The Perfect Horse

                                                           by Laura Crum

            Sometimes I hear people (in real life and on the internet) talk about finding the right horse. It’s a great and appropriate topic. The trouble is that these folks often seem to me to be looking for something that is virtually unattainable—some sort of “perfect” horse. A horse that never does anything wrong, is never lame, is talented at the event the person wishes to pursue, is pretty, is young…etc. This horse does not exist. Like people, all horses have strengths and weaknesses; the trick (as in friends and husbands) is to find the one you can live with.

            I have had five “forever” horses in my life. They all were good horses. None of them ever dumped me or hurt me in any way. I truly loved all five of them. Two are dead and they are buried here. Three are still with me. Did/do they have their faults? Yes, of course.

            So today I’m going to describe (briefly) my five good geldings and let you see their faults. I’m hoping that this will help some potential horse owners who are trying to sort out what might be the right horse for their needs.

The first horse I owned who really became “my horse” was Burt, a bright bay QH gelding that I bought as a five-year-old with thirty days on him. Burt was a kind, willing animal, not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but also not inclined to bucking or being spooky. Burt did, however, have the constant impulse to jig. I never cured him of it, and many rides were executed in his prancing walk. Burt was my ranch horse and he never quit me, never dumped me, and had tons of heart. He was always completely under control—nonetheless, much as I loved Burt, his jigging drove me nuts, and I vowed I would only own horses in the future who could proceed at the flat-footed walk.

            My next steady mount was Gunner, a well bred cowhorse that I bought as a three-year-old with thirty days on him. Gunner had no inclination to jig. Or to buck. Gunner was a spook. He did not bolt or do more than make one jump, but the jumps were amazing—absolutely sudden, twenty foot sideways leaps with no warning at all. One either grabbed the saddle horn or was left sitting on air. I got good at grabbing the horn. I was in my twenties and early thirties when I rode Gunner, and he never dropped me. He did, however, find something worth spooking at on virtually every ride. His spooking was a pain in the butt, but it didn’t threaten me at that time. I’ll be the first to say that I couldn’t ride a horse like that today. But Gunner was in every other way a good-hearted, reliable horse that I won on at reined cowhorse, cutting, and team roping, as well as a mount that carried me on many gathers, pack trips and trail rides. I was very happy with him.

            When I retired Gunner, I began riding Flanigan. Flanigan was a seven-year-old broke team roping horse when I first got on him. He was neither inclined to prance nor particularly spooky. He inclined toward being lazy. But…Flanigan was cinchy, and if a certain careful protocol was not followed in his saddling and warm-up, he would buck. I owned Flanigan in partnership with my friend and team roping partner, Wally, and Flanigan bucked Wally off numerous times. Being a cautious sort, I was always careful with Flanigan’s warm-up, and though the horse bucked with me occasionally, he never bucked me off. Flanigan was a superficially grouchy, aloof critter, prone to pinning his ears and acting hard to catch. Underneath this unpreposessing surface, however, the horse had a heart of gold. I competed on him successfully for many years at ropings, and crossed the Sierra Nevada Mts on him numerous times on pack trips. I took my baby for his first ride on Flanigan. There never was a better horse.

            When Flanigan died at the age of 21 (and I still miss him), Plumber became my main mount. I had known Plumber since he was a foal; I bought him as an unbroken three year old and broke him and trained him myself. When I started using him as my main riding horse he was about eight years old. I’d trained him to be a decent team roping horse and trail horse, and I enjoyed riding him. Plumber had no huge holes, other than the fact that he wasn’t very athletic. He was also more of a puppy dog than your average horse, nickering whenever he saw me. He was willing to do anything I asked, but he was also a big baby. He didn’t spook like Gunner (he wasn’t athletic enough) or jig constantly like Burt, but he was frequently a little spooky and jiggy. He got anxious easily, and needed a lot of patience and reassurance. Nevertheless he was a reliable horse. For several years I rode everywhere with my toddler in front of me in the saddle and Plumber took very good care of us.

            Plumber is now twenty four years old and retired. He’s still sound, if a little stiff. My mount for the last six years has been Sunny, the little palomino gelding shown in the sidebar. Sunny was a middle-aged horse when I got him and settled in his ways. Of all my horses, he most resembles Flanigan. But there are differences. Sunny is no puppy dog, but he is much more overtly interested in me and my doings than Flanigan ever was. Sunny also has not much inclination to pin his ears. He is not the least bit cinchy. But, like Flanigan, he is more inclined to laziness than other vices. Sunny is neither jiggy nor spooky. He doesn’t buck…a small crowhop is the extent of it. Sunny’s big deal is testing in small ways for dominance. He assays a gesture at a nip or a kick, or tries to crowd my space or balks as if he will refuse to go…etc. I have no trouble straightening him out, and I find this quirk more amusing than annoying, but I quite understand that I will not train it out of him. Sunny will always test me. As long as I remain dominant (and I intend to), Sunny and I will get along fine. On the trails, that is. I bought Sunny because he was a good trail horse, and he is a real delight to ride outside, steady, solid, reliable, tough. You can go anywhere in perfect confidence on this horse. The arena is a different story. You can darn sure walk, trot and lope around, and/or chase or rope a cow, but Sunny is too clunky and lazy to be much fun in the arena, and he is much more resistant there than on the trail. Sunny dislikes arena work and lets that be known.

            So, what do my five main lifetime mounts have in common? Not much. They’re all horses, but they sure are different. I enjoyed and enjoy every single one of them (and I kept or am keeping all five until the end of their days); I would have a hard time picking a favorite. I guess I just don’t run to one type, because I liked each of these horses for their own unique traits. I will say that I’m very happy to be on steady little Sunny these days, as my chief goal is pleasant trail rides, either by myself or with my son.

            In the end, I think my main point here is that you have to be able to tolerate some faults in a horse or you will never truly be happy with your equine partner (same applies to human partners). Anybody else have any thoughts on this?

           

The Perfect Horse

by Laura Crum


OK, maybe the title should have been, “There is No Perfect Horse.” Because what I am going to discuss today is a spinoff on my last post about “Choosing the Right Horse.” (And thank you, Shanster, for giving me the idea.) Just as its important not to set oneself up for failure by expecting to train a sensitive reactive horse into a bombproof trail horse, its important not to expect to find “Mr Perfect.” As in husbands, all horses have their quirks and idiosyncracies. You will not find a horse that does everything exactly the way you wish he would. We need to focus on what’s important, and let go of the idea that every single thing must be exactly right.

Take my bombproof trail horse, little Sunny. He’s a bombproof trail horse, all right, which is what I needed. He’s also a clunky mover, not all that well broke, and constantly tries little dominance games. If I had required that my bombproof horse be sweet and cuddly, well broke and smooth gaited, I would have rejected Sunny.

We all know those horse people who are constantly swapping their current horse in for something “better”. No horse is ever quite right. I, for one, don’t know one of this type of horseman who has as much success as those of us who find a horse that fits our needs and stick with him, tolerating his quirks…as long as he is basically the right type of horse for us.

Just as you don’t want to persist with a horse that is the wrong sort of horse for you, you don’t want to give up too easily on a horse that is the right sort. The best partnerships between people and horses are forged over time. In a way, it really is like a marriage. You need to pick the right kind of guy, but once you have, you need to hang in there when the honeymoon is over.

Two years is the basic window. Once you’ve owned a horse for two years, you pretty much know what he is and whether he’s the right sort of horse for you. If you think that he is, then its time to hang in there and deal with what comes up.

And when you’re looking for a horse, its really important to sort out what counts for you. For me, when I bought Sunny, it was bombproof trail horse who is sound, not too tall, and has no dangerous vices. It didn’t hurt that Sunny was cute. I did not add into my equation that the horse needed to be a particular breed, or age, or color, and it is very helpful to finding the right horse if you do not focus on these things. If all you want to do is look at your horse, by all means select a pretty one of the color you like. If you wish to ride your horse, put the traits you need in a riding horse first. (See my last post on “Choosing the Right Horse.”)

Anyway, those people who go after the perfect horse always remind me of a story my friend told me. She worked at a nursery and knew just about everything about plants. She said that novice gardeners invariably showed up at the nursery wanting “planta perfecta”. It was evergreen, bloomed all the time, came with flowers in the color of their choice, was easy to care for, draught tolerant, disease resistant, could deal with shade or sun, long lived…etc. You get the picture. There is no such plant. If you approach choosing a horse this way, you will never be satisfied.

Lets face it, if you must have a (name your color) mare who is sixteen hands, pretty headed, can win at (name your event), is a registered (name your breed of choice), is sound (of course, we all want that), perfectly straight legged and with no confirmation issues, is no more than seven years old, is safe for a beginner, smooth gaited, very well broke and responsive, and doesn’t cost more than (name your price)….you will be looking a long time. And when you find this mare (if you do), by the time you have owned her awhile you will discover that she (like all horses) has some issues. And you will have to decide if you can live with those issues.

As I said earlier, a lot of people never figure this out and are always convinced (once they discover said issues) that they can swap their current horse for something better. Something that will be “perfect”.

You can find perfect all right. My trail horse is perfect. Not because he doesn’t have any flaws. No. Because he consistently and reliably does the thing I need him to do—he goes down the trail in his steady, unflinching away, taking me (and giving my son’s good horse a lead) on well over two hundred trail and beach rides to date (in two years), without once getting us in trouble. (Knocking on wood here—horses are horses after all, and stuff happens.) I know what perfect is. It’s a horse who does what you need him to do. I can put up with Sunny’s little attitude and his rough gaits. He’s perfect for me.

So, how about you guys? Anybody have any stories to contribute on this subject? Do you have the perfect horse?