My boyfriend, Kevin, has been leasing Mingo for more than a year now. In November, he was going to go on a trail ride by himself. He rode down to the river, and just as he was going to walk down the bank, Mingo grabbed at a branch. Kevin pulled the branch out of his mouth the best he could, but then Mingo started tossing his head around and fretting. They stepped over to the river, and my little horse completely refused to cross. He continued tossing his head around and began to franticly dance about and even buck.
A woman came by and thought that Mingo would cross if he could follow her horse. It didn’t work. By now, Kevin was suspecting that something must be wrong with the bridle. He asked the woman to take a peak. She pulled up his lip, and sure enough, his tongue was over the bit. It probably happened when he tried to eat the branch. Kevin knew he had to get Mingo back to the barn because Mingo was so worked up by now, that he didn’t think he’d be able to re-bridle him safely by the river. He turned Mingo to go up the hill that leads back home. The woman who was trying to help him across the river allowed her horse to run up the hill ahead of them. This was all Mingo needed in his frantic state of mind. He tried to follow, and when Kevin tried to stop him, Mingo started backing up and almost stepped off the edge of the trail into the ditch. Kevin’s guardian angel was looking over his shoulder, and stopped Mingo just in time. It then occurred to Kevin that there was only one safe thing to do. He quickly dismounted and led Mingo back to the barn.
I heard the story with a mixture of pride in Kevin because of his sensibility and horror at the thought of what could have happened. It wasn’t until later in the night that I began to worry about the river. I’ve seen too many people trying to cross that river on a horse that didn’t want to cross, and I have been there a few times myself. When Mingo doesn’t want to go somewhere because he is afraid, there isn’t much you can do about it. A couple days later, I had my opportunity to see if he would be afraid to cross the river. I rode with my sister’s horse, Ranger, down to the river. My angelic, little horse just walked right across.
He wasn’t afraid of the river at all that day; he was upset about the way his mouth felt and was telling Kevin in the only way he knew how. I’m so proud that Kevin realized that there might be something wrong when a normally quiet horse acts very out of character and thought to check his tack. It is something we all should remember.
Brandy’s Old Bit
By Judi Daly
My sister returned a bit I gave her to use years ago. Over time, it became too worn to use, and she had to replace it. She thought I would want it back for my “museum.” I sat there and looked at that old bit, and memories came flooding back to me.
My first horse was a Morgan named Brandy. My aunt gave him to me when I was 21. It was a dream come true—I finally got a horse of my own. He came with a long list of problems, but at least he was a gentle horse for a beginner to start with. I rode him as a teenager when I visited my aunt, so I was aware of most of his problems when I accepted him. One of them was his hard mouth. This was a pretty serious problem because he was also a runaway. We rode him in a mechanical hackamore because my aunt told me he absolutely wouldn’t listen to any bit less severe than a spade bit. In the world of bits, the spade is one of the most severe around. It should only be used in the hands of a very skilled horseman, which I was far, far from. My aunt gave me his hackamore when she gave me Brandy.
After about 6 months or so, the padding on the noseband was starting to come loose on it, so I decided to put new padding on it. I tore it apart to find a chain similar to a bicycle chain in the center of it. I wrapped new material around it, and made it as soft and comfortable as possible. It bothered me to find out how this hackamore was constructed. I saw that by pulling the reins, I was crushing his nose between two chains. He didn’t listen to it very well, so when I did pull the reins, I had to pull very hard. Is this what I wanted for my beloved horse?
This brings me back to my bit. A friend had given it to me several years before I ever had a horse. It was a short-shanked Pelham with a joint in the middle like a snaffle. Since it had two reins, the top rein would activate the snaffle action and the bottom would make it work like a curb. I had read some negatives things about these bits, but since I had it, I figured I would take the chance and try it. It was during the wintertime, and I was riding in the arena, so if he didn’t listen to it, where would he go? To my delight, he listened as well and sometimes better than he did in the hackamore. I seldom used the hackamore again. (Only cold days that I didn’t want to warm the bit.) Generally, he ignored the snaffle rein whenever he felt like not cooperating, but I always had the curb to back it up. I benefited because I got to use a more precise tool of communication, and it helped me to develop “hands.”
He was 22-years-old when I made the switch. Logic would say that it shouldn’t have worked. My aunt owned Brandy for many years and knew him better than anyone before she gave him to me. I had an open mind, tried it in a safe area and had great success. I was even able to use it down trail and had no more problems than I had when I used the hackamore. Sometimes you can teach old horses new tricks.
When my sister got her first horse, she tried several bits and ended up using this one because it worked the best for them. Eventually, she was able to switch to a plain snaffle in most situations. The only time she uses a Pelham now is when she goes down trail with Cruiser and me. Since they are such good friends, sometimes they get a little hyper and racy, and she needs some help stopping Ranger. Most of the time, she can ride using the snaffle rein, only. If Ranger ignores that, she backs it up with the curb.
I held the bit in my hand and thought about how many miles that my sister and I traveled with it in our horse’s mouths. Yes, this was certainly something that belonged in my “museum.”
Chapter 1