RANGO 'THE LITTLE HORSE THAT WOULDN’T'

I first saw him in a very large professional jumping barn.
Every horse stood well over 16 hands tall..
At first glance it was comical to contrast all these giants with the white horse..
It was like looking at Mutt and many Jeffs from the cartoon strip.
He stood in the end stall, all 15 2 hands of him.

His coloring was white with Medicine Hat markings.
This means he wears a brown hat over his ears and he has a brown breastplate. 
This particular coloring was highly prized by the Indian chiefs of old. 
They believed these horses protected them in battle.
He could be found gazing longingly out at the extensive gardens and green pastures.
On the other side of his stall he could look down a long corridor of very tall horses..
He was kept in a 9 x 12 box and walkout, surrounded by a high fence and electricity.

As I approached his ears went flat, he swung his head and drew his lips back over very large teeth. 
I jumped away! 
He was trying to scare me.
He was successful!!!.
Maybe being the shortest guy on the block had given him a complex.

You’d think I’d have had sense enough to leave right then at his very obvious request.
However I’d been looking for a horse for about a week and watching the paper faithfully for about the same length of time.
I was starting to get anxious to get on with it.
I wanted a horse and I wanted a horse now.
In fact he was the first horse I’d actually gone out to see.

The ad, read Paint Quarterhorse, goes English and Western, good on trails.

He looked strong and sturdy enough, “just like a horse should look.”.
He also had a cute little dimple in his butt.

Robbie, the fellow selling him, told me, “it is the thumbprint of God,” and said to be very good luck on the racetrack.
Robbie was an ex-jockey and had bought this horse to learn how to ride properly.
He’d got him from a local riding stable where he was said to have been nipping the kids.

Didn’t worry me though I was going to start this wonderful new program and I’d get him sorted out in no time.
Just because he had pads on his feet (not a good sign) and the devil in his eye was no reason to pass him over as far as I was concerned.

Besides he was the right price and I’d MAKE him love me in no time.

He was just misunderstood.
I think I did look at one other horse that week but decided “Nelson” was the horse for me. 
Oh, by the way, did I mention this was my first horse???

Nelson was delivered to me a few weeks later—we were all so excited. 
It was a beautiful spring afternoon, filled with the promise of a childhood dream come true.
The trailer arrived, the back door opened, the trainer went in to get him and after some noisy scuffling he came winging out, soaking wet, high as a kite.
She said the reason he was so wet was cause he’d just had a bath. 
Hm.m..!!

First thing he managed to do was get tangled up in his lead rope...whoops!
Then he stepped on my big toe..Ouch!!
Then he proceeded to walk all over me.

First time we went out for a ride together he decided he wouldn’t go out the driveway without the support of another horsey friend.
Then he decided he wouldn’t walk at a reasonable pace, matter of fact we walked so slow it looked, from a distance, like we were walking backwards.
At other times he’d bolt and go so fast I’d barely be able to stay aboard.
As to the trot, he wouldn’t extend or maintain the gait.
As to the canter, well he just wouldn’t.

The ring was a nightmare, to get his point across he’d just buck, scaring me to death.

One other thing Robbie said to me, which I hadn’t taken much notice of at the time was that, “once this horse makes up his mind you’re not likely to change it, cause he just won’t.”  

So far I could get him out of the driveway to the end of the block—but no further—my friend, would have to come and get me to cross the street if I wanted to ride, cause he just wouldn’t go.

Time and half went by and I wasn’t having any fun.
It was time to teach this horse who was boss. .
So I put on my spurs, my chaps, my crop, my gloves and set out to teach him a thing or two about cooperation.
This was war!!
Bad idea!
I couldn’t win and he wouldn’t cooperate.

Around about this time a friend said to me
“Hey girl, this isn’t supposed to be about war, it’s supposed to be about Partnership.
Lights on!!!

I started to think about partnership and what it means.
To have partnership there must be mutual respect.
How was I to gain my horses respect?
Well, obviously I couldn’t use force, fear, or intimidation—he was much better at that than me, besides, he‘d already won the war.
I had been involved in Parelli Natural Horsemanship right from the beginning of my time with Nelson.
Unfortunately I’d been so caught up in owning my first horse and all the attendant responsibility that comes with this, that I hadn’t been listening.

I was listening now; I needed some answers and fast.

This horse was my sole responsibility and I needed help.
The first thing Pat suggests is to “think like a horse” and to understand that a horse is a prey animal and I am a predator.

With this in mind I started to hang around the barn and “horse watch”.
I made no demands, just watched how Nelson and the other horses interacted with each other in the barn and in the field.
I began to understand by observation that horses are herd animals with prey instincts.
In other words “they run first, ask questions later”.
I was able to see that they use body language to communicate with each other.
They are very social animals and love to play.
They chase each other, jumping, circling around, up, down backwards, sideways.
They groom one another and watch over each other as they sleep.
They also have a very definite pecking order.
As I watched and discovered, I began to understand a little of who my horse actually was, and what he was thinking.
I even put together a Nelson dictionary.
For example if I were to come into his stall and he kept his ears forward and he reached out to me he was looking for a treat.
When he saw me coming and turned his butt to me he wasn’t interested in having my company.
When he reached over to sharpen his teeth on the wall, it meant, “don’t even think about putting that saddle on me.”

By the way, by this time I’d decided to change his name to Rango.

A Nelson—he was not!!!

I now realized Rango saw me as part of his herd and I was very low in the pecking order as far as he was concerned.
I was inclined to agree with him! 
I could see he had been playing horsey games with me. 

I’d just have to learn to play the games too. Only I’d have to win them.

PNH gave me the basic understanding and the tools to do just that.
Pat Parelli teaches the seven games horses play.
The names are fun because Pat believes we should have fun with our horses.
We started with the friendly game and as we were able, moved on to the rest of the games.
Porcupine (teaching to move off of pressure), Driving, Circling, Yo-Yo, Sideways and Squeeze. 
As I learned these games and started to win them, the respect ratio between Rango and I increased remarkably.
I think sometimes he was amazed and wondered how I could have found out his secrets.

Pat says, all a horse is really looking for is leadership..

Rango taught me to have hands that open quickly and close slowly.
In other words to let go of the rope instead of grabbing on like the predator I am.
I had always been the kind of person to have at least six things on the go at the same time.
Rango taught me that if he and I were going to communicate effectively I was going to have to slow down and focus.
This was difficult for me.
It meant I had to control my energy and redirect it into the moment at hand.
This was a powerful and life changing concept for me.
As this focus developed it produced feel and timing between me and my horse.
This in turn brought balance both on the ground and in the saddle.

And so when Rango said he wouldn’t … I just kept playing the games with him till he could.

By the way he wasn’t a quarterhorse after all, he’s an appoloosa.

Rango was nine years old when we first met.
It is now ten years later.
I was his tenth owner and his first partner.

Turns out he was a follower looking for a leader after all.
We are members of the same herd and I’m his lead mare.

 We go trailering, swimming, camping, trail riding with ease, trust and respect..
Even ring riding is OK with him if its OK with me.

Not to say we don’t have our differences once in awhile but he always defers to my judgment.

There is an understanding between us, a harmony that I never thought to experience especially with the little horse that WOULDN’T. !!!!