Predicament
Jeanie Olen had a stallion with quite a reputation. All the horses he sired were difficult and indeed, no fun to start. I heard about Gainer long before I laid eyes on any of his get. Seems no one in the area wanted to take on any of Jeanie's horses. I rolled up my sleeves in anticipation of something fun and challenging to work with and was ready when Jeanie called.
"I've got seven horses I need started and heard you might be able to help me?" Jeanie inquired.
I sucked it in and asked a few questions about them. They were all thoroughbreds of medium size and superb athletic ability, including bucking, twisting, rearing, and just downright insolence.
“My stallion is fabulous," she boasted.
"Yes, so I've heard," I replied with a silent smile. We made arrangements to meet at Jeanie’s farm the very next day to have a look at Gainer’s progeny.
Jeanie's place, like everything in the area, was on a hillside without much flat area, save for a slippery round pen. It was not an ideal set-up for starting horses, but would have to do in a pinch. Jeanie proudly showed me her two and three year olds one by one, explaining the specifics that made each of them so special, much like a proud mother introducing her children. They were as varied as could be imagined, ranging from a massive three-year old sorrel thoroughbred that appeared half quarter horse to a 14-2 small roan. I took an immediate liking to a dark bay thoroughbred of sixteen hands named Predicament. Jeanie informed me that he was the "case." He'd been through three trainers who were completely intimidated and a bunch of vets who now would have nothing to do with him. "Let's start with him,” I suggested. Jeanie’s face lit right up, since no one would even talk to her about this horse that had baffled everyone.
I eased into Predicament’s stall and allowed him to check me out. I could tell he was extremely nervous around new people as his head went sky high and his eyes showed far too much white. He moved to the back of the stall and pawed nervously, almost aggressively. He had experienced a very bad time with too many people. I felt for his pain and lowered my stature and spoke softly. "Eeeeasy big guy. Eeeeasy. It's all right. I'll help you through all this." I kissed as softy as possible in rapid succession as I began to circle to his right. His head moved with me, but not his body. I inched closer to his hindquarters careful to note his attitude and back leg that could cow kick me in a heartbeat. I reached far out and just brushed his rump lightly, then pulled back. His head lowered and he licked his lips. I then walked completely around his front-end, keeping a distance of about ten feet, and again, he just watched. I stroked his rump again, less cautiously, digging my fingers in and working a circle. His head rose with his nose pointing blissfully high into the air, while turning his entire head so that his left eye was almost facing the ceiling. I started really getting into it with my fingers and used both hands as I worked five-inch circles briskly. My right hand worked back to his tail that was up as high as he could get it invitingly; I stroked the silky underside of his tail for a few seconds very, very lightly and then instantly walked off. He stood perfectly still for about thirty seconds. Then, very slowly Predicament turned his head to face me, dropped it to where his nose was just above his knees and started working his mouth with sheer delight and a new understanding of the human. I had neither taken nor asked anything of him. There was no bad taste in his mouth or sharp sting on his rump. He simply had been given to unconditionally for quite likely the first time in his life.
I had later learned that Jeanie was a frustrated vet who had lost her license because of malpractice. Predicament’s interactions had been so horrible with humans that he could only expect the worst every single time. This played right into my hand. What a gift! While I pitied the animal, I recognized that time and consistency could possibly help him trust the human again. In an instant I had his program worked out. He would have to become my new best friend, and it couldn't happen at Jeanie's place as she had hoped.
I lead Predicament out to the slippery round pen and had a great bonding session before I got him saddled. He came along beautifully in my 7-Step Safety System (7-SSS) until it was time to put some weight in the stirrups; suddenly he became a different horse, almost a Jekyll and Hyde personality. Someone had gotten this far and hit the brick wall. I couldn't blame them for not knowing where to go next. The old fashion racehorse method of bellying horses in their stall and climbing on a time or two before heading to a small round pen sure didn't work with this guy. Sadly that was the end of it for most trainers. They simply had no more in their bag of tricks. I could only smile in the satisfaction of knowing I could help this guy not only learn to like humans, but trust them to the point of carrying one of them around on his back. All it would take would be time and consistency before he would indeed invite me to go for a ride.
Predicament Comes to Kamschatka
We made arrangements to bring Jeanie’s round pen to my facility at Kamschatka in Camden, South Carolina, the very next day. Kamschatka was a fabulous place to live and work with horses. The 8000 square foot civil war mansion sat on a fifteen acre beautifully landscaped estate along with a half dozen cottages and a racehorse forties-style barn. I leased one of the cottages and the barn. The barn wasn't being used and had kind of gone to seed. There were three good-sized paddocks along Dicey Ford Road. Across the road lay the hunt country that consisted of about 5000 acres. The time I spent in this glorious location was one of the fondest of my life. From experiencing the magnificence of springtime in the south, to riding in the vast hunt country, it was a very special period.
In reality, the original “Kamschatka” is a peninsula off the northeast coast of the former U.S.S.R. and set far apart from everything. In years past this South Carolina estate, perhaps then a plantation had been so named because it had been so remote. The owners had the cottages built for their well-heeled visiting friends who traveled through on their yearly sojourn to Florida from New England. The “cottages” were anything but modest. They were full blown 1500-2500 square foot very well constructed houses with high ceilings, wood floors, large porches, and an aura that reeked of the south. The barn had a huge cupola in the middle with an entry underneath allowing access to the courtyard that was surrounded by mature azalea hedges. The walks under the long overhangs were genuine cobblestone so worn that they evoked images of soldiers leading horses through these aisles. Two wars had been fought here in Camden, South Carolina: The American Revolutionary War Battle of Camden on August 16, 1780, against the British, and American Civil War Battles of 1865. It was not at all uncommon to find aged lead bullets after rainstorms, or even Indian chards and arrowheads; people had been living- and dying - here for a long time, by American time standards.
Predicament arrived along with the round pen and the two other horses the following morning. To the horses’ delight there was actually grass to nibble out in my paddocks. Predicament was overjoyed, as were the others, to finally have a flat area to cut loose. The horses ran and kicked and bucked all over the large paddock and under the huge oak trees on the upper edge close to my house. Over four mammoth rotting oak logs they flew in sheer delight. The footing was sandy instead of the slippery clay they had been accustomed to. They hadn't known this freedom in a while and took full advantage. We assembled the round pen up in the corner of the paddock close to my house. There was heavy foliage on two sides giving a feeling of coziness. The sand footing was perfect. It was a quiet out-of-the-way spot that felt just right to bring these horses along. I couldn't wait to get started!
By now I’d had some time to ponder Predicament's personality. He was a complex horse that had to be brought along with utmost care. I ached for this poor guy who had experienced such a bad deal in his short life. Yes, we were off on the right footing, but I was in no hurry to push Predicament along. Instead, I figured I’d get myself well tuned up on his two other pasture-mates before turning my attention to him.
The other two horses came along predictably well and adapted to my training without fanfare. I was riding both of them in less than an hour and built on that success each day. I admittedly was avoiding the one that had me a bit perplexed, figuring the longer I stalled the more thorough my plan would be when the moment of truth finally presented itself. After a couple days of rainy weather and several calls from Jeanie inquiring about the horse of her greatest concern, I felt the time had finally come to face the music. But I was not about to do this alone.
The Moment of Truth
I’d learned some things the hard way a couple years earlier and had spent six weeks recovering from a broken collarbone. Had someone been there to help to calm the horse together with me, I wouldn’t have taken that trip to the hospital. But then I also wouldn’t have had the downtime to re-think my approach to the training of horses that today is helping thousands of horses and their owners. In any case, my lady friend Chris, who had good horse sense, was right at my side as I prepared Predicament for his first ride.
Some horses simply give off a relaxed aura and invite that first ride as if to say, “I’m ready for this. If you’re cool, so am I.” And some don’t. Predicament just couldn’t seem to get into that zone of really letting down and I was able to read it very easily. This horse wore his emotions right on the outside. His whole demeanor was tight and nervous. His eyes showed too much white. He snorted fear for no apparent reason. And as hard as I tried to prepare him for me on his back, he just exuded discomfort at that prospect. You see, he knew exactly what was coming, because so many others had failed there. He had managed to hoodwink and intimidate and hurt every single person that had ever gotten close to him.
Using my rope halter and 12’ lead, I ran through the first six exercises of my 7-SSS that I use to prepare all horses to ride. I then drove Predicament around the fifty-foot pen at liberty, careful to note how he took his leads and handled the stirrups banging on his sides. He passed the exams reasonably well and seemed to say, “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” Taking a deep breath I slipped just my toe into the stirrup. Immediately Predicament’s head shot sky-high and he bolted forward in terror. We regrouped. This time I pulled his head sharply into me with my left hand, along with a handful of mane, which would force him to circle into me and allow me to stay close. Grabbing the cantle on the saddle with my right I gave myself a hearty umph and pulled myself half way up. Predicament circled nervously as I stroked his outside neck and tried to calm him with soothing words. Then I eased back to the ground and allowed our tiny success to sink into both of our psyches. He did seem to relax a tad and we again repeated the same procedure. This time I again mounted half way but also allowed him a glance at me on the off side as I leaned far over the saddle and slowly waved my right arm for him to see. He tensed up when he saw my arm, but didn’t lose it completely. Again I eased off and allowed our success to soak in.
“Wow he’s nervous,” I conceded to my friend Chris. “I’m just not too excited about getting on his back. Ya know?”
“Well I just don’t think he’s going to settle down a whole lot more than he already is, Frank. He’s been pretty traumatized somewhere along the line and obviously has very real fear of someone on his back,” Chris wisely observed.
I just wasn’t ready to climb aboard. Something in my inner consciousness told me to just chill for a while longer, an instinct I’ve learned to listen to. “I’m kinda hungry. Let’s get some lunch and let him settle out a bit. Never hurts for a horse to just carry around the saddle for awhile,” I suggested.
I placed a bucket of water in the round pen and we went up for lunch and contemplation.
“Tell you what, Chris. Why don’t you get in front of him when I get on,” I suggested as we ate. “Just stroke him and try to keep him relaxed. We’ll just lead him around a bit and keep his head tilted to the left so we can always circle him down. You stay on the left side. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds like about the best plan we can offer him for now,” Chris replied. “Sure let’s give it a whirl, Frank. And bring your helmet.”
Back in the pen with Predicament, I put my helmet on securely and took a deep breath. “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeasy now, Predicament. Eeeeeeeeeeeeasy boy,” I cooed as I prepared him and me for the real moment of truth. Toe in the stirrup. Predicament’s head turned sharply to the left into me. Half way up. Then with Chris providing comfort on the left with stroking and assurance, I finally swung my leg over the back of the saddle. Predicament tensed and immediately started walking strongly forward. But he had to circle into us, and that was my security; otherwise, it would have been an immediate rodeo. This was one very, very uptight horse.
But our plan was working. Allowing him to move and lavishly nurturing him were the key ingredients. Round and around that pen we walked, and the horse very slowly settled into this new deal. I stroked and cooed and Chris did the same. And it worked! Within about fifteen minutes Predicament was actually walking out in a semi-relaxed manner. His head had dropped and he was even working his mouth in understanding. Hard as I tried to appear relaxed, my heart had been in my throat for that entire time. As I settled my body deeply into the saddle and mimicked his rhythm, he became increasingly relaxed until I was finally prepared to ask Chris to back off.
“Let’s do a couple one rein stops with you in here close, and then I’ll be ready to take him alone,” I suggested to Chris.
We circled Predicament down to a stop several times. It was quite a circus with the three of us working together, but it was just what both Predicament and I needed. And it worked. He came to a stop and found a soft release and stroking. We’d taught him we could always return to the same safe, loving place whenever uncertain and he actually seemed to revel in going there.
“Okay,” I instructed next. “Now you back off and I’ll go it alone.” Chris eased off to the edge of the round pen. I released Predicament’s head most of the way, but did keep a decided bend to the left, and with my body language and a soft cluck, asked him to walk off. With constant stroking on his neck and soothing words of encouragement, off we went. He was tenative at first and walked as if stepping on eggs. Truth be known, I was probably just as nervous. But we stayed with it and after a series of revolutions around the pen he again started reaching out and relaxing. What a feeling! This was easily the most uptight horse I’d ever encountered and we’d just crossed a huge hurdle. He was carrying me quietly and confidently and actually seemed proud of himself.
But there was one very sticky part of the equation that I’d avoided. I hadn’t circled him to the right and just knew somewhere deep inside that this could push him right over the edge. I’d been directing him with my lead rope, but it wasn’t tied into reins. Circling him down, I dismounted and tied the lead into reins. I remounted without fanfare, prepared to change directions and also ready for whatever he could throw at me. I was nervous about this, but so wanted to get over that hump that I forced myself to finally make that change.
I began with slight leg pressure on the right to get him just thinking on that side. Then I basically passed the rein pressure and contact from one side to the next in as smooth a transition as I could. But it wasn’t pretty. As his head came across to the other side, Predicament tensed and grabbed himself right on the verge of melting down and exploding. I could feel a keg of dynamite underneath me and immediately knew I had to change his mind from extreme fear and flight mode to the regrouping and nurturing we’d practiced dozens of times on the ground. I began an assertive bumping back with my leg on his right thereby driving those hindquarters underneath him, disengaging his engine, and changing his mind all at the same time. I took a very firm hold of his head with the reins, and with my left hand, I stroked his neck convincingly. Round and around we went as this uptight horse expended quantum pent-up energy. In my heart I knew this was the real litmus test. When we could circle down in each direction, back to that safe loving place I call the safety zone, well then we’d have arrived.
Fortunately I was able to pull his mind away from freaking out and get past that crisis to the right. Eventually we got stopped and were able to regroup. When I’d assured him it was all the same on the right side, we walked off calmly and did another half dozen one-rein stops in that sticky direction. Then as we transitioned out of the right turn back to the left, Predicament again grabbed himself, but not nearly as severely. We circled into a one-rein stop to the left, regrouped and settled, and then continued to turn from one side to the next until he wasn’t bothered about that change.
“You know, Chris. I think it’s about time for a breather and a couple Rolaids,” I sighed with a smile.
I circled Predicament to the left down to a stop and did a little rocking in the saddle before dismounting, just to let him know my dismount was coming. With just my toe in the stirrup, I easily dismounted and immediately approached his head and praised him lavishly as if he were the brightest thoroughbred in the whole world. And he bought it. That horse was so proud of himself. And I was proud of all of us. The team effort had been the key in helping this hapless creature overcome his fears.
Owner Jeanie returned a week later to see the new Predicament cantering through the woods on a loose rein. He and I exuded a joy and exuberance that spring day that I will never forget.
Frank Bell and his accredited instructors have been helping horses with their people problems for several decades. He 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. Suddenly both parties are riding in confidence instead of fear. Frank Bell’s 7-Step Safety System has been featured in horse magazines and ezines throughout the world including a three-part series in 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 now!
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