A tale of two horses... and their owners

By Gayle Carline
Author and Horse Lover

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only." - Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

A friend of mine hates Dickens because his main characters never take charge of their own lives to alter their course, and of course he's right, but I particularly love this opening line/paragraph because it perfectly describes how various people view the world. To some, the glass is half full and it is the best of times. To others, life is always tipping toward the worst.

In 2008, I was longeing my beautiful black gelding, Snoopy, in the round pen. He was running, not bucking or jumping or acting crazy, when he began to limp. After some initial assessment by the vet who had stopped by because she's a friend of the ranch owner, we took him to the equine hospital down the street for x-rays. I still remember Dr. Klohnin's soft accent as he pointed to the picture on the screen and said, "Do you see the white line? He has broken the sesamoid bone."

He said a lot more, although once he said the phrase, "fuse the joint" my brain got up and left the building. Even so, I kept interpreting each sentence as positive. They could operate. (They've done this procedure before.) Snoopy could come back to full health. (Many horses had.) The procedure was successful about 85% of the time. (Better than 50/50!)

It took almost three years to get Snoopy's leg back to being fully functional, but I always believed that it would. I wasn't going to give up until one of his vets took me by the shoulders, shook me firmly and said, "It's over and done and we can't save him."

I guess you could say I see things as the best of times.

Recently, one of the horses at our facility managed to knock a goodly-sized portion of his hoof off, exposing the soft tissue underneath. He is in a box stall, which the entire staff has inspected, and no one can figure out how he did it, although I must add, he is quite the kicker when he thinks there might be food available.

As you horse owners know, having the foot exposed is a danger to infection, so Niki (the trainer) tried to call the owner, couldn't reach her, and made the executive decision to get the vet out. Dr. Garloff came out and flushed the wound, packed it with antibiotics and wrapped it tightly.

I was there when Niki finally contacted the owner. I could only hear one side of the conversation, but it was pretty easy to interpret. The owner was crying hysterically. Her horse, in her mind, was irreversibly broken. Niki kept having to reassure her that she would not have to put the horse down. The hoof will grow back. It will take a long time, but it will grow back. There is no reason for sadness and worry, as long as they follow the vet's instructions. Cleaning, antibiotics, wrapping every other day.

A week later, the owner was still expressing worry.

"I've been worried about your horse, too," she told me. (Snoopy has been having some issues that seem to be solved with different shoeing.)

I felt like telling her to keep her worry blanket off my horse. I save my worry for problems I see as insurmountable, and Snoopy was going to be fine. Just fine.

What does the world look like to you? Do you live in the spring of hope or the winter of despair? Do you believe in the power of positive thinking? Or is it all in the hands of science or fate or some other force of nature?

Freak Accidents

                                               by Laura Crum

            Freak accidents are scary. By freak accident, I guess I mean the truly unexpected happening, not a result of obvious problems or carelessness. In my opinion, there are no freak accidents when you are training/riding/handling young/green horses. Such horses can be expected to do problematic things and if you do not expect this sort of behavior, you’re not thinking straight and will inevitably have a quite predictable accident. This is even more true if you’re re-training problem horses. Even if you do everything right, you will have some accidents when riding young horses or problem horses…it goes with the territory. But when a person with lots of horse experience is riding/handling older, solid, gentle horses and uses safe practices, and still an accident happens…well, I’d call that a freak accident.

            Since I very sincerely do NOT want to get hurt at this point in my life, I’ve given a lot of thought to freak accidents and how to avoid them. I am that person with lots of experience who chooses to ride/handle only older solid, gentle horses. So I’ve hugely reduced my risk right there. But those pesky freak accidents are still a potential problem. I’m knocking on wood right now as I type, but I have to admit, my horse life has been remarkably free of freak accidents. And I hope to keep it that way. So the other day I sat down and tried to consciously think about what I do to prevent such accidents.

            The first thing that came up for me is that I’ve learned to recognize potential problems BEFORE they happen. This is huge. Its partly a matter of experience (I’ve seen a lot of stuff), partly a matter of intuition (and paying attention to your intuition), and partly a matter of listening carefully when I hear about a wreck and making sure I don’t make that particular mistake. So when Olympic rider Courtney King-Dye suffered a traumatic brain injury when a gentle horse fell with her, I bought a helmet. I’ve ridden all my life without one, but I KNEW, when I read her story on her blog, that wearing a helmet made sense and that I should do it. If it could happen to her, it could happen to me. And the results can be devastating.

            The reality is that a horse falling with me (or my son) is my biggest fear. Any horse can fall. Period. Some are more likely to fall than others, but they can all fall. Wearing a helmet reduces your risk of brain injury; it won’t help with the rest of your body. I know of several ways to reduce the risk of a horse falling at all. If a person heeds these guidelines, the risk of a horse falling is much less. 

1) Ride a horse who has never fallen under saddle. Mostly, if they haven’t fallen, they won’t. But it’s no guarantee.

2) Don’t ride when the footing is bad. Too deep, too slick…etc. Just don’t ride.

3) Don’t overtire a horse. They make mistakes of all sorts, including falling, when they are tired.

4) Don’t ride a lame horse. It’s the same basic problem as number 3.

5) Learn to “catch” a horse with the reins when he stumbles. Some will argue with this, but I have found it to be effective. Ever since a good horse once fell with me loping on a “thrown away” rein, I never ride on a completely loose rein. I always have very light contact, and I “catch” my horse when he stumbles. So far, it’s worked.

6) If you have any misgivings (about the footing, or the horse) trot or walk rather than lope. Horses don’t fall easily from the trot or walk…they usually fall from the lope.

7) This one is obvious, but many people just don’t seem to get it. Your risk of falling and being hurt is much greater when you are doing something at speed, be it jumping or roping or whatever. If you seriously wish to avoid being hurt, don’t choose eventing, ya know?

8) Experienced older horses with no history of falling are the safest, but a horse that is truly old and arthritic has a higher risk of falling than a strong horse in the prime of life.

So there’s a list for you. How to deal with the problem of a horse falling BEFORE it happens. But, though a horse falling with me is my greatest fear, there are other risks. People get injured all the time handling horses from the ground—they even get killed. I have to admit, in some ways I feel safer ON a horse than leading it. So here’s some things I do to reduce my risk handling horses on the ground.

1) Don’t feed by walking in the corral or stall. Food aggression is a huge problem and some otherwise gentle horses will never be reliable in this area (I had one of these). My pens are set up such that I feed from outside the fence.

2) Always pull a horse’s head to you before you turn him loose. Ever since I heard of an old horseman who was killed by being kicked in the head while turning a horse loose, I’ve been careful about this one. Because I, too, have turned a gentle horse loose, only to have him kick up his heels and run off.

3) Don’t ever assume a horse WON’T kick you or run over you. I do believe that some of my horses would never do this, but I treat them as though they might. I don’t stand behind them when they are loose, I lead them from the correct position at all times, I don’t sit down or lie down when hand grazing them, I don’t play games with them at liberty, or mess around with them in their corrals without catching them. My horses are truly gentle and what I am doing is really overkill, but it is the way to prevent that accident before it happens.

4) My horses are all broke to be tied solid. Even so, I never assume that they won’t pull back and I use caution when I work around them tied up.

5) Don’t ever allow a leadrope or lungeline or rope of any kind to wrap around your arm or leg, or any part of your body—not even for a moment. It does happen, but when it does, unwrap it immediately. So many bad wrecks that I’ve known came from being tangled up and drug.

6) Insist on good manners from the horse at all times. Its very easy to let a gentle horse get spoiled such that he crowds you or pulls on you—you know he doesn’t mean to hurt you, you trust him, you don’t want to get after him. But…this is the path by which that gentle horse one day ends up knocking you down. Make sure all the horses you handle respect your space and follow your direction. Be clear and firm at all times. Remain the boss. This is actually a hard one for many people to follow, and I am guilty of being lax here, too. But when one of my horses virtually drags me toward a patch of grass, I realize my mistake, and we have a brief reminder of manners.

The other category of freak accident that I’ve both seen and heard of, comes from the truly gentle horse doing something unexpected. Either because he was stung, or startled by something that really frightened him, or feeling way too good, or, well, who knows. But this does happen. My son’s horse, Henry, is an equine saint, and yet he had a little meltdown over feeling good one morning, and he was dramatically afraid of my son in plastic knight armor, complete with sword and shield. And the number of people I’ve known who were badly hurt due to a gentle horse unexpectedly spooking—whether they came off his back or were mowed down on the ground, is well, legion. I’ve already addressed the ground handling issues, so here are a few tips for when you’re aboard.

1) Ride with your hand on the horn. This sounds dumb, I know, and is counter to how we were all taught to ride. But it can save your life. I learned this when I was showing cutting horses. They duck and dive in amazing ways, and all cutters ride with a hand gripping the horn. I got in the habit of doing this and after that, whenever I rode my very spooky, reactive Gunner “outside,” I rode with one hand on the saddle horn. Saved me coming off numerous times. (I realize this is no help to English riders.)

2) Listen to your gut. Make a LOT of space for this. If you have a plan to do a particular ride and it just doesn’t feel right, if you feel a lot of resistance to it, don’t go. Maybe you’re responding to subtle signals that your horse is feeling very “up”, maybe you can feel an odd energy in the wind that is tossing the trees, maybe you can faintly hear dirt bikes out in the hills where you meant to ride…whatever it is, your gut just doesn’t want to go. Don’t go. Wait until you feel that you do want to go. This has helped me a great deal.

3) Expect the unexpected. Take the obvious precautions. Wear a helmet, tell someone where you’re going, carry a cell phone, ride with friends when exploring a new place. If you can see trouble coming, prepare as best you can. One time while riding on the beach, I saw two very low flying helicopters approaching, and realized the horses might not like them. We bunched the three horses shoulder to shoulder, with my son’s horse in the middle, and I clipped the leadrope that I carry with me to the halter that Henry wears under his bridle and got a hold of him. Of the three horses, Henry was the one who got scared, but I was able to keep him from spooking or running. Sometimes being prepared amounts to feeling that your horse might spook, and getting a good grip on the horn while you keep your body relaxed. There are those who like to get off and lead when their horse feels too “up.” I’m not in this camp, I feel safer and more in control ON the horse.

4) Sometimes truly gentle horses freak out unpredictably due to being stung or who knows? This has happened to good horses that I have known. Fortunately I was never on one or in the path of one at the time. I do the best I can to be wary—we don’t trail ride much during the season when wasps are most active here (August/September), and I remain alert and watchful. I once disturbed a wasp nest while riding a 4 year old in the mountains. He was stung and started to bolt. I saw what was happening and turned the bolt into a controlled but speedy long trot and we got the hell out of there, escaping any more stings. No harm done. Being alert and paying attention goes a long way toward staying safe.

5) Never assume. This is similar to the above—remain watchful and alert. Sad to say, it really helps if you are on the lookout for problems. This doesn’t mean you have to stay tense and worried, but it’s my belief that you have to stay alert. I liken it to a gazelle walking down to the water hole. The gazelle can enjoy the evening; but it better not forget there are predators out there. Your trail ride may be idyllic in the moment, but trouble can be just around the corner. Very often you can ensure that trouble remains minor, rather than life threatening, if you are alert and catch the problem before it escalates.

Never assume. So often I hear things like, “The horse freaked when someone opened a soda can from his back and bolted.” I have known people to be bucked off when taking off a jacket, or when a ball rolled under their horse. Don’t assume that a horse will tolerate something—even if it seems no big deal to you. As I mentioned before, the otherwise very reliable Henry freaked out at the sight of my son in plastic knight’s armor—fortunately my kid was only running around the barnyard. He did have plans to ride Henry and be, you know, the knight on horseback, but those plans were quickly abandoned. And again, the first time my son wanted to eat lunch on Henry’s back, I made sure I had Henry on the leadrope and was prepared, in case the sounds of packages being unwrapped bothered the horse. It didn’t bother him at all, as it turned out, but I didn’t assume this would be the case.

OK—there are a few things that I do to prevent accidents before they happen. Some of this stuff will be of no use to those of you who are younger and braver and want to compete in strenuous events, and I understand this. I trained young horses and competed at cutting and team roping when I was young. I was taking risks and I knew it. I felt OK with that level of risk at that time. Now I don’t.

So how about you guys? I would love it if you would let me know what you do to reduce your risk of being hurt in a freak accident with your horse. And I hope you all are having much fun with your own horses—spring is here.

Back from Vacation

by Laura Crum


Hi, all. I’m back from my road trip, and my month long break from the internet. I have to say, as much as I enjoy this blog, and the email I get, it was very freeing to spend a whole month without once looking at a computer screen (or a screen of any sort). I think we sometimes forget just how much time we give to this activity. That said, I very much enjoyed reading the posts that were put up here while I was gone, though I was saddened to hear that Jami got some bad news about Gailey. But I loved Francesca’s story about showing Kwintus, and had fun reading all the other entries.

As for me, I tried to take the good advice you all gave me, and not worry too much about my horses while I was gone. (Thank you to all who wrote to me—I truly appreciated and paid attention to your input.) And yes, I came back to find that everything was just fine. My friend and boarder, Wally, lived here while I was gone and took great care of all critters and the garden. I am happy to be with my horses again, but, as with the internet, I also have to say that once I got into the rhythm of the trip, I found it very freeing to let go of my routines and my familiar chores and cares and just enjoy seeing new places and having new experiences.

For those who said they wanted to hear about my adventures, I had a great trip. My husband, my son, myself, and our dog, traveled from our home on the California coast to my inlaw’s home in southeastern Michigan in our camper. This is the seventh time we have made this trip in the camper and we have many favorite spots to visit and we always explore a few new places. Some highlights from this trip—visiting thousand year old Indian petrogylphs at sunrise on an isolated ranch in Utah, whitewater rafting on a spectacularly beautiful river in Colorado, camping in a remote alpine meadow at ten thousand feet in the Rockies (again in Colorado), swimming at sunset in Lake Michigan, and returning to the old pack station in the Sierra Nevada Mts of California that was part of the inspiration for my book, Slickrock. We had good luck with our traveling and no setbacks—our most nervewracking experience being camping on the Nevada desert in a big thunderstorm—lightning crashing on the buttes all around us. This was a little scary, but also spectacular. Nothing bad came of it, though the dog was a wreck—she hates thunder.

I thought of many of you as we drove across the country, having corresponded with you on the blog and knowing where you live. And Shanster, I tried to call you from Poudre Canyon, but guess what? Cell phones don’t work there.

Anyway, it was a fun time and I’m also glad to be home. All my horses look good and nickered when they saw me, and I got their feet trimmed and have started riding again, so things are back to normal here.

I have one sad, and at the same time ironic, story to share with you. It certainly made me think.

One of my favorite activities when I’m in Michigan is visiting with my sister-in-law and her husband, who train TB racehorses. By the time I get to their place, I’ve been away from my own horses for a couple of weeks and I find it very comforting to stroll around their farm, being introduced to the new babies, and then sit on the back lawn, drinking ice tea and watching the yearlings graze in their paddocks, while talking “horse” with two very experienced horsemen. This year, however, as we were pursuing this enjoyable activity, my brother-in-law, Larry, announced that they were very shook up. They had been to the track that morning to work their horses and discovered that a fellow trainer, someone they interacted with every day, had been killed the previous evening.

Apparently the man had been turning a horse out in a paddock. No one really knew what had happened, since no one was there at the time, but the man had been found with the leadrope in his hand, having been killed by a blow to the head; it appeared that he’d been kicked. The horse he was turning loose was one he’d owned for several years and my sister and brother in law said that they had never heard of the horse being difficult or dangerous.

We all shook our heads. And I bet you are doing the same as you read this. Because how many times have we all turned a horse loose without pulling the horse’s head around until he faces us and the gate? I do it all the time with my gentle horses. I step through the gate, slip the halter off, and let the horse walk past me into the corral. But any horse, even a gentle horse, is capable of kicking up his heels and running off. I’ve seen it many times. I’m sure you have, too. And it just takes being in the wrong place that one time.

In all probability, the horse that killed the trainer meant no harm. I pictured him being released from a day’s confinement in a stall, perhaps, as most of these racehorse folks keep their horses in boxstalls a lot. Full of pent up energy, he jumped forward and kicked out, striking the trainer purely by accident. I have seen horses make this gesture in a defiant kind of way, as if they were saying “I’m free now, you bossy thing,” but I have never seen one do it out of a calculated desire to do damage. That sort of purposeful kicking I most often see when a horse is tied or when someone appoaches to catch a horse. But that kicking when released, which I have seen a fair amount of, I have never thought was ill intentioned.

In a way, this makes it all the more dangerous. We know the horse isn’t malicious and so we don’t take that extra step of turning him around before we release him. My sister-in-law and I both agreed that we try to remember to do this, but we often let it slide with gentle horses.

At this very moment we looked up from our ice tea to see that the two yearlings, one still a stallion, had managed to untie the gate to the paddock and were loose. My sister-in-law trotted briskly off to shut the front gate so the horses couldn’t get out on the road, and my brother-inlaw and I went to herd them back in the paddock. They went in easily, no problem, and my brother-in-law stepped up directly behind the second colt and slapped him hard on the butt as he went through the gate. “Get in there,” he said cheerfully.

I stared at Larry as he tied the gate shut.

“You know,” I said, and our eyes met.

“I was thinking the same thing,” he said ruefully. And then he grinned. “But that horse wouldn’t hurt me. I know him. I raised him from a baby.” And we both shook our heads.

Because that’s how it happens. The horse you trust, the horse you think won’t hurt you…. And so you do dumb things, because you aren’t thinking of the downside.

The ironic part of the whole deal, for me, was that I had been thinking and writing about this subject quite a bit in the months before my vacation. Some of you may remember some of the posts I did—one called “Reality Check”, describing a similar unexpected wreck that severely hurt a good horseman, and one called “Beware”, on more or less the same subject. Here on the blog we all pondered the good and bad sides of “what if”, that insidious little voice that can either paralyze you with unnecessary fear, or help you to stay alive and intact while dealing with thousand pound animals that can easily hurt and/or kill you by accident. So the whole thing had been much on my mind. But at that moment in Michigan I had forgotten all about it. I wasn’t thinking about how dangerous horses can be, or fear issues, or blog posts or any such thing. When I did think of my horses, many miles away in California, it was in a nostalgic, aren’t-they-sweet sort of way. Thus this story hit me like a bucket of cold water.

The result, for me, is that I am making an effort to remember to turn every horse around so that he faces me and the gate before I turn him loose. Such a little thing to do, just a few extra steps, probably unnecessary, but still…

And I remain a fan of keeping “what if” in mind. I do try to walk the middle road and not give up things I love because they can be dangerous. Horses are dangerous. Though probably no more dangerous than road trips down Interstate 80 (!) I don’t plan to give up my horses or the trail riding that I love. At the same time, I am willing to make an effort to be vigilant and to learn from my mistakes and the stories of others. I am willing to keep “what if” in mind and let that little voice help me.

I feel sad for the man who died, though I never knew him, and if by sharing this story I might help prevent even one such accident in the future, it’s a worthwhile thing to do.

So, how about you guys? What’s your take on it? Do you turn your horses to face you before you turn them loose? Any insights or stories to share?