Horse Story Favorites
I haven’t heard from a lot of you in a while now and have come to the conclusion that it must be my fault for just not including you. And so I’ve decided to start a new blog called , “Horse Stories”. If you have a story that is hilariously funny or incredibly scary, I want to hear it. The best story at the end of January will get a personal gift from me.
To start off, I thought I’d tell you about one of my favorite lessons ever. This is absolutely true, but I will change the names to protect the innocent. :)
I was teaching a clinic at a private small farm in North Carolina owned by one of my very good students who had moved to begin his own training business. It was on about 10 acres with a cute small barn and my student was clearly trying very hard to make a good impression on me and the others who were in attendance.
He rode into the arena which was set at the far end of the 10 acre field at a walk and just as he was almost to X, this big gelding simply turned around at the walk and calmly began to make his way, step by step, back out of the arena, across the field, through the only slightly open gate (imagine my friend with his long, skinny legs hiked up on top of the saddle so they wouldn’t get rubbed off on the fence), into the barn and into his stall. Now, this did not happen without an effort to stop it from happening. My friend was using every bit of strength he had in his arms to pull back on the reins or to turn this moose in horse’s clothing back, while I was somewhere between dumbfounded and hysterical laughing! I mean, he didn’t take off running - he didn’t even break to a jog for one tiny step. It was like watching a plow horse marching through deep mud to sew a field as, step by very slow step, he walked back to his stall.
Well, that meant war! This plug had to go right back to that arena and learn his lesson and go to work. On went a lunge-line and out came the lunge whip and off we went out of the barn and back to the arena. I even closed the gate on our way back through, in case the culprit tried to get away from me and fly back toward the barn. All went well until we arrived back at the arena and, once all four feet were safely inside, I unsnapped the lunge-line.
And just like watching an elephant in slow motion, the beast turned again and began his march, stepping over the edge of the arena while my friend, now with both hands on the left rein and his feet up on the dashboard, did all he could do to absolutely no avail. Now I know I should have been horrified and done something heroic, but all I could do was laugh at the top of my lungs as my friend was again being taken back across the field to the gait which, of course, was now closed. At this point I realized I had to do something so I ran to help bring him back again, but the closed gait really pissed the big oaf off and he changed his plan which was now to scrape my student off along the fence. Once again, with one leg hiked up above the saddle, the horse’s plan B was foiled. That is, until he got his eyes on the cluster of trees in the center of the field. And off he walked. like a Sherman Tank, directly into the trees to deal with his unbelieving would-be master, knowing that, once in the middle of all those branches and tree trunks, my friend would be no more than a pesky fly to get rid of. And he was right. Off came my student, just before being done in by a low hanging branch, and the war most assuredly had been won. Horse 2, Human 0!
Sometimes, though I love horses, I have the responsibility to tell people the words they would rather not hear - like this just might not be the right one for you, or maybe you should try jumping it. In this case though, I could only come up with one bit of wisdom. As fall was almost upon us, I told my friend to go out and by a large set of antlers, glue them on this animals head somehow, and let him out in dear season with hopes that some half blind hunter might put us all out of our misery! (Only joking ….. don’t start writing in from PITA, ok?) I still laugh out loud when I think of that lesson.
Cheers!
RD
Me — December 30, 2009 @ 1:32 am
Those who know me, know this story……
about 20 yrs ago, I was riding in one of my first clinics ever - with Bonny Bonnello. She was tough, and my horse was NAUGHTY.
I had the lesson right after lunch and with the bleachers filled with people (which were placed inside the arena) we proceeded to work on going more forward to get handle on my very spooky horse. Left rein was the problem since our 20m circle would get considerably smaller on the bleacher side of the arena - we were sent off to go MORE forward in canter. and more spooking and MORE forward. Being extremely nervous and now totally embarrassed, and since you NEVER stop until you are told to do so, I kept going. That is until I couldnt stand it any longer and had to stop - which Bonny yelled and YELLED, but I had to stop and throw up over my horses shoulder. I had stressed myself out so badly.
Cant remember anymore of the clinic.
So when you think you are having a bad show or a bad ride, I can say this is worse and TOTALLY embarassing. ……. though the walking bolter is a funny one.
dlh — December 30, 2009 @ 7:59 am
good laugh Robert! well written.
mary — December 30, 2009 @ 9:59 am
My first rated dressage show was at Temple Farms, beautiful, but very open show grounds. I mounted my 17+ gelding and headed to my lesson with a prominate trainer, as I started to go to the warm up my horse leapt, bucked, reared, and carried on, then the trainer said “get the longe line” and spent my entire lesson time with him running tail cracked over the back. to my dissapointment that was the session, however we had a terrific show so nothing lost :)ps. that horse walk bolted at times also and did it looking like he was on the bit!
john deppen — December 30, 2009 @ 10:54 am
Although I have Numerous stories {as most of us do}, the most recent event took place at my farm this past summer. I had an appointment to show my 17.2hh gelding to a prespecitve buyer. After long conversations and tons of emails, I had expressed again and again that this is a sport horse and requires someone who is a strong/advanced rider and can manage his big gaits. And, that he is schooled in dressage. The day finally came to show him for sale….the lady came with 3 other poeple, (husband, money man, and what seemed to be an appraiser?) This lady did not bring her saddle or helmet nor was she turned out to ride, I asked “Where’s your equipment?” she stated I didnt know to bring it. (RED FLAG #1). Hmmm, i said, “have you ever ridden a dressage horse?” she said “no but I have always wanted to!” (RED FLAG #2). And my last comment was “You dont look fit enough to ride a mule - are sure?”
I should have ended it right there but I wanted to see her go as she stated what an amazing rider she is - since she owns 6 horses. I put her on my horse (in the lungeing arena) with break-away stirrups, helmet, buck strap, and a release form signed. As we began the try-out, she was so out of sorts at the walk she almost tipped off - I said, “Are you sure you’re okay?” - OH YAH!! He’s awesome!! she stated. After 15 mins of walk and some suspicious trotting, she begged to go to the out door arena. So, off we went to the arena. I told her to just walk him on the path around the lunge arena and meet me at the gait. I turned to open the paddock gait to the arena - looked back and there she was face down and ass up on the gravel…..!!!!! Now Im pissed, my horse is looking at her as if she is a round bale of hay and walked back to his stall. I said her what the F@#k was that? she stated - “I thought he was going to jump the fence” - “Really, a 6 ft fence, if he did - his price just went up”- was my response.
This lady laid ther for 2 hours crying in a lump of sand, (as a former EMT Paramedic) I checked her out and ask if she wanted an ambulance. “NO NO - Im just so emberassed!”
After all was said and done - she called me for weeks still wanting to buy the horse. WOW!!!!!!!!! There was no way I was selling him to that lady.
lita dove — January 2, 2010 @ 12:42 pm
Umpteen years ago, I was working for Hilda Gurney. One day, she decided to load up Keen, her Olympic and world everything horse and her younger GP prospect of that time, a gray TB named Ahoy, equally as large as Keen–over 17 hands.
Everything started out well. I met Hilda at her barn, she assured me everything was ready and all we had to do was load the horses.
Off we went, to accomplish ‘taking the horses away from home and working in strange arena’ the week before a show.
The riding academy we chose, Foxfield, has beautiful grounds for jumping and even cross-country. The dressage arena requires parking on one side of the property and crossing a wide ditch to get to the arena.
The original plan was that Hilda would ride Keen, and I would be on Ahoy through the ditch to the other side where the arena lay.
But close examination of the trailer proved that there was only one bridle and saddle packed.
So Plan B: I would lead Ahoy through the ditch, and we would change tack over there by the arena. In this way, I could watch and act as informal eye on the ground.
But the recent rains had created a deep stream where there usually was just a long, wide ditch. Too deep for me in my breeches and paddock boots.
Never at a loss, Hilda switched to Plan C: She would give me a leg up on Ahoy who would now only be wearing his fly sheet and halter. She would hold on to his halter and LEAD us across the stream.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Everything went great until we actually left the halt position — which is to say, as soon as we took one step.
Ahoy was very sensitive-skinned at the best of times, and certainly did not like the nylon fly sheet rubbing him even though I tried to sit light and still. But he stood fairly quietly, glaring around at me out of the corner of his eye to let me know he was not happy with the way events were going. Hilda mounted Keen, we started to walk off.
Suddenly, all the 17 + hands under the fly sheet started pitching and bucking and squealing and rearing.
Hilda yelled over the din–” Get off him!” Both horses were now rearing and carrying on. I really only ever rolled off left–and that would put me between two sets of enormous front hooves.
“I cant,” I squeaked, “I only know how to roll off left!”
Hilda yelled, “Jump off to the RIGHT!”
“I don’t know how” I yelled back, sliding all over the nylon sheet, Ahoy taking offense at the idea that I would try to hold on to the neck piping to keep from being pitched off.
“DO IT” she commanded.
So I did.
It wasn’t smooth in the same fashion as when I rolled off left (over the years, since unruly ponies etc., I had learned to tuck and roll and go blank, landing soft and mentally empty, so not too bad). But this time I stayed awake and…landed not very soft.
And so, we marched back to the trailer, where Hilda had me hold Keen while she tied Ahoy and fixed his haynet.
“So,” she said in a grumpy tone, “you will just sit here with Ahoy and I will go over BY MYSELF.”
I knew something was not right when she pulled out a jar of Furacin and smeared it all over my right elbow.
“Prevention” she muttered, “it’s scraped up.”
She shook her head. Even Plan C had gone out the window.
It only became clear that something was really wrong when we returned back to her barn, put the horses away–and Hilda offered to ride my horse for me. By that time, my right arm felt sort of stiff, and sort of hot. Still–who was I to refuse such a rare gift? Hilda never rode my horse.
I thanked her, took him from her when she was done, put him away, checked all the horses and went home.
I took a shower, and then, finally, looked in a mirror at my arm–and nearly fainted dead away!
It looked as though I had TWO elbows on my ballooned right arm!
Frantic that my husband not see this, I rigged ice packs and fastened them with an ace bandage and standing wrap over that. I figured I had two hours, and that should hopefully get the arm down enough to put on some kind of puffy long-sleeved shirt outfit so we could go to whatever record company press deal we had to go to that night.
Which is what came to pass, thank heavens.
And so another adventure with horses worked out OK!