Horse training doesn’t just happen by magic. It’s not like you just wake up one day, go to the barn and your horse is trained! I hate it when people act like a broke horse just “happens”. No, it doesn’t.

There’s a girl I know who appears to have this mentality. Her own horse is trained but spoiled, and runs right over her, refuses to stand still and does a hundred other things that my horse wouldn’t even dream of pulling on me. My horse knows I would whip her little spotted butt if she tried.

A couple times this girl has complimented me on how well behaved my horse is. Well, that’s not strictly true. She’s complimented my horse on being well behaved and congratulated me for acquiring such a docile beast. This makes it seem like it’s really not a compliment at all, but more of an observation of my good fortune. You know, like I blindly threw darts at the equine classifieds and managed to land on a broke, good tempered horse.

Normally when someone says nice things about my horse I can say “thanks” and move on. Not so much with this girl, though. I think it’s b/c she’s not really complimenting me at all, she’s just pointing out a fact. It’s like those, “Oh my gosh, you’re so tall!” comments. How does one respond? “Thank you” seems so out of place, it’s not like you accomplished something by being tall. “I know” sounds rude, but it’s closest to how I want to respond. I know I’m tall, and the only reason I’m tall is because it’s in my DNA. It isn’t a choice, it isn’t an achievement, it just is. If you’re jealous that’s kind of too bad, you didn’t win the tall-genes lottery.

That’s how this girl’s compliments come across to me. “Your horse is so good!” On it’s own it sounds nice, but there’s something about the way she says it that makes me feel like she’s saying “You’re so tall!” Like she’s mildly surprised by that fact with an air of ‘I could have been tall too but I’m just not as lucky as you.’ To me it sounds like, “I could have a well behaved horse, but I’m not lucky enough to have chosen one.”

Believe me, lady, Cherry did not come to me like this. The horse you see now is the result of many years of training, effort and lessons learned. She did not come to me well behaved, or terribly broke for that matter. My best guess is that Cherry had 30 days put on her in a colt-breaking class at UC Davis, and was then trail ridden for the next several years, never really learning to be obedient to her rider.

People who knew us when I was high school literally gasped when I told them that I’d been using Cherry as a lesson horse in college and that she willingly and safely carried around small children. Yeah, she was that skittery, that green, and that ill-behaved that beginners would not have been safe on her.

What changed her from being a green-broke mess to a crabby but safe children’s mount?

TRAINING! That’s right, training. Not magic, not a miracle, not sending her off to a witch doctor who sent her back magically trained. I trained her, I put in the effort to shape her behavior, and now I have a well behaved horse

She stands still b/c I TRAINED her to stand still. She doesn't run me over, barge past me or drag me around b/c I TRAINED her not to. She tools around bareback, goes where I tell her and doesn't pull shit on me b/c I TRAINED HER THAT WAY! Everything that Cherry does, I trained her to do.

Well, okay, she was saddle broke and had extensive trail miles on her, but aside from allowing a rider on her back, tying, and having a vague idea what you were asking for up there, she didn't know anything. Or care to know anything. If she saw the point, she'd do it, if she didn't see the point (or just didn't feel like it), then it was just too bad for you.

The fact that she listens, halts on command, respects your space on the ground, and follows orders under saddle is all a product of ME and MY work with her. I don't claim to be any kind of training professional, and our progress was slow to say the least, but it did NOT happen by magic!

Goal #1 Accomplished!

The horse is now officially halter broke. Whoo hoo!

It was exceedingly uneventful. I lead Cherry into the nice, safe arena, I put the hobbles on, and Cherry just stood there. So I slapped her butt to get her to move and test them out. Horse lifted one foot, put it down, lifted the other foot and put it down. Then, she kinda stumbled forward a few steps and stopped to look at me like, "Why are my legs tired together and why can't I walk?"

The only remotely exciting thing that happened was when she tried to take a big step, couldn't, and nearly fell down. After that she just stood there. I left her in the arena for an hour while I did barn chores, and I saw her figuring out the "slow shuffle". The hobbles were long enough that she didn't figure out the "3 legged hop", thankfully.

The hobbles are made out of baling twine. Originally I made them too thin (not enough twine), but my mistake was pointed out and I have fixed them. Right now the hobbles have about 16 pieces of baling twine in them and are about 4 feet long.

And now, a picture!

Yes, I know the hobbles are too skinny here. They have since been fattened with several more pieces of twine. This is the only pic I have though, and I wanted to post it anyway.












Alright, now for the "I'm so glad I hobble broke my horse!" story.

A few days ago it was pouring rain all day and I couldn't get out to check on my blanket-less horse all day. I finally got there late afternoon to find Cherry standing in the wind and shivering her little spotted butt off. She fairly galloped up to the gate to greet me, looking very pathetic of course.

I bring her up to the barn, get some towels and put her cooler on. Now, the cooler only buckles around the chest, it doesn't fasten around the barrel or hind legs at all. This fact is important, I promise. After a good toweling and pan of grain, she's feeling better.

I figured some gentle free lunging and additional rubbing with towels will help her warm up, so I lead her into the arena. As my back is turned while I'm shutting the gate, I hear her drop to the ground and roll. She still has the cooler on. Oh shit!

She rolls, and of course the cooler slips off her back. When she goes to get up it tangles around her front leg and around her neck. Oh goody. Now is when pre-hobble broke Cherry would proceed to freak out and thrash around, so of course this is what I'm expecting her to do.

Nope! Her eyes bug out a little, but other than that she stands perfectly still, waiting for me to free her. I untangle her leg, unbuckle the cooler from around her neck, and she calmly walks off.

Crisis averted! The only thing we have to show for our little adventure is a dirty cooler. Yay for hobble breaking!

Winter Training Goals

I am resolved to teach my horse a few things this winter. On the To Do list are:

1. Hobble breaking
2. Don't pull back if your face is caught
3. Stand there if you're tangled up in something, a combo of # 1 and 2

Now that I have admitted that my 19 year old horse is not hobble broke and will pull back if she gets her rope caught over her head, I'm going to go about fixing it.

For the hobble breaking, I have no delusions of being able to pack in the mountains with my horse and hobble her at night. She's smart, and I'm quite sure she'll figure out the 3-legged hop in no time. I want her to learn to stand still if she gets her feet caught in something.

Not understanding this concept no doubt led to the nasty leg gash she got last year. I'd much rather she stand patiently to be rescued rather than thrash about.

There's some rope hobbles I can borrow, and on a day when the arena is free and nobody wants to ride, I'll hobble her and let her figure it out. Hopefully she'll take it well. If not, well, that just means hobble breaking is LONG overdue.

As for the poll pressure training, I'm thinking of letting her loose in the arena for periods of time with a halter and lead rope on. Just let her drag the rope, step on it, get caught and figure it out at a time when it's okay. Like, not when she steps on a rein by accident and proceeds to freak out.

I'm fully expecting panic and freaking out on this front, so I went on ebay and bid on a few stiff, nasty, cheap old halters and leads that I don't care if she trashes. If I don't win them, I'll go to the discount tack place and get the cheapest thing I can find.

I really just need a stiff lead rope. I've got a rope halter already that fits her well, so no chance she'll put a foot through it. If I can't get a stiff lead off ebay, I'll get a cheap cotton one and make it stiff. Soaking it and dragging it through the dirt should do the trick. It needs to be stiff so she doesn't get tangled in it. For extra safety, we'll do the hobble breaking first.

.....

One might be wondering WHY a 19 year old horse has not been taught these simple concepts before. Well, there's a simple answer.

I'm an English rider and grew up and English rider. We simply don't do that type of training. It was NEVER discussed in ANY of the lessons, horse camps or clinics I went to. I'd never heard of hobbling until I went horse camping as a teenager, and even then I thought it was only for use when there was nothing to tie to.

Now I know it has other, far more important uses like teaching the horse to chill out if he gets his feet caught in/on something.

As for giving to poll pressure, most English people just don't care as much about ground manners. If the horse pulls back, instead of teaching him to tie we just don't tie him. Doesn't really make a whole lot of sense, but we put up with dangerous things and shrug it off with a "he just doesn't do that".

Well, screw that. I don't want my horse to flip and break yet another lead rope if she gets her rope caught on something. I try to tie correcty, but shit happens with horses and you turn your back for a second and they've managed to hang themselves.

I'm tired of watching and worrying, so I'm going to teach my horse to chill out and lower her head if she finds it caught. Actually, I'm not going to do anything of the sort. I'm going to let her teach herself to do that.

Tack Selection

I pretty much have two main tack set-ups that I use. One makes tack purists cry out in horror as they sink onto a chair while fanning themselves. The other is passable, but only just.

Let's get the horror out of the way first.

Here we have the "hippy horse" tack. Not one scrap of leather to be seen, and nearly all the equipment was invented within the last 30 years.

First off, what the heck is that on the horse's back? Why, that would be my awesome Natural Ride bareback pad! It comes with stirrups, but I took them off. Basically, it's a bareback pad with a rawlide (plastic) fork that you can literally cinch down. It's awesome! That thing does not move an inch, even when the horse gets all sweaty and slippery. Best. Bareback pad. Ever.

Now let's turn to the bridle. No bit, of course, but it's not just a bitless bridle, it's THE Bitless Bridle! Yup, Dr. Cook's own invention, and I must say it's the best bitless bridle I own. Made out of Beta, of course. Cherry is very responsive to it, calm and relaxed and tolerates beginner hands on the reins. Pretty damn good bridle in my opinion.

What's left? Those are my rhythm beads! A horse necklace with nifty jingle bells on it. I love the sound of the bells, and since Cherry doesn't seem to mind, I'll throw these on her every now and then for fun. They're actually quite helpful when I want to work on rhythm.

But did you notice the best thing about this tack ensemble? IT MATCHES!!!! Black bridle, black reins, black pad. Turquoise beads and turquoise saddle pad. Ahhh, all is right with the world.


Now let's turn our attention to the more traditional tack.


Notice that all tack items are made of leather. Leather saddle, breastplate and bridle. Saddle blanket is wool and saddle pad is wool felt.

There, isn't that nice and normal? So far so good.

But wait, there's a few things wrong here. For example, the bridle is a sidepull. The horse is 19 years old. Hmmmm.........

Let's take a look at that saddle. It's an Aussie, but those stirrups are English. And what color is the saddle blanket? Teal?!

Yes, that is a bright, gratutitous teal saddle blanket.

*sigh*

I guess we haven't conformed to the tack purists notions of correct horse attire even when we're at our most normal and acceptible.
That's okay though, she's quite happy in her sidepull and I love me my teal.


There's reasons for everything, though. The Aussie saddle is something I found that fit both of us yet was in my budget. Love it!

The teal saddle blanket is there b/c that pad not only has wool felt, but plant felt too. The thing was on sale b/c plant debris had gotten mixed up in the wool. I picked out as much as I could with tweezers, but couldn't get everything, so the blanket is there so no errant plant bits poke the horse.

The breastplate is quickly becoming my favorite one. I got it on sale b/c it looked cool (yeah, great reason I know). Though it's big and heavy and kind of overpowers my small horse, she seems to like it the best. I had a Y-shape collar, but she objected to it and didn't want to move forward. I guess it restricted her shoulders too much. All I needed was something to keep the saddle from slipping back, and this does the job very well.

I love my tack. :) And if it matches and/or is teal, I'm happy as a clam.

Hoof Trials and Tribulations

Lately Cherry's hooves have been on my brain. She grew in some awful, crappy weak hoof last winter, and now it's reaching the ground. Thus we have been dealing with tenderness, cracks, chips and big hunks of hoof wall breaking off. It's not pretty or fun.

Now, Cherry's barefoot, and I have every intention of keeping her this way. I believe a barefoot hoof is a healthier hoof, and if at all possible to keep shoes off. Cherry (normally) has excellent feet, and lives quite happily without shoes.

Back in the day though, Cherry had shoes. Either all four or front shoes. Why? We rode on rocks, lots of rocks. Though tough, her feet weren't that tough. When I got her, she had front shoes. I kept her shod b/c I didn't know any better and figured I should just keep shoeing her.

Then, still not knowing any better, I figured I could save money if I pulled her shoes. I did save money, but she got less surefooted on our rocky terrain and was downright ouchie on gravel. My 14 year old brain didn't really make the connection until after one fateful ride.

This experience will haunt me forever, yet it is the best example of just how much heart Cherry has.


We went out for a trail ride with my friend Kate one sunny Saturday. Being teenagers, life was more fun at the canter and gallop. We toured through the local regional parks at high speed, our horses racing each other down the trail. Our horses sweated, we sweated, and we had a blast.

Coming home after this particular 6 hour ride, something wasn't quite right, but I couldn't put my finger on it. It felt like Cherry was tired, not something easily accomplished with a fit 1/2 Arab.

Well, we had been riding for 6 hours, most of that at a speedy trot or faster, so maybe she was tired. On the final 1/4 mile skirting the road down to the stable, Cherry's walk felt a little strange, but nothing to be concerned about. I'd put some lineament on her, hose her legs and all would be well, right?

Wrong.

The moment we got into the graveled stable yard, Cherry's legs began to shake and she almost went down. Now I was concerned. I jumped off and tried to lead her to the grooming stalls. She refused to move, her legs shaking even worse now.

Alarmed, I tried to drag her forward, thinking that if I could just get her moving everything would be okay. She took one step and almost collapsed again. Slowly, painfully slowly, I got her into the grooming stalls. Each step was agony and it took 10 minutes to go 20 feet.

I checked her over. Aside from refusing to move, she seemed okay. She ate the bran mash I made her and drank the water I lugged over from the hose. She stood quietly to be untacked and groomed.

Clearly she wasn't ill, but something was very wrong.

I don't remember who suggested it, but the conclusion was that she's suffered a stone bruise on the way home. Two days later the farrier confirmed it. With a grim face, he looked at me and said. "This horse has massive stone bruises in all four feet. I'm surprised she's standing. What have you been doing to her?"

Thoroughly abashed, I muttered something about trail riding. What had I done to my poor horse? She was fine out on the trail, she'd felt a little tired starting about 1/2 mile from the barn on the way home, but that was it. She couldn't possibly have gotten so bruised in the last mile of our ride.

Then it hit me. She'd been getting progressively more and more bruised throughout the entire day, but had gone on as if nothing was wrong. She'd been determined to get us home, and that's what she did.

As soon as we were home, it was safe to show weakness, to shake and drop all stoic pretense. She's a horse, how would she have known that should she have come up lame on the trail, a trailer would have come to pick her up and take her home? Or that I would have gotten off and led her? I can't imagine how much pain she was in, with no relief from the rocky ground and getting worse with every step. She didn't buck, didn't balk, didn't rear, didn't give me a single sign that she was in pain.

She nearly killed herself to get us there, but she got us home. That thought shook me to the core. Before that, Cherry was a horse that I rode, we sometimes had fun and sometimes we did not, and I owned her, but nothing more. Afterward, she was my horse. She'd clearly proven her loyalty, for lack of a better word, to me, and I was determined to repay her in kind.

When her feet healed, she was shod all around. We didn't have problems with stone bruises again, but I'm more careful now about what I ask her to gallop over and far more observant of hoof tenderness.


Now I take good care of her feet. We've been away from the rocks for several years now, and up until this summer her hooves have been great. I'll be putting her on a hoof supplement soon and I'm also researching hoof boots. I'd like to be able to ride on rocks occasionally, and I don't want to shoe her.

Regardless, that's the first thing that springs to mind whenever someone asks me why I've had her for so long or why she's definitely a forever horse.

She got us home.

Cherry, a Kid-Safe Horse

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.

The Joy of Bitless Bridles

The biggest challenge I faced with Cherry was her bit issues. She hated the bit with a fiery passion, yet nobody would believe me when I told them that.

At first my trainer thought it was simply a lack of training, and while this was indeed true, it wasn't the only reason. Then we thought that is was perhaps due to an issue with her teeth. I called the equine dentist out and got Cherry a full power float. Though there were several sharp points as well as ulcers in her mouth, the bit issues didn't totally go away after the dentistry.

I tried several different bits, from the copper snaffle Cherry came with to a kimberiwck curb to the fancy-shmancy loose ring sweet metal french link snaffle. The curb and the french link were the ones she tolerated best.

I say "tolerate" for a reason. The closest we came to acceptance of the bit was this transitory, grudging allowance of contact, only occasionally being actually on the bit.

In my lessons, we worked on keeping my hands as quiet as possible, using only seat, leg and voice cues (no rein cues) and driving from behind to push Cherry into the bit. It kinda worked, and it was frustrating as hell.

It seemed like we were making zero progress, and my little mare appeared as untrained and resistant as ever.

When I moved to college I had no more money for lessons, so I had to deal with the head tossing and neck bracing on my own. Of course I also had less time to ride, which didn't make things any easier. Cherry was still rather difficult to control and very easy to upset when we rode in the arena.

Then I made an astonishing discovery.

A friend introduced me to bitless bridles. Of course I already knew about them, but the only one I had ever used was a great bit mechanical hackamore that wasn't suitable for English riding. Maia had a Dr. Cook's bridle, which she used on her very forward TWH cross.

This bridle did not have shanks, instead it looked much like a regular bridle, except the reins attatched to peices that crossed under the jaw and met over the pole. When rein was applied, pressure from the cross-under piece "pushed" the horse's head over, and when the halt cue was given, the whole bridle tightened around the head.

I was intrigued, as Maia told me that her horse worked better in that bridle than any other, and that it also had plenty of "whoa power" out on the trail.

So I borrowed it and tried it out. Instantly it was like riding a whole new horse. The head came down, the tossing was far more infrequent, and it felt like all the resistance had melted away. The well trained horse I'd been molding over the past 6 years suddenly shown through. Wow, there really was something to this bitless shtick!

Of course I rushed right out and bought my own.

The DC bridle has been on several trail rides, one campout and been used in countless lessons. I do not believe (as some claim) that the bridle causes pain, as Cherry is a huge weenie, yet didn't mind my beginner students' clumsy steering and stopping attempts when using it.

Lately I've been experimenting with other styles of bitless bridle, such as the side pull and mechanical hack. It's fun for me, and as long as there's no metal in her mouth, Cherry goes well in pretty much anything.

But why?

Up until a few months ago, I didn't really care much *why* Cherry went better bitless. After a few arguements of "she'll accept the bit, just make her deal with it, all horses can go in a bit, etc." vs. my opinion that "she doesn't like the bit", I got curious.

Am I just being anthropomorphic? Or is there something I've overlooked? On the advice of a friend, I looked in her mouth to see the actual physical space a bit would occupy. I finally had my answer. I was right, she didn't like bits, and for a very good reason.

Where a normal horse's palate is convex, Cherry's is concave. Couple with a nice thick tongue, there's literally no room for a bit in there. Nearly every bit I used was banging on the roof of her mouth with every tiny twitch of the rein.

No wonder she was so fussy and resistant, it hurt!

I'm sure if I kept looking, I could find an acceptable bit, but I just don't care anymore. I myself prefer riding bitless, and will slap my DC bridle on any willing horse, and at age 19, I just don't care about fixing what ain't broke.

We don't show and I'm not selling her, so it hardly matters what she goes in as long as she's happy.

I'm also convinced that the bit problems are not due to a hole in her training, as some would argue. She goes very well in all the bitless rigs I've placed on her. She'll move into the contact and be "on the bit" in the non-leverage bridles and will neck rein and carry her head like a western horse when ridden in the mechanical hackamore.




I cannibalized my old English bridle to make a sidepull, which despite the Franken-bridle appearnce is one of my favorites to use.












This fabulous thing is my new mechanical hack, of course pruchased on ebay. I'm not sold on the blue nylon, but it fits and it was cheap, so I'm happy. I'm on the hunt for a leather headstall for it, but the nylon one will do for now.









Bitless bridles, especially the "nontraditional" styles like the DC bridle, are a bit on the fringes in the horse world. Most people want their horses to go in a bit, and bitless riders tend to be looked down upon. (Ask me how I know)

That's alright though, as long as it works for me and my horse, I don't care too much how ridiculous others find me.