turns on the forehand followed by rocking back onto his haunches and pushing off in the opposite with gusto.
“Will ya look at him move? Man oh man he’s a jock. That’s why it’s so easy to unload you guys. The horse is perfectly balanced Brent. You see how he’s using himself so well? Heck he’s just about doing rollbacks,” I exclaimed as this specimen of horseflesh played my game like a champ. “You see what’s happening here is I’m connecting the dots. I’m forcing him to use his brain and feet.”
With a look of very strong concentration Brent nodded. I knew most of this was going right by him. “Don’t worry Brent. If I survive this ride and get Rowdy straightened out, I’ll slow down and really teach you this stuff. Okay?” I asked.
“That would be great . . . Frank. It’s kinda confusing to see just what’s going on. I really don’t have much experience with horses ya know. I just like em a lot and wanna learn. We could all use some help. Maybe you can do a little teaching to all of us. There’s six of us wranglers here,” suggested Brent.
“Why don’t you kinda suggest that to Mr. Northwood, and then he can approach me about it. Make it his idea,” I smiled thinking of how I was using horse psychology to help the human make the right decision. Ray Hunt would have been so proud of me. “Time for the saddle.”
Rowdy handled the saddle like a champ, but was a little goosey when I slapped it with the lead as he impulsively circled me. “He looks like a teenager on his first drive. See how hurky-jerky he is Brent? When he can go around me quietly and confidently and smoothly AS I SLAP THE SADDLE, then he’ll have it and I’ll feel a whole lot safer about riding.” I eased off on the slapping and wound him down to a stop and loved him up.
“It’s okay, Big Boy. You’ll make it, “ I reassured him all the while stroking his neck and kneading his withers. I rubbed his eyes and slipped my finger into the corner of his mouth and feathered his tongue to soften him up. He let out a big sigh, licked his lips, and lowered his head as if to say, “Heck this is all new stuff. Give a guy a break would ya?” I then started the slapping of the lead again, but his time much softer. I stayed in much closer to him, actually pushing my upper arm and shoulder into his side while sensing his need to be nurtured through this. “He needs my support to get through this. A little touching goes a long way. This is the kind of thing you need to read in a horse if you’re ever going to make it as a trainer, Brent. It’s called empathy. That and patience are the key ingredients to all great trainers.”
That reassuring paid huge dividends as Rowdy came out the other side and within a few minutes was walking around me quietly as I slapped the saddle hard, real hard. “This is the litmus test my friend. When a horse can handle this, they’re in a pretty good place,” I said as with my eyes I searched my tack bag for my helmet. I checked my girth for the last time and confidently mounted Mr. Rowdy while maintaining contact with the left rein. “Mane and rein always when I mount. That way I can circle him if I need to.”
Rowdy and I spent about another ten minutes in that paddock doing one-rein stops in each direction. With each circle appeared a new spectator. Before long there were a dozen people watching and waiting for the expected rodeo. Northwood and his secretary, all the wranglers, and several others stood that cool morning hugging themselves to stay warm. I pushed Rowdy over to the gate and leaned down and unlatched the hasp, then eased Rowdy back and pulled the gate toward us.
“We coulda done that for ya Frank,” offered Northwood.
“No, this is good for him. Thanks just the same. Got that map?”
Northwood handed me a drawing of the area I needed to work and explained a few of the particulars. Then he handed me a small walkie-talkie that I slipped into my coat pocket. “Just in case,” he said with a smile and off we went down a long gentle hill toward a steep one in the distance. We did a half dozen one-rein-stops at the walk and trot before hitting the bottom. As we started the long grade uphill I pushed Rowdy into a trot, then drifted into the canter. I was 100% ready when his head lowered abruptly for the anticipated bucking match. I allowed that head to get down just the right distance then gave it a hard upward jerk with my right rein and made a loud shhhhhhhhhhhh noise. And that was it. Rowdy’d hit the brick wall and found this bucking business could be a bit uncomfortable. He didn’t even think about it again.
We went on to have one of the most memorable rides of my life through both the gentle and not so gentle hills of that part of Virginia. I was on a horse that was crying out for work, a job, focus. And on that day I gave it to him with absolute glee. My pictures became his and I never pushed him one iota. We literally flew through the country at a medium lope just devouring those hills. So perfectly balanced, Rowdy was like riding a rocking chair. We’d spot a gathering of the Angus steers in the distance and just eat up the ground getting there regardless of the pitch of the country. Hour after hour we flew through that beautifully treed, lush land on that cool early December day in the year that became a turning point in my budding horse career.
By early afternoon the cattle were moved and secured. A couple of the wranglers had found us and we’d made quick work of what would have normally taken a lot longer. I had some cattle experience and was mounted on a horse that was overjoyed to be back on the payroll. Three of us rode back into the ranch headquarters, splitting up at the end as they reported to the manager and I untacked Rowdy. I was giving Rowdy a thorough rubdown when Northwood walked in.
“Glad it all worked out so well, Frank. Guess the boys were pretty impressed with your riding and handling of Rowdy. So he didn’t try to buck you again?” inquired Northwood.
“Just that once at the beginning of the hill. He kind of hit the brick wall so to speak. I made it uncomfortable for him and he decided he’d rather get along with me. And we did. What . . a . . ride that was. Wow. He is awesome. Still for sale?”
“What would you think about teaching my guys some of this stuff? Do you do that?”
“Oh yes. Sure let’s organize a mini-clinic. I’ll need a half-day, three or four hours. You get it figured out and I’ll be here. Yes, I think we can have your guys riding a whole lot more confidently and safely.”
Two days later I spent a full morning and part of the afternoon teaching this eager gang how to better communicate with their horses. They learned the necessary ground skills that lead to this safety net, the one-rein-stop. In the afternoon they learned how to perform this emergency regrouping exercise until it became a gliding symmetry of horse and rider. And who was the #1 star of the show? None other than Rowdy. The same horse that was headed to auction because he’d hurt one too many wranglers, was now teaching them the basics of what formally has become Frank Bell’s 7-Step Safety System.
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Frank Bell and his accredited instructors have been helping horses with their people problems throughout the world. Bell writes interesting stories about these horses and their challenges. He also helps people better understand how to communicate with these magnificent creatures by answering their vexing questions on his website. Frank has designed a logical set of exercises that immediately places both parties on higher ground . . . without the need for a round pen. This 7-Step Safety System has been featured in horse magazines and ezines throughout the world including Western Horseman magazine. Frank’s video “Discover the Horse You Never Knew” fully outlines “the system” and is available in the audio/video library that includes twelve works. Join Frank Bell’s Gentle Solution Revolution and breakthrough your training barriers.
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