I'm on the equestrian community, and yesterday someone posted this article on abuses in specific parts of the horse industry.

As you might imagine, it provoked a lot of comment, especially from people who are sick of the same things the author is.



Also predictably, it created some hurt feelings. Without linking into the discussion on the forum (which you can join if you wish and see for yourself) one group member reported that she felt singled out and generalized against as a show person. (She also posted a bunch of pictures of her lovely and cheery and obviously not abused horses. I believe her!)

The trouble with the linked article is, it goes either too far (by going beyond the initial point that we push young horses too hard for selfish reasons) or not far enough (by failing to address the ways in which backyard types like me can also be responsible for a lot of equine misery.)

I don't think it was Dr. Miller's intent to make innocent show people feel singled out for abuse. In fact, I am quite sure of it.

The thing is, the too-far/not-far-enough thing doesn't take away from the fact that he's making good points.

The age thing. Racing is a money-driven industry, so you can see why baby horses do not get to just hang out and mature--time is money. And a lot of big prestigious races are for two and three year olds. The stress on those horses' bodies is probably comparable to what would happen if you sent your tall fourteen-year-old out to play professional football. They look mature, but they aren't. The wonder is that any race horses retire sound at all.

Showing is maybe more indirectly financially driven, but again, think of the classes for youngsters of two and three. Big ones, and these horses are trained hard, and the idea that they have to "earn their keep" long before they are really capable of standing up to work, that's troubling.

The other kinds of things Miller mentions, they're training. And whether you're training a horse abusively to win something in a show ring, or whether you're training abusively at home to prove something to yourself ("see how I master this big powerful animal!")... it's all the same.

Not all show people are like this. Most show people are not abusive, most of them love their horses and try to do the right thing. Really. But the thing is, show people are out there in front of God and everyone, so when they screw up people see it.

And they do screw up, and the reason they do, as far as I can tell, is for pretty much the same reason the backyard types like me screw up: they lose sight of the horse as someone who's worthy of respect in his own right.

I've seen things, okay? And sometimes when you say something, people who are invested but weren't there try to pooh-pooh your observations. (Horse people sometimes seem to assume that nobody else knows anything, which leads to circular and very condescending conversations. I try very hard to stay out of that loop and give credit where it's due--giving credit has become my new thing over the past few years--but I recognize that I am a horse person too.)

But here's the thing. Western pleasure has become the show event that showcases how slowly and smoothly and easy-goingly a horse can go about its business. And fair enough. But at some point, the event became strangely divorced from any sort of practical application and at the very competitive levels it turned into a "go slow/head low" contest that the event may well be struggling with to this day.

I used to be active on another horse list, and when I reported attending a show and being pretty horrified with the quality of movement in the WP class I got some sharp responses from people who showed WP and were not present at the class I was. They explained to me, as if I was an idiot, that WP horses are bred to go slow, and it's perfectly natural for them, and they are performing the gaits exactly right, only slowly.

Which some of them are. I've seen those horses, and it's cool to watch them.

What I was speaking of, though, was the frankly much-more prevalent situation (at least in my experience--which is valid, since it is my experience) in which a horse who was not bred as a pleasure specialist was worn out and yanked on and bullied until he gave in and tried to jog or lope much more slowly than he comfortably could. There is a reason the AQHA still has that rule on the books about how a pleasure horse should not appear sullen, dull, drawn, or overly tired. It's there because they still need the rule.

What I should have said on the list was, I can count. And the lope is a three-beat gait. If the horse is forced to slow down to the point where the diagonal pair of legs that forms the second beat of the lope cannot coordinate, that's a four-beat gait. I can count. And a four-beat lope is not a natural thing for the vast majority of healthy horses. Slowing down to the point where the horse breaks gait in front or behind, essentially trotting behind and loping in front (or, worse, the reverse, which feels like he's going to go head over heels any second) is not natural and it sure doesn't look comfortable for the horse. (The same is true of the two-beat jog--slow him down enough and the diagonal pairs begin to lose their coordination, and the result is very ugly to watch.)

If the horse appears to be in distress, it's probably in distress.

And if a horse's movement suggests it is in severe pain or suffering from a neurological disorder, there is something wrong.

There are horses out there who naturally carry their necks level and heads relatively low. It's comfortable for them. They may be bred for it, and they're sure built that way. But up to a very few years ago I could attend major horse shows and rejoice in the sight of riders in the warmup pen snatching at their horses' mouths before a class, hard jerks left-right-left-right until the horse got the message that if he didn't keep his head meekly in an unnatural and uncomfortable position, well, the results would be a hell of a lot more discomfort.

I am horrified to report that sometimes the judges were right there watching, and still placed these riders.

I am delighted to recall a day when I watched a teenage boy with amazingly light hands pilot his cheerful and very lovely palomino mare around several classes full of down-headed four-beating horses, and win everything in sight.

Unfortunately, though, it didn't happen often enough in my experience, and generally only at smaller shows. At big associations' major events, the competition seemed mostly about artifice. And yes, I consider that I could recognize it when I saw it, thanks.

I go on about the western events because I ride western. But for many years I cherished the dream of writing a horsey murder mystery in which the victim was based on a jumper trainer I once saw in action at a show. A teen rider was having trouble with what looked like an overfaced and frightened horse, and the trainer's response was to get a stronger rider on the horse and... well, pummel him into submission. Seriously, the solution to the problem was to aim the horse at the jumps and beat on him as he skittered up to each, stopped, scrambled over, and skittered away. I think the judge tried to excuse the rider halfway through but nobody on the show staff really followed up.

The horse "learned a lesson," all right. I suspect he learned at least two: (1) jumping is scary, and (2) I cannot trust my rider.

He certainly didn't look like he'd learned anything else.

And speaking of "teaching him a lesson"--how bout those backyard types whose battles with their horses have long since turned into my-ego-versus-his, I-have-to-WIN situations? The horse? Is not looking to defeat you or "win" anything. The horse is just looking to get out of the situation in one piece. I am ashamed to admit that I've gotten into power struggles with horses, even though intellectually I know a horse is not equipped to get into or comprehend anything of the sort. A battle like that is really me against myself, with the horse caught in the middle and getting progressively more helplessly frustrated and frightened.

I will say that one of the benefits of being a much older rider is this: my body is starting to break down some, but my patience and understanding is light-years ahead of where it was twenty years ago. There are fights that Mitzi and I have just not gotten into, either because I avoided or defused them in the bud, or because I foresaw that I wasn't going to be able to bring the discussion to a constructive conclusion and got someone involved who could.

It's always the rider's responsibility. I've always known that. But now I sort of believe it.

Which doesn't mean I don't still do wrong or mess up. It just means I am now much more capable of seeing myself do so and accepting it's my responsibility to change.

And the thing is: now that I truly know it's all on me, I feel better about everything, including the things that go badly. Because if it's all on me, there's something I can do about it!

Over on the community I made a remark about horses being treated as "a means to an end." What I meant by that is, if a horse has nobody in her life who is truly in her corner, if the outcome is the only thing that's ever important to the point where the horse gets all the blame and is put into situations where all they can do is try to save themselves... that's when you get horses who are sour or mean or crazy. Left to their own devices your average horse is a lot like that sweet, spacey character I spoke of the other day: well-meaning, not so much with the common sense all the time, and dependent on you to help them cope with the situations you put them in.

When I, as the human, don't hold up my end--because I want him ready to race or show NOW, or I want him to do something he was never built to do and it's become his fault, or I am so set on proving myself right and "the boss" that I can't see past the end of my own nose and I'm turning my horse into an enemy instead of a partner.. well, that's when Robert Miller, DVM, has a problem with me.

And so he should.