Читать книгу Finding the Missed Path - Mark Rashid - Страница 9

There was a time in the not-so-distant past when we bred and raised our own horses. We had a small band of really nice, AQHA foundation-bred broodmares, and a stallion that was a grandson of Three Bars on the top side and Blackburn 31 on the bottom. This was a time before I was doing clinics, when I was the foreman on another ranch not far from where we live now. During that time we raised, trained, and sometimes sold our horses from that program.

We continued our little breeding program for a few years after I left the job on the ranch and during the time I began offering horsemanship clinics. However, it didn’t take long before we realized that trying to operate the quality of breeding program we were used to while at the same time trying to maintain a full-time travel schedule just wasn’t going to work out. So, we eventually found good homes for the mares and stallion along with the last crop of babies and left the breeding business behind.

I bring this up because since stepping away from the breeding business all those years ago, now when we’re in the market for a horse, we simply go out and buy one. We like to look for horses that range between four and fourteen years of age, are between 15 and 16 hands (although we never rule out something that is a bit smaller or taller) and we like them to have some basic ranch experience: have been around cattle, done a little roping, are fairly comfortable in all three gaits, and stop and turn when asked.

We usually buy Quarter Horses, mostly because that is the breed I grew up with and am drawn to, particularly for the type of work we do. However, we don’t necessarily rule out other breeds, either. Our horses need to be versatile enough to do a variety of jobs and tasks, from ranch work, to being handy on trails, to the work we do in clinics, to ponying colts, and the list goes on. Because of this, we also have a tendency to look for horses with a good disposition. Actually, maybe I should rephrase that: what we really look for are horses that want to have a good disposition.

Here’s an example: In the fall of 2015, my first novel, Out of the Wild, was scheduled to go into production as a full-length motion picture. Along with coproducing the film, I was also hired as the Stunt and Animal Coordinator. Part of my responsibilities as Animal Coordinator was to acquire and train the horses that were to be used in the movie. For the most part, we actually ended up using many of our own horses for the major equine roles. But during early preparation several months before filming was to begin, we decided the script called for one more horse than what we had available, so we would need at least one more saddle horse before production started.

At the time we had no idea who the actors were going to be or if they would have any riding or horse experience, so it was going to be important that the horse we found was quiet and easy for almost anybody to ride. I began looking around to see if there might be a horse out there somewhere that would fit the bill.

Eventually, I came across a nice-looking gelding that I found on the Internet. He was a red roan, 13-year-old, grade Quarter Horse that was born and raised on a ranch in the Bighorn Mountains of Wyoming. Later, he was sold to another rancher in Kansas, then he went to Oklahoma and finally to Texas where he ended up in a Quarter Horse show barn as a pony horse. Basically, his job there had been to travel around the country with the show horses and pony them from one point to another at the various show venues.

Along with his history of ranch work, the gelding had traveled coast to coast numerous times and had been to some of the biggest shows in the country, including the South Point Casino in Las Vegas, Nevada. The ad for him said he was bombproof, good on the ground, easy with the vet, and good with his feet. He trailer loaded and unloaded without any problems and was safe for anybody to ride.

He sounded perfect, so I contacted his owner to get some additional information and a video, which confirmed everything that was said in the ad regarding the horse’s temperament and skills under saddle. Then, after a few more conversations with the owner, I decided to go ahead and buy him.

Now I’ve learned over the years when buying horses that most sellers truly do try to be as honest as they can be in their descriptions of the horse they’re selling. Of course, there will always be the unscrupulous person out there looking to make a fast buck on a dangerous, unsound, or poorly trained horse. But if you know what to look for in a horse and what to listen for when the seller talks, it’s pretty easy to avoid ending up with a horse that you’d rather not have.

In this case, however, I felt the seller was being perfectly honest with me. As far as he was concerned, everything he told me about the horse was true and correct. For instance, when he said the horse was sound, he truly meant it. When he said the horse was healthy, easy to vet, easy to catch, good on the ground, and good with his feet, he meant those things in the absolute sense.

However, what we also need to understand is that everything the honest seller tells us about his horse is relative to his own personal experience and what he finds good or acceptable in horse behavior. So when a seller says the horse is easy to catch, it could mean anything from the horse actually is easy to catch, to the horse is easy to catch as long as you have a bucket of grain with you. When a seller says the horse is good with his feet, it might mean the horse is good with his feet, or it might mean the horse allows his feet to be worked on even though he is worried and tense the whole time. When the seller says the horse is good for the vet, it might mean the horse is good with the vet, or it might also mean he’s good as long as he has a lip twitch on. Everything is relative.

That was the case with this particular horse, whose name was Rusty. When Rusty arrived at our place, we found that all of the qualities the owner said Rusty had, he did indeed have. But, each of his qualities seemed to have somewhat of a caveat to it, as well. For instance, he wasn’t outwardly lame, but he was quite stiff, particularly in his shoulders, lower back, and hips. He was easy to catch…sometimes. Other times, he would turn tail and run for all he was worth. We could handle his feet, but he seemed terrified anytime we did. Under saddle he was as good as gold, but nothing he did was terribly soft, nor did it seem as though he did it with much willingness.

To be fair, he would have been fine just the way he was as far as being able to do the job we had gotten him for, which was to simply be an extra horse for the movie, should we need him. But he was such a nice horse that it was clear he not only could do better than he was, but he could surely feel better. And it was the feeling better part that we were particularly concerned with.

Rusty seemed to have a fairly strong foundation already. The only problem, if we want to call it that, was that everything he did was pretty mechanical and void of the kind of suppleness that allows for ease of movement. It was clear that much of the mechanical feel to his movement stemmed from his past training and handling, but some of it also came from some physical issues he was dealing with.

You see most any horse ridden or handled with rigid hands will develop defensiveness and rigidity in his response. That rigidity of response was most certainly present in Rusty. But a quick look at Rusty’s conformation and movement when he wasn’t under saddle also added to his story. He had muscle atrophy at the withers and behind the scapula, along with a large white spot on his left side just behind the scapula, both of which are indicative of having been ridden for a long time with a poorly fitting saddle. He also had some atrophy in his topline and flanks, usually a sign of teeth problems.

Both of his temporal muscles (the muscles on the forehead between the eye and ear) were highly developed and hard, and a palpation of his TMJ (temporomandibular joint) showed he had quite a bit of discomfort in that joint. Both of these are also indicators of a serious dental imbalance of some kind. Often, the kind of stiffness that he was showing in his shoulders, lower back, and hips can also come from an unbalanced mouth, or if not stemming from that imbalance, certainly can be perpetuated by it.

We decided the most important thing to do to get Rusty on the path to feeling better would be to get his mouth balanced. Unfortunately, it would still be a couple of months before we could get his mouth looked at by our dentist, a leading specialist in Natural Balance Dentistry. So in the meantime, Crissi and I (both educated in Masterson Method^® bodywork) began doing some bodywork with him and took him on the road with us while we did the next several weeks of clinics that we had scheduled.

Rusty responded well to the bodywork, which we did with him about once a week, and which we were coupling with some light ridden work (figs. 2.1 A & B). My primary goal while riding him, even though it was clear he had dental issues, was to try to help him relax his jaw a little and feel a little less defensive about the bit. We stayed primarily in the walk and anytime I picked up a rein I would do so as softly as I could, then just wait for him to respond and relax before the release would come. While a difficult concept for him to understand at first, he was not only able to pick up on the idea fairly quickly, but seemed to welcome it once he understood.

2.1 A & B — Having been trained in the Masterson Method of equine bodywork, one of the first things we do with a new horse is check for any physical issues. In photo A, I begin the Masterson Method by checking the horse’s bladder meridian that runs from just above the horse’s eye along the topline, down the hind leg, ending at the horse’s coronary band. A horse that holds tension usually lets us know by blinking when we reach a spot in the meridian where he is holding tension. By simply waiting at the spot where the horse blinked, you can encourage him to start letting go of the tension. It’s much easier for a muscle to stretch when it is in a relaxed state.

In photo B I am waiting for the horse to let go of some tension he is holding in his right shoulder. The Masterson Method is all about helping the horse relax so his nervous system can calm down. Once he is in a more relaxed state, you are able to help him relieve muscle soreness as well as develop better range of motion through gentle manipulation of the joints.

Another bonus during that trip was while we were doing clinics in Iowa, we were able to meet with our friend and founder of the Masterson Method, Jim Masterson, who also spent some time doing bodywork with Rusty. He was able to help him release some tension in areas that Crissi and I had missed, which allowed him to relax even more.

By the time we headed home from that particular clinic tour, Rusty was feeling much better, both physically and emotionally. His body and musculature were much more relaxed and supple overall, and he seemed to be feeling better about being around us as well. The stiffness in his gait while being ridden was starting to dissipate, and he had not only become easy to catch, but would often meet us at the gate whenever he’d see us coming.

Not long after that, we were able to meet up with our friend and Natural Balance Dentistry founder Spencer LaFlure to get Rusty’s teeth done. For those who aren’t familiar with Natural Balance Dentistry, I should probably take a second and explain what I am talking about: Spencer has created a neuromuscular method of equine dentistry, which is basically a more anatomically correct and a safer method of dental care for horses.

When examining a horse, he takes the whole horse into consideration by evaluating all asymmetries, muscle mass, and posturing of the entire body. All of these are either positively or negatively affected by the alignment of the surfaces of the teeth and how that sets the TMJ. After he thoroughly examines the horse’s mouth, Spencer balances the front teeth first, since studies have shown this has the greatest influence on the TMJ. The incisor work he does is performed with extreme precision, and takes into consideration what is anatomically correct for each individual horse.

He then balances the cheek teeth (molars), to increase front-to-back motion. He does this through maximizing the surface-to-surface contact while maintaining the natural texture and good cutting edges across the whole tooth. This is vital for the horse’s well-being, not only for proper digestion, but even more importantly, for a balanced body through a balanced TMJ.

While working on them, Spencer allows the horses to lower their head into a relaxed position, which in turn allows the TMJ and neck vertebrae to stay in a more natural and relaxed state, as well as creating the ability of the jaw to move as far forward as possible.

There are a couple of major differences between Natural Balance Dentistry and other forms of equine dentistry. The first is that there are never any power tools used, everything is done by hand instead, with some of the most precise tools in the industry. The second is the focus of the work is not on the pathology, or the symptoms—such as hooks, ramps, waves—in the molars, which are all signs of a jaw that is out of alignment and not the real cause of the problem. By continually removing the symptoms, you also reverse the natural bite plane of the molars, which causes instability of the TMJ. This, in turn, affects the whole horse negatively and is what had happened to Rusty.

However, as I’ve heard Spencer say on many occasions, by centering and balancing the TMJ, the stomatognatic system in the horse, which is about 70 percent of any species’ neurology from its shoulders forward, “wakes up” and ultimately creates a cleaner connection to the sacrum and pelvis. Since Spencer started doing the dental care on our horses nearly a decade ago, our horses have been able to hold a consistency in muscle mass, motion, and function and, most importantly, it has helped them carry a more balanced state of mind, even in situations that could have been unsettling.

Of course, the way we work with and handle our horses on a daily basis also plays a major role in their emotional well-being. But by doing everything we can to also keep them physically comfortable—starting with their teeth being as balanced as possible—it effectively removes at least one of the physical variables that can cause unwanted behavior down the line (figs. 2.2 A & B).

2.2 A & B — Unbalanced teeth are one of the biggest causes of problem behavior and one of the most commonly overlooked. A balanced mouth begins with balanced incisors. In photo A, you can clearly see just how out of balance these incisors are. Looking closely, you can see the horse’s tongue sticking out of the left side of his mouth. He is doing this to get relief from the damage done by previous poorly done dental work. This horse is nine years old. In comparison, photo B shows the incisors of a thirteen-year-old horse that has been under the care of a Natural Balance dentist.

After Spencer balanced his teeth, Rusty’s demeanor softened even more. The muscle tension he had been carrying was almost completely gone, the bodywork we did with him was lasting longer, and his emotional tension was nearly nonexistent. Working with his feet was no longer an issue, either, and he stood like a champ to be shod and showed no sign of the kind of worry he previously exhibited when we picked up his feet.

We arrived in Nevada for the movie two weeks prior to the beginning of filming. With us were six of our horses, including Rusty. We went early so that we could acclimate the horses to the heat and dryness of the desert, along with getting a head start on any specific training the horses were going to need for their roles.

Rusty’s particular role was going to be that of a ranch horse. According to the script, his tasks were supposed to be pretty simple and straightforward. Basically, he would need to do three things: the first was to stand tied to a hitch rail; the second was to carry the lead actor, John Diehl (suffering from a gunshot wound) through the desert; the third was to stand still near a fence while John dismounted.

Because Rusty’s tasks were things he already did pretty well, we spent the majority of the pre-production training time with some of the other horses whose tasks were going to be a little more involved. As a result, when it came time for Rusty’s performance, we had only actually gone over the things he was to do a couple of times, and that was almost two weeks prior to the day of his performance.

As was often the case during the filming, what the script called for and what the director actually wanted were two different things, and as it turned out, that was the case on the day we filmed Rusty. As I mentioned, according to the script, Rusty’s first scene was to carry John through the desert with John hunched over in the saddle, acting as if he’d been shot. What the director actually called for was for Rusty to carry John to a specific spot in the desert, stop, and then stand perfectly still while John fell out of the saddle onto the ground.

Because we hadn’t rehearsed any of that, I had to quickly get on Rusty before the scene was to be filmed, ride him out to the spot the director chose for his “mark” and teach him how to be okay with someone hanging on his side while grasping his neck, and then falling to the ground. We had less than five minutes to work it out before the cameras rolled.

Many horses probably would have had trouble with the kind of awkwardness from the saddle that we had to use in order to have the scene look realistic, but Rusty had no problem with it at all. He walked slowly to his mark, stopped exactly where he was supposed to, and stood calmly while John struggled out of the saddle and then fell face first onto the desert floor. We shot the scene three different times, and each time Rusty was as good as gold.

The next scene was in a different location. The script called for Rusty to be filmed while saddled and standing tied to a hitch rail outside a remote line shack. There was to be no other action in the scene. However, the scene just before that was where the bad guy shoots John inside the shack. The director decided he wanted John to stumble out of the shack and more or less drag himself up to the hitch rail where Rusty was tied.

In and of itself, that doesn’t seem like that big a deal, except for the fact that everything at the location was temporarily set in place. This included the line shack itself and the hitch rail that Rusty was tied to. In other words, the hitch rail was only set in the ground about 6 inches and not designed to actually hold a horse should he decide to pull against it even slightly. For that reason alone, I made sure Rusty wasn’t hard tied to the rail, but rather we just looped the rope attached to his halter over the rail. Still, even with the rope looped over the rail, all he really had to do was set back just a little against it and the whole hitch rail would come right up out of the ground with him attached to it.

I stood with Rusty just out of the line of the shot as the cameras rolled and John stumbled out of the shack. He came out so awkwardly that Rusty immediately went on alert, head high and nostrils flared. John hesitated at the door for a second before he began to drag himself in Rusty’s direction. I moved slightly so Rusty could see me. He glanced in my direction, relaxed, then looked back at John and never moved. John dragged himself up to Rusty, then while wrapping his arms around his neck, petted him as if Rusty was going to be his salvation. The scene went so well that it only had to be shot twice.

The last of Rusty’s scenes that day was one for which we had actually planned on using a different horse. It was one of the most important horse scenes in the film and was to be the movie’s opening scene where the story’s main horse character, a Mustang looking relatively thin and injured, is standing in the open desert at night by himself.

Throughout the movie this character is played by my horse, Rocky, who was in such good shape during filming that even with makeup and special lighting he still looked much too healthy for this particular scene. Because Rusty has basically the same coloring and markings as Rocky, and because Rusty at the time was roughly 75 or so pounds lighter than Rocky, we decided to use Rusty as the stand in.

Again, the script was pretty specific about how the shot should look, with the camera fairly close to the horse while the filming took place. This would have made things pretty easy from the standpoint of working with Rusty because even though he was to be completely unrestrained—no halter or lead rope—as well as being in the middle of the open desert with no fences for miles in any direction, it meant that I could at least be close enough to him off camera so he could see me, and I could give him direction to help him stand still while the cameras rolled.

But the director once again had a different idea. Instead of starting relatively close, say within 15 or so feet from Rusty, he wanted it to start with what is known as a wide shot. This meant that the camera would be at least 50 yards away from Rusty, which meant I couldn’t be anywhere near Rusty during the filming, otherwise I would be in the frame.

I honestly had no idea how Rusty would feel about all of this. After all, it was dark, we were in the middle of the desert, there were huge lights everywhere shining into big square reflectors to give the impression it was moonlight, and there were strange people coming and going carrying cables and light stands and more lights and more reflectors and more cables. Still, Rusty seemed quiet enough, but then again, I was standing next to him, he was haltered, and I was holding his lead rope.

To be on the safe side, I asked one of our assistants to go to the trailer and bring back the set of hobbles that were on my saddle. We also brought Rocky and Dash over, the two other horses we had along with us, and had the wranglers hold them out of frame but, we hoped, close enough so Rusty could see them—over 50 yards away.

The director showed us where Rusty would need to be in order for them to get the shot. I put the hobbles on, took his halter off, then lay down on the ground about 10 feet from where Rusty was standing, close enough for him to know I was still with him, but low enough to the ground so I was obscured from the camera by the low-growing brush. They began rolling. Ten seconds went by, then twenty, then thirty, then a minute, two minutes, and three minutes. Rusty stood quietly the entire time. Finally, I heard the director yell, “Cut!”

They repositioned the camera for the second shot, which was to be half the distance from the original. This time, however, I would not be covered by brush if I lay on the ground near Rusty, and the hobbles he was wearing were also in plain sight of the camera. This meant that they would need to be removed, and the closest I could be to him was around 30 feet.

It’s important to note here that we had only had Rusty for about three months by the time filming began. When we first got him he had been pretty out of sorts and more than a little leery of people. He had been difficult to catch and physically stiff and sore. We had not really done much “training” with him up to this point because we were so focused on helping him feel better physically. We had, however, been treating him with the same kindness and understanding with which we treat all of our horses, and he seemed to be responding in a positive way to what we were offering. But to be honest, while I hoped that would be enough for him to have the confidence to be able to do what we were asking, I really had no idea if he would.

I stood next to him with a lead rope draped over his neck while they reset the camera. I took a deep breath and stroked him on the head, then on the neck and shoulder. The first assistant director yelled, “Here we go,” the signal that the camera was set and they were ready to shoot. This meant that I would need to remove the rope from Rusty’s neck and move out of the frame to my spot.

I hesitated a bit as I took the rope off his neck and gave him one last pat on the neck. “We’ll need you to stay right here, partner,” I heard myself say in a voice so quiet that I wasn’t sure if I actually said it out loud or if I just said it in my head.

“Here we go,” the first A.D. said again. He was telling me I needed to get out of the shot.

I petted Rusty on the head one last time and then slowly backed away from him. “Let me know when I’m clear,” I said to nobody in particular.

Rusty watched intently as I backed away from him, but he didn’t move. I backed 15 feet, then 20, then 25, and then, at about 30 feet, I slowed to a stop. “You’re still in frame,” the director said. I backed farther, going another 5, then 10, then 15 feet. “There,” the director shouted. “You’re clear.”

By this time I had already been away from Rusty for a good 30 seconds, and he hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Rolling,” the camera operator said.

“Rolling,” the first A.D. repeated. Several more seconds passed. Rusty still hadn’t moved.

“Set,” the camera operator said, indicating he was ready to shoot.

“Action!” the Director shouted.

Rusty stood perfectly still, looking off into the distance from time to time, smelling the ground, looking toward me, then toward the camera, then back at me. A minute passed, then two, then three.

“Cut!” the director yelled. I moved quietly back to where Rusty was standing. He still hadn’t even offered to move.

They repositioned the camera again. This time they would be shooting in close up. The makeup man came in and began applying fake blood to Rusty’s side, shoulder, and face. He put a lot of fake blood on the big white mark near his withers left by all the past ill-fitting saddles. Now, instead of it looking like a saddle mark, it appeared to be a large, gaping wound. I stood next to Rusty but this time didn’t even feel the need to put the rope over his neck. He never moved a muscle as the makeup was applied.

The steadicam operator was now in charge of the camera: it was placed on a harness attached to the operator’s body, and he filmed as he moved around Rusty only a few inches from the horse’s body. Once again, Rusty stood like a champ as the camera slowly scanned his fake wounds, starting at his flank and traveling all the way to his head.

After scanning his body with the camera three different times, the director said, “Cut,” and finally, Rusty’s day of filming was over. From start to finish, Rusty had stood unrestrained in the same place out in the middle of the desert without a fence for miles in any direction for nearly 45 minutes.

I mention this particular story because there was a time many years ago when I would have thought the only way to get a horse to comply with a situation like the one we had Rusty in was through hours of training and weeks or maybe even months of constant repetition. But as I’ve gotten older, I have come to understand that while training is indeed important, what is actually more important is that the horse physically feels good. When our horses feel good physically, it in turn allows them to feel good mentally. It is this mental soundness, if you will, that creates the springboard from which the relationship and connection between our horses and us is ultimately built.

As I mentioned earlier, when we first got Rusty our primary focus hadn’t really been on training, but rather on helping him feel better physically. We addressed the issues that seemed to be the most pressing: his teeth and his overall physical stiffness. Once these were taken care of, his overall demeanor and his unwillingness to be around us changed dramatically, which, in turn, allowed him to be comfortable enough to do something as foreign as standing unrestrained on a movie set in the middle of the desert at night for nearly an hour. And all this without him having any special “training.”

For me, this story helps to demonstrate the importance of limiting the kind of stress that horses might feel when they are dealing with physical problems, and how quickly and completely their disposition and outlook on life can change once those issues have been resolved.

In another situation several years ago, I was dealing with a bit of a dilemma in regard to our horses, in particular, the horses that travel with us when we are on the road doing clinics. I have always owned at least one, and usually more, fairly good-sized saddle horse. These are horses that usually weigh between 1200 to 1400 pounds and stand anywhere from 15.1 to 16.3 hands. They are the horses I had ranched with: big enough to drag a calf to the fire, doctor a steer, or pony a young horse. They are big enough so they can physically handle the work.

However, due to various circumstances over about a three-year period, we suddenly found that all of the horses in our herd of seven were about the same size, roughly 1100 pounds and between 14.2 and 15.1 hands. They could still do the kind of ranch work we needed, but none were physically substantial enough to hold their own should we latch on to a struggling horse or steer that was their same size or bigger.

As a result, I began searching for, and eventually found, a nice ranch gelding with the size and abilities I was looking for. He was named Cooper. Like all our new horses, we took care of any physical issues, had his teeth and feet balanced, found him a saddle that fit, and eventually took him out on the road with us.

Cooper did very well with all aspects of his new job as a clinic horse during that first trip. He was good around other horses, he didn’t worry if I had to pony another horse off him, or throw a rope, or use him to help demonstrate a certain movement or technique. In fact, he did so well that most folks who saw him thought he had been traveling with me for years.

We had done four clinics in four different venues during the first month I had him when, on one of our days off at our final stop in Wisconsin, I decided to get Cooper out and go for a little ride. He and I rode around the trails on the farm for an hour or so without any hint of a problem. We arrived back at the farm’s arena around mid-afternoon and with it being mid-week and a bit warm at that, there were no other riders in the arena. I decided to take Cooper in the arena and finish up our ride by doing a little loping, something we had not had a chance to do much of since we owned him.

The two of us trotted around for a couple of minutes with Cooper being his calm and quiet self, but then, almost as soon as I began to set him up to pick up his lope, I began to feel a tightness in him that I hadn’t felt before. Keep in mind, when I say I was setting him up to pick up his lope, all that consisted of was trotting into a turn on the far end of the arena, then, as we were coming out of the turn, I simply began to think about changing the rhythm we were in from the two-beat trot to the three-beat lope. As with all of my horses, when asking for a change of gait, I use minimal, if any leg, and in this case, I used no leg that I was aware of.

Still, as soon as I began thinking lope, or three beats, I felt a tightness that started in Cooper’s lower back and seemed to spread both backward into his hindquarters and forward into his withers. Instead of pushing through the stiffness, I slowed him down and asked him to relax again, which he did almost right away before we began setting up for the lope once again. But again, almost as soon as I began to think about changing rhythm, Cooper’s back began quickly to tighten. This time, however, and before I could ask him to slow and relax, he threw himself into the lope, took two uncomfortable hop-steps, and then dropped his head and started bucking.

I asked him to keep moving forward and after about three pretty good bucks followed by three or four very choppy and unbalanced strides, he lined out into a fast but fairly relaxed lope. This took me by surprise a little, as Cooper hadn’t shown even the slightest inclination to get upset about anything during the two months we’d owned him. To have him come uncorked like he did was completely out of character, and while I was pretty sure we had taken care of all his physical issues, my first thought was that something physical must be bothering him.

When we slowed from the fast but relatively relaxed lope into a nice relaxed trot, Cooper acted as if nothing at all out of the ordinary had just happened. We made another lap around the arena in that relaxed trot and as soon as I started to think about loping, like before, his back immediately got tight, he jumped into the lope and then went to bucking again. Just like the first transition, he let out three pretty good bucks, took another three or four choppy, unbalanced strides, then lined out into a relaxed lope as if nothing had happened.

I asked Cooper for the lope six or seven more times that afternoon, and while things did get a little smoother each time we did a transition, it never did feel right. So after about a total of 30 minutes and getting one fairly nice transition, we quit for the day.

Remember, just weeks before Cooper had gotten a clean bill of health from a highly skilled chiropractor, a vet, and Spencer, our dentist. His feet were in very good shape as well as being well balanced, and we had also made sure that all of his tack fit him before and during the trip. I checked his back as well as the rest of his body after our ride and could find no soreness or stiffness anywhere.

I have to admit, this was quite puzzling to me because when a horse acts the way Cooper did during a transition, particularly from trot to lope, it is almost always due to some sort of physical problem, usually in the lower back. These problems are usually easy to find by just palpating the area around the loin. Lower-back issues can also show themselves in how the horse travels downhill. Oftentimes, when a horse has trouble supporting himself properly going downhill with a rider on his back, and sometimes even without, it can also point to a lower-back issue. These kinds of problems usually show up by the horse feeling as if he has to travel very slowly and sort of disjointed downhill, or he might want to traverse the hill, rush down it, or crowhop going up or down the hill.

Almost any time a horse has one or more of these kinds of problems on hills, he almost always has trouble with transitions from trot to lope. But a lower-back problem can also show up in a horse that normally backs up well but suddenly doesn’t want to back at all. He may also have a short stride in one hind leg or the other, short stride with both, not be able stop without pushing into the bit, carry his head higher than normal when being ridden, not be able to turn one way or the other very well, or he might not want to be caught, groomed, saddled, or mounted.

Cooper showed absolutely none of these signs, so again, we were fairly certain we weren’t dealing with a physical issue. But in Cooper’s case, like a good many of the ranch horses we see, we suspected that while he had a fairly good working foundation as far as his training went, he had some holes in his understanding as far as being able to do things with a true willingness.

When a horse feels he is being forced to respond to a certain task or cue over and over, instead of having a true understanding of how he should respond, it creates internal tension that can, and often does, translate into a sort of low-level pattern of constant worry. Depending on the horse, this tension can show up in any number of ways or behaviors, from an overwhelming need to fidget or not being able to stand quietly when under saddle, to rushing through tasks, sluggish or over-reactive transitions, and hypersensitivity to normally mundane things, such as ordinary noises, people moving about, or vehicles driving by.

In severe cases, this kind of stress caused by a lack of understanding can sometimes even decrease the amount of bloodflow to the horse’s stomach, which, in turn, makes the lining of the stomach more vulnerable to injury from an overproduction of stomach acid, thus causing stomach ulcers. Ulcers in horses are actually more common than a lot of people think or are aware of. In fact, some recent studies have shown that up to one-third of horses confined to stalls on a regular basis often have mild ulcers and up to 60 percent of show horses and 90 percent of racehorses have developed moderate to severe ulcers, primarily due to stress.

There are, of course, other factors besides stress that can cause ulcers in horses, such as various medications, types of feed, amount of exercise, and even the horse not getting fed in a timely manner.

So, instead of trying to fix the issue through training, we put Cooper on a product called U-Guard^™, a calcium-magnesium supplement that helps soothe and coat the horse’s stomach lining. We also put him on an herbal supplement called Calm and Collected that was developed by our friends over at Hilton Herbs^®. This particular supplement is designed to help support the horse’s nervous system so that he can naturally achieve a calmer state of mind.

Cooper started showing subtle signs of improvement within a week or so. While he had already been pretty easy to work with and ride, his demeanor during both began to calm even more. His head position, whether under saddle or when he was by himself, began to lower and the expression on his face became much more calm and relaxed.

About a month after we first put him on the supplements, I asked him for a transition from trot to lope, and the difference, while not uncommon, was pretty amazing. We had been trotting in our little arena at home on a warm sunny morning, just as we had at the venue in Wisconsin, and I began to set him up for the transition out of a turn. This time, however, instead of his back getting tight and him thinking about rushing into the transition, his movement stayed calm and steady. As we came out of the turn he eased into a really nice, almost rocking-horse-type lope with his head low and his breathing rhythmical.

Each transition that followed that day was just as nice, if not better than the first, and from that point forward we never did have another issue with it. I probably should point out here that during that month between when he had trouble with the transition in Wisconsin and when he didn’t after we had been home, I had not once asked him for a trot-lope transition. I had, however, spent time helping to clear up some of the misunderstandings he had in regard to the ease with which he could respond to requests (if he wanted) instead of the tightness with which he had been responding.

Ultimately, between the supplements we had given him, along with taking the time to fill gaps in his understanding of some of the simple things he was already doing, Cooper was able to relax enough to fix the transition issue more or less on his own. This is a far cry from the days when I was younger when I would have looked at a situation like this as strictly a training issue and handled it as such. Back then I would work and work on a transition a horse was having trouble with until he just gave up having trouble. Of course, at the time I wasn’t knowledgeable enough to consider that there may have been internal or physical issues going on that I was working against, and that probably made the horse feel worse emotionally, even though the transition seemed to be better.

Today, many years later, I understand that behind every behavioral or training issue, there is always a root cause. As horse people, I believe it is our responsibility to try to understand what that cause might be and then start there, rather than always relying solely on training to solve the problem. It’s like being a skilled martial artist. Just because someone is skilled in the martial arts doesn’t mean that he or she must end every disagreement by punching the other person in the face. You see, when it comes to martial arts, or horse training, along with the development of skill should come the responsibility of educated discretion.

It could be argued that in both Cooper and Rusty’s cases, what originally appeared to be training issues actually had much less to do with training and more to do with emotional issues that were brought on by physical issues. With Rusty, the primary cause of his problems seemed to be his teeth, whereas with Cooper, his troubles seemed to stem from his stomach. In either case, very little training was ultimately done to help them both feel better. And that is really the point I am trying to make.

It’s like the old story about a man who was having trouble with his car. He could get it started, but it wouldn’t keep running. He looked in the phone book for a mechanic and called the first one he found. He explained to the mechanic over the phone what was going on with his car and asked if the mechanic could fix it. The mechanic said he might be able to but the man would have to bring the car in so he could look at it. When the man asked how much it might cost, the mechanic said, “$500.”

“That seems like a lot,” the man said. “But are you sure you can fix it?”

“Not until I see it,” the mechanic replied. “I’ll have to hook it up to my new computer, run diagnostics on the motor, exhaust system, electrical system, then make sure I have the correct tools and parts, and then see if we have time to do it.”

The man thanked him and after hanging up the phone, moved on to the next mechanic in the book. Again, he explained what was going on with his car and asked if he could fix it. Again, the mechanic said he might be able to fix the car but the man would have to bring it in. When the man asked how much it might cost to fix, the mechanic said, “$575.”

“Ok,” the man said. “But are you sure you can fix it?”

“Not until I see it,” the mechanic replied. “I’ll have to hook it up to our computer, run diagnostics on the motor, exhaust system, electrical system, then make sure I have the correct tools and parts, and then see if we have time to do it.”

The man hung up and went to three more mechanics in the book and got the exact same response from each one. Finally, he came upon the last mechanic in the book. He explained to him what was going on and asked if he could fix it. The mechanic said he could, and when asked how much it would cost, he said, “$150.”

“Are you sure you can fix it?” the man asked.

“Yup,” the mechanic said. “Bring it in and we’ll take care of it for you.”

The man limped his car into the mechanic’s shop. The mechanic opened the hood, and listened intently as the engine sputtered and coughed.

“No problem,” the mechanic said. “We’ll have you fixed up in a jiffy.”

He went over to his toolbox and brought back a small hammer. He bent in over the engine with his little hammer, turned his ear to the motor for a few seconds, hesitated for another second, and then lightly tapped the right side of the carburetor three times. The engine let out two big backfires, and then it began running as smooth as if it were new.

The mechanic stepped back, and wiping the hammer with a rag he took from his back pocket, said, “That’ll be $150, please.”

The man, shocked at how quickly and simply the mechanic was able to fix his car, reached in his pocket for his wallet.

“Don’t get me wrong here,” the man said as he pulled the money from his wallet. “I’m sure grateful that you were able to fix my car. But it seems a little pricey to charge $150 for just tapping the side of the carburetor three times with a hammer.”

“Oh,” the mechanic said. “I’m not charging you $150 for tapping the carburetor. I only charge $5 for that.”

“What’s the other $145 for?” the man asked.

“That’s for knowing where and when to tap.”

I like this story because it exemplifies the secret to ultimately being really good with horses. Everything boils down to simply knowing where and when to tap.