Being Caught... or Naught.

Today, for the first time since I have had him he refused to be caught.

Yesterday I went to the Mane Event in Red Deer, today I had more questions than a three year old. I saw Linda Parelli and her Horsenality demonstrations and all day, I have been obsessing over wether I have an extrovert, an introvert- a right or left brain or if my horse has any brain at all...

I think he's a Left Brained Extrovert.

He likes to play. I think thats what today was. Horses who are left-brained spend more time thinking- and of course, these can be some of the hardest to train.... Thanks two months ago katie buying this wild horse...

It started when he came out of the back field towards me. I was estatic. He walked right past me. Like I wasn't even there... SO RUDE.  OF course he did... How the hell do those people get their horses to like them so much and WHY can't I have that?

I went to go and halter him and he took off. Several times. Despite my best attempts, my advance and retreat technique that has worked well in the past was not working. The back field has hay, fresh grass and friends.  I let the friends into the grass field- but not Vincent. I stood at the gate waiting, halter in hand. I waited for about 15 minutes, and he had been creeping toward me finally stopping at the gate. I stroked his neck and then went forward with the halter- he took off again with a grunt.

The other people at my barn probably already think I'm nuts. They came to find me sitting on the ground at the gate. "You want help?" "Nope, this has become my only goal for today."  I heard "So glad my horse doesn't do that to me" off in the distance. Great.  Thanks for the support.

I hunkered down. I had four hours before afternoon chores. I thought (HOPED) that would be enough time. I stood my ground at my post. He decided he could find his own grass- after about an hour of sitting there, I gave this a try:

I walked toward him. Calmly, steady pace, knowing full well he would move away from me- and he did. At a walk. I kept walking, never changing my pace- not really chasing, just following him around. If he wanted to play this game- I'd play too. I could NOT give up now- if I wanted to have any chance of catching him ever again.

At first he just walked away from me, then, half heartedly trotted. I kept my walking, calm consistent pace. THIS WAS NOT the way he wanted to play the game. He wanted me to give up so he could go back to eating with his buddies.  He got pretty upset- took off galloping and bucking and kicking out -pretty amazing reaction to me just walking towards him...  I just kept on walking, never changing expressions, pace or speaking, the halter and lead on my shoulder. I'd get close, I'd get far, I'd just look at him and he'd get mad and take off blowing up and running.

Eventually when he was sweating and blowing- and he stopped running away from me so far. instead of covering the whole paddock, he went about 30 feet, turned and looked at me. I thought it must be working... I kept it up. Just walking. not swinging the rope, not running, calmly silently walking.

He started circling me at the trot. I motioned him to come to me. He turned and stopped moving. I would advance, he'd move away- i'd follow at a walk. he chose his pace, he started to look tired- although i can gaurantee he had more than that in the tank...  I walked. He finally stopped moving when I advanced. He let me walk up and touch him and then halter him.

I took him to the back field and let him be with his friends- I bet he wasn't expecting that. I layed in the hay in the sun, he stayed right with me, the rope on the ground. we went up the the barn- he walked on and off the trailer- the first time he's been on a trailer since i got him.  The trailer was my goal for the day, my original plan. After that I let him graze for an hour while I sat on his back, trying to get him to pick up his head with only a slight pressure on the lead.

I am very interested to see what he does the next time I go in the field to get him... I am hoping that I showed my leadership today:

making the wrong thing difficult and the right thing easy.
using brains over braun
exerting minimal energy while he chose to over exert himself.


if he is infact Left Extrovert, he needed to move his feet to get his brain to think- and he has been bored with my training, consistency- he has come up with his own game.

This is a clear indication of defiance? Play? Dominance?

If he does decide to run away again, i'll likely try the same method. even if it takes half the time, i will consider this a victory- an understanding between us- that if he wants to run- i will let him and not try to confine him- but its much more comfortable to do what I want to do and be caught- that my ideas are good.

To be continued...

Humble Beginnings

This is the story of how Vincent came into my life.

It's a long one. For me, not for him...

In the middle of January I was riding with "the old man." His 13 year old WB jumper mare, and his 9 year old paint rescue. Still desperate for my own, but had just about, all but given up on looking.

The mare was jumping well- the paint... not so much. Being a rescue, this guy had not had much human interaction during most of his life- just hay and carrots over the fence, the only horse on a property of hoarded cats and other small animals.  Turning was a huge issue for him, pulling on either rein got only a battle- I must have strained all the muscles in my arm trying- a problem I would later experience on my own. Well built, strong and knew it.

I had been dragging the old man along for weeks to see horses, overpriced and not right for me. Trolling Kijiji had become my specialty, anything even remotely bred warm. Carstairs, Didsbury, Acme and beyond.

And then there was this ad: "4 Purebred Warmbloods $1000 ea. OBO." Away we went. Down dirt roads with numbers for names, past feedlots, pumpjacks and crumbling barns sinking into the earth, (Rural Alberta Landscape at its best) to a farm with no sign and no house number.  There were three bays and one chestnut standing at a round bale, in a foot of mud surrounded by chicken barns that looked like they had seen better days. My first thought "Ugh. more boring bays."

Pulling up beside the other cars in the "lot" a short lady in big boots came out and introduced herself. I asked her how she had come to have 4 warmbloods in a field, when she told me she had misunderstood the difference between "Registered" and "Purebred."

"Ugh... here we go. And did I mention they're all bays??"

Sloshing through the mud (yes in Calgary, there is mud and sunshine together in January, sprinkled with snow- we owe it to the mountains for the Chinook weather patterns) to the fence, we watched four round horses gorging themselves, basking in the warm sun.

"They're all pretty wild. I've had a halter on one of them."

.... Great, REALLY UNBROKEN.. Bays....  The ad had warned us, but not that these horses had never even been haltered.

The old man and I decided that we should try anyways. I really believed in his methods, his horsemanship and I do to this day. Through his grumbling about not getting paid for attempting to halter wild horses and all the things he'd rather do for the afternoon, we chased those four horses all over the field; around abandoned machinery, over the top of a pile of manure and bones, there was no run-in shelter. But the way I remembered it, Vincent didn't run- he floated. He had the movement I had been looking for: that warmblood trot, the balanced canter- he was a gem- white socks flashing.

The Mare (Roulette, Vincent's Mom) was dead lame in the front. She stopped running first and let us halter her about about an hour and a half. It broke my heart to see her crippled like that. The lady told us that she was close to 20 years old and my heart broke again. What kind of person was going to take in a 20 year old lame mare. If I could have, I would have. Her teeth were in desperate need of floating, a quick look showed the hook on the front incisors.  I could only imagine the lacerations that must have been hiding in the back.  Still, once caught she was soft in my hands, kind, sweet, nuzzling my hands and face. I kept her picture so I wouldn't forget her.





Vincent's two full brothers were there too. "Quinten" (the names of these horses I later learned from the copies of the papers given to me, at this time they were just "the gelding with the socks", "the dead lame one...") was lame in the back. You could see it from the start. You can see it in his picture. The back end is atrophic from not being used. By the end, he wouldn't even put his weight on the back right. He was the most Warmblood looking on of them all, he was beautiful. My heart truly broke this day to see these horses like that. If only I could have taken all of them, I could have figured out why they were so lame, someway, somehow.

The mind and the heart hardly work together. There is no way I could have financially provided for all of these horses. In my head I knew this- but to this day, there will always be some part of me that wonders "Could I have made them sound again? Made them useful?" My only solace is the thought that the woman who took the other three horses was successful in doing just that, and somewhere they are happy, sound, healthy and useful. I think of them often.

We led the mare into a small pen- after chasing the sheep out, and the others followed. Vincent's younger brother- the chestnut went into the pen too. He had a star on his forehead that was half white and half black... (I have never seen that before and doubt I ever will again.)

After some futile attempts to halter Vincent while he was in the pen, we decided to call it a day. I left a deposit on him and his younger brother. $100 and a promise to call later that evening. When I asked more questions I found out the chestnut was cryptoid, and three years old.

An ungelded son in the same field as his mother? My thoughts ran wild- was this gelding I was going to buy inbred? Was there something wrong with him they weren't telling me?

It would have been a good idea at this time to get a vet check. But you'll soon realize that first time experiences for me aren't always coupled with good ideas....

I committed. I thought about this gelding (said to be between 4 and 6) for a week, that had so much potential, and was so hindered by his environment. He deserved something better, more fulfilling.  And to be honest... I thought I deserved to have him. I have been taking care of other people's horses for 15 years and never had one of my own.

In the truck on the way home, I made the old man promise to help me with the gelding. "He'd be worth it" he said. I told him there's no way I could train the gelding without his help. I haven't heard from him in months now. He gave up on me, because I went somewhere else- to be honest I cant blame him, he is only looking out for the best well being for his horses. Working on the weekends, I no longer had time to ride for him. He replaced me with someone else.  who wouldn't want to ride amazing jumper horses for free?  So now, I am left to fumble blindly on this journey without him, the new folks at the place Vincent lives now are very supportive and have stepped in to help me frequently, they also train their own horses.

A week later I had hired a trailer out of Turner Valley to move him. The place the old man's horses were kept at did not want a "wild one." I did some research and chose a high end facility in the south with great people promising to help me and offering me a job on the weekends to help pay his board. I thought he'd be proud of me- I had arranged all of this all on my own. Heck, I was proud of me...

I was so nervous. The day finally came. Sunday (rescheduled from Saturday because of a snowstorm) and -10. By now I was a wreck. I had begged the lady to let me come and spend some time with him- get him used to a halter, and to me before the trailer came. My requests were in vain. The owners of the property did not want an unknown girl on their property, a punching bag for a very wild 1200 pound horse. An unruly ram, insurance- not really sure what the real issue was and never will.

It took close to 3 hours to get him on the trailer. I was so frozen I had to stand in the shed. There is something about a horse struggling to get into a trailer that brings out crazy ideas in people. We had the 12 ft line (the lady, being the only one to ever successfully halter him got my brand new Parelli halter on him) attached to him threaded through the front windows- like a winch.  I watched him panic and go up, coming down on a fence on his abdomen. I was horrified and so worried about him. I couldn't watch any more. The lady got out the stick. I was so frustrated I started to cry- if only they had given me time with him, I could have coaxed him on- pressure and release.  The trailer cost me $350 for an hour trip because he took so long to get on.

Shivering uncontrollably, I paid the rest for him. $600. I promised the lady I'd send pictures from Spruce Meadows. I intend to do this- or maybe from somewhere else. She chuckled- she thinks it's impossible. He is going to be great.

He came off the trailer like an old pro, following me calmly. He spent the first week in quarantine. I spent hours with him brushing him- he loved it, fell asleep. I taught him about velcro and blankets. I picked up his feet. He got vet checked with a clean bill of health and reasonably good confirmation (there is a strange bump on his back tendon but has never been lame and his front right leg has a slight turn, so slight you'd never notice.) He got his teeth floated and his vaccines. I was in love.

Welcome

Hello,

This blog will detail the trials and tribulations of my journey into horsemanship- and the purchase and training of my first horse.  Vincent, Vince, Vinnie, sometimes "asshole" is his name, keeping me always guessing and asking questions is his game. It seems every time I find the answer to one question, thirty more come up.

My life may not always have time for posting, but maybe let's give it a try.  People in my life grow tired of hearing my endless horse stories, successes and failures. Maybe there are those out there with helpful information, maybe there will be those who benefit from my experience. Hopefully, the one who will benefit most will be me- and therefore this blog can just be a place for me to collect my thoughts, summarize research and serve as a memoir.

Happy reading and happy riding.