I was brought up the old cowboy way

My father was 6’6” and thick, he was short tempered and bitter with the horse if it didn’t understand.

The choke rope was one of his kindest tools.

Haunting images of horses gasping on the end of a rope with blood vessels bulging in their face , sweat running off their underside as though there was an afternoon rain storm upon them, all are still vivid images from 40 yrs ago.

The mouthing of the horse, huge bar bits so they couldn’t pull through the mouth, pointlessly throwing themselves onto the ground attempting to escape the torture.

Bag them then ride until they stopped bucking.

Little wonder why I sort to improve the training method.

We had up to 400 horses running on the 72,000 acre property at any time, so abundance of them and work to be done by them.

As much as I miss the days of bucking horses out that others couldn’t ride as a young fella I now enjoy more so creating a bond that no one else could.

To realise the worth , generosity, love and compassion that a wild horse has under all of its fear is a blessing.

A bit like introducing a soul to the Lord for salvation.

When I was young I had ego, but realised I couldn’t train with such a disability.