So far, I have had only one good experience with a paid trainer. JB Horsemanship, Jen Baird, worked with an older horse for me, and got him well started under saddle. He was an extremely tough case, had a hoof injury which resulted in some calcification and sensitivity. Well, Jen got him going for us. Here is a photo of "Junior" taken July 11, 2008:
18 years ago, I bought a beautiful yearling filly to replace my old riding mare. When we brought her home, we made her a pasture pen right beside the yard so that she would be close to our family, and could become well acquainted with the children. It worked, she became quite attached to all of us. As she grew up and became a two year old, then a three year old, I trained her and rode her as much as possible, helping move cattle with her several times each summer. We rode out alone all the time, since the kids were too small to ride, and my husband likes a 4-wheeler better.
When my mare was four years old, we went out on a job sorting cows from the neighbor's pasture. The fence was down in one spot and some of our cows had gotten across to the neighbor's. His cows were Red Angus. Ours were black and black baldy. My little horse and I worked for hours, all afternoon that day, sorting black cows one direction and red cows the other. The black cows didn't want to go the way they should, and the red cows seemed to be more than willing to go the wrong way, too.
It was so crazy, I got completely turned around in my directions. The TV tower up on the hill to the north seemed like it had moved and was now on the south side towards town! I remember stopping for a minute to consider, and straighten out my confused mental compass.
My little partner, working so hard underneath me sorting cows, and dripping with sweat, turned towards home and flipped her ears back towards me, asking "are we done? Can we go home now?" I turned her in a circle and headed back to sorting cows some more. Heavens knows what happened to my husband, the guy on the trusty 4-wheeler. Later I found out that while I was sorting cows by myself, he was checking the fence and finding some cows in a different part of the pasture. Finally we fought our way back to our own pasture with only our own black cows, and were finished.
I was so proud of my sweet, affectionate little mare. I wanted help teaching her some more advanced techniques, such as sidepassing, spins, roping, and opening gates. I saw so much potential in her willingness to work hard, right by my side, stick with me and get a job done.
Here comes the part about the trainer. Well, I knew of a trainer. I knew she was rough, but I figured I would be there doing my own work with my own horse. We arranged a couple days over the weekend when we could do a mini horse clinic. Seemed very harmless and sounded like we would have a lot of fun.
Things didn't turn out quite the way I planned. The first day went fairly well. We worked on some good things, though my horse obviously didn't enjoy being ridden by a stranger, and obviously thought I should be the one on her back. She was a good girl for me, and pretty much refused to do anything with the "trainer" riding.
After the day's work, I groomed my little mare carefully. She tucked her nose in against my belly and I held it there for a minute. Her moist breath warmed my shirt, and her eyelashes blinked once or twice, against my chest. I left her quietly standing in the corral, watching me drive away.
After I left for the evening, it all started. The "trainer" hitched my horse to the back of her pickup truck along with four other horses, all unfamiliar with my own horse. The "trainer" proceeded to drive off to pasture with all the horses tied to the back. My horse got scared. She didn't know where she was being taken, she didn't know any of the other horses, and her owner was missing. She panicked and refused to go along! The "trainer" kept going and dragged my little mare down the gravel road, on her side. My mare just got all the more frightened. Finally the "trainer" jumped out of her truck and grabbed the first thing she could find, a curved steel hay hook with a handle on one end and a sharp point at the other. She began beating my mare in the chest, blow after blow. Then she dragged my mare back to the corral and added a second halter, tied the horse to the bottom of a post and sucked up the slack. My horse was left there all night, with her head tied down to the bottom of a post. Frightened, confused, and fighting.
When I arrived the next day, I couldn't believe my eyes. My beautiful mare was covered with dirt, the hide was scraped off on her sides, her chest was bulging with big pockets of blood, some wider and longer than my hand. I had no idea what in the world could have happened to result in such a horrible sight!
I walked up to where she was tied to the bottom of a post, I put down my hand so she could smell it. The "trainer" yelled for me to be careful! But I knew my own horse. She did not move. She didn't pull. She gave a little puff of air, and hung down her head instead of fighting. I ran my hands over her and I picked off some mud from her coat. And the tears welled up in my eyes. "Well, we won't be working on her any more today." I said. And I collected my poor little friend from her nightmare. The tears never stopped, for the next three days. My heart was broken for my beloved sweet mare.
When we got home, I began all over again. Before the beginning. Though she had never, ever even offered to kick, or strike out, and certainly never tried to bite me before, now she tried all of these things. She was afraid of her tack, she was afraid of me, and everyone else. It was a long, slow process to move back towards acceptance, and trust. One item at a time. When we overcame most of the tack issues and I began riding again, she bucked for the first time ever. Every bad behavior that my horse had never shown at any point before in her life, we were forced to overcome because of the mistreatment at the hands of an ignorant "trainer".
Later that summer, I was able to ride my horse out moving cattle again. But things were not the same, and they would never be the same again. One day, we had finished moving cows from one pasture to another. My husband pulled up on his 4-wheeler to talk to me, and I began to dismount. As I swung myself out of the saddle, my tired leg dragged my foot slightly over my horse's rump. She used it as an excuse to jump away and shy at the 4-wheeler, dropping me instantly onto the hard ground, on my knees. I suffered a crushed right kneecap. My horse took off down the fenceline. Darkness was closing in fast, and I was in pain, so we headed for home, leaving the gates open so my horse could make her own way home. But I hardly ever rode again for the next 8 years. I was so discouraged. All of the careful effort, all of the time and attention to detail, and all of the love I had poured into my little mare. Then to have it all carelessly tossed away, literally overnight.
Fourteen years later, here I am with a heavy heart, still hopelessly in love with my horses and ponies, and still heartbroken that I could have let such a terrible thing happen. Once again, I am searching for help with my young horses. I must find a good trainer to assist us with starting and sometimes finishing a few of our youngsters each year, we simply are getting too many to handle all the work load properly by ourselves. I'm trying to give trainers a chance. I know there are good trainers out there, if I can only find just one! But it is terribly difficult for me to put my horse in someone else's care.
Lets hope my two boys come home in good shape from their time spent with a new trainer. Let's hope, at least, this one knows how to take really good care of a pony.