BOGO

Yesterday I worked Bogo in the round pen. He is a three year old here for breaking and training. When he first arrived I felt that he was a bit immature for training, mentally and emotionally. He came to us exhibiting very coltish behavior; nipping and kicking for fun and in anger. That was two weeks ago.

In these last two weeks, Bogo has found focus. Bogo has also learned that he is not allowed to bite or kick a human for any reason. When he bit we would immediately pinch his top lip and tell him "No!" very sternly. When working with him we carried a short crop so that any attempts to kick were met with a swat on the offending leg and the stern "No!" was repeated. At first these things were met with shock and then, after he came to expect them when he misbehaved in either of these two ways, acceptance.

So yesterday in the round pen was the very first time he leveled and focused solely on me and the lesson. His gait changes, lead changes, stops and starts were smooth as silk. His little ears stayed attuned to my voice and he remained calm and on task. This is a major, major accomplishment for Bogo. We struggled in the beginning because he had the attention span of a gnat and after 10 minutes was bored. Boredom makes Bogo an unruly boy. We kept the lessons at fifteen minutes each, twice a day, for the first week. Then the lessons moved up to a half an hour in the morning and fifteen minutes in the evening.

Most of these lessons were spent on the basics. A lot of people want you to be riding their horse within the first week. They don't understand that if the basics are taught and respected that you get more of a well-rounded, respectful, and willing mount. We want every horse to have the concepts of longing, vocal commands, the "stand" command, and respect of our personal space (including not entering it with teeth or hooves). Once this is accomplished we add tack piece by piece and do some sacking out. This is usually a ten to twelve day process, depending on the horse. Then, and only then, will we ride.

When the horse has a concrete "stand", meaning that he will not move when saddled, bridled, mounted, dismounted, or when he is told to "stand" and then the person walks away, he is ready for me to get on. The stand command is one of the most valuable things you can teach a horse. Two examples:

1.) we took on an eleven year old gelding who was a chronic bucker. I'm not talkin' crowhoppin' either. He could flat out buck. I worked with him on the ground for over three weeks before Dustin got on the first time. He rode him for two weeks at a walk in the round pen, reining and doing starts and stops. There were tense moments but he never offered to buck. When The time came to trot though it was a whole different ballgame (or should I say rodeo?). I was on the ground in the middle of the round pen while Dustin rode him around the rails. Dustin nodded to me - our signal that he felt confident enough to trot and that he was set in case something went wrong. I asked the gelding for a trot. He lifted his head and quickened the pace but didn't change gait. I asked again. He trotted two steps and EXPLODED. I stood in the middle of the round pen with my mouth hanging open. I could believe that horse was getting so much air. He was the Micheal Jordan of bucking AND Dustin was hanging in there. Suddenly, I came out of my shock and I hollered "STAND!" in a commanding voice. That horse froze mid buck and stood. He was still set to go off like a bomb; eyes rolling, nostrils flared, chest heaving, and as I drew closer I half expected to hear a low thrum of an electric charge running through him. He was strung tight. I approached and put my hand on his nose. We just stood there, the three of us. I had to remind him to stand a few times but as the minutes passed, he relaxed. We started over. This time when asked to trot he trotted out nervously but with no buck. He went home comfortable in all gaits and with a concrete stand.

2.) I was taking a new mare that had just completed her training on a trail ride. We went into some trees that were new to us and she stepped into some old barbed wire laying on the ground, tangling it around her feet. She wanted to run away from this ouchy stuff and she sure as hell didn't want to stand still while it bit her but I gave her the command and she stood very nervously while I talked to her gently and cut all of the wire away. Turns out to only be superficial wounds but it could have been much worse if she had struggled.

So, I want the stand command down pat before I ride. When I have that, we ride in the round pen for 10 days and then take the remaining time to ride trails and fields. Bogo is about five days into the round pen riding. He is transitioning smoothly, has a wonderful "whoa", and is proving that he's a pretty smart fella. He also is doing great on the stand command. He is easily distracted and he gets bored quickly, however, he will stand for two full minutes before getting bored enough to risk getting in trouble and moving. For a three year old baby, two minutes is pretty darn good.

As he is progressing, he is learning that it is not only being in the round pen that signals work and focus. It's me, too. He is learning that when I put the halter on, pick up the lead, and we walk out of his run, that he is on the clock. Many people have trouble transitioning from the round pen to riding out in the world. I think if you take the time to properly teach a horse what is expected, earn his trust, and make sure that he has a thorough knowledge of all of the cues and commands that you shouldn't have much trouble.

Bogo's owners are coming next week to try him out. I will let you know how it goes.

Why we do what we do....

We rescue horses. We are not a non profit. I was informed by the state office in Topeka that you cannot run a non profit and a business from the same address and so we decided that, while we have a passion for rescue, we really loved breaking and training, giving lessons, and helping people with their horses too much to give it up.

Therefore, we rescue out of our own pocket. All of the hay, feed, hoof care, medicine, vet bills, blankets, halters, leads, supplies, and training are provided for these horses with no financial assistance from anyone. That’s okay. We feel that it’s important work and the results more than compensate for our financial loss.

The economy has gotten to the point that many people find themselves no longer able to care for their horses. These people love their horses just as much as the next guy but most of them understand that their feelings are insignificant when it comes to paying for food and board. Love won’t buy grain, as much as I wish it did :). Most people are able to find their horse a new place before it gets too bad. Before they loose weight, their feet get overgrown, they develop a pot belly from worms and poor nutrition.

But what about those poor horses that exist in these conditions daily? What about those that are starved and neglected because the people charged with their care simply don’t?

The following story is graphic and cruel as well as the pictures.

We received a call in April from a woman that was frantic. She lived in Oklahoma and because of the drought there last summer was boarding her horses out of state. Because of the number of horses she was forced to find a new place to board in March. On March 8th she placed her horses in the care of Dennis and Danny out of Douglass, Ks.

In the six weeks that they were there she had four horses die. Because she was out of state and dealing with issues from her father’s death, the owner of the horses took the word of these men that one of her horses had died from West Nile Virus. When the others died she got suspicious and began to try to find another place for them. The problem was getting a trailer and the people to load twelve horses and relocate them.

You see, the men had told her that the horses would be placed on sixty acres of pasture and that they would board them for $150.00 for all. Yet, in the six weeks that they were there the horses were never placed on this pasture and were instead supposedly fed hay. This were billed to the owner of the horses, as well as the disposal fee for the ones that died, wormer for the other horses, farrier costs, alfalfa hay (that one of the men admitted he wouldn’t have fed to his own cows - but he fed it to her horses [allegedly]) and several other things. In the short six weeks that the horses were there she paid out right around $1500.00.

Take a look at these pictures and tell me what you think. We rescued these horses on a Friday. Some of these photos were taken Friday night and the others Saturday morning.

8 Yr Old Tennessee Walking Horse Stallion

This little gray stud was the first of the horses to be loaded. The men pulled him out from a stall, trying to hurriedly shut the door before I saw the condition inside. I, however (with my lightening quick reflexes *snort*), did see inside and wasn’t shocked, just appalled, at the knee deep manure and filth and the pitch black darkness of the interior. Indeed, when they led him out he squeezed his eyes shut and stumbled around blind for a few minutes until his poor eyes adjusted. He shuffled over to the water tank drinking in great slurping gulps until, afraid for him, we pulled him away. I was told that he needed his teeth done and that they couldn’t keep weight on him. My thought was that you don’t need teeth to drink water. After he’s been here for the last four days I can tell you that he’s eating fine. In fact, he hasn’t stopped eating since he got here and is working his way up from all the hay he can eat to hay and grain.

A three year old pony gelding (the black) and a yearling sorrel colt.

Poor baby.

This is an eight year old QH mare, sweet as she can be.

Four year old QH filly.

Six year old mare.

These are just a few of the pictures that were taken. Do you see the sunken eyes, raised backbones, protruding ribs and hips? This is why we do what we do. Twelve down, how many more to go?

Seriously folks, do you know how much twelve horses eat? How much more “non-profit” can we get, lol!

Please feel free to comment. Tell me what you do to help others or why you don’t.

Why my horse is the most horribly behaved beast on the place...

She was six months old when I saw her for the first time. I was hugely pregnant with our youngest son and we went to the auction to pick up a saddle for our oldest who was then four years old. I had stood up, hoping to ease my back, when there was a squeal from just outside the door of the sale pen and chaos erupted.

It took the form of a small coal black filly. Only six months old, it nonetheless to six - count ‘em - SIX full grown men to “persuade” her into the auction barn. Chest heaving, nostrils flared, perfect little ears swiveling all around and pinning straight back to her head when someone came close, her coat patchy and missing in places….She was beautiful.

I looked up at my husband. He was grinning until he saw my face. I saw his heart sink like a poor little rock. Let’s see, he describes it as a “eyes glazed over and brimming with hope” type of look. I know he can’t say no to it. He said, “Oh, honey. You don’t really….” He trailed off when I nodded.

Well, he’s a good man. He nodded, sucked in a deep breath and bought me the scrubbiest, wildest filly in the whole place for $75 (which was unheard of cheap in those days!!).

I named her Luna, which means “moon” in Spanish, for the white sliver of a crescent moon on her forehead.

It took me forever to tame her down. She was a Houdini and would open gates, crawl through, jump over, and sometimes I swear, she belly crawled under fence. Intelligence shone from her like a beacon of light but was contrasted by the most stubborn nature I had ever seen.

The very first time I cinched up a saddle on her she swelled up and held her breath until her eyes rolled back and she passed out. It once took us two and a half hours to load her in a trailer. I worked on getting her to step in a mud puddle for nearly three hours one day. When we rode with anyone else, she had to be in the lead, which was the source of much contention on many, many rides. She would work herself into a frothy lather if the horse we were riding with was even close to taking the lead. Head bobbing, bunny hopping, teeth gnashing, tail swishing….all tactics to show her displeasure at being forced to be common.

Eventually, I could do a lot with her. There was a catch. It was mostly just me. Anytime anyone else came around Luna still pinned her ears and stamped her feet.

While we were learning lessons, narrowly escaping death and destruction along the way, I was finding something else out about my little princess. She was a warrior.

Luna was undaunted by any task set before her, afraid of nothing. Everything she did was done with a flare and a boldness that made me forget everything but her. She loves a challenge with a passion and seeks adventure with a fearless abandon that still leaves me breathless. She’s my kinda girl.

Something else I discovered? She trusted me.

She would walk through fire if I asked her to. She parked cars at the county fair as a three year old with no previous exposure to carnival rides, crowds, flashing lights or loud speakers. She stood fifty feet from her first train rolling by and was politely interested. She went up and down Main St. in Pratt, swam the river, raced a QH who had been running on the track (and kept up with him), and did it all because I asked her to.

I didn’t dominate Luna. Nobody could dominate Luna! But I asked. I showed her that she could trust me. I let her have her fun. I picked my battles with her. I let her know that, in the end, my word was law, but I let her wiggle her way through the middle.

To this day she is a spoiled, bossy, stubborn….diva. She’s still the most beautiful, smartest, fastest, and the best friend a girl could have. The queen of the pasture, Luna rules with complete authority. Anyone new learns quick. Real quick. She’s not mean, by any means, but she tolerates no nonsense. She tells the pasture horses when it’s time to drink, where to graze, and does it all with a regal hand, er, hoof.

There are those horses out there, we have several, that anyone could ride. Which is what most people want. I, however, take a not-so-secret delight in the fact that she prefers me. Dustin can, has, and does ride her now. Neither one of them care for it much but they tolerate each other.

My saucy little brat has grown up. The kids can all groom her, pick up her feet, brush her belly, and comb her tail until their hearts are content and she patiently stands there, bemused and bored, and lets them do it. You can lead her around bareback with four kids, all bouncing and screaming, on her and she goes like an old plow mare. However, if anyone besides Dustin or I actually tries to ride her…..

She still is the worst behaved horse on the place. She still frets about being first but will sullenly take her place in the middle or even *GASP in HORROR* the rear if I insist. She still hates a mud puddle and will try to leap (no matter how big it is) over it, skirt around it (no matter how narrow the trail), or act like there is a cave bear lurking beneath the surface. She still bunny hops sideways out of the drive as we leave the house and when we get home, she bunny hops right back in the yard.

All of these things are my fault. I trained her. I could have curbed that spirit, tamed it, molded it into a horse that was something everyone could ride, a horse that was no different from others. I wouldn’t tolerate this type of behavior from any of the horses that I train or any of the others here on the home place.

So why? Why do I have the worst behaved horse on the place?

Because she is Luna. She is fire and magick and mine. She’s like riding a keg of dynamite. She’s velvet coated power and muscle and pride. She’s exhilaration, excitement, and elation. She’s a redneck princess - charging through the mud with an arched neck and flagged tail. She’s heart and courage, soul and love.

I wouldn’t change one thing about her.

Welcome!

I will begin by telling you a little bit about myself personally. I am 29 years old, married to the love of my life, have two boys ( referred to as my heathens), live on a thirty acre farm in the Middle of Nowhere, KS, and am passionate about animals. I remember dragging home possums, raccoons, bunnies, a baby mouse once, birds, and all sorts of critters that “needed” me.

Horses have always been my favorite, however, and it has always been my dream to work with them full time. I have ridden horses since I was a kid and Dustin has too. We began to break and train on a very small scale when we first got married. It was usually for a friend of a friend or somebody’s uncle’s cousin’s sister’s neighbor, you know how it goes. Eventually, we started to build a reputation and we started to get more and more interest in the way we did things.

We bought our first home just a year ago, in Feb of ‘08. We had always lived in the country (Dustin and I grew up next door to each other) but it was a heady feeling signing those mortgage papers to our very own, very used, thirty acre farm. It came complete with a broken windmill (still broken), a big red barn (freshly painted), a chicken coop (new raccoon-proof roof), a two story three bed two bath house (both bathrooms mostly work) and a borderline feeling of hysterical glee. We signed the papers at seven o’clock in the evening on a Friday night and had our first trailer load here by ten o’clock that night. We worked through the weekend and was almost completely moved in by the time Dustin had to return to work on Monday.

It was slow going, getting everything in workable, usable shape. We painted the barn, fixed the stalls, tore buildings down (I learned how to run a cutting torch!!!), put buildings up (I lost a thumbnail), fixed fence, ect., ect., ect. Never a dull moment around here. Have a minute? Put up a saddle rack! Scoop some poop! Groom something! It’s getting to the point that my idea of fun is being able to go to the feed store. The guy behind the counter is probably thinking that I maybe won the lottery or got some very good news at the least when I waltz by whistling and grinning, but no…..I just got to leave the house by myself for five minutes, lol.

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE what we do here. My heathens are generally well behaved and (knock on wood) almost unreasonably healthy, my husband and I are doing what we love and living the dream for the most part. I mean, I don’t think anyone really dreams of a calf with scours or a power kick from a foot shy filly with the reflexes of Superman, but the big picture is what we have always wanted.

We decided to go into business for ourselves because we had a clear idea of how we worked together when we trained, trimmed, or rescued. We knew what each others strengths and weaknesses were, we knew that the way we trained worked - really well, and we knew that we had a chance to help as many unfortunate horses as we could by addressing the issues of horse rescue in our everyday business practice.

Now, after many years of building the foundation, we are finally seeing the structure rise. We are booked, often months in advance, to train horses and the website has really taken off. The rescue work that we do is being followed by faithful horse lovers and more people every day write to ask how they can help improve horse welfare throughout the state.

Lessons are given to anyone who wants them regardless of age, experience level, or the intention to show. We simply want to promote the bond between a horse and rider, help people understand horses better, and to help people feel more comfortable and confident in the saddle.

This blog is about us. It’s about our horses. It’s about the calves, the cats, and the dogs. It’s about training and correcting horses. It’s about horse people. It’s about issues - moral, financial, emotional, health, mental, ect. that affect anyone who loves horses. It’s about life.