The New Horse
 
from
 
Horse Tales for the Soul, Volume 1
 
 
 
Nicole and Santana
 
 
It was definitely the eyes that convinced me to take a chance. Everyone thought I was crazy - buying an unbroke, highly excitable, nine-year old gelding who had rarely been handled and had spent the last seven years in a small muddy paddock with another horse - living life his way.  His tail had been chewed off, his coat and mane were a bit scraggly, and a large bumpy scar sat prominently on his face from an old nail injury.  His feet only were trimmed when he wore them down - which he did a lot of - did I mention that he's a little high strung? 
 
But his eyes told me something else; Deep brown, almond shaped, trimmed in black that stood out against his golden colored palomino coat.  They said, "Please, I'm really a good horse under the dirt and grime.  I will do anything for you if only you pay attention to me."  It was a plea for an owner of his own.  I'd seen that look before.  It was in the eyes of my two-year old appaloosa, (Pink Panthers) Kaito, when I bought him seven years ago.  That's when my barrel racing trainer and friend Lee Northup, convinced me that a green horse and a green rider were not always a bad combination, if you are open to advice, willing to take your time and never, ever lose your temper. She was right - I've never had a more loyal companion.  He does everything I ask to the level at which I am capable of riding him  - barrels, dressage, trail riding, even overnight camping.  And he still whinnies when I walk up to him.  I'm convinced he would lay down his life for me. Now he has his most important job - he is teaching my daughter.
 
But would it be the same with this one?  Santana.  His name conjured up images of the hot and strong California wind, as well as the spectacular comeback of the rock guitarist -a question of talent and timing.  He would definitely challenge my horsemanship skills and patience.  He was pushy, but he'd never been told "no."  He'd experienced nothing, but was curious, smart and full of energy.  To my eyes, there was a lot of potential and worth the effort. I convinced his skeptical owner that he was worth selling, with the agreement that if it didn't work out, he would be returned. So on Christmas Day 1998, he came to live in our barn, red ribbon and all.
 
I knew it would have to be done in small steps.  I learned that from horse trainer John Lyons - when you measure progress in inches, you always move forward. The trick is to break everything down to small enough tasks.  For example, teaching him to drop his head by giving to pressure on his poll with my hand only took 10 minutes, but now I had the basics that I could build upon.  Putting his halter on, brushing his forelock, leading, putting his bridle on, teaching him to give to the bit and relaxing him; all of these are built on that first lesson of giving to pressure and rewarding it with the release. It also gave me my most valuable tool - teaching him to drop his head (the calm down cue) when he got wound up. To those watching, it looked effortless. To me, each small step was hard work and rewarding at the same time. 
 
I also knew that I needed to keep good training notes because I knew that when I got frustrated (we are human after all) that I would forget how far we had come.  Sometimes you have to step back to the previous lesson and reinforce it.  That doesn't mean that he "has an attitude," it means he didn't learn the lesson or you didn't teach it well enough and you need to repeat it until he does.  Those inches add up to feet and eventually miles.
 
And we have come miles since our first ride two years ago.  We've learned a lot together - his gaits are the smoothest I've ever ridden and his spirit and energy are amazing.  Its no longer an intimidating high-strung nervous energy - its been redirected into impulsion.  He has such raw talent that he has challenged me to become a better rider.  Every mistake I make is immediately obvious because he is listening to my every move.  I have never once felt that I could not control him, even with 1,200 pounds of neurons firing all at once and feeling like an explosion is immanent.  And you can't do it with a whip or a chain - it's the trust that has the biggest impact. He knows immediately when he has done something right and he loves the attention. If he does something wrong, I tell him in my most - probably louder than I want to admit- motherly voice, and he's crushed. It's being strict and kind at the same time - day after day after day. Granted, he is not perfect (yet).  He is impatient and he is a little terror with the farrier - but some things take more time than others. 
 
My dressage trainer, Bruce Graham, is helping me in his next step - building the muscle strength and suppleness for him to reach his highest level of performance. He also is helping me develop a better seat and to learn gymnastic exercises.  "There is no limit as to what he can do, if you give him the tools to do it with". So maybe you'll see us at a show this year-just look for the horse with the happy eyes.
 
Final Note: As Bruce says, "The notes are all the same - it's how you put them together that creates the music."  If you notice, I have drawn from many disciplines for my training approach: barrel racing, dressage, and basic training techniques.  It's amazing how much my various teachers and trainers have in common, even though the final music score is different.  But each had one special message.  Lee taught me to keep the fun in horses. She showed me that not everything had to go by the book and that sometimes a good gallop down the beach does wonders for the mind and soul. John Lyons taught me that every interaction with your horse should be positive, but the trick is to keep your expectations realistic. Bruce taught me that a horse is only limited by his rider. A brilliant rider can turn any horse into a brilliant one!