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I was optimistic at the start of the third day of the clinic. After all, Santo and I had made much progress together on the first two days. And usually by the third day of a clinic, the horse and rider teams have settled into the rhythm of the clinic — so all signs pointed to an easier day.
But a big weather front had moved in that morning — temperatures were much cooler, with sharp wind gusts. As I headed into Santo’s pen to begin tacking him up, I noticed he was pacing frantically again. The horses in the pen next to him were being loaded up into a trailer — they were heading home a day early. Between his pen mates leaving and the dramatic weather change, Santo was beside himself. I tacked him up and placed my rope halter over his bridle — my plan was to ground work him in the small arena, then mount there and warm him up under saddle before heading into the big arena.
It was a good plan — but didn’t quite work out as expected. The wind gusts were very pronounced in the small arena, with sporadic rustling and banging noises everywhere as the wind rearranged many items and tossed them about. Santo was nearly out of his skin with agitation. I would ground work him for awhile and get a brief change — but any distraction (wind, horse walking by, etc.) would set him back quickly.
My instinct was to mount him and get started with short serpentines. But Santo seemed to be having more of a flashback to his mounting accident long ago. He was extremely restless near the fence when I tried to mount him there — he’d sidle up to me rapidly, present the stirrup like it was on fire, and then vibrate in place for a few seconds before dancing out of mounting range. And mounting from the ground was equally bumpy — my back was still weak on the left side from my injury and I had trouble getting into position fast enough to mount smoothly.
And I was having my own flashback — to my fall the previous summer. Then, I had mounted a young horse without realizing he was troubled — and paid quite a price for my rush to be in the saddle. The logical conclusion was that I needed to go slower and prepare horses better before mounting as a general principle — rather than leaping on the back of one that was obviously agitated (like Santo). Buck had often said during this clinic that people need to spend more time getting their horses gentle on the ground before riding — and it seemed like advice that was tailor-made for me.
Still — as I perched on the fence awkwardly (with my back complaining) and watched Santo twitch about spastically in front of me — I felt pretty sure more ground work wouldn’t help Santo in this moment. By now, all of the other riders were in the big arena. Country music was blaring — a sign that Buck hadn’t entered the arena yet — and the clinic was probably going to start at any moment. Santo and I were alone in the small arena.
Just then, a rider entered from far side of the arena. Dismayed, I saw that it was Buck — I hadn’t realized that he used this side arena to get to the big arena for the clinic. Embarrassed, I ducked my head and hoped he wouldn’t notice us floundering at the fence.
Of course, he immediately reined his horse next to Santo (who managed to vibrate even more) and asked what was going on. I told him that I had tried doing some ground work but that it didn’t seem to help for long — and that basically I was trying to figure out what Santo needed me to do for him.
Buck nodded and said it was just one of those days — with the wind and cold coming in suddenly — and suggested that I just get on Santo and do him some good from the saddle with short serpentines.
I stared back at him in surprise — and Santo even paused his piaffe on cocaine movements for a moment. I said something brilliant like “huh?” — and Buck patiently repeated his advice. Seeing the doubt on my face, he added that I could also bring Santo into the big arena to do ground work instead (but I could tell he thought that might be the less effective way to go).
And he rode off, heading into the big arena.
I looked at Santo and knew Buck was right — I needed to get on Santo to help him. Although my back thought that was a really bad idea, I decided to put Santo first — and I clumsily mounted him (and promised to give my back multiple margaritas later). He exhaled with obvious relief and off we whirled into short serpentine land. Sure enough, after about 10-15 minutes, Santo settled enough for me to ride him to the large arena without taking out any innocent spectators.
Buck was already talking to the class, as they stood around him on their horses. Santo and I began our now familiar routine of twirling up and down the arena. Many spectators waved cheerfully at us and I smiled back, happy to see that Santo’s fan club was growing. As the class began riding as a group, Santo and I blended in with the other riders. Santo soon was walking out nicely on a loose rein, doing long serpentines from my leg cues. As the trotting work began, I felt him relax even more — the extended trotting mixed in with “soft feel” and slower work really helped Santo unwind.
As we trotted by, Buck leaned down from his saddle (he seemed about two stories high on his big bay horse) and said, “You weren’t even sure you should get on him. And look at all the good you are doing him now.” He smiled with approval — and I was glad that I had taken his advice.
So was Santo, who was having a fun day at the clinic — especially during the cow work. We helped Rita and Kate cut a cow (by following them like a backup police car) and Santo seemed eager to do more with the herd. But I decided to guarantee that day ended on great note for Santo. I dismounted him after his tandem cow cutting moment — and exited the arena before everyone else.
After the clinic was officially over and all the riders had left the arena, I checked on Santo in his pen. Once again, he was pacing and neighing nervously — clearly the movement and noise still triggered a response in him.
Before the final day’s class, I pondered Santo’s newly returned worry about being mounted. Given my less agile mounting style at the moment, what was going to be the best way to get into the saddle? At home, I often used a mounting block — but I was embarrassed at the thought of lugging one of those into a Buck Brannaman clinic arena.
The first time I ever audited a Buck clinic, he told an entertaining story about a lady who brought a mounting block to one of his clinics. She would set the block down and lead her horse to it. Just as she was ready to step into the stirrup, her horse would move away a few steps. And she’d sigh, pick up the mounting block, and move it back to within mounting range of her horse.
This happened several times, as Buck looked on. Finally, she mounted successfully and began riding away from the mounting block. Buck told her that he didn’t have a problem with her using the mounting block — as long as she put it away right after she had used it. The lady looked at him in exasperation and pointed out that she couldn’t do that without dismounting from her horse, putting the block away, and then mounting without the block (since it would be put away at that point). And he smiled and said something like, “Now you are catching on….”
In Buck’s approach to horsemanship, horses should always be quiet and stand still for mounting — that is part of their foundation work and shouldn’t be skipped over for convenience’s sake. At the same time, Santo seemed like a temporary exception to that rule — for this clinic, he was getting calmer after I was in the saddle (but not before).
Pondering the dilemma, I decided it was time to adapt to fit the situation. Before I tacked up Santo, I took the mounting block out of my trailer and put it in the small arena. Once Santo was saddled, I led him there and headed for the mounting block.
As I stood on the block and directed Santo’s feet toward me, he became nervous again. Clearly, he was happier once I was on his back — so why all of the dancing around before mounting? Was it just the return of his old bad experience with a rider falling during mounting — and if so, why was it occurring now?
Then for the first time during the clinic, I had an insight into his behavior during mounting. As he rushed up to the block, gyrating slightly, I had a mental image of a getaway car. Santo was telling me, “Hey, get on FAST. Trouble is coming and we need to get out of here. But we need to leave together, so HURRY up.” He was the getaway car and I was the slow co-conspirator, dawdling my way out of the bank I just robbed.
I laughed and lined him up beside the block. My back was much happier about this method of mounting — and as soon as Santo brought the stirrup to me, I stepped into it and sprang lightly into the saddle. Santo sighed with relief and off we went to short serpentine in the big arena.
On this day, for the first time, we were able to stand with the group and listen to Buck talk at the beginning of the class. Santo yawned frequently, tried to make friends with the horses on either side of us, and generally behaved like a well-mannered child on a school field trip. He was curious, happy, occasionally sleepy, and slightly distracted at times. Best of all, his feet stayed still without any tension or worry. I was ready to redirect him if he needed to move around — but never had to do that.
Throughout class that day, Santo and I practiced bringing his energy up and then easing it back down. During an exercise where two riders pair off and do cow working maneuvers (with one horse being the cow and the other horse being the horse), I got a little over-eager and ramped myself up quite a bit (sadly, this only resulted in inelegant movements and the cardinal sin of outpacing the “cow”). But Santo took it all in stride — becoming full of animation to match my spastic example, but then dialing that energy down immediately when the exercise ended.
Santo had a field day with the cow phase of the class. He watched alertly as Buck roped one of the cows near him — and then relaxed into mellow daydreaming when Buck left our part of the circle. Again, we walked out with Rita and Kate (the wonder cow horse) — and Santo walked into the middle of the cows alone for the first time. He wanted to sniff and even bump the cows with his nose — and he was very pleased when they moved away from him deferentially. The crescendo moment of the clinic came for Santo when he cut a cow from the herd all by himself (with Kate and Rita on the sidelines).
I could feel how happy and proud he was at that moment. Quickly, I steered him to the side — and dismounted him on the spot. As I led him back to his pen, Santo walked as if he felt like a champion.
After I untacked him, I headed back to the arena — after all, I didn’t want to miss the last round of Q&A and Buck’s parting words of wisdom to us. I also wanted to say good-bye to my clinic friends and maybe even get a chance to thank Buck for his help.
As I walked into the spectator area, one of the horses in the arena spooked suddenly. It looked like maybe he was worried about the cows — it was quick, minor episode but it caught my attention. It was near the end of the clinic — and the horses were gathered around Buck while their riders listened to him. I thought about Santo’s behavior in the pen after each day of the clinic. For him, the end of the clinic would be that same experience of anxiety — unless I did something different.
I remembered Buck’s advice on the first day of the clinic — that horses like Santo are a gift to their riders, if the rider will give the horse what he needs (instead of doing what the human would rather do). My personal preference was to sit down and listen to Buck’s final talk — followed by socializing with my fellow clinic riders.
But that’s not what Santo needed.
I looked over my shoulder at the clinic group, sighed, and headed back to Santo’s pen. He was chewing quietly on his alfalfa with soft eyes. My trailer was already hitched — I loaded him right then (alfalfa still in his mouth) and drove home.
When I unloaded Santo at our ranch about an hour later, he was calm and peaceful — and he walked off the trailer feeling like the biggest winner ever.
And that was how his clinic ended….
Recently I rode in a Buck Brannaman clinic in Belton, TX at the Bell County Expo Center. Buck has been coming to Texas annually for many years, thanks to an especially dedicated clinic host and team of helpers.
Although the clinic was held in March 2013, it had filled by June 2012. When I signed up for it way back then, I had no idea that there might be some interesting challenges ahead.
It was exciting to think of riding my QH ex-racehorse, Santo, in the clinic — and I confidently registered for the Horsemanship 2 class. Santo had trained for the track as a youngster but didn’t have the foot speed to be a good racehorse. He was purchased by a local horse facility shortly afterward. By the time I acquired and began riding Santo in 2012, he had had several years of classical dressage training — thus becoming the first ex-racehorse I’d ever owned with professional post-track training.
I was thrilled to have a horse that could teach me so much. At the same time, Santo still showed some leftover anxieties from his racing days. He is a chronic stall weaver (to the point where he can’t be kept in a stall for long without risking colic). Santo will also sometimes weave in the trailer. Additionally, he had some history of showing anxious behavior while in large groups (a classic racehorse characteristic).
An equestrian friend also told me that Santo once had a rider fall and break her arm while attempting to mount him from the fence during a clinic. From what I understand, this incident had created some tension for Santo about mounting — but his trainer at the time had helped him through that so he could put the episode behind him.
Santo and I seemed like a good match — and we thoroughly enjoyed our riding time together. He is a bubbly, cheerful horse with a ton of heart and personality.
As the months passed before the Buck clinic, several challenges appeared. I took a good-sized tumble from a young horse as I mounted him, injuring my back and neck. While I returned to riding within a couple of weeks, the healing process was slower than I expected — and my riding stamina wasn’t as strong as usual. Then an unexpected foot surgery had to be scheduled, throwing off my planned return to fuller riding fitness.
Still, I did my best to prepare Santo for the Buck clinic. A few months beforehand, we rode together in a Tom Curtin clinic — with a class of about 15 other riders. Santo handled that well — but he also was very familiar with the arena that hosted the clinic. As Buck’s clinic drew near, I regularly hauled Santo to another arena — where we often saw other horses, trail riders, and occasional dirt bikers. While Santo would get somewhat anxious, he settled down quickly — and I was happy to see how willing he was to experience new things with me.
The big clinic weekend arrived — and it was quite the scene. As Buck himself has commented, you can’t really prepare your horse at home for what one of his clinics will be like — especially since the release of the documentary about him. Over 40 horses were riding in the clinic (spread between two classes) — and the stands were packed with spectators. In addition, the Bell County Expo Center had multiple events going on during the clinic — so there were competing microphone announcements booming over the clinic arena.
If you want to get a true sense of what a Buck Brannaman clinic is like, I highly recommend the 7 Clinics DVD Series. There are 7 DVDs in the package, all of which contain footage of Buck at different clinics — and they are well-organized and full of excellent horsemanship advice.
Santo thought the environment of Buck’s clinic was simultaneously exciting, scary, and suspicious. Although we arrived a day early, scoped out the facility, and rode a little in a side arena, he was still tense and nervous by the time our class began. Full of distracted energy, he was also proving a little difficult to mount. I ended up plopping on to his back with a distinct lack of grace from the fence. My back and neck gave a warning twinge to not do that again anytime soon — but that soon subsided and we were officially riding in the arena with the other clinic riders.
For us, that meant we were doing short serpentines like mad up and down the arena — weaving between the other, calmer horses in the clinic. I found myself glancing into the spectator stands, to see if I knew anyone — so I could make eye contact with familiar faces as Santo and I danced by the bleachers. As it turned out, there were many friends there — and it felt great to smile and wave as Santo carried me past the crowd.
Like most clinicians, Buck starts his clinics by having the class stand in a circle around him while he talks and answers questions from the riders. Santo had relaxed enough to walk in longer, looser serpentines by then — but standing still wasn’t an option for more than a few minutes. Buck gave some excellent tips, telling me “A horse like this is a gift, for what he will teach you.” And he gently reminded me that it was important to do what the horse needed (which was useful direction for his feet from his rider) — and not worry too much about what the human wanted (which in my case was to stand still and listen to the clinician tell fascinating stories).
As we began moving as a group, Santo’s nervousness would ease off and then bubble up again. Buck refers to this as the “ebb and flow” of a young or troubled horse during a riding session. To him, this is a normal part of the process — and the rider shouldn’t get too worried about the “ebb” part of the equation. Instead, it is better to expect the horse to have moments of calmness and others of anxiety — and simply plan on trying to increase the calm moments, rather than get too caught up in trying to stop the anxious ones.
Sometimes this can be accomplished with the short serpentines. If that isn’t quite enough (if the horse is hopping around a bit or really is pushing on the edge of trying to whirl to the side), then another good strategy is to ask the horse to roll his hindquarters for a half-circle, and then bring his front quarters around for another half-circle (so you end up moving in the same direction you started, after a full circle).
When a horse is full of energy that needs to be redirected, this maneuver really gives the energy a good place to go. The movement is precise enough that the horse (and rider) need to think about the timing of the feet — but has enough “space” in it to contain a high degree of energy easily. As I did these circles a few times, I felt Santo moving dynamically underneath me — and we’d often finish the move with several pretty, flowing steps forward after the circle was complete.
But if my timing was off when I asked for the hindquarters to roll (when the inside hind leg was still on the ground), Santo would be off balance for the move — so it was a very good exercise for me to work on timing. I began to concentrate more on my aids and on setting Santo up properly for these exercises — instead of focusing on his tension as a negative thing, it now had become an interesting excuse to work on my timing and balance.
As the first day ended, Santo had calmed down considerably. I dismounted as the clinic class stood around Buck to listen to his parting words for the day. But as the crowd began to applaud at the end, Santo revved back up into anxiety and twirled around me. I did my best to ease his worries, but the walk back to the barn was a bit elevated for both of us.
Santo stayed amped up in his pen for quite awhile — pacing restlessly and neighing while the other riders headed back to the barn, hosed down their horses, and hand grazed them nearby. But we had finished the first day successfully — and I was looking forward to what the next day would bring at the clinic.
On the second day of the clinic, the crowd was very large — and for some reason, the rabbit show in the next room of the Expo center required frequent, blaring announcements (often accompanied by random booming sounds and/or slightly hysterical female laughter) as part of its process. Country music was playing loudly on the clinic arena speakers, as we waited for Buck to arrive. Santo wasn’t amused by the crowd or by the rowdy microphone sounds from the rabbit area. As we entered the arena, he was a rocky mass of worry and fear — and our short serpentines were feeling more like sharp-edged Zs than flowing snake trails. I could feel him getting tighter, not looser, with each step.
In these situations, my first impulse is to immediately assume that I am doing something wrong — and that if I were a better, more skilled rider, my horse would not be showing any worry or tension. This time was no different — as I guided Santo through his steps, I felt certain that I was failing him in some way.
Recognizing that adding more anxious emotion to the picture wouldn’t help Santo, I pushed those thoughts aside and began to smile at my friends in the stands. “He must not like country music,” I quipped to a fellow clinic rider — who laughed and gave us a thumbs up sign as we zipped past him. One of the spectators asked, “Is that a green horse from the track?” Another wondered if Santo was a warmblood. I threw quick, cheerful answers over my shoulder as we rode by, glad for the supportive vibe from the crowd.
When Buck rode into the arena, I steered toward him and asked what I could be doing better to help Santo. He glanced at us and then reminded me of something he had discussed in the morning class. In that class, Buck had described the moment in a short serpentine when it’s clear the horse is flowing out of the arc into forward steps. It is like when you are pushing a ball up a hill. When the ball gets to the top of the hill and you feel it is about to roll down the hill, you relax and let the natural draw of gravity take the ball down the hill. You don’t keep pushing the ball at that moment — instead you allow the gravity to give a natural wave of movement to the ball.
As he said it, I realized that I had been keeping Santo too firmly in the reins in between each serpentine. I exhaled and released the reins lightly now at each of those moment. While Santo was still very tense, he began to take a small flowing step between each serpentine. Concentrating carefully, I kept my hands responsive and invited him to try a second flowing step between each curving serpentine (but was still prepared to roll back up into a more supportive position, if he needed that).
Within ten minutes, we were taking multiples steps “over the hill” — and our short serpentines had become long serpentines. Once again, the friendly mood of the spectators and my fellow clinic riders was a big help. There were still some bumpy moments. Santo and I often had to practice full circles by turning on the hindquarters and then moving the front quarters across (to reduce his tension and redirect his spiking energy levels). During one of those maneuvers, my timing was off and I asked for the movement too close to another horse — unfortunately, it was Buck’s horse (and I discovered to my horrified chagrin that Santo will threaten to kick at times). One of those moments where you’d really like to hang yourself in shame with a boselita right on the spot!
But overall we made steady progress during the class that day. The cow work was introduced toward the end of the class — and while Santo was concerned about the cattle at first, he soon decided that focusing on them was a great way to channel his nervous excitement. One of the horses next to us was very scared of cows — and as the cattle began easing his way (they like to seek out the least threatening horse, to test the boundaries), Santo sidepassed easily over to give that horse a little moral support.
The cows weren’t sure what to think of Santo, with his elevated stance, big eyes, and black dressage saddle. But they ultimately decided he was much too animated and focused to try to get past him — and they drifted away toward the center of the circle of horses. I was very proud of Santo and made sure that he knew that.
One of the seasoned cow horses (Kate) and her rider (Rita) walked around the little herd of cows. Beckoning us over, Rita invited me and Santo to follow them. Mimicking Kate, Santo leg yielded away from the cows while still eyeing them. I could feel his worry transform into energetic curiosity for several steps at a time.
It was a great feeling for both of us — and several spectators were rooting for Santo and his budding aptitude for cow work (even if it was only to circle the herd). The highlight of the day was when Santo touched a cow with his nose — then hopped back in surprise when it moved away from him. The crowd laughed warmly and Santo immediately made the connection that HE had made the cow move.
Caught up in the moment, I forgot completely how Santo had reacted to the applause the previous day — and wasn’t ready when the class ended for the day. Still in the saddle, I was dismayed to feel Santo’s anxiety shoot up to the same level as it was at the beginning of the class. Short serpentines and riding near a calm, seasoned horse helped somewhat — but I made a note to dismount and leave the arena early the next day (no matter how much fun Santo and I were having with the cows).
After the clinic, Santo continued to pace, whinny, and weave in his pen — once again, the swirl of post-clinic noise and movement (from people and horses) seemed to trigger a strong reaction in him.
Stay tuned for Part II of the clinic…
Ruff Slew (aka “Parker”) had been making terrific progress in his training with Holly Flint of Flint Equestrian. He was working quietly in his walk-trot-canter sessions in the big covered arena. Parker had begun stepping over poles as part of a long, slow introduction to jumping one day in the future too.
As a three-year-old right off the track, we were expecting to see a less smooth transition for Parker as he entered our racehorse education program. But Parker handled the training barn and Holly’s training sessions with aplomb and calmness.
Then a couple weeks ago, Holly called me with some interesting news. As part of Parker’s training, she had started teaching him how to lunge on a long line. Parker was displaying resistance and irritation during the process. From Holly’s description, Parker was balking, turning his hindquarters to the center, hopping up, and generally behaving in a cranky manner.
I went to observe a lunging session with Parker and Holly — so I could see what might be happening. As Holly led him to the arena, I had a pretty good idea what the issue might be. Parker was crowding her space — while he walked near her shoulder, he often stepped ahead. He was excited by the strong wind that day and pranced a little (which he felt gave him the perfect excuse to ignore Holly in those moments).
As Holly began lunging him, Parker did a perfect impersonation of a sulky teenage boy being asked to clean his room. He dawdled, scowled, stopped dead, hopped, and turned his shoulder to Holly. After watching for about ten minutes, I decided to check Parker out with some ground work exercises — to see if his responses were due to physical tightness or really were just a teenage boy reaction.
We removed the lunge gear and I put a rope halter (with a long lead) on Parker. As soon as I began to lead him, Parker very cheerfully bounded up to my ear and crowded me. I asked him once to step back (offering him a soft aid and a “good deal”). When that produced zero response in Parker (who was busy looking over my ear to the paddock next door), I gave a quick, firm aid in which I popped the lead rope back emphatically and with great clarity of intention (i.e., “Get back now”).
Astonished, Parker immediately retreated to a respectful distance — and I walked off again, leading him behind me, without continuing the aid. He had responded promptly and without offense — so it seemed likely that we were indeed simply dealing with a teenage boy situation.
After some ground work exercises, Parker made some very nice changes in demeanor and we ended the session by walking around the big arena and back to the barn. Parker stayed behind and was calm (he seemed to weigh hardly anything on the end of the lead rope, in fact).
Holly and I put our heads together — and decided that Parker had a little hole in his foundation from his long ago halter-breaking days. Many horses (including highly successful show or competition mounts) have this issue as well — they don’t lead, load, or lunge super well. It can be tempting to just ignore or work around this — after all, Parker is riding quietly and doing well in all other area. So why should we slow down his training process to go back and work on leading?
The answer is because Parker will begin to regress in other areas (including under saddle work) if he believes that he can push the boundaries of respectful distance on the ground. Again, the teenage boy analogy is very apt — as most parents know, teenage boys require structure and consistent leadership to be successful and to develop the right kind of confidence as young men one day. Ignoring disrespectful behavior (no matter how small) only leads to more difficulties in other areas.
As a three-year-old, Parker is a classic teenage boy. His body is growing rapidly, his mind is absorbing new information constantly, and he frequently needs to test the boundaries of parent and teacher authority. The good news is that Parker is a genuinely kind, sweet, and emotionally balanced young horse. He shows every sign of one day being a confident and happy partner for a lucky rider.
After many viewings of our DVD on Retraining Racehorses (with Tom Curtin) and its focus on the basics, I have become pretty familiar with the importance of ground manners and proper leading skills for a horse. In addition, LOPE’s library of horsemanship DVDs includes the 7 Clinics DVD series with Buck Brannaman — which includes much information about ground work as well.
Holly began incorporating exercises from both those DVDs into her training sessions with Parker. He is catching on very rapidly and has been a willing student. Even during an especially exciting day in the arena (with wind, flapping saddle pads on the fence, and a new horse arriving to the facility), Parker was able to safely express his anxiety to Holly, listen to her directions, and end the session quietly.
We are so pleased with Parker’s progress! This is an easy issue to overlook — and we appreciate Holly’s willingness to help Parker through the process of relearning some basic principles about appropriate ground manners and respect for handlers (even when they are leading you past something REALLY interesting, lol).
Parker has a terrific, cheerful temperament and would be a wonderful horse for someone experienced with young horses. He is the type of horse that you will be tempted to bring along too quickly, as he often displays a calm, seasoned attitude to tasks (especially riding). Parker is showing signs of being a terrific eventing or sport horse prospect too!
Parker is available for adoption now. His adoption fee is $1200 and includes ten weeks training with Holly at Flint Equestrian (plus he is up to date on all shots, coggins and dental work as of January 2013). Please contact LOPE for more information on Parker.
Call Me Cleo is a three-year-old gelding at LOPE. He was donated by his breeder after his initial under saddle work revealed that Cleo was not a good candidate for racing. As the trainer at the race training facility noted, Cleo is a big, growing horse — and he runs like a puppy, full of energy but without much efficiency or speed.
As a two-year-old, Cleo had an injury — a serious laceration to a hind leg. His breeder diligently nursed him back to full soundness — which took months and delayed Cleo from being started under saddle. Fully recovered, with no soundness issues, Cleo was officially started under saddle as a three-year-old — but with the giant puppy running style, his racing career ended before it had a chance to begin.
So Cleo came to LOPE with about 45-60 days riding under his belt — he was sound, green, cute, and very intelligent. But he also had some interesting patterns — while Cleo was sweet, he also was insecure and unconfident about the world. And he saw people as either a source of short-term comfort or as obstacles that would yield to his opinions when he was upset.
Many times when a foal or young horse has an injury that requires intense rehab, they will develop an unusual relationship with their human handlers. Because socialization by their mothers and pasture mates is so key at this age, a young horse is a like a big sponge where relationships are concerned. So if they must be handled for careful rehab (which might require lots of soothing behavior by human handlers as well as very close physical contact), young horses might begin to see people purely as treat and comfort dispensers — rather than as leaders.
At the same time, because they are young and by nature less knowledgeable, a young rehab horse is often insecure and uncertain about the world and their place in it. So they can tip easily over into anxiety — while never considering that the human might be a good source of leadership and structure.
Cleo fits this description. He is charming, sweet, and very appealing. People (especially ladies) feel an almost irresistible urge to pet and fuss over him. At the same time, when Cleo gets frustrated or anxious, he will brush aside people if they do anything except sooth or comfort him. Essentially, he has little true respect for the human as a leader — and treats them like favorite (but unequal) peers in the pasture.
If left uncorrected, this type of behavior could lead to a spoiled (and thus dangerous) horse. Spoiled horses crowd people’s space and have no regard for people as leaders. Once a horse learns to crowd a person’s space consistently, the next phase is nipping, kicking, running, or striking at the human.
The good news is that Cleo hasn’t had time to develop this full pattern — plus he was treated with genuine kindness by his breeder. We can’t stress enough how intelligent and sensitive (in a good way) Cleo is — this is a young horse with a huge capacity to learn and to be a good partner for a rider.
The first priority that Rancho Bayo focused on with Cleo was to reeducate him on the horse-human relationship. No matter how cute his facial expression or how sweet his eyes looked, Cleo was put into immediate “petting detox” — which means that the Rancho Bayo team resisted the powerful temptation to pet and fuss over him for no reason (other than his extreme cuteness).
He then was exposed to lots of ground exercises in which his trainer (Eric of Rancho Bayo) directed Cleo’s feet and asked Cleo to maintain a respectful distance and demeanor. This was often hard for Cleo — as he would initially run to Eric for comfort (almost literally trying to get into his lap) but then react with irritable frustration when Eric would not allow Cleo to crowd his space and kept asking Cleo to continue with the exercise.
The next phase was to increase the distraction level for Cleo — by asking him to still do exercises when he was worried or anxious due to windy days, new horses in the paddock, and so on. Cleo would often react by appearing to soften — but only for a moment — and then immediately trying to leave (either mentally or physically) when it was clear that Eric wasn’t fooled and was continuing to ask for Cleo’s participation in the work.
Eric has been careful to always maintain a calm, quiet tone with Cleo in his presentation. He doesn’t get ruffled if Cleo is evasive or showing signs of irritation (Cleo stamps his feet in frustration like a child when he isn’t getting his way). But Eric also doesn’t stop asking for a specific response until Cleo gives it to him. In that way, Eric allows Cleo to search for the right answer — and rewards him immediately when he finds it.
Eric is changing Cleo’s understanding of the role of people in his life. He is showing Cleo that people can be consistent, clear leaders — and he can rely on them to provide structure. This is what allows a young horse to develop true confidence in himself and in people.
Because Cleo is unusually smart and is very tuned into his surroundings, Eric initially adjusted his approach to include some warm-up activities before beginning his ground work sessions with Cleo. One exercise involves tying Cleo and leaving some slack in the lead rope. Eric then will signal Cleo with a lunge whip (that has a plastic bag at the end of it — so that it can act as a long flag) to move away from him and roll his hindquarters.
This exercise requires very careful and precise timing, to avoid putting too much pressure on the horse or inducing panic. At first Cleo would fling himself to the end of the lead line, lean against it, and try to tune Eric out. But he quickly learned that by rolling his hindquarters, he could yield to the “feel” of the lead rope while also reducing the pressure from the giant lunge whip flag (for Eric would immediately stop moving the flag when Cleo rolled his hindquarters).
Another variation on this exercise requires Cleo to face Eric squarely (without his head tipping to one side or the other — a sign that Cleo is preparing to exit). Once he has done that, the flag pressure disappears immediately.
Both of these exercises are of the “don’t try this at home” category — meaning that they do require a very seasoned and experienced handler to execute them properly. Eric has decades of experience with this type of work — plus works with mustangs regularly — so his timing and technique are finely honed.
When done properly, this exercise allows a horse to work through tension and evasion issues much more quickly — and sets up the horse mentally for the next ground work exercise (which usually is quite short, so as to not overwhelm the horse).
Eric has utilized ropes and lariats in his ground sessions with Cleo. In one exercise, he looped part of his long lead rope around the saddle horn. While he held the end of the lead rope on the ground, he asked Cleo to bend in the direction of the pressure — by matching Cleo’s resistance on the other end (plus four ounces more pressure).
If Eric tried to pull Cleo's head harder and force the bend, it would be very counter-productive (for both him and Cleo). Instead, he quietly matches Cleo's resistance (with that small amount extra) — and allows Cleo to search for the answer. It is especially hard for Cleo to bend on his left side - after this exercise, Cleo was able to make a big change and relax deeply. The long rope helps Eric work the exercise at a distance and not crowd Cleo during the process.
The next level of session involves a lariat. During another day, I watched Cleo stay calm and relaxed while Eric tossed a lariat at him — even carrying the rope quietly on his back while still trotting in even, consistent cadence. Eric eventually roped Cleo and did some ground work with just the rope on (no halter at all). Cleo showed great improvement in his softness and willingness to follow Eric's cues (or "feel"). And for the first time, Cleo was able to stop when asked and then voluntarily yield his hindquarters and bend to follow Eric as he stepped back (without any pressure on the rope at all). This was a huge moment for Cleo — as it shows his trust in Eric as a handler and also demonstrates his sensitivity and potential for lightness one day.
It can be time-consuming to put in all of these ground work sessions with a horse like Cleo. Many people might wonder why we just don’t saddle him up, mount, and “ride him down” to quietness. We don’t do that because it won’t work as well as Rancho Bayo’s approach. Sure, people might be more impressed by a flashy display of riding an anxious young horse into what appears to be submission. But at the end of the day, we won’t have accomplished anything — Cleo will be more worried, will trust people less, and will ultimately regress. This long, slow, “boring” work is what sets up a horse like Cleo for true success — because it gets at the root of his issues and rebuilds his understanding of the world, of people, and of how his body works.
Cleo will be back under saddle soon enough (in the next few weeks). And the first ride will be boring without any wild displays of worry or excitement — because Eric will have prepared Cleo for a successful, relaxed, and enjoyable ride.
That is what impresses us at LOPE.
Cleo is available for adoption now at LOPE. He would be a terrific project for someone who enjoys working with young horses and bringing them along slowly. Because of his intelligence and athleticism, Cleo will be a fantastic partner one day for a handler willing to be patient and gain his trust.
Call Me Cleo is a three-year-old chestnut TB gelding with a blaze. He went to a farm to begin his under saddle and race training in December — but didn’t show much aptitude for speed.
Cleo was home raised by a responsible and caring race breeder named Karen. She had waited an extra year to start him in training due to an injury. Cleo had a hind leg laceration as a two-year-old that was quite serious and required several weeks of care to heal properly.
Karen had bonded closely with Cleo while nursing his injured leg — he was a favorite of hers in every respect. When she received the disappointing news that racing was not going to be the ideal career for Cleo, she decided to donate him to LOPE. Karen was especially excited that Cleo would be going into our Racehorse Education Program to receive training and assessment from a professional trainer.
Rancho Bayo is one of LOPE’s favorite horsemanship facilities. We first heard of them at LOPE’s Annual Benefit Horse Show — a group of their riders swept the horsemanship awards two years in a row! It was clear that their program focused on in-depth horsemanship and foundation training (for both their horses and riders). Eric and Michelle of Rancho Bayo have decades of experience working with all types of equine training issues — and are patient, careful horsemanship teachers.
We were excited to learn that they had an opening in their training barn for Cleo! And so Cleo headed there on February 16. At that point, Cleo had about 45-60 days under saddle and training from a professional race training facility. Because of that and his young age, we knew Cleo would benefit tremendously from the foundation work at Rancho Bayo. Eric there is taking a slow approach with him — going over the basics of how to lead and ground work quietly, for example.
Cleo is a very intelligent young gelding with a cute face and athletic build. His hind leg healed well — other than a cosmetic scar, the injury left no damage that will impede his future as a riding horse.
At Rancho Bayo, they noticed that Cleo isn't confident about new situations. Whenever he is anxious, Cleo wants to make his own decisions about how and when to move away from the things that worry him. At first, Cleo will cling too closely to his handler for security — but then he'll get frustrated if the handler won’t allow him to take charge of the situation.
Cleo literally will stomp his feet like a cranky child when this happens. Eric simply redirects Cleo's energy in these moments — by asking him to something specific with his feet (like move to one direction in a specific way, for example). Cleo has already started to learn that foot stomping doesn't really get him his way (just like children do as well).
Eric is teaching Cleo that he needs to focus on Eric for guidance and not tune him out under pressure. What this means is that Eric will be kind and calm — but also will be a clear leader for Cleo.
At first, Cleo thought this was just a silly idea — why should he listen to Eric? Cleo thought it might be easier to step all over Eric's personal space or pull away from Eric on the lead rope instead.
In these situations, Eric smiles, stays relaxed — and quietly keeps directing Cleo until he understands what Eric wants. Interestingly enough, Eric doesn’t pet Cleo much during their ground work sessions (even though it is incredibly tempting, due to Cleo's cute face and sweet eyes). Eric wants Cleo to feel good about being near Eric and about listening to him — without needing to be petted or fussed over. Otherwise, Cleo might think Eric's main purpose is to pet or sooth him — which will only build the wrong response in Cleo at this time.
As I watched Eric work with Cleo during a session last week, I saw Cleo gradually become more and more relaxed. Like many young horses, he is still trying to understand the world (as well as how his own, rapidly-growing body works) — so it's hard for him to feel secure in every new situation. Eric is a patient, reassuring trainer — he gives Cleo consistent and clear guidance, so that Cleo can feel supported and understand what he is being taught.
Eric was careful to not overwork Cleo — he knows young horses need time and lots of repetition to master new skills. He allowed Cleo to stand near him and “soak” on the lesson they just worked on together (rather than quickly moving him into another round of activity before Cleo had time to process everything).
I liked Cleo’s state of mind at the end of the session. He was very focused on Eric (like an attentive student), but he also seemed to understand that Eric was there to help him.
This is a significant change for Cleo — and an important step in the right direction. Eric gave Cleo positive feedback immediately, to build on that moment and encourage Cleo to keep “trying” in that direction.
As a young horse, Cleo is still very much an open book. His breeder treated him with great kindness and made sure that he had the time he needed to recover from his injury. She also selected a good race training facility to start him under saddle. At this stage in his training, Cleo needs to be in a consistent routine and structure with a handler who will keep directing him toward success. For Cleo, this means that he needs to see the human as a trusted leader, to understand the boundaries of his role versus the human’s role, and to learn how to handle new situations while building confidence.
Cleo is available for adoption now and would be a good project for someone experienced with colt starting and foundation training. Please stay tuned for more updates on Cleo’s training progress!
For those of you who follow LOPE’s blog closely, it is familiar news that we have started a racehorse education program. Last year, we began outreaching to local professional trainers who wanted to work with LOPE — and they helped us form a training initiative drive. After ten years of our work, LOPE had learned some important lessons about the challenge of transitioning ex-racehorses into new homes — and to keep them less at-risk in the future.
We started with one horse in training — and by mid-February raised funds to place three horses in 30-day assessment training and register two horses to ride in clinics held by well-known horsemanship teachers. The group of trainers in our program now includes Laura Whitfield of Poseidon Sport Horses, Holly Flint of Flint Equestrian and Eric and Michelle Clark of Rancho Bayo. The clinics were taught by Tom Curtin and Peter Campbell. We hope to raise additional funds to expand the program — so we can send more horses to an even bigger group of quality trainers and clinicians.
Each of the trainers in the program gives LOPE a discount on training — and LOPE also pays board (just like a regular client) while the horses are in the training barn. LOPE of course covers the cost for vet care, farrier work, transport cost and so on. For the horses that are sent to clinics, most of them are at the LOPE Ranch (rather than in a training barn) and are ridden by me. Most clinicians don’t typically give discounts (though they will often spend extra time coaching the LOPE horse and rider team).
LOPE’s adoption fees typically range from $350-$1500. To get to the higher end of that range, a horse must have 1) been in training for eight weeks or more; 2) shown talent and aptitude for a particular discipline; 3) demonstrated a kind and extra willing temperament; 4) be up to date on dental, farrier and vaccinations. In our current group of adoption horses, we have two horses with adoption fees of $350, two with adoption fees of $650, two with adoption fees of one dollar (to excellent retirement homes only) and one with an adoption fee of $1200.
So far, our training and clinic costs alone for the program total significantly more than the all the adoption fees combined. This excludes boarding cost at the training barns, vet care expenses, farrier fees, transport/fuel expenses, and feed/hay cost (for those horses at the LOPE Ranch).
How are we able to make this training program sustain itself, if not by profit? And why do we continue to expand the program, if it isn’t financially rewarding to LOPE?
The answers are easy. LOPE is a nonprofit charity, not a for-profit business. Our mission is to help ex-racehorses find new careers after their track days are over — and our goal is to see these horses be less at-risk in the future. Training gives the LOPE horses job skills and a better chance of success for the long-term future. At the same time, by blogging about the training process, LOPE can also share what we are learning with a wider audience of equestrians — and maybe that will encourage some of them to take a chance on an ex-racehorse for their next riding project.
LOPE doesn’t make the program sustain itself — our generous sponsors, donors, and supporters do. The training initiative would have never happened without such enthused encouragement from our network of contributors, trainers, and fans. And each day that the program continues is due to their generosity and huge heart for ex-racehorses in need. Without them, LOPE could never afford to provide professional training for the horses in our care.
Huge thanks and deep gratitude to all the people who have made the racehorse education program possible at LOPE!