My little girl? A bully? Oh yes, indeed!

Buster McLaury

As promised, more on the colt-starting clinic with Buster McLaury.

It was early October when “Zen” and I took a five-hour jaunt into the Flint Hills of Kansas, where Rex Buchman, a friend of America’s Horse and a good cowboy in his own right, was hosting the clinic for Buster. Rex had invited me to come cover the clinic (watch upcoming issues of the print edition of America’s Horse!) and had said he could probably find me a lightly started colt to ride if I wanted to.

“Or,” I said, the wheels spinning in my head, ”I could bring my own.” I’ve long thought Buster was someone I wanted to ride with, and it sure would be nice to start riding Zen again under some expert supervision. Buster is a lifelong ranch cowboy and a student of Ray Hunt; he has got an unbelievable amount of experience to share.

The colt-starting portion of the clinic began with Buster working with colts who had never been saddled before. (The clinic horses were fairly evenly split, with some first-timers and others, like Zen, who had been ridden only a little.) It’s so interesting to watch someone who really speaks “horse.” It sure was worth standing out in the rain for. It wasn’t long before Buster and the colts’ handlers had introduced flapping ropes, saddle blankets and the saddle.

As the rain continued, we decided to haul all the colts to a nearby indoor arena to continue working. Once there, all the handlers saddled their colts, and Buster instructed us to turn them loose in the spacious arena. He was on his trusty saddle horse, and he’d move the colts around to help them get accustomed to the things on their backs.

The herd of 10 colts were at times like cats — one meandering here, one there — and at other times were a packed school of sardines, galloping madly around and throwing in an occasional buck. The common denominator, no matter the configuration: one filly quickly asserted herself as alpha mare. Make no mistake about it, she was boss. Anyone who doubted it got a double-barrel kick in their direction, or maybe a ears-pinned-snaky-head dive bomb.

This was my little dumpling … the sweethearted peacenik named Zen.

When we repeated the scenario the next day, Zen repeated hers, too — really to the point of embarrassment. She’d run across the arena to assert her dominance over a couple of colts who were trying their best to stay away from her. She even marched smartly up to Buster’s saddle horse, wondering if she could cow him. Buster shooed her away with his flag; she wasn’t bigger and badder than that noisy, scary plastic.

“No,” I told the other horse owners, “she really isn’t like this at home.” Willow, my other 3-year-old, is much higher on the pecking order than Zen is. She’ll steal Zen’s food if given a chance, and she likes to move Zen out of her way sometimes “just because.” But, nevertheless, I felt like the mom whose kid just shoved a playmate off the swing set at day care.

By Day 2 of the clinic, when even the newbies had gotten more used to wearing a saddle, it was time for us to mount up. Now normally, that wouldn’t have been an issue with Zen. She’s good about saddling, and she’s not bothered anymore by someone on her back. We had walked and trotted a little; we just hadn’t progressed much past that. So getting up on her back, not a problem. Walking around nine targets, er, colts — all of whom had limited steering — without Zen dive-bombing anybody … I wasn’t so sure about that.

At this point, we were riding in rope halters, and Buster recommended that we not tie the lead rope around to make one connected rein (which is what I’d done at home). It was better, he said, to flip the lead rope over the horse’s head, from one side to the other, because it helped prepare the horse for a lot of things, such as roping — or just anything passing over their head.

It’s my goal to prepare Zen for as many things as possible in life … so sure, we’ll give it a try! Unfortunately, though, my rope-handling skills aren’t quite up to snuff, and more often than not, I hung the lead rope on an ear and then had to flip it off. (My apologies and thanks go out to Zen for her tolerance.) It certainly did desensitize her to things passing over her head. But steering left and right? We weren’t going to make any quick changes of direction — at least none that were my idea.

Stay tuned for the next installment…

Happy riding!
Holly Clanahan
Editor, America’s Horse magazine

Don’t miss the fun, educational and heart-warming stories in the print version of America’s Horse! It goes to all members of the American Quarter Horse Association, and it’ll also keep you in the loop on Association news. We want you to belong!

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