Training for the dream

In preparation for horse ownership I decided that I needed to brush up on my very rusty riding skills at a local arabian stable offering lessons.  This stable was fortunate enough to employ a full time trainer and I soon had dreams of training horses running through my head as well.  The stable owner and trainer put their heads together with mine to work out a deal in which I would help out around the stable doing chores I knew how to do and in return the trainer would allow me to practice my riding and teach me some about training.  I thought it was a deal made in heaven...at first. 

There were a few bumps in the road here and there and I was a little bit uncomfortable with how harsh the trainer was with the horses every once in awhile but I felt we smoothed through the bumps fairly ok, my riding was improving, I was learning a little about training, and though maybe a little harsh I couldn't say the trainer was abusive except for two occassions.  One time while riding a wonderful, gorgeous horse named Brass she just lost it with him really yanking and jerking as hard as she could on the reins over and over screaming at him leaving Brass visibly shaken and with raw, skinned spots at the corners of his mouth.  The second time she was trimming stray hairs around Brass' feet.  He kept lifting the foot she was working on until she again completely lost her temper, stood back a little then kicked him hard in the gut repeatedly.  Both of these times I was shocked and horrified!

I ran my own animal rescue for many years during which I became a very good professional dog trainer.  So while I didn't have any horse training experience I wasn't completely new to animal training concepts and those two incidents really bothered me.  I'd taught pet owners over and over again that if they're getting frustrated they need to end the lesson quickly on a good note and walk away for awhile.  It never does any good to lose your temper!  But I tried to keep my own cool, told myself that anyone could have a bad day, and kept trying to learn all I could.

Sometimes I wonder what became of poor Brass and feel an awful guilt that I let him down by not saying something.  What it would've changed I don't know, probably nothing, but in not speaking up I may as well have sided with his abusers.  I'm so sorry, Brass.

To be continued...