(“He picked up his lariat and pitch pipe and gave his heart to Lou, Oklahoma.”)
I used to do a north Texas clinic near the town of Tioga. Tioga was coincidentally the birthplace of cowboy legend, crooner, and reindeer aficionado, Gene Autry. When Tioga balked at his suggestion that the town fathers rename their little burg in his honor, word has it he picked up his lariat and pitch pipe and gave his heart to Lou, Oklahoma, whose citizens were less persnickety (and less fenokee, one presumes, since they were Okies and not Georgians). Thus, the Gene Autry Museum is located in the former Lou, or as it is now known, Gene Autry, Oklahoma—the late cowboy’s, er, “home.”
In any case, the woman for whom I used to teach eventually produced a child, Samantha. As she passed from the toddler to the moppet stage, Samantha grew increasingly irrepressible. When I first visited, there could be no “grown up time” in the evenings because Samantha refused to go to bed. She just had to stay up late with us. Always. Her mother cleverly parried with what we refer to as “the old reverse treatment.”
Thereafter, on the drive to DFW to pick me up, Lisa would say to her, “Now when Bill is here to visit, you have to stay up really late and keep us company.” Perversely, Samantha would respond by wanting to climb under the covers by 7:30.
This approach can sometimes be applied to your horse, too. Yes, he’s supposed to obey you, be respectful of your leg aids, and look where you want him to. But when horses shy (unless they’re playing deceitful king-of-the-hill games), instinct has momentarily trumped training. The sooner you can restore your normal working relationship, the better, and the old reverse treatment is just sneaky enough to help you in those circumstances.
Once while teaching in a place where English was not the native tongue—no, not east Texas—I was trying to assist a rider who wasn’t buying into this approach. He was an aggressive, handsome man whose self image placed him far mas macho than even Lloyd Bridges. A conqueror of horses.
In this particular lesson his horse had deigned to be unconquerable. We were working in an arena which the day before had been the warm up area for a show. Just beyond C on show day, the caterer had fired up a smokey barbeque grill, and this horse was still envisioning smoke followed, presumably, by the possible roasting and consumption of . . . him!
The more Lucho held him, the stronger that horse got. Each attempt at bullying him past C resulted in a rapid exit towards the opposite end of the school with his rider hanging on with all his strength. I persuaded Lucho to let me have a go at it, and I employed a different tactic. Major Lindgren always preached “Ride your horse forward but flex him towards his point of concern and don’t let him lock in any position.” Indeed, you’ll quell his anxieties faster if you counter-flex him and allow your horse to peek at the perceived threat as you ride by. The more you forcibly hold him from looking, the more you reinforce the idea that the bushes really do hold something worth fearing.
On my first trip past C, the horse bulged off the track but kept going. Likewise, on the second but not so badly. By the fourth circuit he was ignoring the problem spot, and two circles later he was reaching long and low, swinging as though he hadn’t a care. Interestingly, Lucho was mostly furious that he hadn’t won the battle, and when he climbed back aboard and resumed it, his horse proceeded to drag him down to A as though the previous five minutes had never happened.
If a horse’s shying includes a wish to bolt, the more you restrain him, the more he’ll want to grab and go. The counter-intuitive reverse treatment solution is a momentary “check,” a moment of release (despite your misgivings), and then another half halt (or ten). Help him arrive at a solution that doesn’t trigger the why is she holding my feet in the fire? reaction. In so doing, a horse will usually relax and settle faster.
You can discover the same logic applies when a horse is learning to counter canter. As you know, in counter canter a horse should be positioned slightly in the direction of the lead throughout. But often in trying to fulfill this requirement, a rider will hang on the inside rein and let the horse fall onto his outside shoulder. Not only does that leave him off balance but also suspicious of why he isn’t allowed to look where he’s going. If she won’t let me look, it must be to keep me from seeing something that will scare me. It all adds up to resistance. Here’s where the Reverse Treatment comes in. When you’re training the counter canter, it helps to periodically make a few steps in counter position, that is, towards the direction he’s going. “You want to look this way? Fine, go ahead,” you tell him.
“Whew,” he’ll respond and often wonder what he’d been worried about in the first place. Clearly, this isn’t an in-the-test solution, but by then, you will have established your horse’s confidence in the movement, and he’ll trust whatever alignment you want to place him in.
That’s the old reverse treatment. Chances are, if Gene’s minions had tried it on Tioga, Lou would still be Lou, and I’d have been visiting Gene Autry, Texas.