Horses Aren’t Pets

When I went to get Tweed this morning, he was an asshat agitated. 

Yesterday, we went to the park in a mild windstorm. I figured if we wait for good weather in Spokane, we won’t be riding much. Was he happy about it? No. But he wasn’t an asshat bad. 

Unfortunately, when we arrived at the park, in the mild windstorm, there was also a loose dog barking at me. It was dragging around a long line, and it had on a blue bandana, and a collar. I spent about ten minutes catching it, then tying it to a tree for the park rangers. 

When the park rangers arrived, they scared the dog and he broke free again. 😳

(The dog is watching)

When I finally went to get Tweed unloaded, he was shaking from head to foot. Luckily, I had tied him my trainer’s way, and was able to unload him safely.

We worked a few obstacles, stray dog following us around with his long lead line and also a dark, ominous wall of clouds closing in on us, then went home. 

Fast forward to today, it was sunny and calm, but Tweed wasn’t excited about seeing me show up. At all.

He had quit our team. (Which is where the team analogy breaks down a bit, but we won’t go there.) 

Instead, as I was driving to the park, and seriously questioning my life choice to be a horsewoman, I was reminded of something I’d been told before, but never entirely believed: horses aren’t pets. 

When Tweed chose not to come to team practice…the other horses were out eating fresh grass, and it wasn’t fair!…I had to smack his hind end with my lead rope until he gave me his attention. It took a few moments and was a battle of the wills. I even wondered if I could win our little battle. But he turned to me and got haltered, led out, spooked, did circles, loaded, and off we went…again.

So yeah, horses aren’t pets, I get it—but what are they? And had all this consistency, rain, shine, wind, cows, dogs—made Tweed sour? 

Had I ruined him?

My mind was in a spiral of thoughts like that and I was extremely discouraged. 

You’d think, after all these years, I’d have learned the lesson that is most true with horses: it is always darkest before the dawn. Things are always at their worst, and most hopeless, before they improve. About the time you hit rock bottom, your horse becomes a completely different horse. In Tweed’s case, it was a 180 shift in less than 15 minutes. 😳

Maybe our little battle in the stall was all it took to enforce my boundaries and get his respect. 

The little things…like snatching grass when we’re leading them. Tweed was doing that, too, and my trainer told me not to yank his head, but to put his feet to work every time he reaches down for it. It’s ignoring us and becoming their own boss, even though it seems innocent.  

Anyway, whatever fixed his attitude, we only needed a very short warm up, then we were able to practice walk, trot, lope transitions in saddle. Open and close the gate. Proceed to the arena, and close that gate. Walk, trot and lope there. Open the gate, and ride out to the obstacle course. 

Tweed was GOLDEN. Like, no one would have recognized he was the same horse that greeted me with his butt. 

Tomorrow is our lesson at home, and home is harder. It just is. The other horses are a huge draw. The cows with bags are scary. 

Then, I haul Epona down to training and spend the next day at the partnership clinic.

This will be the last post until after that.

Fingers crossed that calm Epona and GOLDEN Tweed show up for the next three days