Mistakes I Have Made

by Laura Crum

I posted a blog last month titled “Pitfalls”. In it I detailed the rather bad decisions a person new to horses has made when it came to buying a horse for her family. This got me thinking about the bad decisions I myself have made when I was new to owning horses. And that got me thinking about Honey.

Honey was the second horse I ever owned. I did not do a spectacular job picking out the first one, either, though I give myself a break on that—I was only fifteen at the time. My experienced uncle, my trusted advisor, selected my first horse, a somewhat cross grained gelding named Jackson. Jackson seemed an appropriate choice—he was fifteen years old when I bought him and appeared sound and gentle. Well, it turned out he was sound, but he wasn’t all that gentle. Jackson was prone to vertical rears when under pressure and to kicking out hard. He kicked me in the head once and laid me out cold. In short, he was not my dream horse.

Still, I rode Jackson and learned to deal with him. If only asked to walk, trot, lope in an arena, he was pretty much an easy ride. Two years later, when he and I were both seventeen, I sold him to the riding school where I learned to ride. (And yes, I checked on this horse—he was a success at the riding school and remained a well loved lesson horse until, several years later, he was kicked by another horse and had to be euthanised, due to a broken leg.)

Now, by the time I sold Jackson, I had helped my uncle break and train several colts, and I wanted to buy a young horse I could break and train myself. I shopped around a bit, and, as an eighteen year old, I bought an unbroken four year old mare named Honey. Honey had excellent cowhorse bloodlines (she was an own daughter of Leo Bingo) and she was a good looking sixteen hand bay mare. She belonged to an older lady who had raised her from a foal and simply let the mare run loose in the pasture. So Honey wasn’t really spoiled. But she was a hot-blooded four-year-old who had virtually never been handled.

Was this a good choice for an eighteen year old who had never broke and trained a horse single-handedly? Not so much. But my uncle liked this big good looking mare, and so I bought her.

Long story short—I got Honey broke. She didn’t hurt me; I didn’t hurt her. She developed a bad vice along the way—when she didn’t want to do something she backed up. Relentlessly. I couldn’t cure her of this and my uncle eventually took over and backed the mare until she fell down, then asked her to take a step forward. He had to go round and round with her awhile—I had her thoroughly confirmed in this vice—but eventually Honey could be talked out of backing as an evasion.

I took Honey off to college with me, intending to ride her every day. But I didn’t. There were too many other things to do, and I never really trusted Honey. I could walk, trot, lope her, take both leads, ride down the road, but she always felt resistant. I didn’t enjoy her. When winter break came around, I took her home and asked my uncle to sell her for me.

I heard she went to be a broodmare, but I never checked on her.

To me, in retrospect, this is a sad story. My intentions were good, and had I gotten some good advice, I probably could have been steered to a project horse that I might have enjoyed much more. I certainly would advise an eighteen year old girl with the experience I had at the time to go for perhaps a greenbroke horse of an obviously cooperative disposition. Not a hot, completely untouched four year old mare.

I did not ruin Honey, I don’t think, but I didn’t do her any favors either. I wanted to love her and keep her forever (that was my idealistic vision when I bought her), but I found her frustrating and sold her a year later. Not the happiest horse story in the world.

This “mistake” did not turn me off to horses. After Honey was sold I bought a little green broke four year old gelding named Hobby (another story), that I did manage to train such that he became a successful showhorse for the people who bought him from me a year later. Because, once again, Hobby and I were not a good personality fit. This story has a happy ending, because the people who bought Hobby kept him until he was a very old horse, loved him dearly, and euthanised him when his time was done. However, at the time I was just disappointed that yet another horse had not worked out for me. And then I bought Burt, a five year old with only thirty days of riding, whom I kept until his death in his late thirties. Burt was my first forever horse.

After Burt I bought two more horses that did not work out for me and that I subsequently sold. So I was in my mid-twenties when, with the purchase of Gunner, I began to be able to conciously choose horses that would work for me.

Thus, when I write about other people’s mistakes, I always try to remember that I made plenty of mistakes myself. I chose horses that weren’t suitable for me, and when I didn’t enjoy them and felt I didn’t have time for them, I passed them on. Today I am able to choose horses that work for me, and when I do place a horse in another home, I check on that horse and make sure he is doing OK. I am, I think, a responsible, competent horse owner. But I wasn’t born knowing how to do and be this. I had to learn through my mistakes.

So today I want to ask if some of you, like me, have made some big mistakes in your journey to becoming a good horseman. Or perhaps you were able to get good advice and make many less mistakes than I did. Does anybody want to share their path?

Pitfalls

by Laura Crum


Awhile ago I wrote about a woman named “Nancy” who had asked me for advice on finding a family horse for her daughters. Nancy knew nothing about horses and was very timid. I introduced her to a competent young trainer I know named Bill. Bill had a horse he thought might fit her—a gelding in his teens named Walt. I watched Nancy and her daughters try the horse and Walt seemed suitable. However, it was clear that the horse wasn’t totally sound—no bob, but an awkwardness in the hind leg action. I thought, and Bill agreed, that Walt had something going on high up in the rear end. Still, he was servicably sound as a kid’s horse and quite gentle.

Anyway, Nancy passed on the horse and did not choose to use Bill as a helper. I left on vacation shortly after that, and when I saw Nancy again several months later, she had bought a horse and a pony—sans advice. She seemed quite happy with them and had chosen to board them with a woman, I’ll call her Sally, who had agreed to “help” her. Well, I knew of Sally by reputation, and I didn’t think she was a terribly competent helper, but, as I pointed out in my last blog post on this subject, I also didn’t think it would be all that useful to Nancy if I chimed in with some unasked for advice at this point. Nancy was happy with the situation—I felt it best to keep my thoughts to myself.

OK. Fast forward six months. Nancy’s daughters are in my homeschool group and I heard them talking about how their pony had bit and kicked at them. This alarmed me and I asked Nancy how it was going. I’m sure you all can guess what had happened.

In the intervening six months, the pony had gone from perfect manners to offering to bite and kick. Sally had done nothing to help them, just pointed out that the pony was having issues. The horse had had soundness issues. And, to top it off, Nancy could no longer afford to board the two animals with Sally and was looking for some place cheaper and closer to home—so far with no luck.

I have to admit, I stared at the woman in consternation. I like Nancy. I love her daughters. I wish only the best for them. But the number of problems contained in this five minute blast of information struck me as pretty much impossible to solve. Why had she chosen to buy TWO horses when she couldn’t afford the board bill? Why had she elected not to work with the competent person that I had steered her to but instead chosen Sally, who was charging her a very high board and lived an hour from her? Why had she selected her animals without the advice of an experienced helper?

Once again, I recommended to Nancy that she get a competent helper. At this point Nancy had decided for herself that Sally wasn’t much help, and seemed open to this suggestion. But now Nancy was also looking for cheap board, and I knew Bill would not be interested in this. So I recommended another woman I know who is a good horseman and teaches a lot of beginners. Unfortunately, I don’t think she offers cheap board either. And to make matters worse, this was a month ago, and since then it has rained pretty much non-stop. All horse people in the area are impacted by this. Experienced horse people with good situations struggle with mud. What in the world is going to happen to Nancy’s poor horse and pony? With an owner who has no experience and essentially no place to keep them.

I wish I could wave a magic wand and solve this problem. But I can’t. I told Nancy to feel free to come to me with questions, but I could neither board her horses nor help with their training. I am happy to advise her the best I can, but I think she’s put herself in a tough spot. Even if she wanted to get rid of the horses, nobody’s buying right now.

So, in the interests of preventing someone else from landing in a similar predicament, I’d like to offer some preventitive advice. If you are new to horses and think you’d like to buy one, select a competent horseman to help you. Ask your friends who have horses for advice on who to choose as a helper. Offer to pay said helper by the hour. Try to avoid a helper who makes a commision on the horse you buy or who only wants to sell you a horse. Don’t get into horse ownership without carefully considering where you will keep the horse and what this will cost.

In Nancy’s case, she had originally told me that she meant to keep her horse at her home. And she does have some land. However, when I asked her the specific question: “Do you have a fenced horse setup?” she said that she “meant to build a fence”. When I asked her what kind of fence, she clearly had no idea. I gave her some suggestions, and she declined them, saying they were “too expensive”. And, so far, it appears that she hasn’t built anything.

So, build the corral first—before you get the horse. If you can’t afford to build the corral, you can’t afford the horse. Or, line up the place where you will board. Make sure you can afford it and that its close enough to be workable. If you can’t find a suitable place then you’re not ready to buy a horse.

Consider the pitfalls of horse ownership. They are many and expensive. I love my horses dearly, but almost the first thing I say to a prospective new horse owner is “Are you sure you can handle this? It’s a lot of work and very expensive and you will need to work with a competent helper--at least for awhile.”

I don’t mean to discourage prospective new horse owners, but I have had a lifetime of experience learning how to deal with horses. It is totally impossible for me or anyone else to simply hand you this body of knowledge. It will take you many years to acquire it. And even then, there will be fences to build and vet bills and many other expenses that you didn’t know would be so high, as well as mistakes made—and yes, we experienced horseman make plenty of mistakes, too. I guess the big difference is that we more or less expect that we’ll have to deal with some expensive pitfalls. That’s the horse business.

So my advice to new horse owners would be to expect the unexpected. And expect it to be expensive. What advice would you offer?

First Horses

So – do you all remember your very first horse? The one you fell head-over-heels, achingly in love with, at least until you became a better rider and moved on?

I remember mine. He was a nondescript bay gelding and I named him Copper.

Growing up, I was the epitome of the horse crazy girl, reading everything I could get my hands on about horses, thinking, dreaming, and practically living and breathing horses. We lived out in the country, but my mother was a city girl and my father was busy working to support our family, and horses were big expensive creatures and a daughter could get hurt.

But I could not get over my dream so finally, to placate me, or maybe just to stop my begging, my parents made me a deal -if I could save enough money to buy my own horse, I could have one. (Hint: this technique still works with almost all children and teenagers, to find out how bad they really want something.) Anyway, prices of horses have varied over the years, but as I recall, the amount needed to buy a pretty decent kid’s horse back in those days was about $600.

Hearing the offer, I went to work. I babysat, pulled weeds, took care of neighbor’s animals - whatever a young teenager without a car could do. And I saved every penny. In about two years, when I was fifteen years old, I had the $600, and my parents, bless their hearts, made good on their promise. We set out to look for a very safe first horse.

And such horses, as you know, are scarce as hen’s teeth, probably because people generally hang on to good, reliable horses. Or they pass them on to friends and other horse people.

But after several faulty starts and one horse that didn’t pass a vet check, we finally found just the right one. He was probably 12-15 years old, a bright bay, common headed, straight shouldered, short pasterned, high-withered, sloping crouped, dead-slow gelding and I was TOTALLY in love.

On the day we went to get Copper, my parents let me skip school. Oh Happy Day! My parents even pitched in $75 for a good used saddle. Copper had the number one important trait for a first horse. He was lazy. And a horse that wants to go slow builds confidence in a rider. Because I certainly didn’t know to ride. I was entirely self taught. I remember riding Copper out in the pasture the very first time, with the old cowboy we bought him from riding alongside, giving me pointers. “Keep your heels down,” he said in a gruff voice, “and put more weight down through your stirrups.” And I did.

Once I got him home, I rode Copper everywhere, and he never batted an eye at anything. And even though I had a saddle, I loved to ride bareback. I remember hanging on to Copper’s mane for dear life, trying to sit his bone-jarring, teeth-in-your-eyeballs trot, kicking his sides, trying to get him into a lope. And that big smile when he finally did it! Surely that’s where the phrase flying by the seat of your pants comes from.

Because I did develop a seat from that old rough-riding horse. And I shortly outgrew him. He was a wonderful horse to begin on, but soon I wanted something with nicer gaits and a bit more get-up-and-go, and so I sold him, and progressed to a better-looking, more responsive horse.

I’ve often wondered what ever happened to Copper, and how many other kids he taught how to ride. Because you never really forget you very first love, do you?

So – tell us what you remember about your First Horse.