As I sat in a small room in our campus’ ‘doctor’s office’, being examined by a man of Asian origins for a concussion, I began to wonder the validity of my Breaking and Training class. Though counting back by sevens starting at an odd number like seventy-two wasn’t hard enough without the possibility of injury, I did manage to be sent on my way with a clean bill of health; and a growing bruise on my left cheek.
I started taking classes at a state university I will leave nameless in the fall of 2006 with the hopes of attaining a Bachelor’s degree in Equine Science. But halfway through my first semester of my second year I was beginning to question my dedication to an industry so bent on making things happen at break neck speeds.
The class was supposed to introduce students to successful breaking and training of a young horse to the saddle. The semester was broken down into two six week periods; in which time we were suppose to have our mounts fully broken and ready to be ridden by their riders when they were sent home.
After a week of working with various young horses that had been sent to the school to be broken, I was paired with a large gelding named Banner. His owner hadn’t known his pedigree, but we guessed he was a Tennessee Walker with his flowing gait and build, he was beautiful. He stood at least 16 hands with a rustic chestnut color with a thin blaze down his nose. He was just a three year old and already had a jaded past.
After a week, talk had begun to circle that Banner had thrown his previous trainer off and broke her leg and arm during the incident. But as I was the first to ride him, spending the next five days with him as well, I never found him to be anything but sweet. He was high strong and nervous, but he was a young horse in a strange place with plenty of strange sounds.
I won’t ever forget that Friday. I had been on him three times, being ponied by another older horse in the round pen, and not once had I felt frightened of him. But that Friday the barn’s head trainer had mentioned that Banner might need some extra work and that we should put him on the hot walker. The head trainer had not mentioned that he wanted him saddled, just needed to expend some extra energy. The upper classmen in charge of the hot walker declared, innocently enough, that it would not hurt to saddle the horse, and that we would tie empty grain bags to the saddle. This was supposed to simulate a rider’s legs. My heart stopped, but I knew there was nothing I could say to stop her. So I did as she had stated and tied him to the walker and watched my heart crumble.
Banner wasn’t ready for the bags. He began to violently strike at them, racing around the enclosure franticly trying to get away from them. I wanted to free him, release him from his pain. I knew that he needed to work through this, but he was putting himself and the other horses in jeopardy. I called for him to whoa and upon hearing my voice he stopped, nickered and franticly looked for me. But I couldn’t enter, I wasn’t “experienced” enough to handle this situation. So I watched as the situation grew worse.
They called two other upper classmen over, two boys I had watched. They were good with horses, but I knew deep inside that Banner was not going to relax for them. I didn’t watch, I couldn’t, but Banner reacted to the new situation with fear and ended up kicking out and hitting one of the boys in the knee. It was over then. The head trainer had decided that this horse was too dangerous to be trained by students. His owner was to come and collect him immediately.
When they finally calmed Banner enough to release him from the hot walker they handed him to me. He was covered in sweat, blowing fiercely with his head high in the air. I’m not a big person, standing around 5’ 4”, but once he was with me he began to relax almost instantly, lowering his head and steadying his pace. When he had cooled enough to return to his stall the head trainer came up to me and a couple of classmates that had gathered around my stall. He stated “he needs more time and unfortunately we can’t give that to him here”. I knew what it meant, when his owners came to collect him more than likely he was going to be humanely euthanized as a “dangerous horse”.
Three years later I have stumbled upon a world I never thought I would find myself in, Holistic Horse care. Where the horse and its health are put first, here, at Mustang Hollow, I have found a mare that has come to call me her human. Here, I don’t have to tie her head to the saddle to “teach” her to bend, and I don’t have to force her beyond what she can handle. She can interact with other horses on a natural, herd based manner. I feel calm and safe on her back even after only a few rides because I know that she won’t have to do more than she is willing to do. Why couldn’t I have found this sooner? I wish only that every horse could begin their riding careers the same as my sweet Moka.
