I believe that horses make the decision to be a beginner-safe horse. They choose to put up with incompetence or not, and there’s really nothing you can do to change their mind. Either they will tolerate beginner riders or they won’t, end of story.
You always hear “old horses make good beginner horses” and “there’s no way a young horse can be a kid’s horse”, and generally these things hold true. Older horses tend to be the safer ones as they’ve seen something of life and most things aren’t a big deal anymore. Younger horses are still eager to see the world and generally unwilling or unable to deal with a rider they cannot rely on.
But this is not always the case. Not all oldies are beginner horses and not all young horses are silly spazzes. Some horses will never tolerate a beginner rider no matter how old they get, and others will accept one almost immediately after being broke to ride.
Take M, an ancient Arabian mare who up until her 28th birthday was most definitely NOT a beginner horse. She bucked, she bolted, she disobeyed and was generally a handful to ride even for an experienced rider. Then, for whatever reason, she calmed down and docilely allowed small children on her back without batting an eye. She went from hell on wheels to the most beloved lesson horse in the barn almost overnight. All the little girls wanted to rider her.
Her owners were naturally worried. Why the sudden change in behavior? The vet could find nothing wrong. Aside from a little arthritis and deteriorating teeth, she was in perfect health. I believe that she decided that she was done with her antics and that she would now allow children to ride her, simple as that. As far as I know, she is still the object of much adoration by young riders.
My own horse made a similar choice, and sometimes I’m still rather surprised she did.
Cherry had never been one to suffer fools well. She constantly challenged me and anyone else who climbed on her back. If you didn’t give her just the right cue, she’d pretend that she had no idea what you wanted and would throw her head up and skitter sideways or scoot forward a few steps.
There was an epic (and rather funny) argument between Cherry and a friend of mine when we were in high school. My friend's legs were shorter than mine, so her leg cues hit a different spot on Cherry’s ribs. I let her ride Cherry every now and then, and on this particular ride, she wanted to canter. However, her canter cue was much higher up on Cherry’s sides than mine, and subsequently Cherry refused to canter. Instead she threw her head up and streaked around the ring trotting as fast as she could. Eventually she gave in and cantered, but until then, she was determined not to understand what was asked of her.
When I began working at the riding school, I had a vague idea of using Cherry in lessons. I hadn’t forgotten the cantering episode, nor the fact that Cherry’s two favorite speeds were Fast and Faster. I toyed with the idea, but nothing came of it until the start of summer horse camp.
We were short on lesson horses that summer, and my boss was asking around the barn to see if anyone would let us borrow their horse for a few weeks. I’m not sure what made me do this, but I volunteered Cherry, and my boss was delighted. Immediately I started to worry. Cherry had calmed down so much after the switch to the bitless bridle, but I couldn’t quite shake the memory of her tearing ass around the ring, head in the air as my friend tried to get her to canter. There was nothing for it now but to see what happened.
So I brought Cherry to the riding school (where her named changed from Cherokee to Cherry) and she began her new life. I was a bit wary of her suitability to be a beginner’s mount, so I used her in a few of my lessons before camp started. Initially I put my older, more advanced riders on her, just in case she threw a fit. She didn’t.
The first few rides were filled with hesitation. Cherry clearly wasn’t used to the idea of small people riding her, but she made the effort to figure out what they were trying to ask her to do. She often looked at me as I stood in the center of the ring as if to ask if she was doing things right. “I think she wants me to trot, should I trot? Oh, now she asked me to stop, was that right?”
This was encouraging, so I got bolder and put one of my extreme beginners on her. This student was still mastering the concept of steering and sitting up at the same time, yet was adamant that nobody lead the horse for him. He was going to do it all by himself. Cherry carried him around like she’d been doing it her whole life. When he pulled on the reins, she stopped, when he flailed his legs, she walked, and when he flailed even harder she trotted. I jogged beside her shoulder, not touching the reins, but leading her all the same.
I believe Cherry made a good kid’s horse for two reasons. One is the bitless bridle. Rough, inexperienced hands did not cause her pain. Annoyance perhaps, but not pain. Secondly, I believe that she decided that she would put up with it. I’m not sure what prompted that decision, whether it was the fact that her rider needed to stand on tip-toes to brush her back and bridle her (whereas I can always reach her, no matter how high she raises her head) or the genuine outpouring of love from a small child who just trotted all by herself for the very first time while on Cherry’s back.
She made an excellent camp horse. She allowed her riders to crawl all over her, pull her around in their inept fumbling with the reins, paint her with finger paint, and bathe her with dollar store shampoo. When asked to trot, she jogged lazily around ring until asked to stop. When she was asked to whoa, she stood quietly, half asleep, until it was time to move again.
I had a huge advantage when using Cherry in my lessons, especially for very small or very green riders. I could control Cherry from the center of the ring and lead her without touching her. If I said “whoa” she would stop, and if I walked at her shoulder, I could turn her just by changing my own direction. This helped enormously with riders who wanted to steer by themselves but were not able to yet. Several 5 year old children boasted to their parents that they rode all by themselves while I simply smiled, patted Cherry’s neck and told her she was a good girl.
Many kids loved Cherry. She was small, cute, loudly colored and would trot when you asked, unlike the more jaded lesson horses who wouldn’t trot unless you REALLY meant it. Over the two years we spent at the riding school, Cherry taught several kids how to ride, took little girls in their first lead line class and won a blue ribbon in hunter over fences with the girl who leased her.
All good things come to an end, though. At the end of the second summer, Cherry was getting burned out. She was still used in camp, but now she was being leased by a teenager at the barn as well as being ridden in my lessons. She worked very hard, put up with quite a bit, and was starting to become extremely cranky.
She never hurt anybody and she never misbehaved in lessons, but the pinned ears were coming out when students approached her with a saddle and she started chomping the air when her girth was tightened. I felt bad, but I needed the money and told her to suck it up and deal. We were leaving for grad school soon, and she’d never have to do this again.
I was sad to leave the riding school, we’d had some great times there, but it was also time to move on. Neither of us would have lasted much longer without snapping. After our move north, I gave Cherry 2 full weeks off, asking her to do nothing more than come up to the barn for grain.
Now we give lessons to the barn owner’s preteen daughter and that’s it as far as lessons go. Occasionally the younger daughter will ride, and she likes to pretend she’s a Rodeo Princess and waves as Cherry jogs around. Cherry is quite happy to do one or two lessons a week, and I think she appreciates it more after being a full time lesson horse. It’s also nice to be able to ride my own horse again, and I’m quite enjoying my kid-safe, well broke mare. I like being able to put anyone on her back and feel secure in the knowledge that she will take care of them.
I’m glad Cherry made the choice to be a kid’s horse. She touched several lives who otherwise would never have known of her existence, and she’s endeared herself to many hearts besides my own. There’s an army of people willing to take her should I ever wish to sell her. That’s never going to happen, but it’s great to know that she’s so loved. To me, she’s priceless, and I can only hope that my next horse will be half as honest, willing and tolerant as Cherry.
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