Mikey and me.

It's no secret that I'm a sucker for a sob story. It's also no secret that I enjoy working with horses and love the feeling of triumph and success when I turn around a cantankerous type or so called bad horse. How cool when it all comes together.

A couple of years ago, shortly after we started training for C. she brought me a couple of older boys that hadn't yet found homes. They're nice horses, one a very light palamino/grey and the other a copper sorrel. Bullet (the pal) is racy and elegant, would look great under english tack and has attitude out the yinyang. He's able to leap tall fences in a single bound and has a way of tossing his head that would make him ideal for film if he were black.

And then there's Mikey. They called him Big Mike, to differentiate between him and Yellow Mike. He's a rather ordinary sorrel coloring. Attractive head, nice blaze down from his forehead to his nose. No snip and only the hint of a star. Solid. Strong. Not overdone and sleek when he slips into his extended trot.

Willing too. "Try him in a lunge," C. told me. I did. He moved out immediately. Willing and able to understand even my hamhanded signals. I asked him for a lope and the transition was smooth, 2 strides and he was in full gait. Same thing coming back down, no jerking or hesitation... if he were a car he might well be well, maybe not a ferrari maybe a viper. Raw power but controlled. No finesse to it, but only because it's not yet applied.

Yeah, I'm a fan.

C. then told me his story. Yard pet foal to easy break horse, sold as a working horse to a pen checker at a local feed lot who used him well and trained him up right. Then he had the chance to go south and rather than take his horses he boarded them at the lot, for use. Someone either put a wet cinch on him or had a wet wet day and didn't check it. He galled (cinch burn scar of white hair on his belly 4" wide by about 15" long side to side :( ) poor guy was likely mad with pain. And they rode him still. He turned mean, or so they said. Tried to kill off a cowboy or two who were intent on 'fixin' that sombitch' They rode him and rode him and he bucked them off. C. took him back. Rescued him more like. Took him to a local trainer who did well with him. Until the day there was a blow up (seems someone decided they needed past the buggy and honked and honked till there was a wreck) Mikey took a broken stay in the gut. C. again took him back and put him out to pasture. But now... I was his chance, she said.

I looked into his eye. You never really know but I fancy that I can tell when there's meanness there, and I didn't see one tiny bit of it. I fiddled with him and he let me do a lot. I didn't push but I did put my foot in the stirrup and let him feel my weight. He shifted his front legs to square up and stood stock still.

Over time I did little bits with him here and there. Not enough, but each time was successful. No wrecks, no blowups. D. was up on him the 3rd day we started seriously working with him. I blew into his nostrils and he snuffled me back. I told him in a quiet whisper that he had to behave because I couldn't ride him till he was proved safe. I swear he nodded at me. Could be he just liked the jingle of bit too, but I'm sticking with nodding. D. climbed up, both of us watching Mikey's head, me ready to hang off the bridle like an ornament, D. ready to bail out at the slightest sign of trouble. Mikey's a big boy, muscular, heavy but agile. You wouldn't want to take the chance of being tossed by him. I sure wouldn't. Mikey shifted his balance. Squared up his front legs and uncocked his hind leg. He stared at me and I back at him. Slowly I passed up the reins to D. letting Mikey see me do it. "Let him ride you," I murmured and stepped back. Mikey stood still. Up till now when I'd stepped back he'd squared to me and moved with me. A dance of sort, training he received from someone else. A matter of distance and parameters. Stay x distance from me and all will be good. If I move back, move forward till x distance is maintained. I play with it, sometimes and we dance. Stepping back and forth and side to side facing each other. But this time, I had handed off control and Mikey's ears flicked, once, twice then again and he turned his head, feet still firmly planted and snuffled me again. Then D. rode him. A few steps forward and a turn to the left, then another few and a turn to the right. The idea is to keep the horse turning thereby making it harder for them to buck if they are so inclined. It's also a great opportunity to teach or reinforce leg aids and reining.

Here's a short video of Mikey and D after this session. Mikey's wearing no bridle or halter and simply going for a wander around the corral. Mean horse...yeah... dun think so. (NOTE: link is fizzed, I'll fix it soon)

My time being not so easily arranged I didn't get to do much more with him. An opportunity came up for him to be trained as a bulldoggin' horse. C. talked to me, asked me what I thought and I thought it was best for Mikey. A chance to re establish himself as a good horse. I cried after I hung up the phone but knew it was for the best.

Now he's back. The bulldoggin' training didn't happen, so he had a nice holiday on pasture and he's full of green grass. On sunday we were out to the ranch. I wanted a crack at him, and C. had promised me that rather than meating him if the bulldoggin' didn't work out (life is like that here, horses are a commodity and not just pretty animals in the field, they cost money to feed and shoe and vet and must make money one way or the other) she'd give me one more crack at him.

Sometimes when karma is knocking I get a little hard of hearing but this time I heard loud and clear. Mikey was back, grab him my little voice said. I proposed a deal to C. and she agreed. The fix was in. If I could get on him and ride him he was mine. So sunday was the day. He acted up in the slab fence corral. Reminiscent of the feedlot I'm sure. And again when people hung over the fence in the other corral, again, memories of when he was to be 'fixed', I'm betting.

I lunged him and he got it together. The intelligence was back, evident in every motion of his head as he missed nothing. Tacked and looking good, a little hunched looking cause of the extra weight he's packing, we led him out. D. fiddled with him a bit then gave me that look. I stepped to Mikey's head and talked to him, snuffling and chatting, stroking his nose and focusing him on me. Slowly D. got into the saddle, settling in to an ear flick and the familiar shift of balance, squaring up his front end. I breathed again and relaxed. D. sat still and I stepped back, asking Mikey to step up. 1 stride 2...whoa I said and he did. D. still silent and still in the saddle, only providing the weight while I 'rode' Mikey from the ground using only my voice.

D. climbed off and I'm sure C. breathed a sigh of relief. While we stood around and spoke D. climbed up again and off and all was okay. After a time C. headed up to the house and D. took Mikey (I thought) to the barn to untack. "Hurry up or we'll get caught," his voice came around the corner of the barn. "Say what now?" I asked walking around the corner. D. had walked Mikey into what we use as a mounting block and grinned at me. I stepped up onto the cement platform and slowly put my foot in the stirrup. Letting my weight lean on the saddle I stepped down again. Then into the stirrup again and swung my leg on his rump, sliding it, and still he stood, stock still, patient and uncomplaining. Many horses fidget in that spot. It's tight and they are impatient, ready to go, eager to be off. Not Mikey, he was willing to wait. Finally I was sure, I'd watched his ears and was willing to bet the farm. I swung up, settling into the saddle without even the teeniest of flutters in my stomach at mounting a horse known to be unpredictable. I was so focused on not scaring him I forgot all about my own fear of mounting a strange horse. I sat there for a triumphant moment then remembered to breath. Slowly I dismounted and once I was back on the cement I let out a whoop and hugged Mikey around the neck. "He's really my horse," I breathed and grinned.

More on Mikey as his and my journey continues. Stay tuned.