A Success Story

                                               by Laura Crum

            When my son was seven years old and still reeling from the recent death of his pony, I bought an older rope horse that I knew well to be my boy’s new mount, hoping to both alleviate the pain of the loss and to make sure that my child could continue riding, which he was enjoying very much. And so, six years ago this October, Henry came into our lives.

            I paid five thousand dollars for Henry, which was considered a lot for a nineteen year old retired rope horse. But I knew Henry was sound and a reliable kid’s horse. One year after I bought him, Henry colicked, and I had to send him to colic surgery to save his life. So there went another ten thousand. At this point, I had a fifteen thousand dollar kid’s horse.

            Now I am not a rich woman. My husband is not interested in horses. Neither one of us really expected that horses would become my son’s passion—my kid liked to ride in a mild way, mostly because he grew up with/on horses, and hey, riding is fun. Still, my son was in no way driven to ride and compete on horses, the way many young people are—the way I was when I was young. So there really wasn’t any obvious justification for spending fifteen thousand dollars on a horse for him.

            But I did it. And my husband approved it wholeheartedly. And it was one of the best choices I ever made.

            My son grew up riding Henry. For six straight years we rode together two or three times a week. Mostly on the trails near our home, in our riding ring, and at my uncle’s roping arena. But also on the beach and in the redwood forest and up in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. My little boy crossed busy roads (hundreds of times), rode steep, technical trails on multi hour loops through the hills, waded in the surf and crossed creeks, loped endless circles and galloped after recalcitrant cattle. Almost all of my riding time during these last six years has been spent escorting my son on his various horseback adventures.

            Many people assume that I did all this because I wanted my son to become a horse person like me. But this isn’t true. I wouldn’t have minded if horses had become his passion, but I didn’t expect this to happen. I didn’t even exactly WANT it. I just believe that growing up on a horse is a healthy way to learn to feel kind, empowered, and connected in a real way to the natural world. Riding horses is the number one therapy for impaired children. So how much good can riding do for any child? Also I wanted to share the joy I have always had in horses with my little boy.

            The downside of this equation is that horses are inherently dangerous. Since the era of the internet, I am able to hear about horseback disasters all over the world. It scares the shit out of me, to be honest. So many people, not always doing anything wrong, are injured and/or killed in a wreck with their horse. I tried to make good decisions, my son always wore a helmet, Henry was and is a VERY reliable horse. But I’m not dumb. Any horse can fall, there is no predicting the day you will meet an erratic driver when crossing the road, wasps can cause even the best horse to flip out, helmets do not protect you against every kind of bodily damage, including head trauma…etc. The risk is real, even when you are doing everything “right.” And I was taking this risk with my beloved only son.

            Still, I persevered. Somewhere in my heart there was trust that I was doing the right thing. And there was trust in Henry, and trust in my son. We rode together for six years straight. We did not have one wreck. We did not even come close to a wreck, in all the miles we covered during those six years. We had a LOT of fun. We saw some beautiful things.

            And now my son is a teenager. He is more interested in riding his bike and surfing on his boogie board and (sigh) video games than he is in riding. He’s also much more busy with schoolwork now that he is in a junior high homeschool program. He is still willing to ride with me, and we ride once a week or so, mostly fairly sedate (walk/trot) short rides.

            Because Henry is twenty-five this year, this reduced program seems to fit him, too. He doesn’t have a lot of enthusiasm for loping circles any more. But he is still sound, and is always eager to be caught, meeting us at the gate every time. I have no idea how much longer he’ll be able to be a riding horse, but we will keep riding him lightly as long as it seems to suit him, and as long as my son is willing to climb aboard his horse. And when Henry doesn’t want to be ridden any more, his home with us is secure for the rest of his life.

            Even if my son never rides much in his adult life, I consider this to be an incredibly successful horse story. We have shared so much joy together, and my son’s experiences of horses, and the lovely places we have ridden, have been virtually entirely positive. What price could you ever put on that?

            My take home message is this: Buy that older solid horse for your child, or for yourself, if you are a beginner. There is no way you can over-value the peace of mind that comes with riding a steady trooper. And the price of that horse is a good deal less than the bill for emergency medical treatment is likely to be. Let alone the emotional trauma. Horses like Henry are worth their weight in gold.

            Henry and my thirteen-year-old son last weekend—a real success story.

            Does anybody else have a “Henry?” If so, I’ll bet you can attest to how valuable these solid equine citizens truly are. And please, please, from the bottom of my heart-- when these great older horses are past their useful working life, don’t just pass them on, hoping they’ll get a good home. Take care of them, and give back to them for all the good things they’ve given you. I honestly think it is truly evil to sell/rehome a good older not-quite-sound horse, never knowing what becomes of him. Because they so often end up in terrible situations. (I do agree that finding a suitable home can be OK—if you keep track of the horse and are willing to take him back if the home doesn’t work out.) If any horses are deserving of a peaceful, happy retirement, it is the “Henries” of this world. My gratitude to our own Henry is boundless, and it is my pleasure to give him a happy home until he is ready to let go of life.

My Son's Horse

                                                by Laura Crum

            Sometimes you get lucky. I had no intention of buying Henry. I had known the horse for years. A reliable, good hearted, somewhat boring horse, I thought. I had no interest in him. For most of those years I rode more athletic horses that were sensitive and perhaps a little hot. Henry struck me as dull. And he was a sorrel—my least favorite color. He did not intrigue me and I had no desire to own him, though I knew him to be a good horse—a capable rope horse, always sound, willing to babysit a child. Just not my kind of horse.

            When my son was little (between three and five years), he rode with me on my horse, Plumber. And one day, when Plumber was lame due to being kicked while in the trailer by his traveling partner, my uncle, who owned Henry, offered to let us ride the horse. I knew Henry was safe, so accepted the offer—and I was pleasantly surprised. Though a lazy horse overall, Henry had a wonderfully smooth trot and gave me a good feel. I enjoyed riding him. And I didn’t think too much more about it.

            When my kid turned five, I bought him a pony. And for two years he rode that pony almost every day. At first with me leading him, and later with me ponying him from my horse, and after about a year, my son rode Toby independently, while I rode along with him on Plumber. Toby was a real jewel. He was a big pony, thirteen and a half hands, and I thought, if I thought about it at all, that my son would grow up riding his pony, as the girl who owned Toby before us had done, and that when my boy became a teenager I’d move him up to a horse—just like the previous owner.

            Sadly Toby died of cancer just two years after we bought him. It happened the same autumn we lost our old dog and an old cat that was my son’s special friend. All within a six week period. It was my child’s first real brush with mortality, and it was a tough introduction. I was desperate to do something to alleviate the pain. I couldn’t bring Toby back, but I could make sure that horseback riding didn’t disappear for us with the loss of the pony. If I could find the right replacement for Toby.

            I remember telling my husband that none of our horses were suitable to mount a child on—too sensitive, too spooky. It wasn’t worth the risk. “But I know of one,” I said. And I called my uncle up and asked what he’d take for Henry.

            My uncle has been a horse trader all his life. He wasn’t planning on selling Henry, but it was autumn and the roping season was coming to an end for the year. Now he would feed the horse through the winter and not get any use out of him. And Henry was 19. Though sound, his days as a rope horse were probably limited. And my uncle knew that I would give any horse I took on a good home. And so he named a price—a very high price for a nineteen year old horse that was to be used as a kid’s riding horse. I said, “Fine. I’ll take him.” And the next day Henry was in my barn.

            My knowledgeable horse friends thought I was nuts. “He WAY overcharged you,” they said. “Did you vet him?” they said.

            I shrugged. No, I didn’t vet him. I knew him. And I also knew that I could search forever and not find another horse I was sure about. Sure he was sound, sure he was safe. It was worth every cent to know that my kid could keep riding and that I wouldn’t have to worry. I trusted Henry.

            And so it proved. When I bought Henry my little boy had just turned seven. Toby the pony had taught him to ride, but we really hadn’t ventured out of the arena much. My son had just begun asking me to go on trail rides shortly before Toby died. And with Henry, we jumped right in. Below you see us on my son’s first ride at the beach, shortly after we bought Henry—it was Henry’s first time at the beach, too, I believe. In the photo we have just emerged from the trail through the sand dunes and are looking at the ocean. If I look a bit stern it’s because I was wondering how Henry would react to his first sight of the sea (he was fine). Plumber, my horse, never did care for the beach, which I think you can tell from his expression. But we had a good ride that day, and my son was hooked on riding “outside.”

            However in the months to come I realized it was time to retire Plumber, who was 20. Plumber was peggy on downhills and let me know he did not care for trail riding any more. Not to mention he was spooky. He spooked at every little rustle in the brush. This had never bothered me before, but now I had to keep my attention on my son. I needed a solid horse that could take care of himself and give Henry a steady lead. And so I bought Sunny.

            Sunny was as steady on the trail as Henry. Not much of anything bothered him. And my son and I, on Sunny and Henry, went on over a hundred trail ride adventures in the first year that we owned these two horses.

            Through the woods.

                               To the Lookout.

                                    On the beach.

                                 In the redwood forest.

Over the hills.

                         Henry was a trooper. He loped endless circles for my kid.

                                          He chased cattle.

            He was just a great horse. And then he colicked. It seemed, initially, to be a mild colic. We treated him. But every time the pain killer wore off, the pain came back. Henry never did seem to be in great distress. But he wasn’t coming out of it. After two days of this, we hauled him to the equine center. And there, after X-rays and ultra-sound, they told me that he needed surgery.

            I have to admit, I have always been one of those people who said they would never do colic surgery. Too much money, endless rehab, a lot of horses don’t recover, just too much grief for both horse and owner. So my inclination was to say no. And besides Henry wasn’t looking too bad. Just mildly painful. He didn’t look like a horse that needed surgery.

            But the vet convinced me that it was Henry’s best chance. And I couldn’t stand not to try. We’d lost Toby a little over a year ago. If I could help it, we weren’t going to lose Henry. It was a tough decision, and I drove away from the veterinary center with tears streaming down my face, not sure if I’d ever see Henry again.

            But I did. We all did. The very next day we drove to the center to take Henry (with a huge bandage around his middle) for a walk. And the old horse was a bit shaky, but bright-eyed. He nickered when he saw us and walked eagerly alongside my son and grazed on the green grass. And the vet handed me a cantalope sized stone they had taken out of his intestine.

            Henry recovered. The rehab was as long and time consuming and frustrating as I had feared, but we got through it. Six months later, Henry was back to full work and doing great. I will be forever grateful.

This was five years ago, and we have gone on hundreds of trail rides since. I have grown to love Henry as much as I have ever loved any horse. Not just for the gift he has given my son, though that alone is priceless, but for himself. For his wonderful, bright-eyed, tough little self. My son’s red horse. Who still carries my kid bravely on adventures, and is 100% sound and free moving at 25 years of age. Like I said to begin with, sometimes you get lucky. Thank you, Henry. You have a forever home with us.

My son and Henry headed back to the barn after a good ride--April 2013.

 Henry enjoying some post-ride grazing--April 2013

When a Bombproof Horse Has a Meltdown

                                    by Laura Crum

            You all know how I am always bragging about my son’s bombproof horse, Henry? Well, the other day Henry had a meltdown, and it was very instructive. So today I’m going to tell you a few things I learned from this. I can’t say that I didn’t know them already, but I got, shall we say, reminded of them.

            First off, there’s never been a time when I talked about our bombproof trail horses that somebody didn’t chime in about how no horse is bombproof. This is, of course, true. Any horse can get stung by a bee and pitch a fit. Realistically, most any horse is going to react if, say, an actual bomb went off nearby. So that’s a given.

            What I mean by bombproof is a horse that is reliably steady and solid-minded, a horse that faces the unexpected scary thing with a minimum of fuss. A safe horse. And Henry is that. He has carried my son for five years on hundreds of trail rides and gathers and has never hurt or scared my kid. But the other day Henry kind of had a meltdown.

            Ok, a mini-meltdown. Here’s how it went.

            We’d gone out to gather the cattle on a cool, foggy morning. There were four of us. Myself and my son, our young cowboy/ horse trainer friend, Mark, and Bert, an 80 year old cowboy. Bert brought his cow dogs along. The cattle were in the lower field and we had to ride down a steep hill to get there. Just as Henry was on the steepest part of the hill, one of Bert’s dogs burst out of the brush behind the horse and literally ran underneath him. It startled Henry and he jumped forward, at which point his feet slipped in the loose oak leaves that are deep on the ground here and he scrambled a little. I heard my son yell (I was in front) and turned around to see Henry just regaining his balance. Henry didn’t fall, didn’t really come close to it, but both he and my son were obviously a bit rattled. Still, Henry walked off as normal, and we set about gathering the cattle out of the lower field.

            There were some fresh cattle that had been recently added to the herd and the whole group was pretty skittery. Bert’s cowdogs were enthusiastic. Those of you who have done this sort of work will know where this is going. We ended loping here and there to get the cattle boxed in the end of the field, and, eventually, through the gate to the upper field. I wasn’t watching my son, as I was trying to herd skittery cattle and I knew my kid knew where to be. Imagine my surprise as I turned to look back after the last flighty steer ran through the gate. My son was struggling with Henry, who was prancing and dancing sideways against the bridle. Mark looked, too. “Somebody feels good,” he said.

            My kid wasn’t scared; he looked more puzzled. “What is going on with him?” he asked me. “He won’t behave.”

            I was puzzled as well. This was unlike Henry. He appeared jacked up, as if he really wanted to go crashing through the gate after the cattle. He was dancing and prancing sideways with his head in the air and his tail up. My son couldn’t ride him through the very narrow (four foot) gate because of all the sideways prancing.

I told Mark to go ahead with the cattle and parked the fortunately quite calm Sunny next to Henry. “Let’s just sit here a moment and see if Henry calms down,” I said.

But Henry was agitated, bowing up his neck and pawing the ground with impatience. Sunny stood quietly. I tried to exude calm. My son still wasn’t scared, but he WAS anxious.

“What do I do?” he asked. “This isn’t like him.”

“No, its not. Let’s just sit another moment and see if he quiets.”

My son sat quietly on his horse, on as loose a rein as he could, only picking up the reins to correct Henry’s inclination to dance off. Despite his worry about the horse, my kid’s body posture was relaxed, the result of many, many hours in the saddle—hours that have virtually all been happy, confident and enjoyable. His body doesn’t have the pattern of tensing up, even in a bind.

After a minute Henry quit pawing the ground and we were able to walk through the narrow gate successfully, but Henry’s head was high and his eyes were big. He was still prancing a little. I know my son and I were both wondering if this meltdown was going to escalate. Henry is 24 and as solid a citizen as ever lived, but he’s not really a deadhead. There’s still a lot of horse there. (Henry's breeding is all "running" QH--if you looked at his papers you'd think he'd be a pretty hot horse.) I gave some thought to telling my kid to get off and then ponying Henry myself, but decided that as long as we were doing OK, we’d keep working through it. And Henry was listening. He was “up”, but not out of control.

“Ride him up the hill,” I said. “See if he’ll line out.”

My son sent Henry up the hill, and almost immediately the horse’s arched neck relaxed and he lined out in a steady long trot. My son looked back over his shoulder and smiled, and then trotted Henry to catch up to Bert and Mark, who were putting the cattle in the holding pen. I followed, keeping an eye on Henry, but his demeanor seemed to have gone back to normal. He was willing to relax into a flat-footed walk. The meltdown was over.

My son finished getting the cattle in the alley, and Mark gave him a high five for being a good cowboy. My kid’s grin was now a mile wide, and I was glad I hadn’t told him to get off the horse. It’s always a judgment call, but even under the circumstances I trusted Henry.

And this folks, this is what a bombproof horse really is. It’s a horse that, even when he has a meltdown, is still safe. Your eleven year old kid can control him through a temper tantrum. Yes, Henry pranced and danced, and threw his head and skittered sideways. He even pawed the ground. But he held it together (with a little quiet encouragement), and was able to go on and finish the job. I call that a bombproof horse.

I still don’t know what got into Henry. It was a cool morning after a lot of hot days and Henry is fit and sleek—in very good shape. Maybe he just felt good. Or maybe slipping on the hillside rattled him more than I would have guessed. Maybe he was remembering the days when he was a cowboy’s horse and just seriously wanted to take off after the running cattle (though we’ve gathered this field many times and he’s never reacted like this before). Maybe a wasp stung him—it’s the right time of year for that and his sudden jump on the hill and subsequent jacked up behavior is consistent with something like that. The truth is I’ll never know. What I do know is that despite the fact that something lit his fire, he remained controllable enough that my son could ride him.

Of course, Henry’s meltdown could have been aggravated into more of a problem if my son had not reacted so well. There are riders who would have jerked the horse in the face and gotten after him for his “bad” behavior, and this would just have made the problem worse. And there are people whose fear would have caused them to take a death grip on the reins and cling hard with their legs—a recipe for disaster. There are also those who would have been very quick to get off, and this would not have helped things. Though I agree that a rider should get off if he/she feels seriously threatened, in general you shouldn’t be riding a given horse if you feel the need to get off if that horse has a bad day. Getting off solves nothing and only reinforces the negative behavior.

I’m very protective of my son, and if I had seen any sign that he and Henry were not going to be able to work through the meltdown, I would have had him get off, yes. But then I would have got on the horse and made darn sure that the meltdown did not equate in Henry’s mind with getting out of the job at hand. You don’t punish a horse for such behavior—as much as you can you ignore it—and you get on with the job at hand.

In the case of a young horse or a problem horse, where you feel that this isn’t possible, given the horse’s degree of upset, my course of action would have been to tie the horse to the arena fence and let him “soak” while we roped. When the horse had got over his upset enough to think clearly, I’d go back to riding him. That’s how you get them broke to being reliable horses.

In Henry’s case, as he IS a reliable horse, a few moments of standing with a quiet companion in order to collect himself, and then the offer to line out in the long trot was enough to get him back on his steady track. And as a sidelight, do not neglect the power of the long trot as a training tool. In the days when I rode young horses, if I had to tie one up to think things over cause it was having a meltdown, when I felt that horse was calm enough to ride, I would have lined it out in the long trot. Either for a good many laps around the arena, or better yet, up a good long hill. The long trot, if you keep plenty of forward momentum, is the gait of choice for the jacked up horse. It allows him to get his energy out in a positive way, and its harder for a horse to spook, buck or bolt from that gait than either the walk, slow trot or lope. Not that they CAN’T spook, buck and bolt from the long trot—cause they darn sure can. But they are less likely to. Walking feels safer to beginners, but it isn’t. Not on a horse that has a ball of energy he needs to find a release for. And the lope does lend itself to bucking and bolting—as I think we all know.

In any case, Henry proved to me once again that he is a truly bombproof horse—in the sense that any horse can ever be a bombproof horse. Even his meltdown was quite dealable with for my son. And, in fact, it was actually helpful. One more brick in the wall of becoming a good horseman. If our horses never misbehave at all, we never learn the skills for dealing with a misbehaving horse. So thank you Henry, once again. You’ve been a wonderful teacher and guide for my kid—you have a forever home with us. We love you. 

My Little Mystery and Goodbye for Awhile

by Laura Crum

Yes, I do write mysteries and I recently finished book number twelve in my series featuring equine veterinarian Gail McCarthy, but this is not one of my “made-up” mysteries, this is a real mystery involving a real veterinarian.

I've written before about my little trail horse, Sunny. Sunny has been a real champ for me, allowing me to lead my son on hundreds of trail rides in the last three years (with my son riding equally bombproof Henry) without one scary moment. In my personal book, that is priceless. I read of others’ accidents and fear issues and my heart really goes out to them. It is so sad to have a lifelong dream of a happy life with horses turn into a nightmare of emotional and physical distress due to injuries and/or fear. I myself have so far dodged this bullet—knocking on wood (literally). I haven’t been hurt yet and I am not fearful when I handle/climb aboard my horse. Not because I am such a good hand. Because I have a reliable, steady horse to ride. I know I have proffered this advice before, but I’m gonna do it one more time in the hopes that it will help somebody. If your primary goal is to enjoy horses without struggling with fear issues or getting hurt, buy a reliable horse in the double digits. A horse with plenty of years of experience in the event you wish to pursue. Not a horse you have to train, or worse yet, retrain. A horse that has been a steady babysitter for his previous rider(s).

I don’t know how many times I have heard someone say, “I don’t need a babysitter.” Very often this person has had far less experience riding/training young horses than I have. I always want to tell them, “I may not need a babysitter, but I WANT one.” I want to have fun on my horses now—I do not want to feel nervous. If you’re not afraid of getting hurt, and don’t mind the normal antics of a young horse or the recalcitrant behavior of a horse with some sizable holes in his training, more power to you. This advice is not meant for you. But if you, like me, are currently more concerned with being safe and worry free while you enjoy riding and handling horses, think long and hard when you choose a horse to work with. A reliable horse in the double digits is a far greater aid to staying safe and anxiety free while riding than any helmet in the world (not that there is anything wrong with wearing a helmet—and, in fact, despite my long and safe helmetless horseback career, I am now planning to go out and buy one, and its mostly thanks to what I have learned from other bloggers. Any suggestions on what brand/sort I should choose?).

(A small aside here—I recently read on another blog the statement that “if you think you own a pair of bombproof horses that will never hurt you, think again. Any horse can hurt you at any time.” This is, of course, true. But its like saying “anything can hurt you at any time. The asteroid could strike the planet at any time.” True, but not very helpful. The woman who made the statement had been hurt handling what she considered to be a gentle horse. From her description, my assessment would be that she wasn’t being careful enough, as the horse hurt her due to a habit that she already knew he had. So here’s the next part of staying safe—always be thoughtful in the way you handle horses. I wince when I read about people playing “games” with horses at liberty, or strolling along beside, or worse yet, behind a loose horse. This is, quite frankly, asking for trouble, no matter how gentle the horse is. When I handle my gentle horses they are caught and haltered and I remain alert. I am careful about the way I catch them and lead them and turn them loose. I groom them and fuss with them when they are under my control and in a safe place, not “at liberty” or God forbid, out in the pasture with other horses. And I am equally thoughtful when I ride them. And these are two very “bombproof” horses. Yes, any horse can hurt you at any time, but if you are careful in how you handle them and use safe practices, and the horse is reliable, it is not very likely. Most of the horsewrecks that I’ve known of involved green horses or horses with a problem habit, or a moment of carelessness on the part of the rider/handler, or following a practice that is just not safe. I understand how people get started doing these things—they are taught these practices by some horse guru or other and they are looking for that elusive “connection” with the horse. But I can tell you for a fact that many of these practices are quite dangerous, and there is a big potential for the horse to hurt you.

Of course, lets face it, people get hurt climbing out of the bathtub or stepping off a curb. Virtually anything can hurt you; life can and will hurt you. As we all know, no one gets out of this alive. However, I will stand by my statement that riding/handling solid horses in the double digits and using careful practices while remaining alert will do the most possible good towards keeping us safe and not fearful when we work with our horses. All right—I’ll get off my soapbox now.)

Anyway, Sunny, my reliable little horse that I just love, has given me hundreds of happy, relaxed trail rides. And here’s the problem. There is a downside to reliable horses in the double digits—and I’m now facing it. The soundness issue.

I’ve mentioned before that Sunny has been off and on slightly gimpy this spring. Well, after last week when we did several trail rides, I went down to feed him one morning and he was lame. Lame in the right front—the foot he’d been slightly off on from time to time. I called the vet.

The vet concurred that it was the right front; the vet agreed with me that there was no sign of a soft tissue injury—no swelling anywhere on the leg. Hoof testers showed some soreness on the sole. No sign of heat or laminitic issues. The left front was fine. The vet wanted to block the foot to see if the lameness was there. I did not want to block the foot.

I have an irrational hatred of nerve blocks because I knew a horse who was put down because he broke his leg trotting with a blocked foot in a vet exam. I know this is a very unlikely thing, but I can’t help it—it bugs me. Also, I’ve been around horses my whole life and I knew Sunny was lame in the foot—just by the way he moved. The hoof tester results confirmed this. (90% of front leg lameness is in the foot, anyway.) So I told the vet I wanted to shoot X-rays of the foot. I thought we might discover some sort of arthritic issue.

But the X-rays were clean. No ringbone, sidebones very clean, no navicular changes, coffin bone looked fine. The vet suggested the horse might be bruised. But we had pared the foot out carefully, and there was no sign of bruising. However we agreed I’d try front shoes and pads and see if it fixed the problem. The pads would be somewhat diagnostic. If the horse went immediately sound, he had sore soles/bruising type issues.

I have been running Sunny barefoot for three and a half years and up until this spring the horse has been quite sound. He has good, big, open feet—he doesn’t chip to speak of. I liked having him barefoot, but I went ahead and put front shoes and pads on him—just to see if it would help him.

It helped some—but it was not an instant cure. He was less lame, but still a little lame. I still felt it was in the foot. I called the vet back and told him to look at the X-rays again. He did. He consulted with another vet. And then he called me back and said he thought, he wasn’t sure, that he could see a tiny little hairline fracture at the very edge of the navicular bone. We discussed my options, IF this was the case. I thought the diagnosis fit the symptoms the horse had shown, so was inclined to believe it. It made sense that the trail riding made him worse. It made sense that the pads would make it better but not fix it. The vet thought leave pads on him, give him a month off, and then reevaluate.

The bright side to all this is that I will be gone for the month of July, so giving Sunny a month off is no problem. The dark side is that I may now be coping with soundness issues in my good little trail horse—for possibly a long time. But I have to say, even if this is so, I would not trade Sunny for any other horse. He has given me a huge gift and if I have to manage his soundness issues in the future, even if I have to retire him, those years of so many lovely rides in which I was never scared, let alone hurt, are totally worth the price of dealing with a sore foot.

Anyway, that’s my little mystery—has anyone else had this particular problem? I’d love to hear about it if so. I have no idea how Sunny injured himself—if this is the answer to his gimpyness. I have never had a horse with this problem. The edges of the navicular bone were very clean, so this is not “navicular disease”. I’m still a bit puzzled about the whole thing and am not sure if we’ve solved the mystery lameness or not. After several days with pads Sunny IS markedly better and trots almost sound in a straight line on level ground. Any thoughts?

And, I will be gone in July—gone from the computer, too, no email or blogs—and back to posting (and riding, I hope) in August. I’ll be participating in the summer book giveaway then—which Jami just announced. Hope you all enjoy it in the meantime.

Happy summer. Cheers--Laura

Good Trail Horses

by Laura Crum

Recently I’ve had a few folks ask me how I happened to pick out Henry and Sunny, the two horses my son and I use for trail riding, and how someone else could select a similar horse. Usually they say, “I want one like that.” Or “I want to enjoy that kind of trail riding—how do I get a horse like that?” What they admire, of course, is our two horses’ “bombproof” quality—how they will go anywhere calmly and quietly. This is what I selected these horses for. So, I thought I’d write a post on this subject.

First off, I did select Henry and Sunny very purposefully to fill this need. I wanted two absolutely reliable trail horses for my son and myself. And I was willing to forgive a lot of things if the horses could do this job. In Sunny’s case, particularly, there was quite a bit to forgive. So, my first piece of advice would be to keep the goal in mind when selecting a horse. In my experience, horses who are excellent, bombproof trail horses are not usually superstars at some demanding arena event. My best team roping horse, Flanigan, was a great trail horse, but he could spook—and make some mighty big jumps. He was a real athlete. And he was very cold-backed. In those days it didn’t bother me. But its best to remember that the very sensitivity, responsiveness, and athletic ability that make a horse a good performer in the arena are traits that may weigh against the ability to go quietly and reliably down the trail.

What is a good trail horse? This will differ from rider to rider. I wanted horses that would walk quietly (no jigging—including on the way home and on solo rides) and were virtually spook proof. I wanted horses that could deal with anything—traffic, mud, surf, strange horses charging by, barking dogs, wild animals, public situations…etc, without turning a hair. I wanted to make trail riding as safe and relaxing as possible for myself and my son. I wanted horses who would stay relaxed themselves at all times and were willing. I wanted zero problems on the trail. The horses needed to be experienced and sure footed enough outside not to put us at risk by stumbling or falling or panicking when faced with a steep hill or any other sort of trail obstacle. You get the picture. I wanted bombproof trail horses.

I definitely wanted to buy horses I’d “known” for some time, if at all possible. I wanted to be sure that neither horse had ever dumped a rider—that both really were experienced and reliable on the trail. I wanted to be sure they were sound. It is very hard to be sure of such things if you haven’t known the horse awhile. I’d known Henry for over ten years and Sunny for three years when I bought them. So I knew what I was getting. I highly recommend this approach, though I know it isn’t always possible.

Both Henry and Sunny were over ten years old when I bought them (Henry was 19). I recommend choosing a horse in the double digits if you want a reliable trail horse. It just makes sense. There are eight and nine year old horses that are just as reliable, but they’re less common. I personally would not select a horse for this job that was less than eight. I also recommend a horse that has done a lot of work outside. In Henry’s case it was more ranch work than trail rides, but he was surefooted and experienced outside the pen. I recommend looking for a horse who has been a reliable “babysitter” at his last home. Henry’s previous owner was an 80 year old man. Sunny had been a trail horse for beginning riders for several years (and yes, he had some bad habits—but he had never dumped a rider). Both horses had established their reliability “outside”.

I trail rode them both before I bought them and made sure that they walked quietly solo or with others, both home and back. Herdbound or barn sour horses are very hard to cure—though any horse will have better and worse days in this respect. Still, the basic tendency to walk quietly needs to be an entrenched habit, or you do not have a “bombproof” trail horse of the kind I was looking for.

Are these horses easy to find? No. And again, you will probably have to forgive some characteristics that others might call faults. Sunny and Henry, for instance, are basically lazy horses. This is, in part, what makes them good, reliable trail horses. They are happy to walk on the trail. They can both be a bit frustrating in the arena, due to the lack of “go”. Spurs would pretty much cure this, but I don’t choose to ride with spurs these days, nor do I choose to put them on my 10 yr old son. The reasons for this are several—if you’re interested, ask me in the comments. My point here is that the horses can be reluctant to move out in the arena to a degree some would find objectionable. I don’t mind because I know that this is partly why they walk so quietly on the trail. I like their relaxed attitude.

On the other hand, neither horse is a “dude” horse. In other words, an ill broke plug who has never done anything but pack dudes down the trail. Such horses exist, of course, and some people think that buying that kind of a horse is the way to get a bombproof trail horse. I disagree. I recommend buying a horse that is “broke”. Both Henry and Sunny were competitive team roping horses. In order for them to do this, someone with some skill had to teach them to obey even when the pressure is on. Such a horse stands a far better chance of being reliable in a bind than a horse who is quiet only because he is lazy and dull. When something does scare your horse (and it inevitably will), a broke horse will stop when you tell him to, even under pressure. An ill broke horse is perfectly capable of an out of control bolt—even with an experienced rider. One thing that distinguishes Henry and Sunny from a "dead-sided" dude horse is that both horses walk down the trail with their ears pricked alertly, looking at everything.

I have had great luck buying ex-team roping horses who are quiet minded and have been ridden a lot outside. Soundness is an issue. You can’t enjoy trail riding if your horse isn’t sound enough to go. What can I say? Soundness is the bane of all good older horses. You do the best you can to choose a sound horse. Fortunately light trail riding is doable for horses with minor arthritic issues, which most older team roping horses (and I would venture to say performance horses of any kind) do have.

If I went out today to buy another trail horse, these are the criteria I would use. Hopefully a horse I’d “known” awhile (at least peripherally), in the double digits, sound, quiet minded and a bit lazy, had lots of experience outside, hopefully had been a babysitter for others, had never dumped a rider, was reasonably well broke. That about covers it. I like geldings, so I’d look for a gelding. I’d ride the horse outside as much as possible before I bought it. I’d have to like the “feel” he gave me on the trail. I’d forgive other faults, as I said. No horse will be perfect in all respects. The horse needs to be “safe” outside. He doesn’t need to be a star at anything else. (I realize other folks will have different needs—many want a horse to do an arena “event” or two and also be a good trail horse.)

What I wouldn’t care about: Looks, color, breed or confirmation—as long as the horse had no obvious predisposition to a problem. I have known many somewhat crooked legged horses to stay sound into their thirties. I’m not critical when it comes to straight shoulders and the like. If the horse is sound and has been sound, I am willing to forgive a lot of confirmation flaws. I have also known plenty of horses with excellent confirmation to have soundness issues. I think the fact that the horse has been a sound horse all his life is the best prediction. That said, horses with little feet and light bone turn me off. I am very attracted to horses with good bone and decent sized feet that are not low in the heels. And having said I don’t care about color, I will admit that like everyone else I have colors I prefer—and I think this does influence me quite a bit, despite my inclination to think it shouldn’t. I find Sunny’s bright gold color very appealing and he makes me smile every time I look at him and that’s worth something. But I never cared for sorrel horses, and having owned wonderful, reliable Henry (who is a bright copper red sorrel) for three years, I am now a huge fan of a good red horse, so I think this works both ways.

Linda’s post yesterday mentioned withers and a good walk, and I think most of us would agree these are nice traits. But my horse Sunny has low withers and a slow walk, and I picked him anyway. Henry is not a particularly fast walker, so the two horses go about the same speed and both walk out willingly on the trail. They just don’t have a fast pace, and that’s OK for me. Again, I think you have to accept some trade offs, and I really prioritized the solid, bombproof trail horse quality over anything else. Other riders might prioritize the fast walk and accept a little less reliability.

I think you should always buy a horse that looks “right” to you. This is a hard thing to define, and maybe this sort of insight only comes over time, but I’ll put it this way. Whether buying a bombproof trail horse, or a potential star at some event, once you’ve determined the horse is suitable, look at him and ask yourself, is this what I want to see in my corral (or stall). If the answer is not a solid yes, its worth thinking about. At this point in my career, I always listen to that little intuitive voice.

What I would be very leery of: A horse that for whatever reason had been turned out and not ridden for some time previously (this would include broodmares and horses that had been turned out to be healed up from something). Such a horse is an “unknown”, whatever its prior experience. A horse with a known health problem would cause me to think hard. I’ve been there, done that, and it can be expensive and very sad.

I would avoid any horse that is not a fully “made” horse. This is a matter of judgement on the horseman’s part, so I can’t really advise you how to make that call. But experienced horses in the double digits are pretty much made horses de facto—whether for better or worse. If you want to teach a horse to be a good trail horse, younger horses can be fine, but I am not talking about a training project here. I’m talking about relaxing rides through the woods with a child.

I’d take my time, and I’d be willing to spend up to $5000 (in my part of the world). I would not be turned off by a horse that fit my criteria and was in his late teens. If he had been sound all his life there’s a good chance he’ll stay sound. And if he stayed sound through his late twenties (very possible) there’s ten lovely, peaceful riding years. As opposed to miserable struggle (potentially) with a younger horse that is not “bombproof”. I know what I’d rather have.

Ok. There’s my thoughts for those who want a horse like Sunny and Henry. Any insights from you guys?

Finding a Bombproof Horse

By Laura Crum



Not too long ago I read a blog that stated there was no such thing as a bombproof horse. Well, in a manner of speaking, that’s true. Any horse is capable of spooking or throwing in a playful crowhop. However, there are horses that will pack a beginner or a child or a timid rider with steadfast reliability, never doing a stupid, violent, or “scary” thing, such that said beginner need never be frightened or come off the horse. This is what I call a bombproof horse, and I’ve known quite a few of them.

I own such a horse currently. My son’s horse, Henry, qualifies as bombproof. I’ve blogged about Henry a few times and inevitably, in the comments, someone will remark that they wished they had such a bombproof horse for their kid, or themselves. So I thought I’d write today about how to buy a bombproof horse.

First of all, if you are new to the horse business, or even kinda new, you need a knowledgable helper. Your helper can be your trainer, or a friend who has been in the horse business a good long while. But be sure that whoever your helper is, he/she is not in a position to make money on the horse you might purchase. I mean it. It doesn’t work out. If you take a “trainer”, the trainer can make money training or giving you lessons on what you purchase, but be sure he/she is not getting a commission on the horse from the seller. Again, it doesn’t work out. I’ve had a lot of experience of this. There are exceptions, but you don’t want to be betting that you’ll be one. The most important thing your helper needs to be is a long time participant in whatever sort of horse activity you favor. If you’re looking for a gentle trail horse, don’t take a helper that shows a lot but never trail rides. Take someone who has trail ridden for years.

Also, if you are not new to the horse business, but you haven’t bought a horse in a long time, or you are new to the area, it would pay to find a helper who knows the local horse market well, particularly the part of it you’re interested in.

Second thing, be clear about your priorities. If you want a bombproof horse, do not get hung up in breed, or beauty, or color, or whether the horse can win at a certain event. Do not expect to get a horse who is younger than ten. It might happen, but it isn’t likely. What you are looking for is a sound, healthy, reasonably well broke (for whatever you want to do) bombproof horse. Expect the horse to be in his teens (at least). I will avoid horses that are much older than twenty. They may be perfect, but you are not likely to get that many more years out of them. But there are sure exceptions to this rule.

As for what type of horse is most likely to be bombproof, well, its hard to generalize. Old rope horses can be great. So can school horses. I have a theory that overly pretty horses are unlikely to be bombproof. No rhyme or reason to it. Its just what I’ve seen over the years. Plain, solid looking horses are the most likely candidates.

The hallmark of a bombproof horse is a solid mind. The horse is sensible; he does not panic. He can be very willing, or a bit lazy, but he is not genuinely resistant. He has no impulse to be defiant. He will go along wiith a beginner’s wishes, even though he knows the beginner is not really capable of being in charge. He may be lazy enough to be hard for a beginner to get in the lope, or he may move out easily, but he will stop when you pull on him. The bombproof horses I have known were bright-eyed, alert looking horses. The dull-eyed horse is unlikely to be bombproof, despite his apparently relaxed demeanor.

Now the most important rule about finding a bombproof horse is also the most difficult one to follow. You, or someone you know and respect, has to have known the horse for at least six months. Unless you follow this rule, you can’t be sure what the horse is really like. Any horse can appear bombproof on a given day or week, whether because he’s been ridden down, or just because he’s in a good space. If you have only the word of a stranger who is trying to sell you the horse, and the horse’s behavior the day you go to see him, you really don’t know enough to decide if the horse is bombproof.

The only way to be sure you are getting a bombproof horse is if you, or your helper has known the horse for awhile, or you are buying the horse from someone you trust who has known the horse for awhile. It is impossible to be sure about the horse otherwise. This is why a helper who is involved in the horse business is so important. If said helper can tell you, “I’ve seen this pony around for years, I’ve seen him packing beginners, I’ve never seen him doing a stupid thing,” that goes a long way.

This is the main way I buy horses. I keep an eye on horses that fit my needs, and when/if they come for sale, I buy them. Or if I need a horse, I make an offer. This is how I bought Henry. My son’s pony had recently died of cancer. I knew Henry, I’d known him for many years, and I knew he was what I wanted. I offered more money than this nineteen year old gelding was really worth. And I got him bought. He has been worth every extra penny, to me.

All the usual things apply when buying such a horse. Have the seller ride him first, then ride him yourself. But do not assume that you can tell much from this. Unless you can find someone who has known the horse for more than six months, you are really operating in the dark. What you can tell from riding your prospect is whether you like the “feel” of the horse. And bombproof or not, some horses fit some riders better than others. So, your test ride is to see if the horse gives you a good feel. Don’t go any further if you don’t like the feel, no matter how perfect the horse seems. Again, its been my experience that it doesn’t work out. But do be sure you try the horse in the application in which you plan to use him.

I can give an example here. When I first tried Sunny, my trail horse, I tried him as a replacement for Toby. For my son. I’d known Sunny for a few years; I knew he qualified as a steady, bombproof horse. I tried him in an arena, and decided he was too lazy, ill broke, and resistant for my son. I bought Henry (for more money) instead.

A few months later I decided I needed a bombproof trail horse for myself, in order to give my son a steady lead on the trails. I tried Sunny again, this time for myself, this time out on the trails. He was perfect. He is still a resistant, lazy, not very well broke horse in an arena. But to ride down the trail, he is a jewel. So try the horse in the ways in which you plan to use him. If possible, take him home on trial. Some sellers will allow this, some won’t.

The big question that I ask the seller is, “Has anyone ever come off of this horse? Ever. For any reason. If so, tell me about it.” The answer to this question, if the seller is honest, and has owned the horse at least six months, is very instructive. The other thing I do is try to determine exactly why the seller is selling this horse. This I don’t usually ask directly. I just pay attention and get them talking about the horse and their current situation. I try to figure out why they’ve decided to let this horse go. Its good if there is a logical reason that does not amount to some “issue” with the horse.

If neither you nor your helper has known the horse previously, and you don’t know the buyer (not an ideal situation), ask if you can get in touch with a previous owner of the horse. If you can get this contact info, use it. You will often get a very helpful, honest opinion from a previous owner. Be clear that you are looking for “bombproof”. Ask if anyone has ever come off the horse. Ask if the horse was ever lame. If you can’t talk to a previous owner, try to talk to someone who knows the horse but is not the seller (or the seller’s trainer). It is very important (I can’t stress this too much) to talk to someone who knows the horse and is not trying to take advantage of you. Be sure you understand “horseman speak,” too. No one likes to talk bad about someone else’s horse. If you tell the previous owner or trainer what you are looking for and there is a long silence, followed by, “Well, I guess he might fit,” consider yourself warned off.

Final point. And this is a very simple rule. Don’t buy a lame horse. Some exceptions to this rule apply, but not many. I can save you an awful lot of time, money and grief here. You will not enjoy your bombproof riding horse if he’s lame when you want to go for a ride. And even managable lamenesses take managing. And it usually costs money. Possible exceptions are things like bone spavin and minor arthritic stuff that many older horses have, that they warm up out of easily and quickly.

You actually do not usually need to do the often quite expensive vet check, if you follow these rules. Someone you trust has known the horse for at least six months. Said person can say with clarity that the horse has never done anything “scary”; no one has ever come off of him/her, horse has always appeared sound. You ask to contact horse’s regular vet and then ask he/she what issues horse has had. Finally, most important, you jog the horse in circles on hard ground (pavement or packed gravel, arena will not work) both ways. If the horse limps, don’t buy him. Do the jogging after you ride him, so the horse is thoroughly warmed up. Again, if he limps, don’t buy him. If you can’t tell if one is lame, you should have a helper who can. Period.

The seller is liable to say the horse is bruised, or has new shoes, or he’s “barely off”. Fine. Say you’ll come back in a month. Try the horse again. If he limps, at all, don’t buy him.

On the other hand, if he doesn’t limp, don’t be put off too much by the idea that he has some scary “incipient” problem. I’ve seen people vet check sound horses, get told the horse had incipient ringbone (determined through X-ray) and turn the horse down. Then they get to watch the horse stay sound for somebody else for the next ten years. My rule is, if he limps, don’t buy him. If he doesn’t limp, and it all seems right, I’m Ok with it. I rarely do vet checks any more. I certainly didn’t do one on either Henry or Sunny.

Long term health problems are another issue. When I bought Toby, our pony, I was told he had Cushings disease and had had a run-in with cancer. I accepted him because he was sound and seemed perfect for my needs. But I found that managing the Cushings with meds, removing the tumor when it reoccured, and giving meds to try to prevent it coming back, cost me far more than ten times Toby’s purchase price. Not to mention the time, trouble and worry. And Toby died of kidney cancer two years later. Would I still buy him, knowing what I know now? Yes, I guess I would. We loved Toby, and he taught my little boy to ride, but it was a sad, expensive business in the end. It’s a story worth remembering if you are looking at an older horse with known long term health problems.

On the other hand, Henry, who had never colicked or had one known health problem, colicked a year and a half after I bought him, and had to have colic surgery to save his life. Talk about expensive. So, you never know. But I am still glad I bought Henry. Yesterday my son and I went for a two hour ride through new country on Sunny and Henry and we had a blast. Both horses were steady and quiet, ears up, looking around. Deer crashed through the brush..etc, but not a spook or a jiggy step was ever seen, let alone anything worse. We had a delightful, peaceful, magical ride through the redwoods and neither of us had one anxious moment. (And by the way, we have had well over a hundred trail rides just like this on these two horses.) Our bombproof horses are worth every penny I spent on them. And I hope this blog will help someone else find just the horse they need.