Wild Spirits - A Warrior Within
By Moose
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10th Nov 2011 •
2,668 views
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17 comments
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This is the story of a warrior within, a true wild spirit rattling against the cages of domestic life, dreaming of running, fantasizing his reign over his herd. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try to break a horse; a wild spirit can never be broken. Mickey is one of those wild spirits... I’m starting to believe I am too, no matter how many ways you try to break me; a wild spirit can never be broken.
Thinking from the heart rather than the mind, I made the mistake of buying a gelding. He was a dun, not even a year old, and a great sire with great potential. I thought he would become the perfect reining, roping, cattle working, ranch horse. With this wild spirit of mine, I convinced myself it would be a breeze. Since my connection with horses is stronger than anyone else I know, who better for the job right? Well that gelding and I had a connection, positive or negative I can’t decide.
His name was Michelob Golden Light, after the beer. This name was a perfect fit for this crazy, air-headed, nut-job. From the beginning Mickey was a hassle. He had the mind of a toddler, ripping around the pasture like there was no tomorrow, playing the wild stallion game with the older geldings and determining his rank above them. He wasn’t one to back down either, I learned this his first night on our farm.
I was putting the mares in for the night, giving them grain and a warm blanket, when I heard a loud pounding of little hooves against metal coming from the paddocks. I closed up the stalls and ran outside. Standing tall and proud on top of the hay feeder was little Mickey. His nostrils flared as he puffed out his chest and looked down on me like I was lower than him. I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of the cocky little thing. I pulled him by his halter and attempted to drag him off the hay feeder, but Mickey had other ideas. This hay feeder was his throne, and his was the king. The second I touched his halter he threw his head in the air, thrashing out his front hooves and landing a blow to my face. I backed off and waited for him to come down but he stood there, stubbornly.
I thought to myself as I held my throbbing eye; this one was going to be a handful. From then on, every activity was a battle between wills. My will, against his. Training a young horse meant determining your rank above theirs, enforcing the ground rules, and getting them to do what you ask. So I started at square one, ranking.
On the morning after a light rain, horses were always feisty and frisky. I thought it was the perfect day to take Mickey out and teach him a few things. So I let out the older horses to graze while I left Mickey in his stall to wait. Waiting was his least favorite thing to do. After episodes of whinnying, thrashing, kicking, pawing, and snorting Mickey finally calmed himself to a brisk pace around his stall. I waited until he was stopped in front of the door to open it slowly.
Through Mickey’s eyes, I was setting him free into the wide open prairie. So what did he do? He charged past me, the whites of his eye flashing wildly. With a squeal and a kick he was off as I helplessly threw a lead rope around his neck. Mickey’s dreams of running wild and free were cut short. He looked back at me with eyes that spoke for themselves, “What’s this holding me back?” he seemed to ask. He continued to fight me, as I wrapped my arms around him and practically tackling him to keep him still. Once a halter was on, I breathed a sigh of relief. “Not this time, buddy.” I mumbled.
After that morning’s little incident, we were beginning training with a fresh start. We began with a little lounging. This was Mickey’s favorite game. He would take off in whatever direction he felt like and watched me drag behind him. I leaned back, my feet dug into the sand, I pulled him in as hard as I could. I was no match for the “All Mighty Mickey”. So I had to find another way, and that was to lay down our ranking. I was ABOVE him. I gave Mickey a little break while I plotted our next activity.
I entered “his” round-pen with a bundle of hay under my arm and a whip in the other. Mickey did not like the idea of me trespassing on his grounds. He tossed his head and threw a tantrum as I quickly laid the hay on the ground and stepped back, but he was not expecting what came next. As he calmed himself down and reached for the hay, I charged at him and snapped the whip on the ground, making a loud angry “Hey!”
He snorted and bounced onto his hind feet, launching himself in the other direction and bucking with frustration. I stood next to the hay with satisfaction. But knowing Mickey, he was not about to give up his rank. So I braced myself as he calmly sauntered back to the hay, stretching out his neck and reaching for a bite. Once again, I stomped towards him and snapped the whip. He reared up and ran off even more frustrated. Mickey was fed up and determined to get his hay, he came at me with hooves flying and a wild look in his eye. I bravely charged at him, snapping the whip. “I am lead mare!” I screamed. The lead mare always ate before the lower geldings.
Over and over and over Mickey tried for the hay until finally, it seemed like he had lost interest or given up. He stood in the corner of the round pen, licking his lips with thought and eying me carefully. I quietly, calmly reached out to him with a treat. Mickey was very hesitant to move, but with such curious nature he took it. I patted him softly and cooed, “We figured it out, didn’t we? Smart little Mickey” Always end on a good note, I thought.
I went to bed that night with satisfaction, maybe this was going to work out. All those bruises and the black eye would be worth it. I dreamed about riding a handsome dun through dust, roping cattle and penning sheep. It seemed like a great future for Mickey, what better job for him than to boss around cattle and sheep? I was full of excitement to start our next lesson, the ground rules.
Another crisp, fresh morning arose and I was up early, eagerly finishing my chores so I could work with Mickey again. When I clipped his lead rope onto his halter, Mickey’s ears laid flat against his patchy little mohawk of a mane. He planted his hooves into the bedding stubbornly. After loosing his rank as top gelding, I didn’t blame him for not wanting to work today. But once I ask him to do something, it has to be followed through with. I learned persistence is a huge part of training, along with patience and reward.
I shoved all of my weight against Mickey’s hip, pushing him out of his stall. When I grabbed for his lead rope, he reached back and sank his teeth into my arm. I quickly slapped him in the mouth and yelled, but Mickey bit again. I swatted, he bit, I swatted, he bit. Finally I had enough, the last time his bit me I reached over and grabbed his ear, biting down on it hard. I never bit a horse again, but I have to say, I’m glad I did it. Mickey pulled back and stared at me with a new respect. I stared back with confidence. Now, with those ground rules laid, we were ready to start the real training I had planned for today.
I lead him down the driveway by the lead rope. Mickey’s mind was every where at once. He was spooking at moving objects, snatching bits of grass, and slamming his body into me. There was obviously another rule to be enforced, my personal bubble. The next time Mickey carelessly invaded my space, I smacked him in the shoulder. Mickey did not like this at all and raised his head high above my reach, backing away quickly. I gently pulled his head back down and patted him calmly. We continued on, shove, slap, shove, slap... After a long walk down the driveway and back, Mickey was less daring to step into my “bubble” but he still enjoyed testing the boundaries. Our new daily routine was, walk out to round-pen (enforce the boundaries) and lounge for 30 minutes to an hour.
One night after putting the horses in, I decided to try and trim up Mickey’s mohawk. So I went for his mane with a scissors when suddenly he pawed at the scissors and scraped my hand. I backed away quickly and dropped the scissors. My hand was bleeding a good amount of blood so I hurried into the house, leaving Mickey and the scissors outside. After washing off my hand and wrapping it in a dish towel, I ran back outside to finish up with Mickey. I walked into the barn to see Mickey violently pawing at the dirt where the pieces of the scissors lay. He had a look of determination in his eyes, like he was going to destroy that scissors one way or another. I quickly untied him and lead him away from the “vicious” scissors and into the north pasture. After the scissors incident I went back inside to change the bloody towel wrapped around my hand. That afternoon was spent in the ER getting 4 stitches.
After one black eye, countless bruises, and 4 stitches, my parents were beginning to regret giving me the privilege of training a weanling... and so was I. Mickey was a heaping handful of work, there was no easy was out of this. If it’s going to get done right, it’s going to take a lot of time and pain, and that’s time and pain I’m willing to give to get something out of this. Training horses is not as pretty as it may seem.
I kept on pushing Mickey to learn. I spent hours desensitizing him to everything imaginable, plastic bags, milk cartons, pool noodles, flags, tires, sirens, sheets, fly masks, and even the vicious scissors. Mickey was okay with me touching him with scary object, pressing on him, and even putting scary objects on his back. With a lot of fighting, blood, and bruises, he learned. The next step was the hardest, and probably most dangerous. The saddle. The saddle is a horse-eating death trap that clings to your back and won’t let go, in Mickey’s eyes. That had to be changed.
One night, I had deviously hung a saddle in Mickey’s stall, just for him to get used to over the night. It sat on the rail, strapped down and untouched when I left for the night. As I tried to fall asleep, all night I wondered what that horse was doing with the saddle. I wondered if he was making friends with the saddle, just ignoring it, or battling until death with it. Knowing my Mickey, he was probably overthrowing it from its throne, maybe even destroying every last bit of it.
The next morning, to my surprise, the saddle hung just where I left it... upside and with bite marks on it, but the part that made be proud was that Mickey resisted the urge to destroy it. I praised him by taking away the saddle and letting him out in the pasture to graze before the lesson but, as always, his good behavior didn’t last long. Mickey charged around the pasture and angered the other horses who grazed in peace. I was actually happy with my mare when she sent him a blow to the chest, he did deserve it...
Mickey’s first time wearing the saddle came after days of added weight on his back, followed by bucking and rearing fits and a few injuries. I worked on that rebellious little gelding for hours just chasing him with the saddle and the hours piled on as we went into touching the saddle, wearing the saddle, and standing still while wearing the saddle. We went through this day after day after day until I was sure Mickey was safe to ride. It took all of my strength and bravery to get on that horse. When I was finally ready and thickly padded with a winter jacket and a helmet, I brought Mickey into the round-pen, which meant business and he knew it.
I tacked Mickey and took a deep breath, praying it would not be my last. I reached for the horn and gracefully slid my boot into the stirrup. Mickey spun away and hopped on his back feet. I quickly took my boot out and stumbled to my knees. Mickey landed on his front feet and flared his nostrils at me, breathing down my neck as I stood slowly. I stroked his soft grey muzzle and stared into his big brown eyes. “I’m not going to win this battle am I?” I asked with low confidence. Mickey just stared back with his big, devouring eyes. I sighed and shook it off, ready to try again.
Grab the horn, slide in the first leg, and slowly raise myself onto his back.... Mickey swung his hind legs around, spinning violently and sending out a short buck. I desperately grabbed his short, stubby mane and yanked myself into the saddle, loosing my other stirrup and sending the saddle off center. I grabbed for his neck and held myself through two more bucks. As I saw Mickey’s head go down my heart skipped a beat, I had no control and the saddle was sliding under Mickey’s belly. I panicked. I had to get off this crazy horse. Getting off would mean that he wins. Stubbornly, I refused to let Mickey win this time. I locked my arms around his neck and held on tight as Mick threw a violent buck into the air and charged at the gate. I wanted to close my eyes, I wanted to just jump off and land in the nice soft sand, I wanted to be done with Mickey, but something held me to that horse and if that meant clinging to their necks as they tried to throw you into the dirt, then so be it. I was not going to let Mickey win this battle of our strong wills. I am the lead mare.
As Mickey’s head came up, I grabbed for the reins and squeezed my legs into his barrel, holding onto him with a tightly. My fingers touched the relieving feeling of leather as I gripped a single rein. I pulled his head to one side, throwing him off balanced. My hips glided in sync with his body as he slowed to a lope and then a quick trot. I pulled with every muscle in my arm, forcing Mickey to a stop.
After a second of silence as the dust swirled around us, I swung my leg over and slid off of Mickey’s back. When my boots touched the sand, I crumpled to the ground. My thighs felt like jelly and my arm throbbed from the stress of pulling. I stood with shaky legs and released the saddle from under Mickey’s belly. There was a long moment of silence, just harsh breathing until finally I sighed in relief. Mickey followed up with a snort. I grabbed both sides of his bridle and pressed my head against his for support. I stared into his eyes and tried to catch my breath. “I won,” I said between loud, gasping breaths. Mickey seemed to lower his head in defeat and exhaustion. I turned him out into the pasture and he disappeared into the trees within seconds.
On my walk back to the barn, with the saddle under my arm, I thought about what just happened and what I had accomplished. I almost killed myself, I concluded. With a dazed expression, I returned to the house and flopped down on my bed and thought things over.
I’d call that a day.
With weeks and weeks of practice and training, Mickey was ride-able. Not once did that horse throw me off, I’m proud to say. I stuck out every buck, rear, and crow hop that gelding dished out. He was the most difficult, stubborn, and strong willed horse I’ve ever trained. All in all, I was proud of my work. But Mickey couldn’t stay, my parents forbid me from riding him after witnessing one of his episodes of bucking. I reassured them that we were just “working things out,” that I was just “showing him who’s boss” and “enforcing the ranking” but they didn’t take that for an answer, Mickey was far too dangerous for them to feel comfortable with me training. I pleaded for them to reconsider, the hard part was done! But they insisted I sell him.
Will a dull, broken spirit I sold him to the first bidder within a month. I remember every minute of that horrid day. I dreaded it for weeks. The last night I spent with him, I could hardly sleep. Flashbacks filled my mind. I saw him rip around the pasture with his tail high in the air, I remembered the taste of his ear as I bit him, I pictured the horse I saw him as someday, a hard working cattle horse, I replayed all the good times sitting in the pasture and watching him move with freedom and happiness. I did most of my crying that night.
When the trailer finally pulled into our driveway and I was left to say my goodbyes, I could hardly speak, forcing back tears. I took him by the halter and pressed my forehead to his. “Mickey, don’t you ever let anyone break you’re wild spirit. You’re a warrior, a stubborn one, and don’t let anyone change you.” I released Mickey’s head and touched his muzzle one last time before letting go of the lead rope into the new owner’s hands.
Selling a horse is a hard, hard thing to do. I was never going to see Mickey again. The second he left the driveway, he was gone. I choked on my tears as I watched the beat-up old trailer disappear into the dust. At night I prayed that Mickey found a good home, and that he would stay strong just like he’s always been, stubborn and strong willed just like the warrior he thought he was. Don’t let anyone break your wild spirit, my words replayed in my head. I pictured him, young again, standing on top of the hay feeder tall and proud. It brought me to tears to imagine him under the same star-filled sky, flying over the ground like a bullet, kicking his heels into the air and snorting his frisky little snort.
“I’ll miss you, buddy.” |
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Madeirey
I love this! I'm SO sorry you had to sell him though! :-(
I love this! I'm SO sorry you had to sell him though! :-(
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Nov 10, 2011
• 1,963 views
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RoyalCrownEstates
MOD
Awwhh.. Mickey sounded like one amazing lil gelding.
sad to have to see him go like that.
Awwhh.. Mickey sounded like one amazing lil gelding.
sad to have to see him go like that.
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Nov 10, 2011
• 1,994 views
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All That Jazz
Aww, loved it. Even though the ending was all sad :'(
Aww, loved it. Even though the ending was all sad :'(
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Nov 11, 2011
• 2,001 views
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DontBAfraid
This was amazing , I feel awful that you has to watch him go like that ! D:
This was amazing , I feel awful that you has to watch him go like that ! D:
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Nov 11, 2011
• 1,992 views
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Nov 11, 2011
• 1,984 views
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Spaztastic
I love how you bit his ear xD It's so something I would do. Sorry you had to sell him though :/
I love how you bit his ear xD It's so something I would do. Sorry you had to sell him though :/
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Nov 11, 2011
• 2,337 views
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Run Free
) so sad ) i cried at the end ... i hope nobody will ever break that geldings spirit )
) so sad ) i cried at the end ... i hope nobody will ever break that geldings spirit )
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Nov 12, 2011
• 2,007 views
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Hoofz
This is so touching! I hope his new owner treats him right :)
This is so touching! I hope his new owner treats him right :)
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Nov 12, 2011
• 2,082 views
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Simplicity
Aww he sounded amazing!
Aww he sounded amazing!
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Nov 12, 2011
• 1,962 views
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Emmurr
I have a lot of respect for you right now. You stuck with him as long as your parents allowed, you made sure that he wasn't going to be boss of you and you taught him so much. He was lucky to have found you or he could have ended up somewhere terrible, he sounds like he was incredible.
I have a lot of respect for you right now. You stuck with him as long as your parents allowed, you made sure that he wasn't going to be boss of you and you taught him so much. He was lucky to have found you or he could have ended up somewhere terrible, he sounds like he was incredible.
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Nov 17, 2011
• 1,975 views
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lovehorse
I love this story!
I love this story!
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Nov 17, 2011
• 1,970 views
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Nov 18, 2011
• 2,002 views
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Nov 22, 2011
• 2,127 views
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SunlightRider
This is SUCH a good story! You will become a writer, for sure!
This is SUCH a good story! You will become a writer, for sure!
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Nov 30, 2011
• 2,209 views
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Hikari
Awww such a sad story xx
Awww such a sad story xx
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Dec 4, 2011
• 1,988 views
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Double Spur Ranch
That's a sad story I'm sorry you had to sell him too. :(
That's a sad story I'm sorry you had to sell him too. :(
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Dec 9, 2011
• 1,966 views
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G o o s e
That story is way to cute and sad. Tears came to my eyes when you told you had to sell him.
That story is way to cute and sad. Tears came to my eyes when you told you had to sell him.
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May 20, 2013
• 2,238 views
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