Go With Your Gut

I recently attended a “natural” horsemanship clinic here on the Big Island with a big name horse trainer from Texas who has a show on TV. 

I was hoping to learn something new. While I may not drink the Kool-Aid of the “Natural” Horsemanship cult, I value the “feel” of my horses. I respect their individuality. I am aware of my body language and the baggage I bring to the barn and try to suppress my inner dervish. I do ground work with my horses regularly. I may not recite the mantra of the seven games or wiggle my lead line for hours, but I have watched all of Parelli’s videos and Clinton’s Road to the Thoroughbred, and read books by Bill Dorance, Robert Miller and Buck Branaman to name a few. I believe I can learn something from everyone, good or bad. 

In this case, it was bad.

Groundwork with Miznah

I took my sister-in-law and niece to audit the clinic with me as they were new to horses and interested in learning the basics. What we witnessed was basically cruel disguised as “natural”. There were two horses in the clinic: a pushy orphaned QH mare and a frantic terrified 10 year old Arabian gelding. Let me start by saying it took me almost 30 years to appreciate Arabians. I, like many, thought they were crazy! When a client told me they had an Arabian I immediately thought of Scottsdale and the freak show of baby oiled, bug-eyed lunacy that they call Halter Classes. Until I vetted Endurance rides in the mountains of Oregon I did not see the value, the brilliance, the determination and the affection of the Arabian breed. After seeing them doing what they were meant to do, trotting a hundred miles confidently carrying their riders in the dark along mountain precipices, I had a newfound respect for this misunderstood breed. 

Oman - Shagya Arabian

With this recent admiration in heart, I looked forward to seeing how this clinician could help this gelding. This horse clearly needed a leader. He was screaming to the other horses outside the arena, trying to bond with the Quarter horse mare despite her bullying of him. While many hot blooded horses need to move their feet to think, this clinician used this horse’s energy as a form of punishment not a release. He did not help him find a better answer to his anxiety. Instead he crashed him into the round pen panels, he chased him, he whipped at him. He tied his front leg up and whipped him forward until he fell to his knees. After two hours, the horse finally stopped moving out of sheer exhaustion and fear. At that point the “trainer” called for a lunch break and the crowd broke into applause. I was dumbfounded. This was barbaric. Don’t get me wrong, I am not a push-over. I believe in discipline. My horses respect my space. I carry a whip and ride with spurs but these are tools to encourage not punish. 

We did not come back after lunch. I took my shocked sister-in-law and my niece away from the scene of the crime and felt sick to my stomach that I was not able to rescue the horse from this “professional”. 

I found out two weeks later that the Arabian died on the second day of the clinic. He ran head first into a corner post of the round pen and fell over dead. I was not there to see the events leading up to this tragedy but I am sure they were no different than the day prior. This horse needed time, patience, a willing partner, a benevolent leader. Instead he was publicly tortured and no one did anything to stop it because we were the students and we had all paid to learn from this respected trainer. 

When I left that day, I was confused. I wondered if everything I knew about training horses was wrong. If this guy was “right” and had trained thousands of young horses who was I to question his methods? But deep down, I knew it was wrong. And Day Two proved that. 

So back to why I study so many different methods of horse training, why I audit so many clinics, why I read so many books, why I spend so much time with my horses... Because nobody has all the answers and if they say they do, they are probably a charlatan. There is no recipe. Horsemanship is an art. Sure there are guidelines but most of what makes the great riders great is their finesse, their judgement and their compassion and that takes a lifetime to perfect. In my life, I hope to glean one or two things from each person I meet along the way so by the time I am 80 I will feel wise and full. In this case I learned more than a couple of things. Unfortunately for the little bay Arabian, they were things never to do. 

Miznah - My two year old Shagya Arabian cross mare