Horse Mavericks

 “Go get your horse,” Lanny West said handing me a halter. When I took it, he disappeared into the tack room. I sauntered from the barn to Gambler’s pasture.

The gelding poked his nose through the metal tubing of the gate searching for a carrot. I knew Lanny wouldn’t approve but I didn’t do anything about it. I wasn’t quite sure what to do and it didn’t seem like that big of a deal. Other horses bit, but Gambler never did. Besides, Lanny was in the tack room. He couldn’t see what was happening anyway.

“Don’t let that horse nudge you like that.” His voice rang through he window of the barn.

Oops, I thought. I got caught.

I pushed Gambler’s nose in an attempt to make him be respectful. I felt for the latch, which secured the chain that was wrapped around the fence and gate. The horse responded by sniffing my hand. I shoved him away and continued to fumble trying to unclip the hook. In less than a second he spread snot across my forearm.

I glanced at the barn to see if Lanny was still there. I didn’t see him. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to do what he had asked, I just didn’t know how to make the horse stop. My efforts were completely ineffective.

I managed to unhook and remove the chain, and it rattled it across the metal tubing. The horse stepped backward when I opened the gate. I closed it and passed the chain around the fence post and left in dangling on a crossbar. Gambler hovered over my shoulder the entire time. The gelding wasn’t showing me respect. I leaned my body into his chest to get him to back up. I glanced at the barn again. No Lanny. I was relieved.

I slung the rope over Gambler’s neck, slipped his head into the halter and tied it up. When I opened the gate, Gambler brushed his nose along my back.

I directed him through the opening, doing my best to do it just like Lanny had instructed. As I closed the gate, Gambler was inches away. “Back up,” I said shoving his chest. Gambler half-heartedly stepped away.

He hovered his nose over my right shoulder as we walked to the barn. I stopped, glared at him and said, “Hey.” He looked at me as if to say, “I’m not doing nothin’.” If he were human, he would have been shrugging.

I turned and continued walking. He managed to wait for an entire second before following, but within one or two strides, he was crowding me again. When I entered the barn, I could hear Lanny moving around in the tack room. He peaked his head through the door and said, “Go get that brush over there.” He pointed to a little shelf under the window.

Lanny didn’t talk about how Gambler had walked all over me. He just gave me instructions on how to groom. He didn’t say anything while he demonstrated how to get the horse to pay attention while I put on the saddle and bridle. He never said a word when we road through the public land, which bordered his property. I thought he had missed the entire incident, and I wasn’t going to say anything–partly because it hadn’t come up, partly because I was trying to learn the gazillion other things, and partly because I thought I could do a better job next time.

I was wrong. At the end of the day he sat on a bail of hay and said, “You can’t lie to a horse.”

I nodded. I had heard the phrase a hundred times, and I didn’t think I had lied to the Gambler.

“You know this morning when Gambler nudged you and you pushed back. And, when you led him to the barn, he walked all over you, and you just pushed back. You were lying to him.”

I snorted, amused. I should have known he had not missed a thing. I should have known that a man who trained horses his entire life would have a highly developed sense of awareness of every creature around him. It was what made him able to predict a horse’s behavior, sense a dangerous situation, and stay a step ahead. It was what made him able to act at just the right time in order to train and communicate to horses. I should have known he had been watching.

“You can’t pick at the horse. You ask and, if he doesn’t do it, you get after him. Otherwise you’re lyin’ to him.” He leaned forward, put an elbow on his knee and looked at me. “Never beat a horse, but you have to be as hard as necessary and as soft as you possibly can be.”

He wanted me to do what it took to get Gambler to believe I was in charge. For my horse, it meant getting energetic, loud and making him move around so he knew I expected him to do what I had asked. If I wanted him keep a respectable distance, he was going to do it–otherwise, my requests were lies.

Some horses are more sensitive than Gambler and require a lighter touch. Knowing how hard or how soft to be takes years of experience in interpreting horses’ behavior. Lanny’s experience spans a lifetime.  

What methods do you use to make sure your horse maintains a respectable distance? 

Photo Credit cjwoolridge