Fear...Or Good Sense

                                               by Laura Crum

            I read a blog post the other day about fear of riding after an accident. The author talked about how some people are motivated to overcome this very natural fear and ride again and others are not. Neither choice is wrong. But the thing I noticed, reading the comments, is that the fear seemed to center on loping (or cantering). And this was very interesting to me. People who were comfortable at the trot were afraid to lope for fear the horse might fall. And the thing is, these people are more or less right. Every horse I’ve ever seen fall did so out of the lope or gallop.

            I have loped circles on innumerable horses in my life. It has been as automatic as breathing. But the horse I ride now hates loping circles. I’ve owned him five years, and in the beginning, I made him lope a lot of circles in the arena, cause hey, that’s what I always did with a horse, you know? But neither of us enjoyed it.

            Sunny resisted the loping of circles in various ways, and he is not very smooth at the lope. I am getting older and stiffer and loping circles on him made my back hurt. I still have enough skill left that I can collect this clunky little yellow horse and make him lope a decent circle. But it’s no fun.

 Sunny loves trail riding and will willingly lope up a hill out on the trail. I bought him to use him as a trail horse and he is great to ride outside. Strong, cooperative, sensible. Loping up a gentle hill he was/is much smoother and gradually I began trail riding more and more and mostly loping Sunny out on the trail, always on a gentle uphill slope. It worked for both of us.

            As time passed, I noticed that I kicked Sunny up to the lope in an arena only long enough to lope a couple of circles…and that was enough. Sometimes I didn’t lope at all in the arena, just waited until I was out on the trail again. I didn’t really think about it. It wasn’t a premeditated decision—just how I was inclined to behave. The horse and I both seemed to be of one mind about the whole thing.

            Sunny is not a graceful mover in the arena. He feels strong and solid marching down the trail; he feels like riding a small draft horse in the arena. And he stumbles in the arena—almost never trips on the trail. I have seen Sunny fall down loping around in his corral—at least half a dozen times. So when I do lope Sunny in the arena, I am always ready to “catch” him if he stumbles, because I damn sure don’t want him to fall while I’m riding him. Between that and how rough he is, it’s not very relaxing.

            Lately when I ride in the arena, we mostly trot. Works for me. Works for Sunny. And then one of my friends rode up to me yesterday at the roping arena and asked if I ever loped this horse any more.

            I started in to the explanation… “hurts my back, rough gaited, clumsy, likes to lope on the trail, hates loping circles” and noticed I felt very defensive. As if my friend was accusing me of being afraid to lope my horse and I had to defend myself. So I stopped and took a good look at that emotion. And the blog post I read about fear came to mind.

            And I said, “Well, yes, I am afraid that this horse might fall with me loping him in the arena.” As soon as I said it I realized it was absolutely true.

            The thing is, it’s not a “fear issue.” It’s just common sense. The only horse that ever fell with me was a good solid rope horse named Billy, who fell (and somersaulted) while I was loping him on a loose rein in this very same roping arena. And to this day, as I lope circles, I’m careful not to lope on a thrown away rein.

            Most everyone I know who has had a horse fall with them, the horse has fallen out of the lope. And Sunny is the only horse I ever owned that I have seen fall when he was loping around his own pen. So hey, guess what? I believe it makes sense to be thoughtful.

            Anyway, after the conversation with the friend yesterday, I took Sunny out of the arena and rode him up the hill through the forest and let him lope a good long way. We both enjoyed it. I have no fear of him falling there (though of course he could fall—I know this to be true). He feels solid and comfortable to me loping outside like this.

I see no sense in doing something neither of us enjoys and that does worry me a little. We had a black horse last year (belonged to my friend Wally) who was a pretty mover and had a lovely, smooth lope. I rode him half a dozen times and really enjoyed loping circles on him in the arena. Thing was, this horse hated trail riding and was the worst horse to ride downhill I’ve been on in a long time. He stumbled and tossed his head and felt like he was lame—though he wasn’t. He just didn’t like being “outside,” especially walking downhill. But he loped lovely circles in a groomed arena and really seemed to enjoy this activity.

In a perfect world I’d have a horse that was both a delight to ride in an arena and one that was good to ride outside. But in my own world I’ve got a really good trail horse who is not much of an arena horse. And that’s OK with me.

So, I’m curious. Does anybody else have a horse that they don’t entirely trust to stay up at the lope in certain situations? And how do you handle it?

A Wreck in the Making

                                                by Laura Crum

           

            I ride several times a week with a group of horsemen at my uncle’s roping arena. Some of these folks rope; some, like me, are there just to gather and move cattle and ride and generally help out. There are four or five older (70’s and 80’s) ropers who have roped all their lives and some younger folks. My son is twelve and there is another teenage boy. Some of these people are pretty good horsemen, others not so much.

            I bring my son there because I want him to grow up knowing the camaraderie of cowboys on horseback working cattle, something that was very important and inspirational to me in my own childhood. And this has definitely happened and it’s been a good thing.

Getting ready to gather the cattle on Henry (you can see the herd if you look past Henry’s ears).

            Bringing the cattle up the alley.

            Herding a recalcitrant steer into the stripping chute with the gang.

            We have experienced a lot of very positive fun here. As I did when I was a child and a young woman, riding (and later roping) with this same group. But…there is a dark side. Sometimes people give advice—pretty forcefully. And sometimes this advice is not so good. In fact, sometimes it is downright detrimental. I suffered, due to this cause, as a young person, and I have pretty darn effectively prevented this crap from being visited on my son. But it’s still happening around us.

            Advice is a tricky thing. Lately I have bitten my tongue, both in real life and on the internet, on some advice I would like to give. I think the advice might save a kid’s life. But I also think perhaps the parent of said kid doesn’t want my advice. The other day at the arena, I did break down and shout some much needed advice. And that got me thinking about other situations, about advice in general, and the dilemma of whether to speak or not. So here’s my story.

           

            There is one individual at our local roping arena who often poses as a trainer and gives advice. Not just on horses, but on life in general. I have a hard time keeping my mouth shut when this happens, because this individual’s track record with both horses and life events is not one that most of us would want to emulate. And yet the sage advice (in a rather self-congratulatory tone) just keeps on coming. It’s hard to resist the comment “Don’t hurt your arm patting yourself on the back.”

            This person really likes to advise the one teenage boy who is learning to rope. The advice (and not particularly good advice, to be frank) comes thick and fast. It’s hard for me to keep my mouth shut, because I like this kid a lot, and the “trainer’s” advice is messing the kid’s horse up big time.

            The thing is, I am (to put it bluntly) as good or better at reading a horse and getting along with a horse than this “trainer.” My track record when it comes to having happy, healthy horses that worked well for me and lived on into a contented old age is MUCH better than this trainer individual’s particular history. I at one time allowed this person to dictate to me, and believe me, it didn’t work out to my advantage. Nowadays I no longer pay much attention to what this individual advises or thinks, and guess what? I pretty much have no problems with any of my horses.

            “Been there, done that” is what goes through my mind when the “trainer” begins to pontificate. And “You’re not going to mess me or my horse up ever again.”  But the teenage kid doesn’t have this background. He listens to the “trainer” and tries to do what the trainer tells him. And it is totally not working.

            I usually don’t give unsolicited advice. The exception is when I see someone headed for a wreck—I’ll try to help. I figure that if it saves their life it’s worth the fact that they might resent me. I don’t pose as an expert—ever. I’m just a sedate, middle-aged rider on a gentle horse, riding along with my kid on his gentle horse. I have spent most of my life with horses, and done a fair bit of training and competing, so I do know more than you might guess to look at me. But it’s fine with me if most horse people I meet just look right past me (in my Ugg boots and cargo pants, with my horse in his mechanical hackamore). I don’t look very impressive.

            Still, the other day I saved this teenage kid from what might have been a serious wreck. I only did what any experienced horseman could do—the thing was that I stepped up and did it. Essentially I shouted some much needed advice at the right moment.

            This teenage boy does need help. He’s learning to rope on a not very suitable horse—too hot and not very cooperative, willing to bolt and scatter. And though the boy is a good kid, he doesn’t really have a good intuitive understanding of his horse—he is apt to think the horse is rebelling or defiant when the horse is just upset and confused. I was the same way myself at his age. It is the commonest problem in the horse world. Rider gives cues that are confusing to the horse, horse doesn’t do what rider wants and rider punishes horse, convinced that horse is defiant. This makes the problem worse—horse is now MORE confused (not sure exactly what the punishment was for) and upset, and being confused and upset makes the horse almost unable to attend to even clear cues—which rider (also upset) is completely unable to give. A recipe for disaster.

            Anyway, the advice from the trainer person is actually making the kid and his horse more confused and upset than ever. Then “trainer” starts yelling at the kid, because things are getting worse. Everything is going backwards. It’s very frustrating to watch.

            So this teenager is giving his horse confusing cues in the box, due to bad advice. Rope horses find the box very stressful, anyway. It takes a good horseman to get along with a horse in the box. Despite the fact that the young boy is trying hard, what I can easily see is that he is more confusing his horse than helping him. So the horse either starts too soon or too late—because he doesn’t understand what is wanted. And then the horse is upset, and doesn’t check easily when the kid pulls on him, just basically runs through the bridle. The kid gets angry and begins jerking on the horse. The horse gets more upset—and everything just gets worse and worse, while the trainer keeps giving advice that isn’t helping. I can hardly stand it.

            Anyway, for about the tenth time the horse gets out late, runs hell for leather to catch the steer, and won’t rate off when the boy pulls on him. The boy starts jerking on the horse and backing him up to punish him. Relentlessly. The horse starts scrambling backward, with the boy still jerking. And all of a sudden I feel the wreck coming. Nobody is saying anything to the kid. Trainer guy is muttering to himself about the boy screwing up, but nobody says a word to the kid.

            I see the horse go down to his hocks, still scrambling backward—and I yell as loud as I can “Stop pulling on him!”

            The kid hears me (as he told me later) and gives the horse some slack. The horse staggers backward another stride, catches his balance and stops, still standing up. I am 100% sure if the kid had kept on pulling the horse would have gone over backward. The horse’s hocks were scraped up and bloody from being buried in the sand.

            Everybody looks at me—because I don’t usually yell at people. I shrug. “I didn’t want him to get hurt.”

            Inwardly I’m thinking, what the hell is wrong with these people? I know they’re mostly tough old cowboys, but why wait for the kid’s horse to go over backward? They give a lot of advice when it isn’t helpful and then just sit here watching as a wreck is about to happen?

            Anyway, the wreck was avoided, and the kid is fine—though still struggling with his horse, I’m afraid. For those who wonder why a thoughtful adult isn’t helping with this situation, it is because the kid’s dad is unequal to the task, and the person who poses as a trainer (with the less than helpful advice) is dominating everything to such a degree that the rest of us are mostly keeping our mouths shut because we don’t want to get into a shouting match with the “trainer.”. And no, it’s not a good situation. But I’ve sure seen it before.

            This got me thinking about other wrecks in the making that I’ve seen with other people’s kids and kept my mouth shut about (because I thought my advice wasn’t wanted), and I thought I’d put said advice here in this post. Ignore it if you aren’t interested. Maybe it will save someone’s life.

            1) Children under five years old should not be leading horses around without an adult right by their side, ready to take over if needed. Even saintly horses can spook, get stung…etc. A small child is very vulnerable to being knocked down or stepped on. And even saintly horses will learn to take advantage. It’s just not a smart thing to do.

            2) It is safer to put small children in the saddle in front of you while riding a gentle horse than it is to put them up on the horse and lead them around. I learned this many years ago with my young niece. The horse only has to spook a tiny bit, or stumble, or shake, and these little kids will come right off. Contrary to what some say, riding in the saddle in front of a competent rider on a gentle horse is the safest for the very young child.

            If you are not a competent rider or don’t have a gentle, reliable horse that will carry you and a child, the safest thing for the young child is to let him/her ride on a reliable small horse or pony and be led by one adult while another adult walks beside the horse ready to grab the kid (this won’t work with a big horse). Overkill, you say? I have personally known three very small children who tumbled off gentle horses while being led around. One horse spooked (a tiny little one step spook) and the other two shook themselves. The horses meant no harm. All three of these very young (less than 5 years) children were pretty traumatized by hitting the ground. (And yes, one of these three times it was my mistake—I was in my 20’s—leading my 3 year old niece around on a very sweet horse. I never made that mistake again.)

            If you don’t have a truly reliable horse of any kind, do NOT put a kid up on your horse (in any way shape or form)—no matter how hard the kid begs. It’s not worth the risk.

            3) Even competent teenagers need a LOT of supervision with horses. Trust me on this one. If you value your horses and your kids, keep an eye on them. Make sure things are done right. I have known SO many kids and horses that were hurt due to the teenager’s errors in judgment (my own teenage errors are large in my mind). It’s just not worth it. It sounds so wonderful to turn the horse and kid loose together, but it is not worth a dead kid or horse. And yes, I have known this to happen—more than once.

My cousin and I crippled one of the nicest horses I ever knew when we were about fourteen—catching him one day without adult supervision. We left the corral gate open when we went to get the horse and he ran from us, tried to make the hard turn to get out that open gate at a dead run, and hit his hip on the gatepost. He never really recovered from the resulting knocked down hip. Any horseman worth his salt would have seen that the horse meant to evade capture and made sure to shut the damn gate. But we were young and dumb and didn’t think of it.

            4) Its great to teach a kid to saddle and bridle and tie up his horse. But don’t assume he’s done it right. Check. Because the horse that gets away and out on the road because he wasn’t tied correctly, and the saddle that slips under the horse’s belly, and the sore back or sore mouth from the incorrectly adjusted tack are just too much of a downside.

            5) Don’t allow another person, trainer or not, advise/teach your kid unless you believe (with good reason) the trainer to be truly capable and kind and has your child’s best interests at heart. If you are not a horseman yourself, get an opinion from a knowledgeable horseman you trust on any given “trainer.” Try to remember that ANYONE, absolutely anyone, can call themselves a horse trainer. Many of them do not have much to offer. This goes for people who call themselves horse trainers on the internet, too. And for folks who give clinics. Including folks with a “big name.” It is really important to make a thoughtful judgment on whether any given “trainer” has knowledge and/or a teaching style that would benefit you/your child.  So much harm can be done by a poor trainer whose motivation is not the best. Horse trainers are motivated by ego and the desire for ego gratification just as often as they are motivated by the desire to do some real good. Many so-called horse trainers have never really had much success training horses. Others have found very cruel ways to become “successful.” This is sad, but absolutely true. Oftentimes a knowledgeable horseman who does not pose as a “trainer” will be far more helpful and far less motivated by ego when it comes to giving needed advice. See my post above.

If you have no knowledgeable horseman that you trust to help you choose a trainer--and sometimes we all need help from a trainer--here are some simple guidelines.

Do you feel comfortable talking to the trainer? Does he/she treat you like an equal? Or do you feel patronized and/or manipulated? Trust me, this is key. It will not work out in the end if the trainer has no respect for you as a person.

Are the trainer's own horses happy, healthy, mostly sound, mostly working well into old age? Does the trainer find good forever homes for or keep his retired horses? If you can't answer yes to all of this, avoid the trainer.

Does the trainer have clients who have been with him/her for years and who are happy and relaxed around the trainer and will give their good opinion of him/her readily? Again, if the answer is not yes, avoid the trainer.

Finally, does the trainer have clients like you? If you just want your child to learn to ride well in a supportive atmosphere and every other client is someone who competes avidly at reined cowhorse, say (insert other disciplines here), it is unlikely in the extreme that the trainer is a good match.

            6) Just because someone calls themselves a trainer or has a riding school or gives lessons doesn’t mean they have any real ability with horses. Nor does it mean they are trustworthy or have good judgment. Nor does it mean that their horses are reliably good kid’s horses. Do not allow anyone to put your child on any horse that you do not absolutely know is a reliable horse unless you have a good reason to trust this person (as in you actually know them, not because they have some sort of “trainer” title). The number of kids who I have known to be seriously injured (and yes once, killed) on “school riding horses” is significant. It is a very real danger.

            7) And finally, do NOT buy into the notion that helmets keep you safe. They don’t. Helmets protect your head in the case of a fall (sometimes). There are great many other ways besides a traumatic head injury to get injured or dead when you fall off a horse. Helmets are a good thing—don’t get me wrong. My kid wears one. So do I. But by far the most important thing you can do to keep a child safe while riding is to be sure he is mounted on a reliable horse and that the person supervising uses good judgment.

            The biggest problem I have seen lately concerns a local riding school where the ill broke horses have bucked off and injured numerous kids. But the parents still send their kids there to ride, thinking the kids are “safe” because they are wearing helmets. It really upsets me. (See my above point.) 

            I could think of lots more, but these are the ones I’ve seen lately—and kept my mouth shut in the interests of not offending. So I’m putting my advice out there in this post in the hope that it might help somebody. Everybody is welcome to ignore said advice. Please add your own thoughts/advice in the comments.

           

           

            

Attacked By Bees

              by Laura Crum                                   

            A wise person (and I think it might have been Aarene, at Haiku Farm, listed on the sidebar) once said, as we discussed the need to wear a helmet while riding a gentle horse, “It only takes one bee.”  I would add, “Any horse can fall.” But it’s the bees I want to talk about today. Because I was recently treated to a very good demonstration of the bee issue.

            In our part of the world one of the biggest dangers for horsemen and hikers is yellow jackets—a sort of ground wasp. Some people call them “meat bees,” but I believe them to be wasps. They nest in the ground. And in my own lifetime I have known literally dozens of people, some riding, some walking, who disturbed such a nest, not knowing it was there. And the yellow jackets attacked.

            They seriously do attack. The horse (or person or dog) does not get stung once or twice. They get stung dozens of times, if lucky. The yellow jackets swarm them and pursue them and sting relentlessly.

            The best defense is to run. The one and only time this happened to me I was riding in the mountains on a green four year old. He crowhopped and tried to bolt at the first sting, and I had the wit to understand what was happening and encouraged his bolt into a controlled long trot and we got the hell out of there. He probably only got stung a couple of times and we were fine. But it doesn’t always happen like that.

            A very good friend of mine who is a competent horse trainer was taking some beginners for a ride last summer and they disturbed such a nest. My friend was thrown when his gentle horse began bucking uncontrollably, as was a very young beginner girl. The child was also stung numerous times. Everybody survived, but it was not a good moment.

            And this time of year (late summer/early fall) is the dangerous season for yellow jackets. I actually limit my trail riding in August and September to dirt roads and places where I doubt I will disturb a nest. But this is no guarantee, as recent events proved.

            We gather together with friends a couple of times a week in the summer to ride and rope at my uncle’s arena.  We’ve been doing this all year. And last week, to our great surprise, a horse that was tied along the fence where we tie horses every single roping day, managed to disrupt a yellow jacket nest, which was there in the ground, right in the tie-up area. The yellow jackets swarmed the horse and he began bucking, kicking and pulling back violently.

            For a moment no one knew what to do. The owner started toward her horse, but realized the danger of approaching him, as he was kicking out in a blind frenzy. In another second we all realized that the only safe way was from the other side of the fence. The owner scrambled over the fence and cut the leadrope (getting stung numerous times in the process), freeing the horse, who galloped away, bucking and leaping in the air.

            It took awhile, but the horse was caught, and the vet was called. The horse was swelling up with hives and eventually got a shot of “dex” and some Banamine and was sent home. The owner later reported that her horse colicked that night. The hives persisted for a couple of days, but eventually the horse was fine. The rest of us were pretty freaked out, however.

            My uncle destroyed the yellow jacket nest the next night, but we all avoided that area of the arena, anyway. And then, yesterday, the dog disturbed a nest (somewhere nearby, we didn’t see where) and came running in with yellow jackets stinging her. One of the ropers got stung. All I could think about was what if they swarm my son’s horse?

            It didn’t happen that day, but it IS a serious risk. Even a bombproof horse will come unglued when swarmed by yellow jackets. I gave my son a short talk about staying aware and getting Henry away as fast as possible if there was any sign of yellow jackets bothering the horse. But no one knows better than I do that it isn’t always possible to protect yourself. If you step right in a nest, you are toast.

            And as for my idea that I can prevent this sort of disaster by riding only on reasonably well used dirt roads and avoiding little used trails, it’s obviously a worthless concept. Because our friend’s horse stepped in a nest that was located in a place where we all tied our horses—each and every time we roped. A well traveled spot for sure. I guess it was just luck that the nest wasn’t actually disturbed until that day. But clearly if it could happen under those circumstances, it could happen anywhere.

            So here’s my question for today. Does anyone else have any insights on this subject? Any experiences you’d care to share? And most important, any survival tips?

Helmets Do NOT Keep You Safe

                                    by Laura Crum

            I’ve heard it once too often. Something along the lines of “Stay safe—wear a helmet.” I just can’t let it pass any longer. People, helmets do not keep you safe. They protect your head in certain specific ways. The rest of you is just as vulnerable as ever. The last three horseback riding fatalities that I personally knew about would not have been changed by wearing a helmet. In fact, in one case the person WAS wearing a helmet. And that child was just as dead as if she hadn’t been wearing one.

            So let’s start over here. I come from a western background. I’ve trained and ridden cutting horses, cowhorses and team roping horses; I’ve worked on commercial cattle ranches and for a Sierra pack station. I’ve ridden many, many miles through the coastal hills and the Sierra Nevada Mountains. And in over forty years of pretty much non-stop riding, neither I, nor anyone I ever rode with, ever wore a helmet. And in all those years, no one I knew was killed or seriously impaired due to head trauma.

            Before you go all helmet Nazi on me, you should consider that virtually everyone you will ever meet who comes from a background like mine will be helmetless. Check into your favorite cowhorse training blogger and observe. No helmet. Ropers, western horse trainers of all sorts, ranch cowboys…etc. No helmets involved. It sort of goes with the territory.

            Does this make it right? Uhmm, no. Over the last few years I realized (thank you horse blogging, helmet wearing friends) that helmets just make sense. They’re like seat belts. My seat belt has caused me plenty of minor discomfort and it has never helped me one little bit. But it might save my life some day. It’s dumb not to wear it. The downside is nothing compared to the possible good it may do. So I wear it. And last year I bought a helmet and now I wear it, too. And my son wears his helmet every ride—ever since he began riding independently.

            However, I do NOT believe my helmet keeps me safe. And those who think that helmets keep them “safe” are putting themselves in greater jeopardy than if they weren’t wearing the helmet at all. Because doing foolish things and imagining you are safe because you are wearing a helmet is the path to a serious horse wreck.

            Let’s talk about those three horseback fatalities that have happened in the last few years that I personally knew about. But first off, let’s all agree that horseback riding is inherently dangerous. My husband says that horses are like motorcycles. It’s not a matter of whether you’ll get hurt, but when, and how badly. And there’s some truth to that. But once this basic fact is acknowledged, there are some things you can do to reduce your risk of serious injury, and yes, wearing a helmet is one of them. But it’s not the most important one.

            The single most important thing you can do to reduce your risk of being hurt is to ride a solid, gentle, well-broke, older horse that is experienced in your riding event of choice. Sorry, but that’s true. I’ve spent a lifetime around horses and I’ll stand on that one. Second most important thing is to make good, conservative decisions when you ride. Third would be to avoid horseback events with speed involved.

            Now I know that a lot of people choose to ride young horses or problem horses and choose to compete in events with speed involved. I did this myself for years. There’s nothing wrong with it. But you need to acknowledge to yourself that you are upping your risk of getting hurt. Plain and simple. If you REALLY don’t want to be hurt, you’re probably better off ditching the young horse and giving up eventing (or barrel racing or team roping or insert sport of choice here) with a helmet on in favor of gentle trail rides or dressage or western pleasure on a tried and true steady Eddie sans helmet. Yeah, I’m serious. Your risk would be less. If, that is, you followed my second principle. Which is, make good, conservative decisions when you ride.

            So lets get back to the horseback riding fatalities that I actually know about. In all three cases I was not there, but good friends of mine that I trust were there and told me what happened. The first two cases happened at team ropings. Right off the bat you have upped your risk. Team roping is an event that takes place at a dead run and is stressful for horses and riders. The first horseman was very experienced but got on a horse he didn’t know that had “problems in the box.” The horse began rearing and they “shortened the tie-down.” Those of you who know this world will know that this is a standard roper’s answer to a horse that throws his head or comes “up” in the box. But it can really backfire. In this case the horse went over backward in the box and landed on the guy and killed him. His head was fine. It was trauma to his body that caused his death. Helmet wouldn’t have changed a thing. Making smarter decisions definitely would have helped. Riding a reliable horse and avoiding speed events would have changed the whole picture.

            The second fatality, also at a team roping, involved an inexperienced roper who couldn’t ride very well, mounted on a horse that was too much for him. This person had come near to having a major wreck several times in this roping arena, and one experienced roper had told the man that he had no business roping on that horse. He then told the arena operator that he should bar the guy because “He’s gonna get killed in your arena.” The next week the horse came unglued in the course of the roping run and bucked the guy off hard. He later died of injuries to internal organs. Again, his head was fine. Helmet would not have changed a thing. Making smarter choices, riding a reliable horse, and avoiding speed events would all have changed the picture a lot.

            The third fatality was different. A child riding at a local riding school in a ring with other children. All beginners, all wearing helmets. This is something that most people would take for granted as a safe situation. But I can tell you for a fact that no child of mine, or no child I was in charge of, would EVER be placed in such a circumstance. Why? Because riding with several beginners together in a ring is a recipe for disaster. Particularly when they are mounted on school horses that they may or may not know, and that may not be the most trustworthy horses in the world.

            In this case one child, mounted on a small horse/large pony rode behind/near a child mounted on a larger horse. The larger horse kicked out hard and caught the child on the smaller horse in the neck, breaking her neck. She died of this injury. The helmet did no good at all.

            Smarter decision making in this case would be something that not everybody will understand. As I started out saying, helmets do NOT make you safe. Do not assume that because your child (or you) puts on a helmet that he/she/you are magically “safe” when you ride a horse. The truth is far otherwise. People, I know this is a hard one, but don’t let your child ride any horse that a knowledgeable horseperson that you really trust hasn’t vouched for. Do NOT assume that a “riding school” knows better than to mount kids on unsafe horses. A friend of mine has been working at a local riding school and recently quit because too many kids were getting bucked off and hurt. The last one ended up in the hospital. My friend and others repeatedly told the owner of the school that certain horses were unsuitable for beginners and this advice was just as repeatedly brushed off. The owner continued to mount young children on these problematic horses and the wrecks kept happening. My friend quit.

            Only mount kids/beginners on truly safe, reliable older horses. Avoid letting them ride in the ring with other beginners. At our own roping arena one day three young kids (not my kid) were put in the round pen to ride. (This was before I owned Henry.) Two of the horses, though lazy, were not really reliable kid’s horses. The third horse was Henry. None of the adults responsible for these kids were paying much attention to them. One horse spooked, started loping off, and became panicked by his beginner rider pulling wildly on him and screaming. He ran until he dumped the child (into a metal fence). The second horse was alarmed and started bucking until he bucked his kid off. The third horse (Henry) remained calm and well-behaved. (One of the many reasons I chose to buy Henry). The little girl who hit the fence was very sore and severely traumatized. But neither kid was seriously damaged, thank goodness. Nonetheless, this disaster could have been avoided, not by putting helmets on the kids (none of them were wearing a helmet), but by not mounting them on horses that were less than reliable and by the adults showing good judgment by carefully supervising the kids while they were riding together.

            The only time I let my child ride with beginners is when I put my kid on Sunny (my own horse) and the beginner kid on Henry and then I pay close attention and supervise the whole time.

Also, I am very careful to teach my son that when you must ride up behind another horse (and this does happen on trail rides), stay directly behind the other horse. Do not ever ride up behind and alongside. This is how you get kicked. If you stay directly behind another horse, if that horse does kick, the blow will fall on your horse rather than you, unless you are riding a very small pony. These precautions are what I mean by making good, conservative decisions.

            I know not everyone has the goal of staying as safe as possible while continuing to ride horseback. And I totally respect that others have different priorities. As I said, I once had different priorities myself. But ever since I started trail riding with my young son, my highest priority has been to keep us as safe as possible while still sharing the joy of horses. Yes, my son has worn a helmet every ride ever since he started riding independently. No, that is not the main thing I have done to keep him (and me) safe. The most important thing I have done is to buy two safe, solid older horses that are both very good outside. I’ve tried, every step of the way, to make good choices every time we ride. I stay alert; I pay attention. I consider the risks in any given situation. And I haven’t encouraged my kid to take up horse events that occur at speed. If he wanted to do these things at twelve years old (take up team roping for instance), I would support him, but he would learn slowly and with much supervision on a very steady, reliable horse.

            Boring, you say? Overkill, you say? All I can answer is that death, or serious injury, is a devastating downside of horseback riding. It is worth it to me to do my best to keep my son (and me) safe, while we enjoy riding together. And though that DOES include wearing a helmet, the helmet is just a small part of good decision making in order to improve our chances of staying safe and undamaged—emotionally and physically.

            OK, I’ve said my piece. I want everyone to notice that I support wearing a helmet. I just don’t think it’s the most important thing we can do in order to stay safe with horses. Any thoughts on this?

Causing a Problem?

                                                by Laura Crum

            After my recent post “Freak Accidents” I read several posts on other horse blogs that touched on the same topic. One was clearly inspired by my post (she referenced it—thanks jenj at Wyvern Oaks, listed on the sidebar) and a couple were both on a sort of alternate subject—as in the idea that you create a disaster by expecting one. Since my post was basically advocating that we stay alert and vigilant, such that we can mitigate or prevent a disaster before it occurs, I gave some thought to the idea proposed—that by expecting a good outcome we can help create one. And by expecting/preparing for a bad result, we help create that, too.

            I don’t entirely disagree with this. No smart person who works with horses and/or dogs will have failed to notice that by holding a calm, confident, relaxed attitude and expecting things to go well, you can nudge things in the direction of going well. It works on kids and chickens, too. But…I do have a few points to add.

            First off, it’s my contention that the two points of view aren’t really in conflict. I know, because I do both. For example, riding Sunny down the trail by myself, I see an odd looking stump up ahead and recognize by Sunny’s body language (pricked ears, body tension, reluctance to approach said stump) that he is worried about it. Now, I did not create this by worrying about the stump myself or imagining that Sunny might be afraid of the stump. I don’t expect Sunny to be afraid of anything—and this is realistic, since he rarely spooks. I ride along the trail expecting him to be relaxed and confident, as he usually IS relaxed and confident. Thus I, too, am relaxed and confident on the trail.

            I wish to contrast this to the point of view raised by another blogger, in which she describes being worried because her horse always “looks” at a certain stump, and then feeling that her own worry has created a situation where the horse spooks. Well, yeah, it could, sure. If you tense up, even minutely, and you are thinking about your horse possibly spooking at the stump long before she even sees the stump, you can definitely bring on the spook through expecting it. But this is a different equation from being relaxed yourself and at the same time being aware that your horse is thinking of spooking.

            So, let us say, that I am quite relaxed and confident, but I can tell Sunny is thinking of spooking at the stump. Shall I just decide that I’m going to envision him not spooking and go merrily along? Uhmm, no. I don’t think that will be be very helpful. I honestly don’t believe any “good vibes” coming from me will stop my horse from spooking if he’s decided to spook. What works for me is awareness and being prepared. I don’t get tense, and I’m not particularly worried—I can ride a spook. But I do make sure that I am holding the saddle horn, I relax my body further, and I am very careful to keep the reins loose and my legs loose. I bump Sunny lightly with my heels to encourage him forward and I am apt to say something in a relaxed, conversational tone. “Its just a stump you silly horse.” And I prepare to ride the spook.

            Sure enough, Sunny spooks, one of those sudden, now-you-are-facing-the-opposite-way spooks. I ride it. I check Sunny, turn him back around, and still relaxed, let him know we are going by the stump. Sunny is wary, but he’s not dumb. He’s already figured out the horse eating monster is a stump, and he can tell I’m not worried—either about the stump or his spook. He snorts, and bows his neck up, but he walks on by.

            So…if I am happily pretending that Sunny will not spook, and envisioning him walking along the trail steadily, even though he is clearly communicating to me that he is going to spook, I think the only likely result is 1) I am more likely to come off, and 2) the spook is more likely to escalate into a blot if he catches me off balance and unprepared. By preparing to ride the spook, and being ready to check him, I have turned the spook into a very minor incident.

            It’s my contention that we need to ride in a relaxed, confident frame (as much as we can), and I think this is simply obvious. But I have saved myself so much grief by seeing trouble coming and being prepared, that I will add that pretending/envisioning that something is not going to happen when it is very clearly brewing, is just dumb.

            So now lets take dogs. Here are my two (very funny looking) dogs. Jojo is half Aussie shepherd, half Jack Russell, and Star is a little rescue mutt—we think Chihuahua, terrier and dachshund.

            Both my two dogs will come back to me when called. The old dog (Jojo is 15 years old) is getting deaf, so that is a problem. Still, if she hears me, she will come. But both of them are not reliable if they become interested in another dog. So when they are off leash at the beach or on the trails, I remain alert. And when I see another dog, I call my dogs back immediately. If I call them before their interest has been engaged, and when the dog is still a ways away, they WILL come back to me. And then I leash them and we walk by the dog. No big deal.

            If, for instance, I decide not to call my dogs and leash them, and instead hold the thought (despite all prior behavior) that they will come to me and stay with me as we pass the dog…well, its my firm belief that I would end up with a mess. If the dog was friendly it might be run and play, but if it was not, it might be a fight. It’s not worth the risk and bother.

            Here’s the deal. My dogs mind me well enough. I’m not sure what to say about folks who can’t walk their dog by another dog while ON the leash. I’ve never had that problem. But I also don’t get bent out of shape thinking that my dogs must heel perfectly off leash. I don’t worry about it, I don’t stress over meeting other dogs. Just like when I’m on my horse, I cruise along relaxed and confident (or fat, dumb and happy, if you prefer) and I remain alert. Thus I spot the potential problem (or dog) before it is a problem, and I call my dogs back and leash them and on we go. It’s no big deal.

            So here’s my response to the idea that you can create a positive outcome by envisioning it. Yes and no. By remaining relaxed and confident you increase the chances that your horse/dog/kid will also be relaxed and confident. By being alert for potential trouble at the same time that you remain relaxed and confident you vastly increase your chances of being spared that potentially disastrous wreck. Blind confidence is no help at all. It only makes a true disaster more likely. And believe me, I have seen that outcome…though (partly) thanks to my vigilance I have so far been spared such a thing (knocking on wood).

            So what do you think? I think its an interesting subject and worth discussing.

            

Worst Wreck of my Life (and an Encounter with the Queen of England)

                        by Laura Crum

            True story. Well, maybe not the worst wreck of my entire life, but if not, close to it. I remember it perfectly, because it happened the day Queen Elizabeth waved at me. That’s right, the queen of England waved at me. I’ve never forgotten. And I never forgot the wreck that followed, either.

            This would be thirty years ago on the outskirts of a foggy town in California’s Central Valley, right about this time of year. I’d been working all winter for a well known reined cowhorse trainer as his assistant, mostly in the chilly (40 degrees), gray fog that is so typical of the Valley in winter. This particular trainer had won the prestigious Snaffle Bit Futurity a couple of years ago and was a BIG player in the reined cowhorse game. He probably had 50 horses in training. And he had three assistants to ride them—myself, another young woman, and an equally young guy. All three of us were in our twenties and were paid minimum wage. We were all working there because we wanted to learn how to train horses.

            All of us could ride pretty well, and we were given the greener horses and the retrain projects—the trainer rode the horses that were scheduled to be shown. As a matter of fact, the trainer didn’t ride all that often. Mostly he watched us ride and yelled at us. He had a huge voice and as someone else said of him, “He could be abrasive, to say the least.” Most assistants lasted only a few months. He frequently reduced me to tears, still I kept sticking it out. I wanted to learn to ride cowhorses in the worst way, as did the other two kids working for the trainer. The three of us had all been there six months on this particular March day, and we were friends, of a sort. At the very least, we were comrades.

            The trainer had gone to town for the morning, as he often did, and the three of us were working our way through our respective “strings” when the neighbor came driving in the yard, very excited. Apparently Queen Elizabeth had been visiting Yosemite Valley and was on her way to the airport. And the neighbor had just heard (via police scanner—which everybody seemed to have in those parts) that the queen’s convoy would be going down the road in front of our ranches. In ten minutes from now.

            This was big news. As we understood it, the queen’s route was kept secret until the last minute, for fear of snipers. So there was no crowd lining the roadway. We three training assistants had the bright idea to saddle the most “western looking” horses we had and wave at the queen—who we all knew was a horsewoman. I grabbed a loud-colored paint, the other gal took a blanket Appie and the guy saddled a buckskin. We put our cowboy hats and chaps on and lined the three horses up at the end of the driveway, on the shoulder of the road, facing the street, right under the wooden crossbar that marked the ranch driveway. We looked western as hell.

            And shortly thereafter the police convoy came down the road, with a big black limo sandwiched in the middle. We took off our hats and waved and waved and I distinctly saw the queen’s face peering at us through the back window and she gave her signature wave back. So, the queen has waved at me (!)

            Anyway, after that excitement, it was back to business as usual. The trainer came back from town and decided to have me work all the upcoming snaffle bit prospects “checked up” in the round pen. Not the real round pen, because that was a lake, after a rainy winter. But a makeshift round pen had been set up in the covered arena—rusty old portable panels baling wired together. Not ideal.

            The sort of “checking up” the trainer had me do is kind of touchy. The reins are run from the snaffle bit down between the horses front legs and then up to the horn, one on each side. The reins are then tied around the horn.  When the horse walks or trots, the movement of his front legs works the reins in an effect that is similar to a rider scissoring the reins. The horse must bring his head down, and/or break at the poll to get relief from the pressure. If he raises his head or throws it, the reins, tied fast at the horn, will give him a harsh jerk in the mouth. There is no escape. If the person doing the checking up is not skilled, it’s common for a colt to flip over backward. This event is not for the faint-hearted, and it CAN be very abusive. Every single reined cowhorse trainer I ever knew used it at least occasionally. I had used it before and knew how to do it. But I tended to err on the side of kindness and caution.

            I usually started with the reins pretty loose and gave the colt a lot of space to figure out what was wanted. If he seemed upset, I loosened the reins further. Only when I was sure that the colt had figured out the desired response and was comfortable with it, did I drive him into the bridle—which was the goal of this exercise. It is, to be frank, a little like rollkur (sp?).

            Anyway, I was working my way through the three-year-olds, one at a time. Most understood the exercise and didn’t struggle with it. I worked them for fifteen-twenty minutes or so at the trot, as I had been told to do. And I finally got around to Lynn’s filly.

            Lynn was a non-pro with very little money, but she had a three-year-old she wanted to show at the Snaffle Bit Futurity in the Non-Pro class and had put the filly in training. Think about this for a minute. She had very little money, she wasn’t going to have the trainer show the horse, she was going to show it herself. The trainer had at least a dozen Futurity prospects in training that he WAS going to show himself. Take a guess how much Lynn’s filly got ridden. Yep. If you guessed almost never, you’re right.

            The trainer didn’t ride her because he wasn’t interested in her. The assistants didn’t ride her much because we all had plenty of horses we were assigned to ride and the filly was a flighty, goosey little critter, afraid of everything. Lynn rode her occasionally. The filly was WAY behind the other horses in her training.

            I got her out and saddled her and checked her up with some trepidation. I wasn’t sure she’d ever done this before. And sure enough, she reacted by being  freaked out. I had the reins adjusted so they were very loose and I was just sort of babying her along, hoping she would relax and get the idea. But she kept throwing her head against the pressure and running backward. I was worried she would flip over and I soothed her and loosened the reins further. At this point, if I had been in charge, I would have been happy to have her take a few calm steps forward at the walk and I would have put her up.

            But I was not in charge. And the trainer chose just this moment to come lean on the fence and observe what I was doing. In no time at all he was yelling at me to tighten the reins and drive the filly forward into the bridle. I protested, saying that I thought she’d freak out. He yelled louder, telling me that he was the boss here and if I wouldn’t do it he would, and to get my ass in gear and do as he said.

            Well, I should have quit him right there. But I was young and he was a big name, and yep, he was in charge. So I did as he said.

            I shortened the reins under his direction—much shorter than I would ever have chosen to do with this filly. With the trainer yelling at me every second to drive her harder, I used the whip to force her to trot, despite her wildly rolling eyes and attempts to throw her head in the air and run backwards.

“Drive her harder!” screamed the trainer.

            I understood the point. She couldn’t flip over backwards if I could keep her moving forwards. So I drove her hard. And the filly, out of her mind with panic, tried to jump out of the round pen, with her head virtually tied down to her chest.

            She didn’t make it. She landed on top of one of the old rusty panels, which fell apart. The filly impaled herself on an upright. Blood poured out of a gaping hole in her chest.

            The trainer dove into this mess, and got the horse untangled and out of the panels. The vet was called, the filly survived, though she was out of commission for a couple of months. I felt terrible. And the worst part was that I absolutely knew that the trainer would tell Lynn that I was to blame for the wreck. He would say my inexperience caused the problem.

            Lynn was a nice gal. I told her I was sorry, and I very softly said that I had been doing exactly what the trainer told me to do. I did not add that I never would have driven her horse like that by my own choice, and that I had warned the trainer that I thought it would be too much for the filly. Lynn said she didn’t blame me. But she didn’t have much money and now she had a huge vet bill, and her horse, already behind in her training, was going to be even further behind. As I said, I felt terrible.

            Three months after that, and after witnessing many more very abusive things, I quit that sorry son of a bitch of a trainer and finished training my horse, Gunner, for the Snaffle Bit Futurity on my own. We placed in both the Non-Pro and the Ladies, and I was happy with the results. But I never became a star at reined cowhorse, and shortly thereafter I switched to cutting, which was (in my opinion) easier on the horse. And one thing I can tell you for sure. Though I checked up other colts in my life, I was always very careful how I did it, and I never again had a wreck of any sort in the process.

            If you’d like to hear more adventures from my past life training horses, there are many woven into “Hoofprints,” the second book in my mystery series. Hoofprints is on special right now as a Kindle edition. Only 99 cents. Here is the link, if you’re interested.

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.

Overcoming Fear

                                                by Laura Crum

            I got a good lesson in overcoming fear the other day. From one of my best teachers—my son. It taught me something that I kind of already knew, but watching my son go through it really made it clear to me. I thought maybe others would get some insights from this experience, so here’s my story.

            Those of you who read this blog may remember that my son’s bombproof older gelding, Henry, had a minor meltdown last summer. Here is the link to that story.

            Ever since that day, my son has been afraid to gather the lower field—the scene of Henry’s meltdown. When we gathered the cattle my kid would decline to go down the steep hill where Henry slipped and just wanted to gather the upper field.

            I gave some thought to this. I know a lot of people would have made the child go right down to the lower field the very next gather. You know, get right back on the horse that bucked you off…etc. But that didn’t feel right to me. I was perfectly aware that Henry was very unlikely to have another meltdown, and once we had gathered the lower field successfully my son’s fear would probably disappear. But I also thought it was important to let him make his own choices.

            So for a couple of months we just gathered the upper field and let the others gather the lower field. I didn’t put any pressure on my kid—just let him make his own decision. And he consistently said, “I don’t want to go down to the lower field.”

            So, OK. I felt that I might be a little sad if we got to the end of the roping season and my son had never overcome his fear of going down there, but I also thought it was not a big deal in the overall picture. My kid is riding several days a week and enjoying himself. That’s enough for me. I’m not going to pick it apart.

            And then last week we were a little short handed. The cattle have been difficult to gather lately. We started out that morning, and of his own accord my son said, “We’d better help them gather the lower field.”

            I said, “OK,” and I let my kid choose the way down the steep hill—and I noticed he chose a different route from the one where Henry had slipped back in August. But I didn’t say anything about it.

            We got down the steep section and we had a bit of work to get the cattle out of the lower field and through the gate. I noticed that my kid kept reassuring his horse, “Easy, Henry, just take it easy.”

            Henry was doing just fine, as he usually does.

            Once we got the cattle though the gate the herd made a break in the wrong direction and for five or ten minutes we were all charging about at the high lope up and down the hills and through the trees to get them turned. I hung back a little, so my son wouldn’t feel out of control and carried along by the crowd, but he charged about with the others, a big grin on his face. Clearly he had forgotten about being afraid. And that made me smile.

            We got the cattle in with no real problems—my kid was a big help. He knows exactly where to be—I no longer have to tell him when to move up or when to back off. He’s learned to read cattle and the herd dynamic really well. And he has clearly overcome his fear of gathering the lower field—without me doing/saying a thing. And that taught me something.

I think all of us who ride horses have to deal with overcoming fear at some point or other. For me, as for many others, this wasn’t as much of an issue when I was in my twenties and thirties. But I took a break from riding in my early forties to have my baby and raise him, and by the time I returned to regular riding, when I was about fifty, I wasn’t nearly so brave—or so skillful. It’s a common phenomena, and much is written about it on various horse blogs.

            Most of us who love horses strive to overcome our fear enough that we can keep riding and doing the things we want to do. At the same time, a lot of us can acknowledge to ourselves that we very sincerely do NOT want to get hurt. And I think everyone in the horse world knows of folks who have been hurt very badly due to a riding accident. Sometimes these accidents seem very preventable, sometimes they are something no one could have prevented. My husband says horses are like motorcycles; it’s not a matter of whether you’ll get hurt, but when, and how badly. Gee, thanks.

            I haven’t been badly hurt in my life with horses—ever (knock on wood). I’ve been dumped, yes, but the worst that came of it was I had the breath knocked out of me. So my own fears are not based on any sort of personal trauma, but rather the very realistic knowledge of what CAN happen. Cause I’ve sure seen a few wrecks in my time. Nonetheless, my fear has stayed in the rational camp, and I have made logical choices to reduce my risk (I bought myself a gentle, solid trail horse and I don’t compete at high risk/high speed events any more). And, in general, I don’t feel much fear/anxiety when I ride. I’m not afraid my horse will dump me…I do worry a little about meeting the unexpected dangerous situation out on the trail, or a horse falling. And I’ve learned to deal with this anxiety not by forcing myself to do what I feel uncomfortable doing, but rather by allowing myself to be OK with NOT doing what I don’t want to do right now and waiting until I do want to do it.

            This approach has helped me a lot. I have actually ridden down my driveway and stopped at my front gate and allowed myself to feel that I was a little too anxious for a solo trail ride that afternoon. Maybe it was windy, or I could hear a chain saw or dirt bikes up on the ridge—or I just felt anxious that day and not up to crossing the busy road which I must cross to get to the trails. And I gave myself permission not to go trail riding—since I didn’t really want to—and just to ride in the riding ring instead. And I found this worked for me.

            Soon enough the day would come when I had a whole hearted desire to get out on the trails…what little anxiety was there was much less than the urge to go. And on that day I went trail riding with a happy, uncluttered mind. So this is the approach I used with my son. I think I can say that it worked really well for him, too. When he was ready to go back down to the lower field, he did—and it was a totally positive experience.

            So there’s my little insight for today. Sometimes forcing ourselves through fear is not the best path. At the very least, it’s not the only path. Sometimes making space to feel what we do or don’t truly WANT to do and allowing ourselves to honor this feeling, can lead to choosing our risks with a free and uncluttered mind. I honestly think we make better choices this way.

            Any thoughts?

PS—I just found out that my publisher has reduced the price of my most recent novel, “Barnstorming,” for two weeks only. From now through November 15^th the book will be $2.99 as a Kindle edition. After Nov 15^th it will return to its former, rather pricey amount (I think 9.99). So now is the time to pick up the Kindle edition of “Barnstorming”, if you are interested in reading this story. It is the last book in the twelve book Gail McCarthy series, so if you want to read the whole series on Kindle, grab Barnstorming now, because I don’t know if the publisher will ever reduce the price again. Coincidentally, this book is about overcoming fear, as well. Here is the link to buy this book.

For those who are curious, Barnstorming centers on a trail rider’s worst nightmare—someone is targeting solo equestrians in the hills near veterinarian Gail McCarthy’s home, and Gail must find the killer before she becomes the next victim. Lots of trail riding adventures in this book.

Also, the series as a whole covers twenty years in the life of one woman-- horse vet Gail McCarthy. In the first book she is thirty-one years old and just beginning her career—the series ends when she is fifty—and there are many twists and turns over the course of the dozen books. If you enjoy horses and mysteries, there are lots of hours of reading fun here.

Cutter and Hoofprints, the first and second books in the series, are currently on special for 99 cents as Kindle editions, so you can give them a try with very little downside.  And again, if you do want to read the whole series on Kindle, now is the time to pick up Barnstorming for a reasonable price.