One month ago, I was in Fort Worth,
preparing to watch the finals competition of the Extreme Mustang Makeover. As
many of you know by now, Amigo and I did not qualify for that final round; only
the entrants with the top twenty scores were invited to compete on Saturday
night.
As anyone who prepares for a major
competition knows, to not make the final cut is devastating. Amigo and I had
been through so much, had prepared so diligently, that I couldn’t help but be
disappointed. However, after some time to reflect, I have a bit different
perspective on the two days of the Mustang Makeover.
When Amigo and I arrived in Fort
Worth, I could see that the level of competition was higher than I had
anticipated. So was the intensity of preparation and work. During that first
Wednesday afternoon and evening, Darcy and I had to get Amigo settled in his
stall, unload tack and supplies, find the lot where we were to park the horse
trailer, and find our own hotel. In addition, I had to attend an exhibitors’
meeting, where I received a series of patterns to memorize for the next days’
competition. Needless to say, the level of stress was intense.
That night, when I finally was able
to ride Amigo, I had the additional challenge of presenting an indoor arena to
him. I had intended to prepare him for that new environment by riding him at a
neighbors’ house, but his sore leg and other commitments prevented that from
happening. His first experience of being ridden indoors was actually at the
famous John Justin arena in the Will Rogers Equestrian Center!
Amigo responded to all this new
stress by becoming very reliant on me.
To that end, the time I put into establishing a trusting relationship
with him really paid off; he did not refuse to enter that indoor arena, nor,
over the course of the next few days, to do anything that I asked of him. When
he did enter the arena, of course he showed nervousness about the walls and the
banners posted there, the other horses and riders, the noise level. But he
didn’t balk or shy away from anything, and he rode out just the same as he had
been on the ranch. As for myself, I had to be careful to control my own stress
level when I was on him, so that he wouldn’t sense my anxiety. The only way I
could do that was to just focus on the ride and the maneuvers I needed to make,
and not think about what the other riders were doing with their horses.
We stayed in that practice arena
until nearly 11 p.m.; the next morning started at 5:00 a.m. with feeding and
grooming Amigo and finding our way to the performance arena, held in the
Coliseum. Amigo again demonstrated his
trust in both Darcy and me as we made our way through the stall area and out of
the Richardson-Bass barn. I rode him, and Darcy walked a little way ahead;
Amigo was nervous in this crowded environment, but followed Darcy through the
stalls. To go from the Richardson-Bass barn to the Coliseum, we had to leave
the lighted barn, cross the street in semi-darkness, and then enter another
brightly-lit walkway. Amigo traveled tentatively, but balked only when he had
to cross a metal door strip to enter the Coliseum walkway. This time, Darcy
walked back to him and let him sniff her blouse; he followed her straight into
the walkway then.
Our first competition was in a
reining pattern class, and since I had signed up for the highest division, the pattern
was somewhat complex. Darcy and I had spent much of our dinner the night before
drilling through the pattern, and I had tried to run through it with Amigo as
much as possible in the practice arena. Still, I was extremely nervous about
this particular class, as I have no experience in formal reining competition. To
top it off, I was the third competitor to run! Thankfully, we were able to
attend a walk-through meeting with the judge before the class; likewise, I was
hoping to watch the first two competitors to get some hints on how to run the
pattern.
When I got to the walk-through,
however, I discovered that the first two competitors had scratched; I was now
slated to run first in a class I’d never attempted, with a horse who had only
been in an indoor arena the night before. Needless to say, I was cursing myself
for not preparing a little better; even though we’d spent hours and hours over
the summer, I was quickly finding out that I could have done more. My nerves
did get ahead of me then, and I entered the arena mentally stressed. Amigo,
however, did not demonstrate any fear of the strange environment. I completed my rollbacks incorrectly: instead
of stopping and then rolling back, as is done in reining classes, I made one
fluid, high-energy motion, more like a cutting maneuver. I also almost missed a
second circle in my left lead, causing me to bobble the lead change in order to
go back to make the circle. Both of these mistakes cost me, and I did not score
very well in that class. Had I been a bit more prepared, or had I been able to
watch those first two competitors, I would have known the proper way to do the
rollback. Had I been more mentally focused instead of letting my nervousness
get control, I would not have nearly missed that second circle. At the end of
the first class, I was in 37th place out of 41 competitors – not
where I wanted to be at all!
There was no time to sulk about that
placing, though, because the next class took place right after lunch. In the meantime, I
had to memorize the next pattern and take care of Amigo. My biggest concern
that first day was that he wasn’t drinking much water; the taste of the
chlorine in the city water system was too foreign to him. I had not thought to
bring water along, or to use my old trick of disguising city water with
Kool-aid powder. Because Darcy and I didn’t know where to find a grocery store,
and because we didn’t have a lot of time to look, we opted to purchase several
$3 bottles of water at the concession stand just to get him to drink something
between the competition classes. By the next day, I located a tank in a part of
the building where roping steers were held: because cattle had drunk from that
tank, it was dirtier and smelled more like home, so he would take it.
Our next competition was a trail
class: in that event, riders are expected to maneuver through several obstacles
that would naturally occur on a ranch or out on a trail. I had a lot less
anxiety with this one. My daughter,
Maria, and I had constructed a trail course at home for practice, so many of
the obstacles were already familiar to Amigo. Plus, this was more my style of
riding: in my line of work, I regularly step over deadfall, cross bridges, drag
calves, open and shut gates. The only
obstacle I worried about was the trailer-loading at the very end of the course:
Amigo does not load well into strange trailers, as we’d learned with a few trials
on our trip down. When we stayed overnight in Amarillo, he had balked at
loading into our trailer the next morning, so I had spent some time teaching
him. The trailer being used in the competition, however, was a shiny new
aluminum model, with no smell or sign of other horses on it. I just didn’t know
how well Amigo would load into that type of trailer, and I worried about it
quite a bit.
When it came my turn to compete –
number 19 this time! – there had already been several competitors who didn’t
complete the trailer-loading. Others had trouble with the log-dragging: there
were a couple horses that bogged their heads and bucked, or just ran off when
they felt the weight of that log behind them. I’d trained Amigo to be
accustomed to dragging objects already, since work as a ranch horse requires
dragging calves, so I didn’t anticipate trouble there. Another obstacle that caused some difficulties
for others was a bridge with false shrubbery surrounding it: the horses didn’t
trust that false brush. I wasn’t sure how Amigo would react to that, either, as
he typically doesn’t like strange things on the ground. Nonetheless, I tried to
go into the arena confident and assured; I knew that my anxiety had contributed
to me forgetting part of the pattern in the earlier class, and I was determined
not to let that happen again. Amigo performed beautifully, not refusing to
complete a single obstacle. He did demonstrate some hesitation at crossing the
bridge with that false brush around it, but I just let him take his time to
sniff it, and then he crossed. Maybe he thought it was just like crossing our
deck with Darcy’s flower pots all over!
However, we did have trouble at the end with the trailer. I should have
just trusted my instincts: Amigo is used to me looping the reins over the
saddle horn and just sending him into a trailer. I didn’t think he would go,
though, so I first attempted to lead him in. He pulled back and refused to step
up. So, I got out of the trailer, looped the reins, and sent him in, and he
stepped up like he’d been doing it all his life! With that mostly clean run, we advanced to
take 28th place in the trail class.
After a more relaxing night, we
awoke the next day to light rain and much cooler weather in Fort Worth – a
welcome break. Amigo even seemed to
notice the change in the weather, and was calmer when we got him ready for the
last preliminary competition. This time, it was a trainer’s choice class: when
we registered, we selected whether to compete in Western or English elements
for this last test. Of course, I had selected Western, as had all but two of
the competitors in my division. For the Western elements competition, we had to
ride into the arena and complete patterned maneuvers – called “dry work” --
then call for a steer, work it down the fence, and pen it at the other end of
the arena. Of all the events so far,
this felt the most comfortable and familiar to both Amigo and me. We had worked cattle in the arena at home
quite a bit, particularly toward the end of the summer. I knew Amigo has great
instincts for watching and tracking cattle; however, he can lack speed because
of that leg injury, so I knew I couldn’t let the steer get away from me. I watched several of my fellow competitors
get into this bind, letting the steer get out too far ahead of their horse and
then not being able to get it penned at the end. I also watched several smooth,
easy runs, so I knew the competition would be tight. My best bet was just to
get the steer penned, and not try anything too flashy.
The dry work part of the class
required me to complete several rollbacks again: it was a personal victory for
me that Amigo and I had worked quite a bit on ours, and completed them
successfully. When the steer entered the arena, his lowered head and “wild” eye
immediately told me that he was on the verge of going on the fight. In the back, the steers were being rammed up
a chute before being turned out for the competition, so most of them entered
the arena already in a high state of anxiety. I knew I had to back off a bit,
and let him make the first move, rather than pushing him. Amigo sensed this
too, and watched the steer carefully. When the steer broke to run down the
fence, Amigo and I went with him, and calmly completed one of the required
turn-backs. We worked the steer as we would have worked one at home, trying our
best not to further stress the animal; by contrast, some of the riders had
almost run over the top of their cattle to get them turned back. Amigo kept
himself at a workable distance rather than getting so close that the steer
would explode, but he never lost his control of the animal. Once we completed
the required turn-backs, we penned the steer and finished the class. Our
performance wasn’t as showy as some of the others, but we got the job done; in
the end, we placed 23rd in that class.
So, I didn’t ever place high enough
to average out in the top twenty in my division. However, I am so pleased with
how Amigo performed: throughout the two days of competition, even though he was
presented with situations and settings that were completely unfamiliar, he
never once refused a task. It was as if he trusted me enough to know that I
would not ask him to do anything harmful or dangerous. His instincts for
self-protection were satisfied by the bond between us; that bond helped us to
create a great team. Although the conditions of the mustang adoption allow me
to sell Amigo once I’ve owned him a year, I don’t think I ever will. He will be
in my string, and in our life, for as long as we have him.
As for myself, I learned things
about horsemanship and training that will forever alter the way I work. Since
the Mustang Makeover competition, I’ve already attended an intensive
horsemanship clinic that combined elements of Western and English riding – something I never thought I’d do, prior to my
experiences in Fort Worth. But, I think that when a person closes the door to
learning new things and new ways, he might as well hang up his spurs.
I
don’t ever intend to take mine off.
