Training Tip: Drop the Excuses Around Your Horse

When I was teaching clinics, especially at the beginning of my career, the following scenario would happen often.

“Clinton, I just wanted to come find you and talk about my horse.” The demeanor of the woman standing in front of me would be timid, almost apologetic, and her overall manner would be very soft-spoken.

It’d be early in the morning on the first day of the clinic. I wouldn’t have met the participants yet and wouldn’t even know which horse was hers, but I could have guessed what she was going to say even before she said it.

Sure enough, she’d say, “I just want to spend a little bit of one-on-one time with you before we get started.” She’d shift uncomfortably and glance back at the group of horses behind her. “You see, my horse has been abused. And because she’s been abused, she gets very upset about certain things.” She’d stand there, waiting for my reaction. I’d nod.

“Because my horse has been abused, she has these little fits from time to time, and I just want to let you know about this so you’ll understand what’s going on with her. And I just wanted to let you know why she’s probably not going to be able to do what all the other horses can do, because they haven’t been abused. She’s probably going to need some special adjustments to these exercises—and you may even want to change what we do at this clinic a little bit to allow for her needs.”

I’d look at the lady and say, “You know what? That’s terrible. I’m so sorry that your horse was abused.” I’d look in the direction of the horse, then back at the lady. “Um, is your horse being abused anymore?” Her eyes would widen with shock. “Oh no, heavens no!” she’d say. “I would never hurt my horse!”

I’d smile and say, “Right. Well then, today’s a good day, because your horse is no longer being abused.” I’d pause for a moment and say, “I’ll tell you what I want you to do.”

She’d move a step closer, so as not to miss a word of the special instructions I was about to give her.

“I want you to act like you just bought this horse from me this morning,” I’d say. “You don’t know where she came from, you don’t know how old she is, and you don’t know how much she’s been ridden. You have zero history on this horse.”

She’d take a step back. Her shock would turn into confusion. “Why?”

“What you’re doing is you’re carrying around all these big bags of excuses for why your horse acts the way she does,” I’d say. “As long as you keep carrying around these big bags of excuses, your horse is never going to get any better.

“If this horse was abused by humans,” I’d continue, “and the horse was starved and beaten every day for a year, and we took her out of that environment and put her in a brand new pasture across the road with 10 new horses—horses she had never met before—would those horses treat your horse any differently? Would they say, “OK, everybody, listen up! Nobody eats until this new horse has had all she wants—just look at how skinny this poor little thing is. No, no, NO! She gets the shelter—she’s been homeless! Stop it! Everybody leave this horse alone! She just needs love. She needs caring. She needs cherishing.” I’d look at the lady and she’d be laughing. “Would the other horses do that?”

“Well, no, I guess they wouldn’t,” she’d say.

“Right!” I’d agree. “Those 10 other horses would not treat your horse any differently whatsoever. They’d still kick her, they’d still bite her, and they’d still chase her around. And then again, she might chase them around! She might even be number one in their pecking order!

“My point is, those horses are not going to treat your horse any differently whether she’s been abused by humans or not. So if horses don’t treat each other any differently when one of them has been abused, why should we treat them any differently?”

At this point, what I was saying would make sense, so I’d continue, “What I want you to do in this clinic is pretend that you just bought this horse from me today. Let’s say that I don’t know anything about the horse because I won her last night in a poker game, and I was drunk and can’t remember any of the details. So this morning, I’m selling her and you just bought her from me. Here’s your horse.” I’d pretend to hand her an imaginary lead rope.

“OK,” she’d say. “But what do I do when she acts up?”

“If you just go out there today in the clinic, and every time you want to make an excuse for why your horse is misbehaving, you remember that you don’t know why she’s misbehaving, because you don’t know anything about her, you’ll be amazed at what will get done.”

I’d watched her amazement grow over the next three days as her horse quickly responded and soon began to behave just like all the other horses.

It’s a scenario that repeated itself too many times to count in clinics I taught, especially in the early years of my career. As I got more established and the Method took off, people began to realize that they didn’t need to and shouldn’t treat their rescued horses any differently than any other horse.

When you treat an abused or rescued horse just like any other horse, it is absolutely amazing to see how quickly the horse comes around and starts acting like every other horse. He just turns into a regular old broke, respectful horse. And, almost without exception, this change occurs very quickly.

On the other hand, the more people protect these horses, the sillier and sillier the horses get. All horses want a leader who helps them get their four basic needs—safety, comfort, food and stimulation. The catch is that you have to be worthy of the leadership role. Horses will only follow a leader they respect and trust. If a horse doesn’t think you’re up to the task, he takes matters into his own hands.

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