When I was about 12 years old, I worked for a summer as a stable hand at a horse trainer in New Braunfels, Texas. I lived with the owners of the stable and they treated me, in the good way, like family. Central Texas summers are a hot affair so we would wake up at 5 am every morning except Sunday, eat breakfast and get to work before the heat made activity dangerous for both man and horse. Typically, I would clean stalls for about an hour and then exercise horses. We would train, wash, cool and feed and be finished for the day by about 1:30 pm.
Exercising a horse, or "lunging" occurs in a small pen, constructed of railroad ties set on ends into the ground, one touching the next in a circle about forty feet in diameter. I would bring a horse into the exercise pen, remove its lead rope and then make it move around the circular pen, alternating directions and speed, for about twenty minutes. I would deliver the "warmed up" horse to be saddled and trained by Lee, the owner, or Harold, his assistant.
After I finished with my cleaning and exercising chores, I would typically watch Lee and Harold work horses in the larger training arena. I had been riding horses since I was very young and knew how to ride, but these guys were the real deal, knowledgeable and generous with their experience. I learned a lot, including how to rope, but that will be the subject of another post. Once finished with a day's lessons, I would often get to ride to cool the horse down.
One horse at the stable was particularly difficult. She was about two years old, of fine pedigree but nasty disposition. We could not allow her to be near any other horses because she would lay her ears back and lung at the other animals. She was not much better with humans and I learned quickly to keep her on a short rope and stay alert lest she do something nasty. She was at the stable to be "broken".
In old western movies, "breaking" horses was a wild affair with ropes and bucking and swearing. For many animals, the word breaking was an apt description of the event, because the domination by man over beast would break the horse's spirit as well. Good cowboys observed that a more gentle approach to this event, started when the horse was very young, was beneficial to both horse and the cowboy's long term physical well-being.
Lee was very gentle with the animals. There was no yelling or screaming or bucking for the most part. As he explained to me, he believed in "training" horses, not breaking them. By the time I arrived that summer, the difficult young mare had been at the stable for three months and Lee had made little progress with her. She had thrown him several times. She had also thrown Harold, who was a good trainer in his own right and a practicing rodeo cowboy on the weekends.
One morning, I sat on the corral fence and watched as Lee and Harold worked with the young mare. Lee had saddled her and then tied a lead rope tightly to the saddle of an older, quiet horse ridden by Harold. Harold and his horse were leading the young mare, with Lee atop the saddle, around the arena. Things looked calm, and but for an occasional attempt by the mare to bite the other horse or Harold's leg, she was doing pretty well. After ten or fifteen minutes of this, Lee told Harold to remove the lead rope.
Although the arena was filled with deep, sandy soil and a pretty soft spot to get tossed, I saw Lee pull his hat down tight and prepare for the worse. Once released, the mare continued walking for ten or fifteen feet and then all hell broke loose. The mare started bucking and jumping and doing everything short of rolling over to rid herself of Lee and the saddle. The rodeo continued for what seemed like a long time, but what in actuality was probably about thirty seconds. I saw the mare go down on her front legs and begin to roll. Being rolled on by a thousand plus pounds of horse is a great way to get killed and Lee was having none of it. I don't know how he did it, but by the time the horse finished her roll, Lee was standing beside her calming her down.
Lee barked a couple of orders to Harold and then told me to bring him an old tire that was laying outside of the arena under an tree. Harold rode his horse back near the stable, tied her up and returned from the tack room a few minutes later with an old saddle and a piece of heavy rope. I watched as the two of them swapped the young mare's saddle and then Lee tied the heavy rope around the horn and gullet. He then tied the tire to the other end of the rope, with about two feet of slack between saddle and tire.
Lee told Harold to ride his horse to the other end of the arena and for me to assume my position atop the fence. Once everyone was in position, Lee led the young mare to the center of the arena and did his best cowboy "woop". The young mare startled and starting bucking. The tire, hanging loosely at about stirrup level on the horse, began to swing from one side of the mare to the other. The harder she bucked, the harder the tire hit her. At first, the swinging tire seemed to firm her resolve, but a minute or so later, the young mare was standing motionless in the center of the arena, huffing and puffing and trying to catch her breath. Lee wasted no time removing the rope and tire and mounting up. His ride lasted about thirty minutes without any further hysterics by the young mare.
Have you ever woken up in the morning with the realization that the life blows you are experiencing are coming from your own hand? Do you stop and take a different approach?
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