Head Games

Head games, it's you and me, baby.
— (Mick Jones)
Title cut from the 1979 Foreigner album "Head Games"

Faithful reader Lisa got me thinking after her comment on my horse personality post, thinking more after a comment she left on Winter's post about her problem child, Cibolo, and thinking even more with her own post about Bella's bucking episode with one of her sons. Lisa eventually parted ways with the mercurial Baby Doll (who twice caused serious injuries), and Bella just blew a cushy spot as sweet Apache's pal and light mount for the kids. Winter announced that Cibolo also has a new owner.

And I've had crazy Poco for 4 years. What's up with that?

Well, for one thing, he makes great blog fodder. If it weren't for his shenanigans, this blog would be even more boring than it already is. How many uneventful rides down the road on my perfect little Jazu can you possibly stand?

I've made no effort to conceal my naiveté when I bought the big lug. I was too dumb to realize the danger or the improbability that it could ever work. I once said that I was Poco's last, best hope. What I meant was that no one would buy, much less put up with a horse like Poco. He'd likely end up on a greasy paper plate in a Juarez taqueria.

I lucked out when I met Heather and her family. She and Sig (RIP) were the only people who didn't tell me to get rid of Poco before he killed me. Heather's been there for me every step of the way. Let's not forget that she sold me darling Jazu. Where would I be without my Steady Eddy?

Having Jaz took a lot of the pressure off me, and allowed me to view my situation more realistically. That's a euphemistic way of saying that I lowered my expectations for Poco to less than zero. As I began to understand the nature of horses in general (because I knew nothing), and Poco in particular, I was able to accept him for what he is, and both of us for what we're not. It was okay that Poco might be suitable as nothing more than Jaz's pasture pal. Selling Poco has never been an option for me, not only because a taco shell calls his name, but because I am and always have been completely smitten with his bad boy ways.

I must note again that Poco has never kicked, bitten, reared, or done anything intentional to hurt me. The only time he has bucked has been out of fear, and right there is the key to everything: the bluster is a clever ruse to hide the fact that he's just a big chicken with hooves.With him, it's all about intimidation.

I'm still a novice rider. I've gotten better, but I'm still lousy. What has enabled me to progress (besides Jaz) is that Heather has taught me how to get in Poco's head. Once I had Poco's number, I began to enjoy interacting with him. My primary job is to be a calming, neutral, yet assured presence. He can spot an agenda clear across the pasture, and he's so hypersensitive, he can pick up the slightest uneasiness in me. Because I let go of my expectations for him, I stopped fighting with him. Want to act up when I saddle you? Fine, next time, you can't go. Bubby and I will go, and he'll get all the treats and all the attention. You will be invisible. You want to back up when I ask for forward, or go left when I say right? I will make you back up or turn in tight little circles until you're dizzy. I've learned to redirect and rechannel his energy. I think the game got to be less fun for him when I learned how to play. I honestly can't remember the last time he gave me a hard time. I finally feel like he and I are on the same page.

My choice was that I would keep this horse for better or for worse. Believe me, it's been both. Let me be clear: there is nothing wrong with a decision to let a horse like this go, because they can wear you out — or hurt you. But, as Beth at Fearless Riding has noted, they have choices, too. I believe Poco has started making better choices. And that, as Robert Frost said, has made all the difference.