Now, moving horses sounds simple, right? Well, neither of them had seen a trailer in over a year and the youngest, my mare, Betsy, had only seen two or three in her life. Betsy, is the smartest horse I've had the pleasure of knowing. She's very curious, plays with dogs, and can unlatch any gate lock. When she was pastured with cows, she would claim a calf every spring and make it go everywhere with her. I bet she is a leo. The first time she saw a trailer, she stepped up into the trailer, looked around as if to say "What is this? I think I will check it out", loaded completely, sniffed everything and settled in for a ride. Of course, I also had the assistance of a veteran Cowgirl friend of mine, and a huge three horse slant, which probably helped.
On Saturday evening, we pulled my little two horse trailer over to get them. The gelding loaded, with hesitation, but Betsy would not. It was getting dark, so we left with him, and decided she would have to wait until tomorrow. That night, I thought about the whole situation, and decided it was time to take that horse trainer up on his offer. Instead of bringing her home, she would go to his house for a little thirty day crash course. Besides, he was down the road from where she was, so if she wouldn't load, I could lead her there. Brilliant!
Sunday morning, bright and early we head out. On the way there I explained the plan. We will catch her, then, I will work her and get her into a thinking state of mind. This would have to be done with a lounge line, since I did not have a round pen, which I prefer. Betsy and I had both worked in a round pen, and up to this point I was under the firm belief the only reason to lounge a horse is if you had no round pen. Unfortunately, I did not follow John Lyons advice when he said, its no matter, your horse should lounge for soundness. Then I would employ a tactic I saw a horse trainer do over in Memphis. I would bring her around on the line and into the trailer door. Now, the first round, she probably won't go in, but with repetition, this should work. We also had plan B remember?
We got to the pasture, caught the horse, and we begin learning to lounge. We move to the rear of the trailer, and I sent her around with my training stick, which I began to realize gets heavier with use, and she stops in the door of the trailer. That's great! Let's do it again. After a while, she would stop, in the door, with her chest stretched as far into the trailer as she could get it without her having to lift her feet off of the ground. My daughter, who actually belongs to the horse offered to do a few repetitions. How could I say no? Im outta shape, I need a drink, and my arms were killing me. Well, During the time I got a drink of water and returned to the back of the trailer, my daughter had un-trained this horse on lounging completely! During this minute, the horse had figured out that if you place your body just right the person holding the rope, CANNOT make you go. This epic fail made trying to send her around with a training stick like pushing mercury with a stick of firewood. Okay, plan B. I immediately unhooked the trailer, changed her halter, let down the tailgate, had a seat, and away we went. The second time she stopped and pulled me off the tailgate, I decided to just walk and lead her. The trainer just lived down the road. I had been down this road a million times in my truck; it only takes a few minutes, end-to-end. Smile.
Mile 1: She was HAPPPPYYY! She was getting to see the neighborhood, visit with other critters she could only speak to from a distance. This was great! She played with dogs, shyed away from mailboxes, and announced our parade with a good hearted winnie every few minutes.
Mile 4: Betsy began to wonder when we were gonna turn around and head back, and she started getting slower.
Mile 6: My daughter decided to walk with us. This very nice gesture led to my daughter falling behind and Betsy agreeing with her that there was no hurry. So, now instead of leading Betsy, Im pulling, Both of them.
Mile 7: I manage to convience my daughter the truck was the place to be. We picked up the pace a little.
Mile 8: I am dirty, hot, tired, sweaty, sunburned, wind burned, and dog tired. This is the most exercise I have had in a while. Still yet, I felt good. It was a nice walk, a pretty day, lots of time to think, and I can see the house, across the way. Awww the finshline. I'm smiling.
Betsy, on the other hand, was sweaty, hot, lathered up, feet hurtin',with her nose getting closer and closer to the ground, she looked like she couldn't go one more step. She was so excited in the beginning, now she had done more work than she had in months and she was just plain tired. As we turned into the driveway she perked up and got interested. She raised her head and her ears. Curiously, she was taking note of this new place. Up the drive, I was directed to place her in a paddock right next to a younger mare. I thanked the man, warned him to keep her locked up tight, and headed home. As we drove back down the drive I thought, Yeah, Betsy probably got in the stall, all jellified and worn slap out, and I hope she turned to that younger mare and said, "Whew! Dang. How far did you have to walk to get here?", and I hope that mare said "I got in the trailer!"
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