Thanks to a generous sponsor, I was able to attend a Peter Campbell clinic at Charco Ranch in Beeville, TX last month. I had ridden with Peter once before. In 2011, he helped me understand and support a worried LOPE mare at the Texas clinic. The mare and I made some big changes during the clinic, thanks to Peter — and I was looking forward to learning from him again.
I brought my QH ex-racer, Santo, to Beeville. We had just had a rather epic clinic together in March with Buck Brannaman — and I was eager to build on that experience for both of us at Peter’s clinic. Santo often displays anxiety and tension when put in new situations that involve riding with groups of unfamiliar horses. Like many former track horses, he can occasionally revert to “on the muscle” behavior when faced with stimulating new situations.
Two Puzzles
Surprisingly, the clinic turned out to be less about Santo — and more about me — than I expected. I had come prepared to absorb additional techniques and strategies to help support Santo while exposing him to another arena with many equine strangers. Instead, the clinic was full of philosophic insights on the nature of the horse and the human — and how they come together to create a whole that is bigger than the sum of both parts.
The clinic was full of philosophic insights on the nature of the horse and the human — and how they come together to create a whole that is bigger than the sum of both parts
In addition, two puzzles that had been lurking in the back of mind were somehow resolved during this clinic. The first puzzle involved a tumble I took from a young horse last summer and the lingering questions about what I could have done to help that horse more effectively. And the second puzzle was a deeper, more personal question of whether horses should be a hobby (rather than a profession) for me — was it time to just enjoy horses for my recreational pleasure, rather than work with them full-time?
I have never been a professional trainer, by traditional standards or credentials. And the horse adoption field can be difficult and frustrating on many levels — there are days where the combination of “interesting” people, green horses, personal dishevelment, and budget juggling is somewhat challenging, to say the least. Maybe I needed to acknowledge that it was ok to step away from that particular buffet for a while. I could instead assume less of a “hands on” role with the horses and settle into the quieter aspects of LOPE work (fundraising, event planning, marketing) for a few months.
Clinic Overview: Presence
At Peter’s clinic, I often thought about how top horsemen will set a tone for an entire clinic with their presence. During the clinic with Tom Curtin last year, the young horses in the Colt Starting class noticeably relaxed when Tom rode into the round pen. While Santo and I were twirling about before each class at the Buck clinic, I could always tell when Buck had officially entered the arena. Santo would exhale and soften slightly (no matter how intense our whirl was at that moment) — even if we weren’t facing Buck as he rode in.
At Peter’s clinic, I often thought about how top horsemen will set a tone for an entire clinic with their presence
I am not a “woo-woo” kind of person — so I believe this type of presence is due to unique blend of “feel” and emotional discipline that comes with decades of horsemanship and teaching experience (rather than astrological influences or other supernatural explanations).
Physical confidence plays a role as well — if you have successfully started thousands of colts like these clinicians, I am pretty sure your body language would be reassuring to a nervous or troubled horse.
Santo liked Peter quite a lot. He settled quickly into the “tone” of the arena set by Peter and his horse. When Peter spoke to the class as a group at the start of each day, Santo stood quietly with the other horses. As the talk continued, Santo would slow inch his way closer to Peter — if I had allowed it, Santo would have ended up next to Peter’s horse!
The first day of the clinic was focused on ground work. Although Santo had rejected any attempts on my part to ground work him at Buck’s clinic, he was much more open at this clinic. He soon settled into the exercises nicely — and I was able to pinpoint some elements in my technique to change, thanks to Peter’s advice (like adjusting my grip position on the lead rope, for example).
On the second day, Santo rode more easily (and actually stood quietly for mounting, a huge change from the last clinic). While he was still tight at times (and was a tad over-enthused at the concept of “fast trot”), I was pleased with his progress and willingness over the course of class that day.
Some of that was no doubt due to Santo and I having successfully weathered his Buck clinic “serpentine-palooza” experience together. The setting of Peter’s clinic at a quiet, beautiful ranch might have helped Santo “hear” the tone Peter set more clearly (without all the noise and bustle of a big horse expo center). Much like the Buck clinic, the horses and riders in this clinic were a kind, calm group — which also boosted Santo’s confidence again.
At the same time, I kept reflecting on that idea of a clinician’s presence — and some of the unique elements Peter brought to the arena each day with him.
Self -Responsibility
For example, Peter has several mottos that he says frequently during clinics. One of my favorites is: “The problem is not the problem. The problem is your attitude about the problem.” This handy little saying packs several layers of meaning into a pithy phrase that is easy to remember. What I like best about this motto is how it consistently reminds me that it is always my responsibility if my horse is having difficulty with something. I might not have directly caused or created the trouble — but it is my responsibility to solve it, whether from the saddle in that moment or by seeking outside help later.
The problem is not the problem. The problem is your attitude about the problem.
Long ago, I read a book by a personal coach and motivational speaker. There was a section that emphasized the concept that “No one is coming.” By this, the author meant that there was no superhero or muscled Muse coming to save you from your problem or dilemma. No one is coming — so you better get on with it and solve things yourself. When I first read that, I thought it was a pretty negative and demoralizing philosophy. Isn’t there always a concerned village of people out there ready to help me (so I don’t have to do it myself)?
Well, no. And that’s a good thing. Because how else do we learn to step up and grow into the person who can really help our horses — except by actually stepping up and growing, starting right now? The problem isn’t really the problem — the problem is your attitude about the problem.
The Best Horse
The particular presence of a clinician can also be seen in the horse they ride. Each clinician is reflected by his or her horse — it can be a fascinating exercise to closely observe their horses and compare the differences to other teachers’ clinic mounts. At all three of the clinics, I was impressed by the horses ridden by Tom Curtin, Buck Brannaman and Peter — and what they demonstrated about each clinician.
One of the horses that Peter rode was an attractive, athletic mare. She seemed light and sensitive, yet calmly sensible at the same time. During the class, Peter made an offhand comment that her previous owner was going to send her to the “canner” (for slaughter) — because she was so difficult and fractious. Peter intervened and took the mare in. He worked with her and gave her a good job as one of his clinic mounts.
I was struck by this story — and took the opportunity during a break in class to thank Peter for taking in a rescue horse. As I told him, it was especially touching to me because I knew he could have the best horses in the world (as a top clinician).
The particular presence of a clinician can also be seen in the horse they ride. Each clinician is reflected by his or her horse — it can be a fascinating exercise to closely observe their horses and compare the differences to other teachers’ clinic mounts.
At that point, he interrupted me. Smiling, he said, “She IS the best horse.” Which of course impressed me immediately — because I feel the same way about the LOPE horses. The more mediocre clinicians out there would never take the time and effort to train a less than perfect horse (let alone one that was a troubled rescue). Because they tend to be more concerned about how they look in the saddle rather than how they can help a needy horse become useful and productive again.
As the clinic continued over the weekend, I found myself edging closer toward resolving the two puzzles in my mind — and knew that I was learning something entirely different than what I had expected on the first day.
