If I’m Being Honest

The month before I started Conner I was so excited I literally had trouble falling asleep at night. I would lay awake thinking about all the things I would teach him, the things I wanted him to know, and how I would go about it. The first week of June, 2017 marked the next chapter of the journey for me and Conner, and my excitement turned to trepidation as I quickly figured out what I was in for. He was a large exuberant baby with no concept of “personal space”. He thought he could go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. I was drug, pushed, bumped into, and run away from, over and over again. Worst of all, he would bite. ALL. THE. TIME. I have met few horses who would bite as seriously and frequently as Conner did. For a solid two months, my arms and hands were mottled with any number of bite marks in a wonderful array of blue, purple, red and yellow.

Conner in all his scraggily three-year-old glory, taken the first week of June 2017

There was also a hard edge to Conner. An edge that you do not find in many horses. Shortly after he was born, I knew he was the kind of horse that if challenged, could be dangerous. If he was pushed too hard, threatened, or backed him into a corner, he would lash-out rather than submit. Don’t misunderstand me, he was not naturally aggressive, but sat on the edge where he could easily be made so. I had seen very brief glimpses of that and it was the only thing about him that scared me. Therein lay one of my greatest challenges in Conner’s education. I knew he undoubtedly had to be corrected, many of his behaviors were totally unacceptable, but I always kept in mind that edge.

I had a few things going in my favor. For all his undesirable behaviors, Conner had not had any negative training or experiences. The only exception to this was Conner’s absolute terror of needles, he (and therefore anyone who handle him, i.e. me and the vet) found yearly vaccinations a really unpleasant time. Otherwise, he was genuinely friendly, always curious about everything around him, and quite bold in the face of almost anything. I also knew Conner since birth and I had been the most constant human in his life since then, which meant we had a great deal of trust from the get-go.

It still took me a little while to figure out the best way to correct certain behaviors and cultivate others. Some things I figured out in a few days, and some others, like biting or running way, took me months upon months to figure out. Still others, like being cooperative while having his hooves trimmed, took over a year. As I worked with Conner on the ground, and later under saddle, I realized two things: first, I had to learn when to escalate or deescalate situations, and secondly, I had to have the self awareness to make those decisions based on the information Conner was giving me, and not off of my own fear, anger or frustration. Figuring out what situations called for escalation, and which called for deescalation, was a matter of trial and error, reflection, and eventually, recognition of how a situation was about to unfold. This ability to understand what a situation called for, initially required some concerted thought, but over time has become second nature. The self-awareness part has also become easier, more routine, but that is not something anyone ever fully masters. Instead, self-awareness daily reminds me that my emotions, my fears, my mental condition, my physical strengths, weakness, and pains will effect how Conner, or any horse for that matter, reacts to me.

You may be wondering why am I tell you all this? Why am I telling how hard it was? Why am I telling you about the ugly parts? Why I am telling you there were some days I literally cried on my drive home because I was sure I was doing a terrible job training this horse? I’m telling you this part of the story because few others do, and because it gets better. I’m telling you this because I wish someone had shared their “baby horse nightmare” stories with me, and showed me it can still turn out well in the end. Books, videos, and many many people just want to tell you about their success and show you that their methods work. When someone is selling themselves or their method/product, they are selling you the dream. No one wants to tell you about their failures, or the things they did wrong and realized later. I have read, watched, and heard so many stories that went like: “My baby horse was perfect from the beginning, he was always easy and well behaved, and now he is jumping the 1.20’s with his amateur owner,” or “That lady had a horse that was unmanageable from the time it was born, its dangerous on the ground and bad to ride, and now she’s thinking of putting it down.” I know that these are the extremes along this spectrum, but when I was floundering in my concerns with Conner’s early training, those stories were all I seemed to find. As a professional it can feel impossible to say “I made a mistake,” or “I’m having a really hard time with this horse”. And as a fellow professional, I really understand why that is. But, having been in a position at the start of my career where I genuinely felt that I was the only person struggling with a young horse, I think it’s important to be honest; for the sake of transparency and especially for the sake of those starting this journey.

Throughout this process, I did make one serious mistake: I didn’t ask for help soon enough. I had my coach and mentor, whom I worked with on all the other horses I rode, and I didn't ask her for help with Conner. I was afraid of being found out as an imposter and of feeling like I was failing the in eyes of someone I respected. I had to learn that professionals train with, and ask for help from, other professionals, and doing so doesn’t make you an imposter. In the beginning of my career I felt very vulnerable and unsure of myself and it caused me to shut down many of the avenues I could have gone to for advice or guidance. In the end I was able to communicate my anxieties to her and ask for her help and opinion. Looking back, part of me wishes I could have done so sooner.