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Frank Bell's Gentle Solution Revolution Natural horsemanship clinics, horse training techniques and unique horse training products using Horsewhisperer Frank Bell's acclaimed Gentle Solutions. Frank's Safe and Simple techniques for training horses can achieve instant results - even with problem horses! Making it Simple! Making It Safe! Get There Now! |  |
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In the winter of '94 I was working and living at a wonderful boarding facility in Larkspur, Colorado. Larkspur is about forty miles south of downtown Denver. The first major equine event of the year is the National Western Stock show. Now this is a very big deal for that part of the world with cowboys and Indians and English riders and everyone horsy coming for the various events ranging from rodeo to stadium jumping and absolutely everything in between. I'd been to that rodeo in college, but hadn't been back in a couple decades. Now that I was a horse guy, I had a lot of ground to cover in the immense complex. I shared a booth with the lady that owned the boarding facility in Larkspur, but had plenty of time to just browse, and found my way to the BLM booth. That is the Bureau of Land Management, the government agency that oversees millions of acres of public lands and the herds of wild horses as well. I knew that prisoners actually worked with the wild horses, and I had this very eclectic calling to get involved with the program. I took a brochure home with me and wrote the director of the program, volunteering to demonstrate my humane horse handling system to the inmates. And by golly Fran Achley took me up on it. He invited me down to the prison to exhibit my 'gentle approach in early May.' It was a pretty good pull down to Canon City from Denver and by the time I actually got to the point of handling horses in front of the inmates, well it was mid afternoon and hot. Real hot. I worked one horse on the ground that had only a couple previous rides and then mounted up. The prisoners had done a good job. The horse was relaxed and confident and we worked together well. "What else do you have Fran," I queried? "We've got a pretty hot stallion that we haven't been able to get much done with Frank. Want him?" "Sure. I could use a little shade and some water first though," I admitted. I took a little break as they arranged to push the stallion down to my round pen and talked with several of the inmates as we waited. "So how'd you end up in here," I asked one of the guys I'd been visiting with about training? "Killed a guy. Got into a brawl in a bar after a few drinks and lost it. Snapped his neck like a pencil," he admitted, shaking his head with obvious regret. I was speechless. Then the stallion came roaring into the fifty foot round pen, snorting fire. "What's the story on this guy," I asked? "He was a herd boss in the wild, the big bad dog of the bunch. So he's not real happy about this new situation. We haven't' been able to get much done with him Frank. Careful, he's come after a few of our guys quite aggressively," Fran supplied. He was a very well conformed horse of about 14-3 and had striking pinto markings of a deep chestnut against bright white hair. His mane and tail were steel grey. The horse was truly magnificent and he knew it well as he snorted loudly and ripped around the pen with an obvious aura of authority and self assurance. I stepped in to change his direction and he almost ran over me before I bolted out of the way. He was not interested in dealing with me on his right side and avoided it like the plague. I knew immediately that unless I could accomplish this task, I couldn't help him much. Taking my aerial with a plastic bag on the end I became a whole lot larger and again confronted him. This time I did turn him just at the last moment. He bee lined it to the other side of the pen and stopped abruptly in a cloud of dust, turned and faced me. I backed off to acknowledge this truce and lowered my stature slowly. "Easy now you wild thing," I cooed to Mr. Bigshot. "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeasy now Big Fella. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeasy now," I repeated over and over. But he wasn't buying it. Not much. So I began easing into him with a sideways non-threatening posture and extended my hand in an attempt to make peace. You see, aside from a forced haltering in a chute, he'd really never been handled. Closer and closer I edged until my hand was within perhaps a foot of his face. He very slowly extended his head out and took a very wary sniff. Great. I lowered my hand and inched in another half step; then again extended my hand in greeting. With an open hand I offered friendship. Suddenly he nailed me, like a rattlesnake and bit my lower arm hard, getting a hank of skin about six inches above my wrist on the inside. Immediately it burned and turned an angry purple in just seconds. "Yow," I cried out and backed away quickly. But I didn't get after him physically. His warning signals had been clear and I'd invaded his space. I did make a loud hissing noise and sent him off to let him know this was unacceptable. We went around and around a few times and I did get on his right with reasonable acceptance before having to quit for the day. The heat was unbearable and I just couldn't work effectively any longer. Several days later Fran Ackley sent me a note of thanks along with a BLM hat and an invitation to demonstrate my techniques at an upcoming auction in Greeley two weeks later. I guess I'd made some points with the inmates as Fran mentioned he'd watched them using my techniques the very next day. Changes in the Wind Now at the time I didn't realize there was some awkward politics taking place at the prison horse program. The old trainer named Tex was from the old school of spurs and ropes and submission. But the times were changing and Fran and several of the others embraced the revolution that leaned toward partnership and a gentle approach. I was the guinea pig who would be right in the middle of this quiet battle at the auction in Greeley. I arrived on Friday night and took a walk around the pens with several of the BLM trainers to pick out a couple subjects for the following morning. "We've located a couple that you should be able to make good headway with Frank," Ted the Native American with the long ponytail explained. "See this little gray here Frank? He's actually sniffed my hand a time or two. Why don't you work him first?" "That looks like a promising start Ted, but lets also have a back-up horse in case this one comes along pretty fast," I added, maybe getting ahead of myself a bit. We walked the alleys between the pens of horses. Some of the horses literally cowered in the corners as others bolted right into the seven foot panels in shear terror as a painful crashing sound jarred the quiet of the waning evening. Finally we came upon a filled-out black drafty looking horse with a kind eye that didn't show too much white. He wasn't exactly friendly or curious, but he wasn't terrified either. He at least would look at us. "He'll be my second horse if the first works out well. Okay Ted?" "I'll have him already for you just as soon as you've ridden the little gray. We'll just push him down the alley into your pen when you give the signal Frank. Good luck and be careful, real careful," Ted added quite seriously. "I've seen more broken bones at the prison than you want to know about. Believe me. These wild horses are the real deal, but then I guess you do know that." I nodded with a strong sense of self-preservation quickly permeating my being. Show Time The facility was set up with rows of pens holding the wild horses with alleys in between. There were two round pens for the demonstrators to work in with plenty of room for spectators to observe, mill around and ask questions. The round pens were at opposite ends of the facility and one was a much better arrangement, with good footing, access for the horses, and ample room for the observers. The other pen had some puddles in it and was kind of crammed into a corner with a building on the back side that kind of loomed menacingly overhead, way too close for comfort- horse or human. The little gray was in the spacious 60' pen and at 9:00 sharp I was to begin. The loud speakers blared the beginning of the event and announced the demonstrations. Tex was down in the less desirable pen working on horseback. The day began as a typical spring Colorado morning, bright, cool, and clear and would no doubt warm right up and be downright hot by mid-afternoon. I walked in with my implements of training, my 12' rope halter/lead combo and a lariat. Leaving the halter beside the fence I cautiously approached the gray with a non-threatening posture and soothing tone. "Good morning little guy," I greeted this oddly calm little horse. He had a curious eye and a glob of snot hanging from his nose. As I got closer he eased back a bit, but when I offered my hand, he did take a sniff. I immediately lowered my posture to reward that sniff. He lowered his head and watched me closely. "Atta boy. I'm here to help you now. Eeeeeeeeeeasy now," I repeated over and over in a very soothing manner. And he just seemed to innately trust me for some reason. A stroke on the neck led to scratching his chest which he delighted in. By now there were a couple dozen people watching from outside the round pen. "Now I know you're all thinking I snuck in here last night and got this little guy all gentled down? But I have not had a hand on him until just now. I saw him last night and he seemed calm enough to get something done. I'll just go ahead and move right along with him now," I explained, while kind of defending myself since at this point it all looked a little too easy. And it was. This little horse just accepted every single thing I offered and within forty-five minutes I was riding him without incident. I couldn't believe it, nor could anyone else. "Come on now. That horse was the exception wasn't he Mr. Bell," one middle-aged cowboy quipped, shaking his head as a non-believer? "Truth is I think he's a little sick. See that runny nose? He just doesn't feel good and doesn't have it in him to offer much of a fight. Plus I do think he's low man in the herd so I'm a pretty good deal compared to the rest of his gang. Hey I'm ready for another one. Hey Ted," I yelled toward the mounted cowboy. "I'm ready for the black drafty one now," But now it all got a little complicated because it was Tex's turn to use this round pen and I had to regroup back down in the less desirable corner pen with the puddles. And the clock was ticking away with the auction beginning at 12:00. By the time I finished with the gray, got him unsaddled, and answered a bunch of questions, well I only had about an hour at best. As Ted opened and closed gates creating alleyways to push the black into the far pen, Tex moved right into my pen, riding a substantial white mustang along with his partner on a sorrel. A big multi-colored flashy mustang with a whole lot of chrome was then pushed into the pen and within seconds a rope landed around his neck and the struggle began. Tex's approach was the absolute antithesis of mine. It was all about force as Brian roped the back legs and with Tex's rope in the front around his neck, well the poor terrorized horse with white filled panicked eyes was almost choked down within the first couple minutes. I closely observed the audience's reaction and saw almost universal distain in their eyes and hearts. They'd just witnessed a completely non-violent approach and now were subjected to the opposite end of the gambit. No Time to Spare Thankfully Ted finally had the black horse moving down the alley. I grabbed my tools and hurried in behind the black, using this opportunity to immediately begin my own direction with this horse. At this point I had about fifty minutes to work with the drafty black that I drove from behind, immediately establishing a level of communication as he walked right into the less desirable pen. With no time to waste I opened my lariat, created a big loop, and proceeded toward the black gelding, again, and always with a non-threatening posture. His head rose high in the air as I approached and he backed into the edge of the pen, against the building that bordered the backside. I slowly waved the big loop up and down, back and forth, and then with a lucky flick it was over his head. The horse rushed forward past me along the edge of the round pen as I played out line and just let him carry the rope. I glanced up into the stands to catch Fran's eye. He nodded with a smile. You see Fran was on my team. He really wanted to promote the gentle approach and was silently rooting for me. I could read it in his face and body language. As the horse circled I glanced way down to the other pen to see someone approaching the big multi-colored tied down mustang with a saddle. The crowd had dwindled and seemed to be drifting my way. Tightening down on the lariat I finally made firm contact and with a soft eye and pulling at about forty-five degrees from the front of the horse I applied probably ten to fifteen pounds pressure and waited . . . And lo and behold after probably a full minute old Blackie gave a tiny lean in my direction. With an instantaneous release I then dropped to one knee and lowered my eyes to the ground. After another long minute I picked up on the rope and very gradually more pressure, still from one knee. At about seven pounds Blackie took a step in my direction. With another quick release I caught the final words of a spectator just outside the pen. "Looks like another easy one," he'd said. "Let me assure you sir," I began, "this horse has never been touched by the human hand except for that freeze brand. I had him on back-up in case the gray was too easy. And yes, he did look like a reasonable challenge. He wasn't one of the terrified ones by a long shot. Heck you can see how fast he's catching on, huh?" "Either you're real good or real lucky," another lady said. At that comment I gave another slight pull and Blackie took a couple steps toward me, ears forward with an eager, ready-to-learn look in his eye. "You know Mahm, sometimes I think I'm just downright blessed," I said as I walked off with the black horse following hesitantly behind me. I shook my head in disbelief as this seemingly miraculous very fast progress. We stopped in the middle of the round pen and I reached back and allowed Blackie to take a long sniff of my hand. I offered it to him so he had to reach for it. His big head slowly extended farther and farther until he could get a good sniff of this human who so wanted to be his friend and show him the easy way to get there. My hand drifted very slowly downward as Blackie's head dropped to follow it. Then I made firm contact on his neck just below his withers. He leaned into my touch as my fingers began to dig into his skin and moved around in front to his chest that was all covered with lumps, bug bites, and dug in deeply with my fingernails. His head arched up into the sky in an awkward angle as he delighted in my touch. Now I figured I pretty much owned this horse. I'd found his pleasure spot and he trusted me and it all just blossomed from that moment forward. Within a few minutes I was all over his face, rubbing his eyes and ears and in the corner of his mouth breaking his big tongue loose as he licked away with gusto, signifying big-league trust. Glancing at my watch as we walked over to my saddle at the edge of the round pen, I noted 11:40. Slipping my soft rope halter over his head, I figured I had exactly twenty minutes before the auction would begin. Could I ride this horse in that allotted time? I wanted to, but at the same time had to be smart about it. After all this was still a wild animal and I needed to set an example of prudence. Nor did I have much interest in having my body rearranged. I liked it just the way it was. My Navajo blanket had been on perhaps a hundred horses at this point and Blackie delighted in the smell of it and accepted it first rubbed on his shoulder, then rubbed and tossed all over his body. I followed that with my aged red pad that he also accepted without fanfare. The saddle was another story. That was a different smell and look and he just wasn't too sure. But in time and with supporting hands stroked on his muscled neck, he accepted the saddle as well as I placed it delicately on his wide back. Then we took a walk around the pen. I just wanted him to be comfortable carrying the saddle before cinching it up. By now I had the whole crowd. Poor Tex and Brian were all alone down there in the desirable pen with their now saddled terrified horse. Again I caught Fran's eye and a quick wink and nod. He was pleased as punch and tapped his watch and signaled 10 minutes. "The auction will begin in ten minutes. The auction will begin in ten minutes," the loud speaker blared out. "You gonna get on this one Frank," one of the spectators pried away? "I'm hoping so, but it'll be Blackie's choice. I don't want to push him any faster than he's ready for." With that I reached under and began stroking his girth area in preparation for cinching him up, keeping a close eye on his hind leg. I'd seen this send some horses into a panic and was ready for the worst case. But old Blackie trusted me beyond belief and within a few minutes I had him cinched up snugly and then took off the lead and send him off. The horse had to move off and work through his gaits before this wanna-be-cowboy was going to even consider mounting up. Blackie moved off in an unsure, jerky manner which was completely normal and expected. But I kept him moving and he loosened right up into a smooth walk after a couple go-arounds. So now it was time for the trot, and he drifted, almost floated right into an exceedingly smooth trot that had me at that point kind of wanting to take this wonderful horse home. Time for the canter and the expected bucking sessions and sure enough he did buck . . . or really half-heartedly crow-hop a couple times, then lined out and cantered slowed around the pen, with truly a rocking-chair canter. What a horse! Sending Blackie off in the other direction, he drifted right through his gaits and didn't so much as even think of bucking as he circled counter-clockwise to the left. I stepped back and relieved the pressure and he turned right into me as if to say, "Okay what now boss?" "The auction will begin in five minutes," the announcer repeated several times. "Please proceed to the auction ring with your bidding cards." Not a soul moved. By now there were probably seventy-five people watching the Frank and Blackie show. I fished through my tack bag for my safety helmet and secured it tightly on my head, then took some very deep breathes and positioned Blackie right in the middle of the round pen. Slapping the saddle with my lead as he walked around me first a bit unsure, then with growing confidence and trust, I circled this wonderful horse down to a stop and loved him up with shear gusto. With the moment of truth upon me I slipped a toe in the stirrup and gave myself an oomph upward to place some weight in the stirrup. Blackie took a step to the side to balance himself. Then I pulled myself up with a hank of mane stroked his neck right at the withers deeply. "Everything okay Big Boy? You gonnna be alright now," I asked with a tinge of predictable uncertainty in my voice? Everything about this horse said loud and clear, "Come on now. It's almost noon. Let's get going." Finding the stirrup on the off side, I'd maintained a feel on the inside rein and reached down and reassured Blackie first on the left, then he right as his big head swung to each side in complete compliance. And then with a little agitation in the saddle and a slight nudge with my leg, the horse walked off. "The auction is now beginning. We need everyone to proceed immediately to the auction arena. The demonstrations are finished. I rode Blackie around the round pen several times in each direction and wound him down to several one rein stops, then dismounted and wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him hard, real hard. "You have no idea what we just accomplished Big Boy," I explained to him. Then we both took a nod as the crowd acknowledged our timely accomplishment. Catching Fran's eye, he gave me a strong thumbs up as he hurried over to the auction arena. Today, a dozen years later the Wild Horse Inmate Program at Canon City, Colorado is the leading wild horse/prisoner program in the country. With approximately ten of these horse/inmate programs presently operating and others coming online each year as well as numerous at-risk teen programs, horse and humans are truly benefiting each other as Gentle Solutions are employed. I am proud to have been part of that wonderful transformation.
Frank Bell and his accredited instructors have been helping horses with their people problems for several decades. He writes interesting and educational stories about these horses and their challenges. He also helps people better understand how to communicate with these magnificent creatures by answering their vexing questions on his website. Frank has designed a logical set of exercises that immediately places both parties on higher ground . . . without the need for a round pen. Suddenly both parties are riding in confidence instead of fear. Frank Bell's 7-Step Safety System (7-SSS) has been featured in horse magazines and e-zines throughout the world including a three-part series in Western Horseman magazine. Frank's video " Discover the Horse You Never Knew" fully outlines " the system" and is available in the audio/video library that includes thirteen works.
Join Frank Bell's Gentle Solution Revolution and breakthrough your training barriers now!
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Copyright 2000-2005 by Dances With Horses, Inc., P.O. Box 819, Rexburg, ID 83440, Ph: (800) 871-7635, Fax: (208) 356-7817, E-Mail: frankbell@horsewhisperer.com |
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