Set in His Ways

So where did I leave off? Ah, yes, when Pops got gelded. That was a mostly happy day for me. While he was unconscious we were able to check him out a bit more thoroughly. We had a good look at his right eye, which I had worried would have to be removed. Luckily it did not, his eye is simply sunken into his head, but is not causing any more damage. His broken nose has long since healed, but the blow to his head may have caused some brain damage. Expensive tests could tell us for sure, but really, why bother, it’s not something that can be fixed. The broken rib on his left side has healed a bit crooked, but is also just fine. He certainly has a few battle scars!
The biggest concern I had after our vet visit was discovering that Pops was 8 years old, not 2 as I had been originally told. As an adult, he was very much set in his ways, and his ways…..well….they were meant to get along with people. Nor other horses for that matter. The vet asked me what my plans were for him, I shrugged and said “I dunno, train him to do something.” The vet has been shaking his head at me ever since.
Pops was stalled while he was healing, this was not the easiest way to deal with him since he sill had to be brought out and lunged daily to keep the swelling down. Pops hated feeling cornered or trapped in his stall when I approached and in such a small space he felt the need to come at me often. I decided to go with bribery in order to convince him that me coming towards him was a good thing. At this point, Pops was fairly well halter broke, but still uncatchable even in a stall, So he was still wearing both a halter and a catch line when confined. That way I could get his nose in the bowl and quietly pick up the catch line while he was distracted. Placing my hand too close to his face would cause a violent reaction from him so this worked out well.
We would then go to the round pen and lunge circles for a while, and after just a few days, Pops became comfortable with our twice-daily routine. I decided to try something new. We went out to the round pen and I removed his halter, it was literally the first time he had if off since I had spent a week trying to get it on! At first we just stood there looking at each other, and then he shot off like the wild man he is. Running and bucking and feeling free. When I said “whoa” he slowed down a bit until he was finally still. Then I sent him off in the other direction, which is where the problems started. When Pops could see me, he was somewhat in control, but once he went the other way, he couldn’t see me and self-preservation kicked in for him. He bolted like he was being chased by a cougar, with no where to go but circles around me. Any noise from me made him go faster and harder, until at on point he finally turned to attack what he thought was his enemy, Me! I knew from our first sessions together that the best way to stop a Popeye Attack was to wave a plastic bag in his face, which thankfully I had that day. As we stood toe to toe, I was wondering if it was safe to put his halter back on, he finally dropped his head and looked relaxed enough to approach. I slipped his halter on and decided this was a good place to end.
We had the same issue for several days after that, Pops would go into a panic when his blind side was to me. Finally I frustrated and stomped the ground, this got me an ear flick. So I stomped the ground and said his name “Pops..whoa”. I got a hesitation. It took several tries, but eventually, Pops learned to listen for the stomp and his name, and he learned that meant he got to stop and rest. And the faster he stopped, the sooner he could go back to his stall and eat!
Horses are known to have two sides, and Popeye’s blind side still remains his more feral side. He still gets nervous when I am out of his sight line but one of our favorite things to do now is free lunging. I have had to adjust my methods to work for Pops but he really seems to enjoy free lunging in the arena even now. Probably because he knows it’s his choice and he can leave whenever he wants. I know I enjoy the connection I feel with him when he is running loose around me, yet still just ten feet away. He listens for my stomp, and never misses his cue. Though I will admit I still can catch him in the pasture, no amount of stomping and screaming “GET OVER HERE POOPEYE!!!” gets him caught. No big deal, I still have bribery to fall back on, Pops can’t resist his alfalfa pellets. At his age, it’s good to be set in his ways!

De Poofing Pops

Popeye stands all of 14.2 hands high, that’s all. He’s a little guy really. When I brought him home that first day, I thought he was at LEAST 15.2, and since I thought he was just two years ole, I was sure he would grow into a impressive size. Stallions, when preparing for fight, will poof themselves up to what appears to be double their size. Pops spent the first month or so living with me looking awfully huge! Eventually, I would have to de poof the stallion.
This was obviously more easily said than done. I had gotten a halter on Pops, and had tied to it a catch line. I couldn’t keep a standard short catch line on him, I couldn’t (didn’t want to) get that close. Instead, Pops was wearing my 22 foot lunge line. That way I could step on the line without having to take my eye off of him. He was learning to lunge since running away from me was something he could do very well. When he felt like he couldn’t escape, he would lunge at me and strike down the lunge line. I was pretty happy to be 22 feet away from him. I used a plastic bag on the end of a stick to drive him off me, I was worried the whip might cause him to think I was starting a fight with him. Let’s face it, starting a fight with a horse, no matter how short they are is a really bad idea!
Pops made some really good progress with me, I was able to tie him off and groom him, and was to touch him all over with the stick, and he seemed to be curious about the idea of having a person around. He was still very tense, but he learned that if he only poofed up a little, I would respect that and back off. (I like my head where it is, Thank You!) He had sort of gotten his first trim, I held his foot up while the farrier attempted to trim him around me. It was time to call the vet to have him gelded.

I was excited for the vet’s arrival, I had Pops lunged, quiet and ready for him when he arrived. The vet pulled up with his assistant, got his equipment out of the truck and approached Popeye. The second they entered his pen, Popeye stance changed dramatically. While he had gotten used to me, he was not prepared for strangers. The vet took one look at him and said “Forget it, it’s not worth it.” Obviously, I was extremely disappointed at the thought that the job wasn’t going to get done and I somehow managed to convince the vet to at least make an attempt. I gave him specific instructions to approach Pops from behind me on his blind side so Pops would just think it was me. This didn’t work as the vet didn’t trust me any more than he trusted Pops and he kept trying to get Pops to sniff his hand. Pops had no interest in being even slightly friendly. So the vet left me hanging.

We made other arrangements to take Pops to my old vet nearly 80 miles away. The plan was to trailer him there as Dr. Dave at Eagle Fern was willing to give Pops a chance, even after hearing the horror stories. When I unloaded Pops, the first thing Dr Dave said was “He’s just a little guy!”, I sort of grumbled under my breath “try standing down here” since Dr Dave is about 6 feet tall. Pops was clearly disturbed at being in a strange place and having so many people with their attention on him. The Dr and I talked about what the best plan was on  how to sedate Pops for his surgery, clearly Dr Dave wouldn’t be able to simply approach and inject him in his vein. We decided to use an intra muscular injection, 2 ccs at a time, until Pops was quiet enough for the vet to knock him out intra venously. Pops was safe to approach so long as the Dr followed instructions, Pops is currently still safe to approach, as long as you follow instructions! I would hold Popeye’s lead, while the vet came up behind me and gently stroked his shoulder. Once Pops seemed settled, Dr Dave would quickly inject Pops with the sedative and then Run Away. Popeye would rear straight in the air and leap away, then run circles around me until he felt just a tad safer. Then we would wait patiently to see if it would take effect. It took at least five injections to calm Pops, and by then, he had caught on to our plan and was pretty leery when Dr Dave approached.

We enlisted the help of Dr Shakira who gave Pops the injection that finally laid him down. The surgery was done swiftly without any issues, though at one point Dr Dave said “Keep an eye on him and let me know if he looks like he’s waking up.” I replied with “If you see me running away, he might be waking up.”  Pops in fact didn’t wake up until nearly four hours after he went down! He got his vaccinations, was poked and prodded while immobile and had his eye checked. His eye is healthy, just collapsed into his head, and there is  good chance he has suffered some brain damage. More importantly, the two year old stallion that I brought in was now an 8 year old gelding, funny how a horse’s age can change when you can finally see their teeth, lol! Pops stood up a bit groggy, and was a bit surprise to his vet helping him up. But he had found a vet that would help him, a vet that I completely appreciate for taking all the time Pops needed to get the job done.

To Dr Dave, I say thank you, and I’m very sorry, but Pops needs to be floated soon.

The Bond Between Horse and ....................?

Alone in a herd of 22 Horses

Everyone knows that horses are herd animals; it’s one of the first things we learn about them. When I first met Popeye, he stood alone in a herd of 22, at the time it never occurred to me that he had never learned to bond with his herd mates. But after living with him for about a week I realized that he wasn’t just aggressive towards me, he hated the horses too. In all of his 8 years, he had never made a connection with any living being. Sad, but true.
Once I had a halter one him, I tried working with him at the end of a very long 22 foot line. Even this proved dangerous for me as Pops is very smart and learned that even on his blind side he learned he just had to find the line and strike where ever it was and he might get me, he certainly got me to back off that way! Pops needed to learn to bond with someone and I was not eager to bond with him at all. I have always thought that the trust between horse and rider should begin with the rider. Horses, while 1000 pound unpredictable animals, are actually more predictable than some may think. Being herd animals, they always run to the herd to safety, 99.9% of horses will run away before they attack, Pops was the .01% that would stand and fight, every time. So while those words are easy to say, they are not so easy to live. I didn’t trust Pops as far as I could throw him.

Pops, Doc and the Chair I Sat In

To start my attempt to bond with Pops, I would sit in a chair outside his gate, place his feed tray inside next to me and read to him though the reading was mostly to alleviate my boredom while waiting for him to feel comfortable enough to approach. . It took him several days to come up and eat, and when he did, he would try and chase me off first. Safely behind a metal panel, I was able to hold my ground and he eventually, and tentatively came up for the candy. That gate led to a pasture where I kept Doc, my two year old stallion, who is easily the friendliest and most curious horse I have. He could not resist coming and bugging me while I was there and he became obsessed with the new horse. There were several days of snorting, blowing, stomping, gate slamming and squealing before one day, Pops seemed settled. He ate quietly while Doc and I watched him from the other side of the fence. I decided that it might be a good idea that Pops bond with Doc before I did, after all, Doc can run away faster and kick harder than I can, so why not?

Doc and Pops Hanging!

I’ll admit being a bit nervous about putting an aggressive stallion with my young prospect, but at the time I was still not aware of how old Pops was, I had been told he was two. With the 22 foot line still attached to his halter, I turned him loose with Doc, wondering if I would have to dip into my emergency vet fund. But the expected never happened. They never stalked one another, nor challenged each other for leadership. Apparently there is a quiet communication amongst horses that we as humans will never understand. Pops and Doc were fast friends. They behaved as if they had been raised together and were Playing like Colts! Watching two studs play is still a bit nerve wracking, they rear, they buck and they kick at each other. But the attitude is relaxed, and for the first time since Pops had arrived, I saw a playful comfort in him.

A Little Play Fighting

Since that day, Pops, as the older horse, remains the leader. He does however, check with Doc when strange things concerning people present them selves to him. Doc even explained to Pops how the stick and string were perfectly safe and not to be worried when touched by them. Doc allowed him to investigate his blanket to know that they were safe too, though Doc’s blanket didn’t survive that! A year later, when Pops still was uncatchable, Pops got loose on 30 acres, Doc brought him in. Doc has been amazing for Pops and was his very first Friend. Pops still has issues with other horses, but because of Doc, he lost his fear of them. He’s made other friend since then, he was partnered with another gray Arab that looked just like him, and he currently loves to hang with my big Belgian, Jack. Being able to bond with another soul allowed him to be receptive to me. It wasn’t all roses right away, but you gotta start somewhere!

Stand still While I Scratch

Look, It's Just a Stick

Seriously, it's just a stick

Wanna Taste it? It doesn't taste like carrots,I  don't know why they call it a "Carrot Stick"

Awwww

One of My Favorite pics. They are Literally Attached at the Hip!

Popeye's Tail

Popeye in his previous home

                                         
                                                     

Yes, I really do want to write about Popeye’s tail, not his Tale per say, just his wonderfully long pure white tail. When visitors come to meet me and my horses the very first time, they often feel like I have gone to great lengths to impress them. Each and every one of my horses will have their manes neatly braided and their tails safely tucked away in their protective tail bags. It looks like I have spent several hours preparing my horses to make a good first impression. After you get to know me, you will find that I am actually oddly obsessive about my horses manes and tails, it’s a bit weird, I’m not sure why I do it, but tangled manes and tails drive me batty.
When Pops first arrived, a perfectly muddy dapple gray horse, his mane and tail had not been touched for 8 years. After he let it grow wild, he had rolled in the mud, he had picked up burrs, no one had ever brushed it out. You can only imagine how much it irked me not to be able to get my hands on it!

Pops the day after his arrival

Halter breaking Popeye was obviously my first priority, my incentive was to get the knots out of his mane as fast as possible! There was absolutely no way to get close enough to Pops to get on a halter, he would simply attack me and drive me away. I spent two weeks sitting outside his pen reading to him while he ate in order for him to get used to me. I would read him heartfelt stories of horses written by Kim Meeder, thinking her inspirational stories would calm him. Unfortunately, Pops, like so many horses, doesn’t speak English and after two weeks he still had serious concerns about letting me near him.
So I went with a more aggressive tactic, I stood in his pen and tossed my lariat in his general direction. At first, when he saw the rope coming at him, he would bolt and run as fast as he could to get away from it. This went on for a good half hour or so until he finally calmed enough to let it touch him. After a while, he was standing quietly and let the rope drop on his back, on his hind end. It would fall and I was pretty pleased that he was finally being touched by something unfamiliar to him. With such good progress, I would like to say that it ended there with no issues, but that just wouldn’t be true. As I tossed the rope in his direction one last time, I realized my mistake. The rope sailed through air as I thought to myself, maybe I shouldn’t have left the loop at the end of the lariat, which naturally dropped over his head and settled around his neck.
Oh Sh*t! All of  sudden I now had a wild horse at the end of a rope which was snugly around his throat. Now please believe me, I am not a roper and if I had thought I would ever catch him, I never would have thrown the rope in the first place. In fact, in all the years I have had a lariat, I don’t think I have ever caught anything with it. I’ve just always thought they were handy to have around, you know, for dragging logs or something. Now that I had Pops in a potential deadly situation, our hour long gentle touching session had become something very different.

Yep, that's the lariat around his neck 

I tried flipping the rope back up over his head, but since this was a new thing for Pops, he panicked and bolted. Thus tightening the rope around his neck. Fearful he would either choke or break his neck, I had to quickly come up with a way to get him close enough to me to get the rope off. I was lucky enough to have a wall to stand behind, with two posts 12 feet apart that were cemented into the ground. I took one end of the rope, went around the first post, down the side of the wall, around the second post and then pulled. Pops didn’t move and the rope got tighter. Just before he blew up again, I grabbed a handful of rocks and threw them at his hind end, he shot forward closer to the first post, the rope loosened and I got a bit further away from him. We rested, then repeated this process probably about five times until Pops figured out that to release the pressure and get away from me, he just had to follow the rope.  The whole process took nearly 4 hours, but in the end, I had his head touching the first post next to wall, I had the other end of the rope tied to the second post 12feet away. After he settled a bit, I stayed on the other side of the wall while he kicked and struck at me, reached over, got the halter on with a 22 foot line and cut through the lariat as fast as I could. It fell off his neck when he broke free, the halter stayed on and he was properly caught. I never replaced that lariat, I doubt I ever will!
So what does this have to do with Popeye’s tail? Like I said, tangled hair drives me batty!

His tail had tangles just like his mane

At this point, Popeye’s tail was a black dread-lock, though I suspected that it was supposed to be white. I had to get close enough to him to be able to brush it out, but he was still hell bent on demolishing me. The two posts, 12 feet apart, worked out well so I would take the very end on the 22 foot line, run it behind one post, pull him up to it as I walked away, and tie him off to the second post. He was allowing me to be within 20 feet of him, so I found myself a 20 small plastic PVC pipe, and proceeded to attempt to touch him with it. Popeye would bite, strike and kick at the pipe, breaking the end of it off, thus getting me a bit closer to him every time. Eventually I was able to stroke him with my training stick, and when he stopped trying to destroy that, I got my hands on him. I then got my hands on his mane, and then on his tail. I think it took me three days.

This is the only pic I could find that shows how I did not tie him to the post by his head, but to the post 12 ft to his left

My OCD tail obsession doesn’t mean much to most people, but I thought about it today. I brought Pops in out of the pasture, and the little turd had a blackberry branch stuck in his tail. Not a big one that is easily removed, one of those small long ones that wraps it’s way in and out through the whole thing, tangled throughout the braid. I very loudly chastised him as I brought him in to fix it. I mean really, 10 acres if open space and he had to find the one blackberry bush with the most thorns?! I tied him up and began working on his tail. I yanked, I pulled, I detangled, I complained. All the while, Pops stood perfectly still, and probably fell asleep. As I got his tail put back together, I thought back to day one, where my current behavior would have gotten my head taken off. Pops has come such a long way and is a constant reminder to me that every horse, no matter how many mistakes you make along the way, will learn to trust his rider. It just takes time, and sometimes a bit of creativity. By the way, isn’t his tail gorgeous?!

Frame of Reference

I get a lot of calls from people who have horses with serious issues that they no longer want to keep. One call I got this past summer was from a woman who had bought a mare that she was told was well trained. She was sure that the seller had lied to her, or that the horse had been drugged when she bought her because the horse was absolutely crazy when she brought it home. The mare was uncatchable in the pasture and would bolt every time she went near her. She would rear up whenever she led her, and pin her ears and strike when she was upset. The horse wouldn’t take the bridle and when she tried to mount the horse would run off. This woman called me several times almost begging me to take the mare and I kept thinking “Why in the world would I want that horse!”
But of course I took her in anyway; I just warned my friend that this one may not get in the trailer! When I started working with the mare, she did everything the woman had warned me about, bolted, reared, pinned her ears and moved off when I tried to mount her. But I had her out riding on the trail the very next day. While you may have a picture n your head of me hanging on a crazy horse and dangerously flying down the trail on an un-broke monster, this was not the case. When the mare reared up, her front feet didn’t come above my ankle, but it was a rear. When I bridled her, she lifted her head and wouldn’t open her mouth, when I mounted she moved her hind end away from me. So it was easy to see why her previous owner had had some problems with her.
It would be easy to say that the previous owner just had no idea what she was doing with horses, but the truth is, she had many years of experience and had owned horses for most of her life. She had just never had a horse like this one before. Her frame of reference for horse behavior was much different from mine. The original seller hadn’t lied about the mare or drugged her, but her frame of reference was just different as well.
Horse training, especially NHT, is extremely popular and it seems to put a huge amount of pressure both on horses and horse owners to define levels of training. It suggests that we can easily put horses in definite terms and little boxes of broke or un-broke. The reality is, green broke to a pro Reiner is very different than green broke to a pleasure rider because their frame of reference is very different. Horses and people are extremely versatile and before we jammed them into our own point of view and fit them into different “levels” (as if one is higher than another); we should take the time to understand others point of view. Just because someone else's experience is unfamiliar to you, it doesn’t mean they know less, or are doing something wrong, or they are on a lower level than you. Neither is their horse. Keep an open mind and understand that no two horses are alike, no two people are alike and no two experiences are the same.

Elephants on the Trail

My friend Mike keeps mentioning elephants so I thought I would fill you in on our inside joke!
Many years ago, Alexander the Great arrived in Philadelphia to go to work as a carriage horse. He had come down from Canada where he had been previously used as a hitch horse in a show hitch. I was pretty intimidated by him since he stood about a foot over my head, but I took him downtown anyway. Alex was an amazing driving horse, he would prance around town with his head held high, and he was an eye catcher and a show off. But he was a little nervous about the new sights of the city; our first few days were a little hairy. Alex had become so used to having a teammate next to him that he would have trouble standing still when there wasn’t another horse that he could see. I got around this by stopping him next to a window when we were at a red light and turn his head so he could see his reflection. If we had to park in a location where there would be no other horses, I would hop off the carriage and stand by his head. I had tried holding him firmly by the halter to keep him still, but he would just toss his head, pick me up off the ground, and swing me around. Very entertaining for the tourists, but certainly not safe! So I learned to carry several pounds of carrots to bribe him to stay in one spot. 

 One day something spooked him and he bolted down the street. I very quickly discovered that my 120 pounds had little to no effect on slowing down his 2000 pounds of solid muscle, so after that fiasco, I had to come up with a new plan to keep him from bolting again. Every time I saw something that had the potential to scare a horse, I would stop, pull him over to the sidewalk, and let it go by us. This worked out well; Alex picked up on this very quickly and would simply park himself anytime he felt a little worried. It was perfect, I barely had to do anything, I would be turned around backwards giving an in depth tour of Philadelphia and if Alex stopped, I’d simply look around to see what might be scary. I now had a bombproof horse!
 We were headed home after a day a work, Mike was behind me so it’s very likely that I was completely backwards in the driver’s seat talking to Mike. After all, Alex didn’t just know the way home, he actually had the timing of the lights down as well, and he didn’t need much help from me to give him direction. As we made the turn onto Arch Street, Alex stopped dead. He didn’t just stop to park himself, he stopped so hard I nearly fell over the dashboard. When I looked up, I realized that the Barnum and Bailey Circus had come to town. In front of us was not just one elephant, but three very large gray monsters all decked out on shiny costumes. With their ears flapping and their trunks in the air, they were clearly the only thing that Alex had ever seen that was larger than he was. All four of Alex’s size 7 feet were planted, and he then performed a rollback that would have scored high in a reining arena! We decided (rather HE decided) to take the long way home, as far away from the circus as we could get, Mike laughing all the way home behind us.

 

Now, Alex went on to work successfully in every situation, he’s done weddings, parades, special events, he taught all my new drivers how to drive in Denver and was literally the best horse I have ever had. But because of that one day, I just don’t believe in bombproof horses. You never know when you will find an elephant on the trail!  

Misread Popeye

I was given a limited amount of information about Popeye when I brought him home. I had seen him in the pasture, and had spoken with his owners. His previous owners were perfectly nice people, though it was obvious that they were eager to thin out their very large herd and didn’t much care where they went. That was ok with me, I wasn’t searching for my next World Grand Champion, I was just looking to help out some horse owners in need, and this couple fit right in that category! I am very used to attempting to read a horse on my own and kept an eye on Pops as they gave me what little info they had about him. They told me that Popeye was a young stallion, they believed him to be 2 years old, and he was not like the rest of the herd, he was much quieter. They went on to tell me that he had gotten an eye infection as a weanling that they had been unable to treat since he was not tame enough to be caught and handled. As they were talking, I had no reason to think what they said wasn’t true, even today I don’t believe they lied to me. The entire time I was watching Pops, and he remained perfectly still. While he was staring at us, the rest of the herd was running back and forth, and Pops never joined them. He seemed gangly, like a youngster, and he had his head tilted to the side as if he was curious about us. It wasn’t until I spent more time with him that I realized that I had misread Popeye, he was not what he appeared to be at all!

When I brought Pops home, he was put into an indoor pen, about 60 x 60, just half of my hay barn. I checked him out from the doorway, not able to get close to him, and guessed his height, weight etc from a distance. He was very nervous in his new home, he looked to be about 15-15.2 HH, long legged with room to grow, and I guessed he would top out at about 16 HH. He was really quite a score for a rescue horse; he’d be easy enough to place! But first impressions can often be wrong, Popeye is actually only 14.2, and while he always seems to get fatter, he’s not getting any taller.
The next morning was when I figured out that I had misread my new horse. I wake up pretty early in the morning to feed, usually before the sun gets up. I put a headlamp on my hat, and headed to the hay barn to feed. But when I opened the door to the front half where Popeye was living, I was greeted with ferocious surprise. Pops had staked the hay barn as his territory and I was not a welcomed guest. He came at me like the angry stallion he was, his head low to the ground, his wild and tangled mane straight up in the air, and his teeth bared. All I really remember in that instant is seeing the hole in his head where his eye should have been, fire shooting out his nose and snarl coming out of him.  I slammed that door pretty quick on him and went back to my house to wait for the sun to come up!

I spent the next several days watching Pops from the outside of his pen. I would throw food at him over the gate that led to the pasture and sat outside trying to get him used to my presence. I learned a lot by just watching him. For instance, Pops looks so big because he puffs himself up to what looks like twice his size in order to frighten you off. It’s pretty intimidating, and if you didn’t back off of him, he would strike. Popeye never took his eye off of you, he always tilted his head, not out of curiosity, but because he can’t see you clearly unless he does. Pops would never spin and run off, he was very worried about hitting something since he can only see half the world. When Pops would touch the wall with his blind side he would automatically kick at it to defend himself, when I put his feed tray in with him the first time, he attacked it to destroy it before seeing if it was something safe. I have met some rank horses before, but never one with such a well-developed fight instinct.

It wasn’t until several months later, when Popeye had his gelding surgery that I learned a whole lot more about him. Popeye was actually 8 years old, the blindness in his eye wasn’t just an infection, he had suffered a severe blow to the head. In addition to the damage to his eye, he had a broken rib that had healed crooked, and his nose had been broken. From his old injuries we guessed that an older stallion had attacked him when he was a youngster, which explained why he never joined the rest of the herd. He had a fear of not just humans, but horses as well. There is also a question as to whether or not he has suffered some brain damage due to his head injury. My vet was doubtful Pops would be able to come around to being a useful horse.

By that point I had invested a lot of time just into getting Pops settled enough to be handle for gelding. Popeye had proven to me that he had the ability to learn, if at a slower pace than most horses. He didn’t learn the same way as others, and he was, and still is, a test of my creativity. He has taken me on journey through horsemanship that I never would have expected!