The Real Work Begins with my American Mustang

Over the past month or so I have had the pleasure to share with you the beginning of the story of my Mustang “Cricket” and me. As she and I have moved forward, our relationship has grown to something quite incredible. Here is how we started ...

On day three of having Cricket home, I set my goal to be able to pick up the rope and have her move her head in the direction of the pressure without being afraid or pulling me over as she’d done two days before with my husband. I wanted desperately to pet her and rub her all over, but I knew we both needed more time.

After morning chores were completed, I headed off to work for the day and decided I had all day to consider how to institute my plans of handling Cricket in the afternoon.

I knew food bribes wouldn’t work at this point. Cricket didn’t know me or trust me to take food from me and I had to suppose she didn’t know what carrots or apples were because she was fresh off the Nevada range. Out in the wild they eat whatever vegetation is available and I didn’t have any of that wild food in my barn.

I’d never had a horse that hadn’t been touched by another human being. All the horses I’d owned or ridden over the years were domestic creatures handled from birth and at least partly trained.

“I was still young enough to handle the training and gentling of a young horse, right?” That was a scary thought. I knew since she’d never been touched, that no bad habits had been taught to her.

Trying to concentrate on work was tough, but it did help keep my mind occupied since I was all in a tizzy over Cricket. Among all the thoughts and ideas I had whirling around my brain, the thought of the farrier came to mind during my day. A farrier is a person who trims a horse’s hooves, kind of like a manicurist for people. Ugh, that also had to be addressed and sooner rather than later. If I cared about my farrier at all, and I did, I had to be able to pick up and safely hold each of her four feet for an extended period of time. I had to be able to move her legs around while holding her feet and bang on her hooves, use a rasp (a large nail file) across her entire hoof, basically make the movements and sounds that the farrier would once the horse was ready – without her hurting me. Knowing that a horse’s feet are the only thing they have to keep them safe, either by running or kicking, I thought that might be a daunting task. It would be like taking her protection away from her and having her give that control over to me. Feeling overwhelmed for a fleeting moment I thought of how to break it all down into little steps. I also reminded myself that first I have to be able to handle her head, gain her trust then I could think about touching the rest of her.

I convinced myself that 15 minutes each day would be enough time to begin work with Cricket. I didn’t want to push her too hard and possibly create a stressed situation that did not yet exist. When I arrived home, I went straight to the barn. My 3-year-old came screaming down to greet me. I swear that child had no idea how to be calm. I told her that we would have to be quiet when we are around the new little horse for a while. I explained that Cricket is not used to people and people noises and for my safety if she was going to remain at the barn and watch, she’d have to stay quiet.

Slowly, deliberately, I entered the corral. Cricket looked at me and inhaled sharply. I did not look directly at her, just at her feet and approached the end of the lead rope with caution. The purple rope seemed to gain distance from me as I crossed the 30 feet. Of course that was ridiculous, and there I was, rope at my feet, just as quickly as it had taken for that thought to register in my brain.

Standing with my side facing Cricket I slowly bent over and picked up the rope. As I stood slowly, her suspicion grew, as indicated by her sucking and blowing of air, although not hard as if she were in a panic. I drew the rope through my hands slowly and stopped just short of putting any pressure on her face. She was calmer now, her breathing quieter. She was looking at me, waiting to see my next move. I slowly and gently put just the slightest bit of pressure on the rope, standing to her right, and her head gave in that direction. I let all pressure off immediately and smiled.

I repeated this process a few more times and the result was the same. She gave to the pressure quietly and confidently. Still holding the rope, I moved across the front of her to her left side. The sucking and blowing ensued once more.

(I think horses have two brains, one on each side of their head, and that they are not connected in any way)

This seemed completely new to her. As I began reeling in the length of rope she jerked it from my hands and ran to the opposite corner of the corral. Thankfully I held the rope lightly so it slipped through my hands easily and painlessly. I walked slowly toward the rope, picked it up and once more began gathering the length of it.

This time she seemed to be more understanding. She gave lightly to the pressure but was still more concerned on the left side. We worked a bit more on this maneuver and she caught on quickly. After 15 minutes of success I dropped the rope, told her she was a good girl and left her corral. We had a long way to go, but we were off to a good start.

Training will move along, but I won't bore you with the day-to-day of it all. I do have a few more interesting days of my experience with Cricket that I'm sure you'll enjoy so please check back!