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[humanistic-horsemanship]

- A Psalm for the Wild-Built, Becky Chambers // kagonekoshiro

[humanistic-horsemanship]

17 June 2023

After a couple weeks off because of life being crazy, Kiara returned to work today with some simple cardio -- a groundwork exercise that I like to do a couple times per week to help build her topline and maintain her muscles.

This is a great routine for hot days or those times when I don't have a ton of time, because it is a quick and reliable way of making sure Kiara gets balanced exercise that won't cause her to overheat or get too frothy....it also gives her just enough to think about on the days she's a bit wound up to help bring her brain back into her body.

We warm up in 3's on the line: 3 laps at the walk, trot, and canter in each direction, and then back down. This is also my favourite riding warm up because it allows me to not only get her body nice and loose, but check her mind: if she has a hard time maintaining a walk or leaps into the canter, we should probably spend a bit more time on brain games, relaxation and focus work before starting any real training.

Today she was in a great place. Soft on the line; nice quiet, relaxed gaits at all three speeds and easily transitioned up and down. From here, we start our basic cardio exercise. I'm currently using one cavaletti at mid-height for this because the others were broken, but hopefully we'll be able to use two again soon! Once I have the cavaletti(s) spaced well, I put Kiara into a trot (at this stage, as long as she stays in the trot, her speed is up to her...she can either control herself from the get-go or speed around and make her own life a bit more difficult, depending how much energy she has) and lunge over the cavaletti(s) for a set amount of time in each direction. This can also be done as a riding warm up or an exercise under saddle. We're currently doing 7 minutes each way, with the end goal being somewhere between 10-15, depending whether this is our warm up or sole work for the day.

We finished our cardio, and I walked with her for a bit of cool down around the bridle path and down the driveway. We went into the indoor arena for a roll in the shade, did some hand grazing, and then grain and turn out. It was a great session and really nice visit! Very impressed with her lately...she seems to be feeling good!

[humanistic-horsemanship]

These are the places I dream of riding through 😍

x - x / x - x / x - x 🍃

[humanistic-horsemanship]

2 June 2023

Today was Kiara's second session with our new farrier. Nothing really much to say, other than Kiara's behaviour and body condition were both praised, and she got a glowing review of progress! Should only be one more corrective trim before we can return to a regular every other month schedule.

We ended our morning with a hose off because it was truly oppressively hot, and a good roll in the freshly dragged indoor arena. It's something that's always made me laugh, how many horse people complain about their horses rolling right after a bath or hose down -- if they're allowed to freedom to do so at all. I've always gone out of my way to bring my horses to the best sand available after a rinse specifically so they can roll! It has to feel so good!

For context, we had been using the same person for almost two years but when she stopped taking clients to go to vet school (which is awesome! She's going to rock at it!) we tried someone new who gave Kiara a pretty uneven trim that resulted in a very scary abscess. Almost two months of barely being able to walk later, Kiara, who had always been great with her feet (at least for me) was very nervous and sour with even lifting to be picked out. I finally got her back on track after a weekend of dedicated hoof handling, and we found a new trimmer who specialises in corrective trimming to get Kiara balanced again.

[humanistic-horsemanship]

1 June 2023

What a beautiful evening! It was HOT today, but with the sun setting it becoming much less oppressive after work. I'll be honest I wasn't in much of a mood for any heavy work, and I figured Kiara wouldn't be either, so I went out and caught her unsure exactly what we were going to do.

The barn was busy -- while we got groomed up I chatted with a mom and daughter who were playing with their new horse in a bareback pad and his new bitless bridle. The mom complimented me on Kiara and asked me how I trained her, and the daughter gushed over how pretty she is (she really is gorgeous!).

I decided to toss on my TCS and take advantage of Kiara's mellow mood and just do some basic suppleness exercises and maybe a little bit of work at slowing down her trot. We got tacked up and headed out to the arena just as one of my friends who recently moved in was pulling up, and we chatted a bit while I did a lunge line warm up. Kiara felt GREAT. Relaxed, responsive.

I hopped on, and did a few minutes of warm up weaving around the different obstacles that were currently set up around the arena. All on a loose rein with as little pressure as it took for Kiara to flick an ear and show me that she was paying attention to my direction with each turn. We then went into a trot, which was possibly the best under saddle jog we've had to date! I do give the heat a good bit of credit for this, but it was still really nice to have a few circles at a calm and collected seated trot, again on a nice loose rein. I twice had to give a gentle rein check when speed picked up, but she came right back down and settled into a very comfortable gait.

We did some "whoa/back" work after, and then I decided to risk the bridle path again. Since Kiara bolted on the track back on our old barn, I've been very nervous about riding her outside of an arena, and she's always been a little spooky without the security of a fence line. But my grand plan for her is to be a warrior trail pony, and maybe cross country, so we gotta start somewhere! And I am thrilled to say that she was an angel. Well, except for being a bit heavy trying to eat the grass on the perimeter of our path that came up to her chest...but who can blame her there. We got all the way down and back at a relaxed, head bobbing, rein swinging walk, and made it back to the arena to do just a bit more "whoa/back", some yields, and a couple drills to begin neck reining...just enough to reinforce that "barn" does not equal "session is over".

I rode for maybe 15-20 minutes total tonight, but the entire ride was so positive and more beneficial than an hour of heavy work would have been. Never be afraid to take an easy day! It does you both good.

[humanistic-horsemanship]

28 May 2023

I went to the barn today, and I didn't ride. That's not what Kiara needed or what would be most beneficial to our partnership today. Instead, we worked on relaxation and being present.

I got to the barn and prepared her grain like always, got out her tack and got her all groomed up, but something felt off...she seemed very distracted, and a bit elevated. I asked her [mind] to come back to me by jiggling her lead rope, and she went into high headed, ears forward, could-see-the-whites-of-her-eyes overstimulation. So, I untied her from the grooming station and asked her to come stand with me in the center of the arena. She gave a couple lick and chews and followed, but once we stopped walking she got worked up again. I stayed calm and asked her to stand with me, but she couldn't tolerate more than a few seconds.

Okay, we're very upset (over nothing that I could tell, but still enough for her) and restless. That's okay. So, I asked her to quietly move her feet in a more productive way, and she took off at a snorty, barely-not-a-canter trot in small, fallen-shoulder circles. After a bit of a yo-yo of trying to regulate herself, she spent the next probably 15-20 minutes circling me at a walk, looking around quietly and more or less calmly. Every few laps stopping and coming up for scratches before continuing on. As she circled I left her alone, only jiggling the lead if I could see her getting distracted or heightened. As soon as she gave me an ear or otherwise showed me that I got my signal, I stopped and let her be again. Each time, her head got a little lower and her face relaxed a bit more.

She went down for a roll, and then circled for another few minutes before she rolled again and sleepily looked over at me, as if saying, "cool. I feel better."

I could have, and a few months ago probably would have, tacked her up at this point and done a short ride to prove something along the lines of "being anxious doesn't get you out of work", coming from a place of my own anxiety fearing that if I let her "get away with it" today, she'd become unruly and act like a freak whenever she didn't want to be ridden. But that didn't feel right, and that's not actually how it works. Horses aren't conniving like that. And what was more important for me to teach Kiara today was that I was a place of security and safety, and someone who listens to her and takes her feelings into consideration. That I'd never ask more of her than she was ready or able to give, and that it was okay to have an off day. Quite the opposite, I actually view today as an incredibly productive session, even if it looked much different than I had intended!

I was at the barn today for almost two hours, and spent most of it just standing still and being present with my horse, supporting her finding her own mindfulness. This is what it means to "work with the horse you have today".

[humanistic-horsemanship]

24 May 2023

After a great ride on Monday, I got to the barn feeling pretty mellow but still excited to get some work done...what work that was going to be, I had no idea. I got my tack out anyway and went and got Kiara, who seemed to be feeling pretty good based on grooming and tacking up. We lunged a bit and she was ready to go, but responsive and -- for the most part -- attentive. So I hopped on. She wasn't as good about standing as she usually is, which told me she had some tension and nervousness, likely because the other horse that was being tacked up was taken out of the arena to work outside.

We did some flexion and she was beginning to come down and relax, when the barn owner's husband walks in and says he was going to take the tractor that we were standing next to to move some hay. Awesome. We walked to the other end of the arena and Kiara watched wide-eyed (but still) as the tractor pulled out, and we did a few laps at the walk to help bring her back down, flexing til she licked & chewed each time her head got a bit too high for comfort and I could feel her back hollow out.

And here's where I did something I wouldn't have done a year, or even likely a few months, ago: I got off. I heard the tractor coming back, and so did Kiara. I felt her start to get anxious and I asked her to flex to a stop, and after she stood for a few seconds I hopped off and stood by her side as the tractor came back through the arena, watching her closely and wiggling a rein to get her ear to flick back to me when I could tell she was starting to get very nervous. We then did a few laps in-hand around the arena while the tractor clanked around outside, stopping to flex and check in each time something happened that made Kiara start. A change in direction and a few more in-hand laps and her head began to drop back down, her became floppy. Relax. We stood relaxed for a minute or two, then I got back on. Kiara was in a better headspace than when I had mounted up the first time, and stood quietly. We did a couple laps at the walk, and I got off. Grain, hand graze, and turn out.

I was on Kiara's back for maybe a grand total of ten minutes today. But the session as a whole was so much more positive, productive, and valuable than it would have been if I'd stayed on her back and tried to "ride it out" when the tractor came back and I could tell she was getting worked up. This is the path she needs, and in many ways it's also the path that I need. Building up both of our confidence together, and strengthening that partnership and sense of safety with each other.

[humanistic-horsemanship]

Rambunctious Rainbows

I found Kiara as an untouched two year old in 2018, from an ad on the internet. She was out of an Amish bred haflinger mare and by a gypsy grandson of The Lion King (hence her name, Kiara), and when I drove out to meet her she was so afraid of people that she would turn and try to kick you in the head if you got within 8 feet of her. I'd been looking for my partner for months...and finding it next to impossible to find a project over the age of 18 months who wasn't already in saddle training (stop riding your effing two-year-olds). And I don't know, I saw something in this gangly little tangle-mane. She had something special...a spark. So I arranged transport and brought her home a few weeks later, at the end of August. I called her the Rainbow Pony. My little unicorn.

I spent the first two months of our time together just trying to get her to come up to me. I approached her almost as a do-over of Rain: using my hindsight to come at the gentling process in a new way. I sat with a pan of grain in my lap and just talked to her until she came over to me, and used the grain to associate me with good things. Within a few weeks I was able to inch close enough while standing to rub on her shoulder and spray some Vetericyn on the scratches she had developed from the record-levels of summer mud. The next week we spent our whole session -- and an entire bottle of concentrated detangler -- getting the dreadlocks out of her mane and removing some of the dry, cakey mud. The next week I opened the stall door, the following day I was able to clip a lead to the halter she came in and we stood in the open doorway. The next day we took a few steps out, and the next we were able to go for a little walk around the boarding stable, mostly bribing her with treats to follow me as she'd never learned how to lead. She did great! The next week we began some round pen work, and within a couple more I felt comfortable enough taking her halter on/off, having her hook on, etc. to finally be able to turn her out with the herd. She did a few laps of the pasture at a full gallop (which was adorable), and then came back to me. YES!!!!

The next year was spent on groundwork. So much groundwork...We focused on relaxation and eventually did full "lessons" in-hand, going around and through the different obstacles set up in the arena, and working on round penning cues & responsiveness before we began teaching to work on a lunge line. Lunging wasn't awesome at first...took some trial and error to not go skiing, but then one day it just clicked, and she went around light and quiet. This was maybe sometime around March/April of 2019. Our first stable had trail access, so I took her out on trail in-hand once a week or so and we jogged together through the woods (I miss that!). Sometime around June I introduced Rambo's english saddle to our lunging sessions, and that July I backed her for the first time. We did a few short rides at the walk, working pretty much only on steering and stop, throughout the summer and in November we moved to a new stable for Kiara's health. Our new place had a track, and we spent the winter doing long walks in-hand and conditioning on the line, and I didn't ride her again until March of 2020.

Quarantine was very good to us. I was home (fortunately my partner at the time had an essential job) and lucky enough that our new barn was in Wisconsin, so I was there every. single. day. Kiara was now 4 and I re-started her under saddle, and rode pretty extensively during that spring and summer. We did a lot of transitions, cue work, and work on the track. By the end of the season, whether or not we wore a saddle was up for debate each day. Again, come fall, we took the winter mostly off from riding, and I restarted her AGAIN in March or April of 2021, thinking now she was turning 5 and ready for proper work.

We hit training in the fall of 2021 hard because I was invited to go on a big group trail ride and wanted Kiara to be ready. Long story short, she was ready in time, but we were unable to go because of issues with the other horses. But I suppose that's neither here nor there. In October of 2021 my relationship fell apart, and I'll admit that after a few months of pretty severe depression, it was hard to get back to things. I spend the next while going out to see Kiara once a week, then every other week, then once a month. And her attitude began to show that inconsistency...she had lost her trust in her training, and in me. She was getting dangerously herd sour, reactive, and spooky, something she had never been before. In March of 2022 she bolted on the track when her herd -- her pasture lined the track -- began to follow us and started a stampede. I was not in control, had flashbacks to Rambo, and was afraid. Again. We finished our ride but this only made my own anxieties worse, which in turn caused me to go to the barn less and less. I did not get on her back again until September, and never rode on the track again.

Fast forward to winter of 2022. I was in a happy relationship, my job was stable, and I missed my horse. In January of 2023 I moved her to a new barn, a small, quiet place to home, and spent the next few months trying to find any kind of consistent schedule...I'll admit that her attitude towards her training after the years of relative sitting was giving me serious ethical issues about whether I should be riding or working her, or any horse, at all. She was family and I'd have her until she died, but maybe just as a pasture pet (or as my partner calls her, a big dog).

Then one day, just a few weeks ago, something in my mind flipped. It was like a woke up 7 years old again, and all I could think about was horses. I spent my days at work daydreaming about seeing Kiara in the evening and what we were going to do. We've spent the past month doing a groundwork refresher and some conditioning, and this week I started riding again. We're still dealing with the sourness and reactivity/spookiness from her time off, but it's getting better each day and my training is very much focusing on building back up her confidence (and my own). We have been truly embraced by the people at our new barn, and I can honestly say we have never been happier.

I'm currently trailer shopping to be able to take Kiara on adventures --first in hand, and then under saddle-- plan to register Kiara as a gypsy sport horse this summer, under the name Rambunctious Rainbows to honor my Rambo-boy, and I am considering starting some training for eventing, since she is a gifted little jumper and I could pay a month's board if I had a dollar for everyone who tells me she moves like a dressage horse.

[humanistic-horsemanship]

Rambunctious Maximus

During everything that was happening with Rain, I had fallen into a job with a local old cowboy and was once again "adopted" by him and his head wrangler. I worked their horses and rode in a horsemanship camp for the children of the nearby Ute tribe which was an incredible experience. During the camp, I was given the cowboy's personal horse Yancy to ride, who was basically the bay mustang version of Dally, personality wise. Back at their ranch, there was a scrawny four year old who was Yancy's half brother, and looked just like him. This horse, called Rambo, was currently terrorizing the ranch by repeatedly jumping out of the stud pen in which he was being kept (with 6 foot high fencing) and going on some conjugal visits with the rest of the herd. He was adorable, and once Rain was safe at her sanctuary I bought him and got him gelded. We stayed at the ranch for the summer and then moved to a barn in town that was easier to get to during the school year.

The next two years were some of the best times I've ever had with horses. Rambo, who I formally called Rambunctious Maximus because well, he was, was the partner I had been chasing. He hated groundwork and knew exactly how strong he was once he got to a healthy weight, but he was so fearless that I could take him anywhere. We played with cows, went riding all through the stable's adjacent BLM land, and I made a great group of horse friends who we rode with, finally giving me that Saddle Club experience I'd wanted since I was a little girl. Rambunctious was stubborn and had a habit of either running backwards or throwing a bronc-like tantrum when he didn't want to do something, but that felt familiar and reminded me of the horses I'd loved, so I didn't mind. He was a good boy and tried his heart out.

The summer after I graduated most of my horse group disbanded when our stable closed, so I moved to a smaller private place with my best friend where we had a great summer before she too moved away. Rambo shortly after got an injury on his tendon and was on stall rest for a couple months, and we finished our fall strong doing long walks through BLM land to get him healthy again. Winter that year again hit hard (which is common in the mountains), and since our current barn didn't have an outdoor, we were forced to take the winter completely off. I popped over to say hi whenever I could get down the driveway, but that was about all we could do.

Over that winter I had decided to attend grad school and was busy applying for different programs. As soon as the weather got nice enough, I enrolled Rambo in what I was calling a "boot camp", to get him ready to make a good impression wherever we ended up. I went out to work him almost every day, and we rode out every change we got. Unfortunately, much like Rain, over the winter Rambo had gotten a taste of the good life and wasn't ready to give it up. He did what I asked, he was a good boy, but he cried for his herd throughout our rides and would run back them when I turned him out, which I have to admit hurt my heart because he'd always been that horse who would follow my truck down the driveway.

Then one day while were on a ride, Rambo had enough. After one too many "try to turn and run home", he dipped his neck, tucked his shoulder, turned and bolted. He galloped full speed down the rocky hill, a cliff on one side, throwing his head down and bucking madly whenever I tried to bring up his head or slow him down. Eventually I got him to stop, jumped off to catch my breath, and mounted back up. He tried to pull it again, but I got him turned around and we walked on. Then about 20 feet later, he successfully did it again: full gallop, bucking wildly, almost throwing us both off the side of a cliff.

I was afraid to stay in the saddle for the first time in my life, and I didn't like it. This was my second "first horse" and once again I felt like I failed him. I was shaken and I didn't feel like I could trust my boy anymore. I could no longer bring him with me to grad school, but I couldn't sell him. In anyone else's hands he would be abused, and I owed him safety and happiness. Then I got an idea, and I made a call.

Now, Rambo is living free on the same mustang sanctuary as Rain, running with a band of bachelors and getting loved on as the sanctuary's ambassador to visitors, representing his proud heritage and getting the attention he enjoys along with the freedom of never being caught, worked or ridden again. Three years after he started his life there I was able to go out to visit him, and after a bit of a hike found his band grazing at the bottom of a canyon. I called to him, tears in my voice at seeing my boy so happy and healthy, and his head shot up. He whinnied to me, climbed the canyon and came running up to me. Horses remember. He hung out with me for five minutes or so, getting love and carrots as I sobbed in his face, before politely turning and going back to his band, quite literally walking off with them into the sunset. And I knew, no matter how badly I missed him, he was where he was meant to be.

[humanistic-horsemanship]

Rain Dancer

When I left for Colorado to go to undergrad, I was just starting to dive deep into horsemanship theory (having recently discovering Rick Gore, Monty Roberts and other now well-known clinicians on Youtube), and I wanted a "Colorado Horse" to really make my own. I found an 8 year old mustang mare who had been at a rescue since she was 3 who was "too proud" to ever be gentled, and went out to see her. I was in love. I spent a few hours with her and the rescue was shocked at the progress we made in such short time! She was delivered to me to foster a few weeks later, and I spent the next six months gentling her in the least invasive way possible...I was so in my head about what made good horsemanship that I was afraid to put really any pressure on her at all, and it took me that entire time to just get a lead rope attached to her halter, spending 2+ hours with her every day.

Rain truly did not have a mean bone in her body. She put up with me truly guessing and stumbling my way through the gentling process, and began to show an amazing and playful personality once I started breaking through her shell. We got to a point where she would walk up to me in her pen and I could easily halter her, walk her to the round pen, and do some hook-on work. She was beginning to make some wonderful progress, and I was starting to figure out what the heck I was doing...when a huge snowstorm pulled in to town and forcing the shut-down of her current pen.

The barn owner and I carefully moved Rain to the outdoor arena (that was over an acre in size), where she abruptly took off at a full gallop, ripping the lead rope out of my hand. She did not stop running laps for days, enjoying the newfound freedom and extra space. Unfortunately, enjoying it a bit too much. Even with all the progress we made, she never again let me get close enough to even attempt to grab her lead, especially with the feet of snow on the ground throughout the long winter season. I had to inform the rescue of the situation, and they came and got her in the spring.

The rescue transferred Rain and her sister Star to a Colorado mustang sanctuary that bordered their original homeland that summer, where they could both live out their days wild and free on thousands of acres, with dozens of other mustangs who just couldn't adapt to life in captivity.

[humanistic-horsemanship]

The One Who Got Away

After Buckshot I felt lost, and hopped from lease to lease for the next few years trying to find a good match. While I was at a show barn leasing another horse, I saw in the pasture probably the most beautiful horse I had ever seen: a huge, loudly dappled grey quarter horse, with an all black mane and tail. I found out he was one of 6 foundation bred AQHAs owned by a single boarder, and he hadn't been ridden in close to a year because she was focused on one of the others. So I reached out to her to set up a test ride, and ended up leasing Prince Poco Doc, or "Dally".

I don't think I have ever had more fun with a horse than I had with Dally. At this stable, I was "adopted" so to speak by two boarders: a reining trainer, and a barrel racer. We went trail riding together through the gorgeous system adjacent to the barn, and they each helped me start Dally in their respective disciplines. Dally, much like Buckshot, didn't love arena work, but really shined out on trail. He loved being the woods and was fearless. A dependable mount who I could ride for hours and would love every minute of it as much as I did. We raced with our friends, went out exploring just the two of us, and I developed a seat I thought only existed in Disney movies. I spent the next several years trying to buy him, but he was out my price range and ultimately was sold to someone else. He moved south and became her trail mount, and I hope, now 24, that he's happy in his new woods.

Dally is the horse that I've been chasing ever since I knew him: A solid, confident partner for trails and trying a little bit of everything.

[humanistic-horsemanship]

The Little Man

It's a long story, but the "finding a more reliable mount" didn't end up happening. I started instead exercising the lesson horses for the trainer who was giving Spirit and I lessons, and then my neighbor bought a new trailer...that came with a 12hh, late teens, half blind, leopard PoA who was meant to be a kid's horse but kept bucking them off. Buckshot. I asked my neighbor if I could play with him since he was just sitting around, and he bucked me off. Or more accurately, since he was as round as he was tall, he threw a couple bucks and lost his saddle. So, from then on we rode bareback.

I was enamored by little Buckshot. I spent hours with him every day after school, and for the few months he barely would even walk forward. Cue, BUCK. Cue, BUCK. Cue, a few steps, BUCK. What I eventually learned was that he was miserable in the arena. So we started going out to the field behind my neighbor's place and screwing around back there, and that's where he came to life. You had to mind him constantly or he'd turn and gallop back, and if I asked for too much he'd buck. But we spent the next year bonding and figuring each other out, and I discovered that I he loved speed as much as I did. When we were in the field, once he knew we couldn't turn towards home, I could drop the reins and he would just RUN. We found a little flat patch where I trained him for the keyhole barrel race, and we competed in a couple fun shows the following summer. We went on trail rides with our neighbor and whatever trainer was currently riding Spirit. And as he lost sight in his second eye, he trusted me to show him where to go. We even started jumping a little bit, which was a blast.

In the part of this story that I'm not proud of, my inability to let go of Spirit caused a falling out with my neighbor that lost me access to my beloved little man. He spent the next couple years being occasionally ridden by the other girls, and was eventually retired once he went fully blind, living out his days fat and happy in the pasture.

Someday I will have a leopard appy whom I will call Buckshot to pay homage to that awesome little pony.

[humanistic-horsemanship]

First Love

I was not born in a "horsey family". I didn't grow up on the farm, and my parents didn't ride. They in fact just enrolled me on a whim in a weekend riding camp when I was five, and I caught the bug. I immediately started taking lessons in English and did a few little shows. When I was around 7, the rest of my class was starting jumping which made my mom very nervous, so instead I was switched over to Western. I didn't think anything of horsemanship, other than I preferred to be bareback, and wanted to be on a loose rein. And as every little girl who catches the horse bug, I desperately wanted my own.

When I was 10, the barn I where I was taking lessons had a very special colt born into their foal crop: a little half-arabian buckskin, born to the palomino pony that I rode for lessons. Again, as every little horse girl would, I dubbed him "Spirit" and started pestering pestering my parents. And he was in my life for the next three years.

Young Spirit went through phases of being pure black, a greyish-gold, and finally settled into a gorgeous deep, sooty buckskin, and had just as many shifts in his personality. He was way too much horse for me, but he was my love and my life, and when he was three my parents sent him off to be started under saddle, which apparently was quite a production. The guy who finally took the job was a retired stunt man who had trained horses for movies. I wasn't there the day the trainer came to meet him, but I was told Spirit bolted and ripped the lead out of his hand. Apparently the guy laughed, and said "sure, I'll give him a go!" Spirit was broke out, and I use that term quite intentionally, over that summer and was ready to come home in the fall, where we were able to board with one of our neighors. I was taking lessons on him, and it was maybe a month or two in when my trainer asked if I wanted to try for my first canter on my horse, and I was like "heck yea!!" and he bucked. Looking back on it, it was just a little kick from a very green horse who hadn't been cantered in over a month, but little me took it hard. I had spent the past three years having people tell me Spirit was crazy, that he was too much horse for me, that we'd never work out. And that little buck told me that all those people were right, and I was crushed. He was sold shortly after that, luckily to the same neighbor who was boarding him, with the pitch that we would find me a more reliable mount.

I took the loss of Spirit HARD. I mourned him to the point of being unable to say or even hear his name for years, and had to watch helplessly as different trainers came and went, each trying to do something new with him that he just wasn't into. He eventually found a woman who did Parelli who was able to calm him down at about 12 years old, and ended up being a decent trail horse for my neighbor and the various girls she had come ride for her. I got to ride him a few times when I came home from college, and he was truly a blast to run around on.

My inner child still feels a sense of responsibility for Spirit (even though he hasn't been mine for around 18 years), and I still drive past my old neighbor's farm once in a while, just to make sure he's safe and still in her pasture where he belongs. I am convinced that every crazy, "impossible" project horse I have worked with since is my inner child trying to heal the feeling of failing her first horse.

[humanistic-horsemanship]

Humanistic Horsemanship

I came up with the idea for Humanistic Horsemanship in 2016-ish when I was in grad school, studying psychology. I was particularly taken by the teachings of Carl Rogers, the founder of person centered therapy (a humanistic theory), who said that all that was needed for therapeutic transformation was empathy, positive regard, and time. I was reading one of his books on the train home one night and thought "wow, that's exactly how I feel about horses!" And immediately "humanistic horsemanship", meaning quite literally "horse-centered horsemanship". Essentially, this was based in the core belief that your horse is an equal partner in your activities together, and should be respected as such, instead of being treated as a subservient or even worse, sporting equipment.

They have thoughts and feelings that need to be the focus of your training and time together, instead of an afterthought. This also includes...

-allowing them to be a horse and live a natural lifestyle outside with friends 24/7

-unblanketed and allowed to be woolly when the weather calls for it

-barefoot

- trained without force or micromanagement, with gentle equipment, and --in my personal opinion-- bitless.

The horse's lifestyle, state of mind, and sense of choice in their training were paramount.

I spent the next few days writing up the rules and philosophy of my new horsemanship theory, making my website, and setting out to get some training clients. I was beside myself excited and was ready to change the world....except I learned very quickly, as we all I'm sure know, if there is one world that that is resistant to change it is the horse world. They weren't ready and I didn't have any competitive accolades or even a successful proof of concept. So I needed a proof of concept. And after dreaming about the perfect partnership for the next year and a half, the second I graduated in 2018, I set out to find the perfect blank-slate project horse to be my partner and the face of Humanistic Horsemanship.