How to "Train" a Solid Trail Horse

                                    by Laura Crum

            In the comments on my last post, Val mentioned that a friend had tried to “desensitize” a horse that was frightened of the farrier. And I replied that the word “desensitize” just made my hackles rise. I’ve never seen it used by anyone who was a competent horseman.

            So I got to thinking about this and realized that it may, of course, be a completely unreasonable prejudice on my part. I don’t like the word, or what I’ve seen done in its name, but then again, I don’t really understand the concept. I only know what I’ve seen.

            Today I am going to describe what I’ve actually seen done under the heading of desensitizing, which was mostly aimed at creating a horse that wasn’t so spooky out on the trail. In my view, it was a dismal failure. And then I am going to talk about something that will actually help a horse to be a solid horse outside (and in the ring, for that matter). After you read this, you can all tell me where I’m wrong about this desensitizing issue, if you want.

            Maybe twenty years ago my friend and I had permission to access some trails behind a local training barn. We parked our rig in the barnyard and rode our young horses (three and four year old QH rope horses in training) out the back gate and through the hills. Our goal was to teach our young horses to be calm and reliable on the trail and to this end, well, we rode them on the trail…a lot.

            On our way to the trails we passed the various rings and arenas where the trainer and her assistant worked with the horses they had in training. These people were, as it happens, NH type trainers. I always looked curiously at what they were doing, because it never looked anything like what I did when training a horse…or for that matter what any horseman/trainer that I knew did. One young woman was schooling a rather flighty looking bay mare with a big blue tarp one day. The mare was walked over the tarp and then she walked under it (they had one part of it draped over a pole to make a tunnel). The mare seemed fine with this.

            I smiled at the young woman assistant trainer as we went by, and asked idly what she was doing. “Desensitizing,” she said rather brusquely, as if I should have known.

            I shrugged, and we went off to ride several miles through the hills. Here we climbed and descended steep trail and met various obstacles. We were patient with our young horses, but persistent, as they learned to cope with what the wild woods had to show us.

            One day, on the way home, we met the young woman assistant trainer on the same bay mare. She was less than a mile from the barn and her mare was pitching a fit over passing a small tarped stack of hay. The tarp was brown rather than blue, a cube shape, and flapped briskly in the breeze. The mare quite clearly was having no part of going by this odd obstacle, despite all the “desensitizing” with the big blue tarp in the ring.

            Our two young horses cocked their ears at the tarped hay, but went on by, ignoring the nervous mare. They had, of course, been by this obstacle before, they were tired, and they knew we were on the way home. We stopped and offered to give the mare a lead past the tarp monster, if the gal wanted.

            We got what I can only call a venomous look in reply and a curt “No need.”

            Well. (In my view, she would have been wise to take the offered lead. Would have built her mare’s confidence with no conflict needed. But instead, she dismounted and began some sort of training from the ground…and quite truthfully I felt that dismounting was exactly the wrong thing to do. Merely reinforced the idea the haystack was a problem and taught the mare that pitching a fit causes rider to dismount.)

            Since then I have seen (and heard) of many things like this. Rub the plastic bag all over the horse at home and its all good. Meet a different plastic bag blowing along the trail and the horse goes bat shit crazy.

            My answer to this is simple. You don’t desensitize a horse to specific stuff (I don’t believe this works). You teach a horse to be confident out on the trail and able to handle the various unpredictable stuff that comes along without losing his mind. It’s two completely different approaches to the same problem.

            Training a horse to be a calm, confident trail horse is in some ways simple. Uhmm, you put a lot of miles on the horse on the trail—preferably when he is a green horse in training. I realize this is oversimplified, but it is the root of the answer. The best way to do this is, at least initially, is following an older steady horse down the trail. If no such horse exists to help you, then a companion of any sort, including a calm confident human on foot (a husband who hikes, for instance) will work.

            Second point, again obvious. If you want a calm, confident trail horse, choose a horse with a calm personality. A sensitive reactive spooky horse can be a good trail horse within his limits, but he’ll always spook. This can be OK, if you don’t mind the spook.

            My horse Gunner was and is a hugely spooky, very sensitive, reactive horse. I got him broke to death—I rode him on hundreds of trail rides and gathers. He spooked on every single outing, at least once or twice, if not twenty or thirty times. And I mean really spooked—instant relocation twenty feet to the left. I was used to it; I rode with one hand on the horn; Gunner never dumped me. He also never bolted or became in any way out of control. He spooked, he jigged when scared, but he stayed in my hand and went where I told him. In my youth I found this to be fine. And this is the best you will get out of the truly sensitive, reactive horse. Trust me on this one.

            As for horses like my Sunny and my son’s Henry, who march intrepidly past just about everything, they first of all are very calm sensible horses by nature. Secondly they have been exposed to a lot—many miles outside, hauled everywhere…etc. And there is a third thing. The big secret—worth far more in my book than any amount of desensitizing. And it is this. These horses have been tied up for long periods. They’ve learned how to be calm and patient.

            Tying does a lot of things for a horse. It is the single most under-rated training tool there is. Ranch horses are caught and saddled and tied—every working day. If they are young horses they may only be ridden for a short ride in the company of an older horse than can give them a lead, or not ridden at all, if the work of the day is too tough for their skills. They are watered at lunch time. They learn to be patient and calm through this tying—without any other “training.”

            And now I am going to tell you something I just learned last week about tying. It really opened my eyes. I’m still sort of pondering it.

            My Sunny horse came from Mexico. He is the single most calm, confident trail horse I’ve ever ridden. He goes just as well alone as he does in a group. He can be first or last or in the middle. He has no problem leaving the others. He is a calm, intelligent horse by nature, but even so, his complete lack of herdbound behavior and his self-confidence continue to amaze me. I’ve often wondered how he got this way. Well, now I think I know.

            I’ve known maybe half a dozen of these horses that came from Mexico in my life—and they were all like this. Nothing bothered them. They all tie perfectly. My friend Mark has a little gray horse from this same place right now, and he is just as bombproof as Sunny. I asked Mark, “How do they get this way?”

            He laughed. “They tie them up every night to trees—each horse where he can’t see another horse. That’s what I was told.”

            I thought about this. My first impulse was to think—wow, that’s rough. I could never do that to a horse. But then I thought a little deeper.

            I believe in the tying method as we used it on the ranches. But here was something more intense. The horse must cope with a lot of fear to begin with, certainly. I imagine the first few weeks are pretty rough. But then the horse learns that nothing bad happens. The humans come in the morning and bring him hay and take him to get a drink, so he is happy to see the humans. They saddle him and ride him and he gets plenty of exercise doing ranch work. In the end he accepts that there is nothing to do but wait patiently by his tree alone all night. Being alone will not hurt him, fretting will not help him. And thus is a horse like Sunny trained to be such a calm confident trail horse, with zero herdbound traits.

            Those who will cry “How cruel!” need to take a moment and think. Yes, I think this training method would be hard for a horse, especially to begin with. I’m sure some horses are injured or colic due to stress. I’m not sure I could ever bring myself to do it, to be frank. But…

            Half of the folks I know (both on the internet and in real life) who would protest such “cruelty” to a horse cannot climb on their horses and go for a trail ride. They are literally scared to do this with their horse. Their horse is too spooky and nervous, too herdbound to ride alone outside an arena. This is not a problem if it’s not a problem for the owner, of course.

            But in many cases it IS a problem for the owner. The owner finds the horse frustrating, or the owner gets hurt on the horse and realizes the horse is truly dangerous. The owner WANTS to love the horse, but the owner also wants (very much) to enjoy riding in a relaxed way down the trail. And eventually the frustration and anxiety and sometimes true (and realistic) fear is just too much for the well-intentioned owner and the horse is sold. Very frequently such horses do not come to a good end—we all know this.

            Contrast this to a horse such as Sunny, who is a real pleasure to ride down the trail. Anybody who can ride can ride a horse like Sunny on trail rides and enjoy him. I enjoy Sunny’s ability to go solo or in a group and his complete lack of herdbound behavior makes him a joy in so many ways. If Sunny did not have these traits I would not have bought him (I was looking for a solid trail horse) and/or not have kept him. These traits (acquired through the “cruel” method of tying) have earned Sunny a forever home. And to top it off, they have given him a calm, relaxed, non-fearful attitude towards anything life sends him. If Sunny (or any horse) had the sort of brain that allowed him to ponder and choose, don’t you think he would have chosen the stress of his initial “tying” in order to get the happy life that has resulted?

            Contrast this to the nervous, unhappy horse whose owner dares not ride him down the trail. Consider the potential conflicts, the frustration on the part of both owner and horse, the likelihood of the horse being sold and ending up at the killers. Which life would you rather have if you were a horse?

            Something to think about, for sure.

           

           

             

My Life With Horses--Part Eleven

                                                by Laura Crum

            With Sunny and Henry my son and I began exploring the trails along the ridge near our home in earnest. My son was seven and a half. I was fifty years old and, to my surprise, a new horseback passion had entered my life. Because I became quite obsessed with riding the trails of my home.

            And here, if there is anyone out there who has been reading my posts on Equestrian Ink from the beginning, is where you came in. Because I began blogging here just a couple of months after I bought Sunny. In fact, one of my early posts was titled “The New Horse” (May 2008).

Sunny was always a very reliable trail horse and he gradually came to accept me as his boss and dropped most of his “testing” behaviors. I’ve blogged about him here often enough, so probably most of you have a pretty good idea of this little yellow horse’s personality. Suffice it to say that Sunny and I formed a good partnership and from the beginning I was deeply grateful for how steady both he and Henry were on the trails. These two horses opened up a whole new world for my son and me.

We began riding in the hills several days a week, sometimes with our friend Wally, sometimes just the two of us. We rode the trail to the Lookout often. 

We also discovered new trails, a whole network of trails that criss-crossed the wild ridge that we could see from our front porch.  

We hauled the horses down to the shore and rode them on the beach. 

Sunny and Henry were and are amazing trail horses. In the redwood forest.

    Crossing creeks. 

           In the mountains. 

I could never describe, or even show you in photos, half of the delightful and beautiful things my son and I were privileged to see from the backs of these two wonderful horses. I have to say that though it may not sound as exciting as training and showing cutting horses or competing at team roping, these last five years exploring the trails of our home and the beaches and mountains have been my absolute favorite part of my life with horses. It has been a time of pure enjoyment, of taking delight in both the horses and my son and the wonder of what we were all seeing together. There has been nothing to prove to anyone, and no need to improve or train or push. The horses have been our partners every step of the way; they were competent, solid horses when we got them and they brought their own confidence and experience to share with us. My forty years with horses stood us in good stead, and I am proud to say that my son has grown up riding, has challenged himself as he saw fit (and yes, kicking Henry up to a gallop after a steer and riding some of the steep, tricky trails we have ridden has been a true challenge), and has become an adept, kind and secure rider, one who really understands horses. I don’t know what the future will bring, but we have done and seen some lovely things. My photos can show our life with these two horses better than words. 

I can truly say that for five straight years we rode Henry and Sunny everywhere and had a blast. We may be getting close to a thousand rides all told (I kept track the first year and we went on 165 rides that year alone). We were never hurt or scared, never even very anxious—none of us. And it is all due to these fine horses. We have had so much fun. Gathering and working cattle with friends. 

Just loping along in the sunshine.

This year my son turns thirteen and Henry is twenty-five. We are still riding a couple of days a week, but we aren’t pushing Henry too hard, and, to be fair, my kid is developing other interests and isn’t as passionate about riding. And that’s OK. The magic will always be with us and in us. And Henry and Sunny will be with us until they die. The gift they have given us is beyond price, and I will always be grateful.

I wrote my 11^th and 12^th novels in the Gail McCarthy series about trail riding along the ridge by our home (of course the books feature some very dramatic happenings out on these trails—which I am VERY glad we never experienced in real life). Sunny and Henry both have prominent roles in these stories and are described very much as they actually are. So, for a glimpse of this part of my life, and a couple of exciting mysteries as well, try Going, Gone and Barnstorming. 

Love...and an Ordinary Horse

                                    by Laura Crum

            So lately I have had one minor negative thing after another. Nothing big, nothing important, but still, upsetting and annoying. I started a very whiney blog post about this stuff, and in the middle of it, I looked out my window and saw my bright gold palomino horse, Sunny, standing in his corral, looking up at my window with his ears pricked—like a little “spot of sunshine,” as my son says. And I smiled. How could I not? Sunny makes me smile every time I look at him. Wouldn’t you? Is he not a Barbie/princess/unicorn pony come to life?

            Bird, of Redheaded Endurance, listed on the sidebar, once said that being able to see and call to her horses from her window was one of her greatest joys (I apologize, Bird, if I’m not quoting you accurately). And that is so true for me, too. I am looking out my window at my own HORSE (let alone he’s so cute). He lives here with me on my small horse property (which I developed over a twenty year period from bare land—as I could afford it.) This is my childhood dream come true. So I got up from my whiny blog post and went down to the corrals.

            I walked past the veggie garden and gazed with my usual interest at the brushy hills that protect my little hidden hollow from view. I watched the chickens clucking and pecking in the barnyard, and I rubbed the big tiger cat’s head when he greeted me. My cute yellow horse looked at me hopefully, and met me at the gate when I got his halter. I caught him and climbed aboard, with the help of the fence. I know its not PC—no helmet, no saddle, no bridle, no boots…etc. But I just felt like doing it.

            So I rode Sunny for twenty minutes on my riding track and then turned him loose to graze. He seemed quite happy with that. I was happy just watching him from the porch.

My once ornery little yellow horse—the one I had to uhmm, “correct” quite a bit for the first couple of years I owned him-- is my buddy now. We get along so well—we are really a good team. I am so grateful for him and for my happy life. And I went back in the house and deleted that whiny blog post.

Because I love my life. And I love my ordinary little horse. He’s nothing special. Most folks wouldn’t want him. My last blog post was about training my horse, Gunner, an immensely athletic horse (still with me) who can probably move better at 32 years of age than Sunny ever moved in his life. Sunny is a clunky-moving, cold-blooded critter who flunked out as a team roping heel horse for being too slow and clumsy—and it does not take a terribly athletic horse to make a heel horse. For reference, my horse with two left feet (Plumber) made a good heel horse (see my post on Plumber here). Sunny is a good, tough, solid-minded trail horse—that about covers it. Some of my friends refer to him as my “plug.” And it’s pretty much true. But he works for me.

He, among many other things, helps me to realize that I have no real problems. Yes, there are negative people in the world, and its no fun when we end up dealing with them, and sometimes people let us down, even if they mean well—and that’s no fun either. Stuff happens and stuff breaks—and it’s a bummer and a nuisance. But my main emotion after riding Sunny was “thank you.” I am so glad that my problems are my problems—they are GREAT problems to have. My family and critters are healthy and happy, we are secure in our home, which we love. I have many good friends (lots of whom have been my friends since I was young, also some new friends that I very much enjoy, and some good internet friends) and I’ve had a wonderful career writing horse-themed mystery novels, achieving my initial goal of writing twelve books in my series featuring equine veterinarian Gail McCarthy (and a huge thank you to all of you who have read these books—especially those who have written me to let me know and/or reviewed my books—I appreciate you, too). I’ve had so much fun with my horses over the years, and I continue to have fun with them today. What more could I ask?

So a big thank you to Sunny, for reminding me of what counts. I love my ordinary horse.

And for those who are interested, Sunny features largely in my last two novels—Going, Gone and Barnstorming---which both center on trail riding adventures.

And finally, today is the last day to get the first novel in my mystery series, Cutter, for free. I’m tickled that so many people have taken me up on this offer, and I hope a few more will grab this free book today. Here is the link to get Cutter for free.

            

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?

On The Trail Again

by Laura Crum

My son and I took our first trail ride since our month long vacation exactly one week after we returned home. We rode our two horses, Henry and Sunny, three or four times at home and at the local roping arena to be sure they were going good, and then set out one foggy morning to ride a one and a half hour loop near our place. I have to admit that these cool (60 degrees), gray, foggy days we get quite often here in coastal California in the summer, are not my favorite weather. But it is excellent weather from a trail horse’s point of view. Henry and Sunny executed the whole ride (including several steep climbs) without even cracking a sweat, despite their thirty days of layoff.

As we left through our front gate, I was visited with the sort of anxious nerves I often feel when I set out on a ride with my son. Because when we ride from home the first thing we have to do is cross a busy road upon which the cars zip by at fifty miles an hour. And I hate this part of the trip.

Our horses are not afraid of the traffic—this is one of the reasons I chose the two of them. Both will stand by the road perfectly still, solid as rocks, as the traffic goes whizzing by and I wait and wait for a gap in which to cross. This can take five minutes (literally). Doesn’t matter if busses, logging trucks, motorcycles or bicycles swish by, just a mere couple of feet from their muzzles. Henry and Sunny are unperturbed. They stand, calmly waiting. My son chatters happily. I, on the other hand, am an emotional wreck.

Oh, I try to hide it, but inside my nerves are seething. I hate, hate, hate, having to stand in such proximity to the deadly traffic….with my young son. When I do this solo, I am much calmer. But my son loves to ride and I believe (I think I believe) that I can keep the risk within reason.

But still…what if a bee stung a horse, what if the neighbor’s goat leaps out of the brush with a loud “baaa”. The horses are not afraid of the traffic—that’s one of the reasons they stand so quietly. And, conversely, they would never comprehend how deadly spooking into the road would be. Me, I comprehend it. The cars are going too fast to stop easily. So, I worry.

But (knocking on wood), we wait patiently for a gap and cross safely—neither horse turns a hair—as it has always been. We scoot through the back parking lot of a neighborhood church and strike the ridge trail, which ascends steeply, with many big step ups. Both horses handle it well, and my son and I gaze out to the west, where vistas of the Monterey Bay open up, strung with grey wraiths of fog, this particular August morning.

The ridge trail follows the spine of the ridgeline—it’s a very pretty trail, with wooded slopes and views of the mountains on both sides. We follow it for a mile or so and take a branch trail to the Lookout—a bluff that overlooks the whole Monterey Bay. There we let the horses rest and just take in the sights. Sunny and Henry cock a leg and practically go to sleep; they’re that relaxed. Both seem mighty comfortable at being returned to their job as trail horses.

The rest of the ride is equally uneventful—in the best kind of way. Both horses are calm and willing—they seem happy to be there. Ears up, walking out steadily. Sunny and I get along well, as we have for quite awhile now. Henry is his usual self—the ultimate trooper. My son whistles and sings little snatches of songs—we comment on the small local landmarks as we ride by certain tree snags and windy meadows. We are able to enjoy the scenery and each other because we are not having to “cope” with our horses. Our horses are taking care of themselves.

When we near home we make one more successful crossing of the road and head back up the hill to our front gate. I pat Sunny’s neck and tell him what a good horse he is and my heart is full of gratitude. I feel this way every ride. I am so grateful to these two horses, that some would call plugs, for their steady, reliable ways on the trail that have given my son and I so many hours of unworried pleasure (the road is my only worried moment on most of these rides). I would not swap these horses for any high powered critters of any sort, no matter what their talents. Nothing (horsewise) is a greater pleasure to me than cruising down the trails enjoying the natural world, my son, and our horses in such a peaceful, relaxed way. I promise the horses silently (and I mean it) that I will take care of them until their end—that I will give back to them for what they have given to me.

And then we are home, the front gate shut behind us, horses unsaddled and grazing on the “horse lawn” (grass I water to keep it green in the dry California summer—so the horses have a patch to graze on). My son is happy, swinging in his swing that hangs from a liveoak in the barnyard. I am happy, watching the horses graze. The horses look very happy, too. I think we all (horses included) are basking in the feeling of another pleasant ride accomplished.

I think idly about how much I wish I did not have to cross the road in order to ride our local trails, but I can think of no logical solution. That road looms in my mind sometimes like a huge river, and there are days when the emotional effort of crossing it is just too much for me, and I elect to ride at home in my riding ring instead. Since I would infinitely rather trail ride than ride in a ring (so would my horse) you can see that the road really is a big issue in my mind.

So that’s my story/topic for today. Do some of you have similar issues that bug you when it comes to trail riding? Or pursuing any horse event you love? That road torments me—I admit it. I cross it a lot, and I will do so again, but it is a real thorn in my side. Anybody have any thoughts?

Book Review Offer and What Do We Want In a Horse?

by Laura Crum


Yep, you can get a free review copy of my new book, “Going, Gone,” if you email Susan Daniel at susan@danielpublishing.com and agree to review the book on your blog. I hope all you horse bloggers take my publisher up on this offer and I look forward to reading your reviews. There is a brief description of the book on the sidebar here, and you will find a synopsis on my website www.lauracrum.com Those of you who have enjoyed my previous books and my blog posts here on EI will probably enjoy “Going, Gone.” There is a great deal in the book about horses and how we interact with them, and it is Gail’s horsemanship that saves her life in the climactic scene.

And this brings me to my subject for this post. The other day I stopped to think awhile about the question of what we want from our horses and how that changes at different times in our lives. When I was younger I wanted a talented horse who could win at cutting or team roping. I was careful to train and ride my horses such that they could execute the moves necessary to perform these events. I wasn’t particularly concerned with whether they were bombproof trail horses. I didn’t mind a certain amount of spooky, ampy behavior or a coldbacked horse who wanted to crowhop. I could deal with it. As long as the horse performed well in my chosen event, I was fine with it.

How things have changed. After taking almost ten years off to have and rear a child, I am now a 52 year old woman who wants to trail ride with her young son. I’m not interested in competing. I am interested (very much) in not getting hurt. I am very, very interested (I can’t overstate this) in my kid not getting hurt. I love riding through the hills of my home and taking in the beauty of the landscape. The only thing I really care about in a horse is that he be a completely reliable bombproof trail horse, one who can go anywhere and handle all the odd things that come up “outside” with aplomb. Not spooking is big. Never panicking is essential. I am completely unwilling to deal with any horse who might even consider bucking me off. I have no confidence that I could come off a horse at this point in my life and not be hurt.

So I acquired two horses that fit this description. My son and I are enjoying the heck out of them on the trail. We go everywhere on them…through the muddy creek, across the busy roads, up and down steep hills on narrow switchback trails, past the llama pen (and the goats and the geese and the little bitty ponies), in the surf at the beach, by the dirt bikes, you name it. Are they well broke? Uhmm, Henry’s not too bad, Sunny is not something to brag about. My two little trail horses can walk, trot, lope around an arena, they stop decently, they back, they have a nice neck rein, you can open and close a gate from their backs, they know how to turn with a cow (if you’re not in a hurry). That’s about it. You can rope off both of them (though we don’t). I would have sneered at them in my competitive days. Now I love them.

Contrary to what you might suppose, neither of these horses is a “plug”. They do not tune out the outside world, they are not dull and unresponsive. Both horses go down the trail with their ears pricked forward, stepping out briskly, watching everything and showing every sign that they are happy, alert, and interested in what is going on around them. They notice everything, but are confident enough in themselves and their riders that they don’t need to overeact. Neither of them shows this alert demeanor for arena work, which leads me to the simple conclusion that these intelligent critters feel the same way about going around and around in circles as I do. (They usually like to lope until the edge is off and they like chasing cattle—just like me.) In short, I’m finding that these two gentle, willing, bombproof trail horses are not desensitized to the world around them. They’re not tuning it out. They are both very alert and aware of their enviroment and quite interested in it (if its interesting). They are just confident and they trust their riders, answering the rider’s cue even when faced with “scary stuff”. For my purposes, this is a good thing. The fact that the horses are calm and not over reactive is a good thing. If I wanted to show them as cutting horses it would not be such a good thing. My old cutting horse, Gunner, was very prone to sudden ten foot sideways leaps when going down the trail. Fortunately at that time in my life this didn’t bother me—Gunner never did drop me (it was close many times, though). What made Gunner a good cutter made him a very spooky trail horse.

My two current trail horses are both willing to ignore unfortunate accidental rider cues. If my son loses his balance and kicks or pulls on Henry when he doesn’t mean to, Henry does not overeact and freak out. Henry understands the “signal” to mean nothing and he pretty much ignores it. From my point of view, this is a good thing. Again, if I wanted to go back to team roping on Henry, I would need to “remind” him that he needs to pay attention to my cues. But for what we do, a little tuning out of aberrant rider cues is not a bad thing. Both horses are completely obedient when it counts, if a little lazy when it comes to lots of boring arena work. Does this make them dull and desensitized? In a way. But it’s a way that works for me.

Looking back at my own life with horses I began to realize that there is no such thing as one good way that a horse should be. There is no one best training method. Some people can and do tolerate horses that are truly dangerous…and don’t mind. (We used to call these guys the “real hands”.) They don’t care if a horse stands still to be mounted, or if he wants to buck, or if he leaps ten feet sideways when a leaf blows by. They value his ability to cut a cow or go down the fence or some such thing. Some people want a gentle horse that stands still to be mounted and carries them reliably and willingly through the hills (this would be me these days). Some people really want and need a horse that is gentle and polite about taking treats and being brushed…cause that’s all they want to do. They don’t want to ride. They want to pet the horse. I might have looked down on these people at one time. No more.

The more I see the more I realize that there are as many different ways to be happy with horses as there are people, and if your way is working for you than I think it is a good way. There will always be someone who wants to tell you what you “ought” to be doing with your horse, or what you ought not to be doing. If you are unhappy with your interactions with your horse then it pays to get advice and help from one or more of these experts and change what you are doing until it is working for you. But I no longer believe that the horseman who is quite happy petting and feeding treats to his/her gentle well behaved pony is in any way lesser to the tough guy who can win at a cutting, reining or roping. Its who is happier with their horses that counts. Who is treating their horses right, retiring their old ones, showing compassion for all. Its whose horses are happier that may in the end count for the most. (I’m talking karma here folks.) If a given “trainer” uses harsh methods and seems to glorify flighty, spooky, half scared horses that are great performers at his/her event, and this trainer, say, is uninterested in gentle, reliable, kind horses that willingly pack their rider down the trail, maybe we who like gentle, reliable, kind, bombproof horses need to move on. I know I have learned a whole new way of evaluating horses and picking out what will work for me since I've been riding with my son.

If any of you have insights to share on how your goals have changed over the years since you’ve been involved with horses, I’d love to hear them. Do you find that you select different horses now and work with them differently? I know I’ve been amazed by how much my own goals and methods have changed and equally surprised by how much I enjoy my horses now…there’s so much less stress involved compared to the days when I was competing. (Of course, the current amount of mud in my corrals is pretty much creating the same level of mental stress that it always has—so I guess you can’t win them all.) Any thoughts on this? Have any of you moved on to a new trainer because the former one no longer fit your goals and needs? Or realized that you don’t need a trainer any more? I’d be interested to hear your ideas on this subject.

Again, for those of you who would like to read my new book, “Going, Gone”, my publisher has agreed to provide free review copies to horse bloggers who will review the book on their blog. Email Susan Daniel at susan@danielpublishing.com with your snail mail address and your blog address and mention that you’d like to review the book and that you will email Susan a copy of the review when you post it on your blog. Susan will be sending the review copies out around March 1st, which is the deadline for this offer. I hope that many of you will take advantage of it, and I look forward to reading your reviews. Cheers--Laura

The One That Got Away

By Laura Crum


How many of us can think of a horse like that? One we wish we had bought, or worse yet, wish we hadn’t sold. A horse that, if we had it to do over again, we would still own. Or have kept until he/she died. Fugly has created a website where horse owners can find these horses, and I would be using it myself, except that the horse that got away from me is certainly dead. She was my riding horse when I was fourteen, and she was in her teens then. I’m fifty two now. I think we can all do the math.

Ramona was her name—a little pinto pony mare. She stood somewhere shy of fourteen hands, a big pony/small horse. She had the sturdy pony build and the slightly fuzzy pony mane. She also had the wide flat back and smooth gaits so essential for riding bareback. It wasn’t until I bought another similar pony for my son and started riding him, that I realized these traits were common in ponies. Like Ramona, I could sit Toby very comfortably bareback at the trot, something that has not been true of very many horses I’ve owned.

Ramona was always ridden bareback. She didn’t even have a saddle. She belonged to my friend Kristie, who kept her at a small barn that was walking distance from my house. At fourteen, I was a horse crazy girl who desperately wanted a horse of my own. I was allowed to ride my uncle’s horses out at the family ranch, but since I couldn’t drive, I only got out to the ranch when my parents would take me. And that was once a week. Not enough.

Kristie came to the rescue. She had recently bought a fancy QH gelding that she intended to run barrels on. She wasn’t interested in Ramona any more and offered to let me use her if I would pay for Ramona’s feed. I took the little mare for a few rides and found her to be an absolutely reliable trail horse. She would go anywhere you asked her. She was sure-footed, with smooth gaits, including a sweet little rocking chair lope. She had the slightly stubborn pony personality, but no vices. She was perfect. I accepted Kristie’s offer.

For the next year I rode Ramona everywhere—through the neighborhood, on solitary trails through the mountains, across the river where we had to swim, down to the local pool to show off to the other kids. You name it, I did it. Mostly by myself. Kristie had moved her fancy gelding to a proper training barn with an arena and didn’t ride with me any more. Ramona never put a foot wrong.

And then, when I was fifteen, my parents decided to let me buy a horse of my own. Of course, I thought of buying Ramona. I figured Kristie would sell her to me if I asked. However, my advisor was my uncle, a team roper who raised Quarter Horses. My uncle was not willing to give me one of his horses, no. I was buying a horse with my own hard-earned money. But my uncle thought I should buy a proper QH type horse that he, Todd, could potentially use as a practice team roping horse. A useful horse. Useful to my uncle Todd that is. My uncle did not think much of the humble pinto pony, good only for trail riding. And a mare besides. He advised against buying her and said he would help me find a better horse.

I listened. Why wouldn’t I? My uncle was my hero. I continued to ride Ramona while we shopped for a horse I could afford and my uncle approved of. And eventually my uncle picked out Jackson, a fifteen-three bay gelding who was priced cheap, seemed reasonably gentle, and did, indeed, look like a team roping horse. I bought him.

Unfortunately, Jackson was not the kid’s horse Ramona was. Though superficially gentle, he was a lazy, uncooperative beast who was quite willing to rear in a vertical manner when he didn’t care for the look of a trail and also willing to kick hard enough that the horseshoer, another tough old cowboy, refused to put back shoes on him.

Jackson kicked me in the head one day when I was saddling him—knocked me out cold. I was finding it impossible to take him out for trail rides, he simply stopped and reared when he didn’t want to go. Ramona was still at the stable where I kept Jackson, and I took to riding her instead. It was a lot more fun.

Finally my uncle decided that he’d better help me sort Jackson out. He came up to the little barn where I kept Jackson and went for a ride with me. I rode Ramona. When Jackson balked and reared, Uncle Todd pulled him around and beat the crap out of him. Jackson was a smart beast. He gave up the rearing pronto. Todd put me on Jackson to be sure I could convince the horse that I was now in charge. I got it done. And Todd and I went for a ride. We loped up the little hills, Todd riding Ramona bareback, me on Jackson. And when we got back to the barn, Todd slid off Ramona and said, “This is a pretty nice horse.”

I think that’s when it dawned on me. I should have bought Ramona. Ramona was the perfect horse for what I wanted to do. Ramona fit me. I had allowed my uncle to convince me to buy a horse that fit him. Not me.

But I was young and I wanted to please my cowboy uncle, who remained my hero. I kept Jackson. When I was sixteen and could drive, I moved Jackson out to the family ranch and my uncle turned him into a practice team roping horse. Jackson remained a stubborn, uncooperative horse, prone to rearing. And I never knew what became of Ramona.

Kristie was fond of her and said she would retire her. But I didn’t keep track of her. I wish I had. I can still see her little pinto pony face in my mind. I remember the fun I had with her and how safe I felt on her. When I bought Toby for my son and began riding him, it all came back to me. Toby was very like Ramona.

To this day I wish I had bought Ramona and kept her until she died. I did keep Toby until his death, and I feel he was a great gift both to me and my son. And now I have Sunny, my little trail horse, who looks something like a pony crossed on a Quarter Horse. He has that pony personality, and the surefooted, go anywhere pony ability. I love riding him on the trail. Sometimes I ride him bareback (he has the wide flat back, too). It takes me right back to my youth, and Ramona—the one that got away.