Our exchange was brief in all respects; a mere hour and a half. Yet it has indelibly re-cemented in my soul the growing need for this little personal mission of mine that has been germinating as far back as I can remember: a passion for deepening and enriching our connection with our horses. That’s why I started Equinnovations over four years ago, much of that having to do with offering solutions to the all-too-often pain and discomfort we humans can so often inflict on our horses (albeit, often naively so).

But what’s that saying? Ah, yes: “When you know better, you do better.” 

And I will add my own addendum to that: “And when you experience better, there’s no going back.”

As I write this, I am sitting in a plane flying somewhere over California enroute home to Saskatchewan with my husband Mark. This October being our 28th anniversary (and 8 great kids & 3 precious grand babies later), we decided to take a couple extra days after a conference we attended to celebrate and soak up some southern rays & coastal seafood before the deep plunge into our inevitable Canadian winter. 

The first thing I noticed when the horses were unloaded at our designated meeting point was how very quiet they were.

Ah, glorious beach gallop, here we come!

But as I drew closer to introduce myself to the two tall Quarter Horses chosen for us, my heart fell when I recognized the telltale deadened eyes and lifeless countenance of horses who, somewhere along the way, have completely lost their enjoyment of being with humans. Or even more sadly so, perhaps were never given the chance in the first place.

Contrary to being so delightfully “quiet” as originally thought, they were resigned... no, more than that—mentally checked out. And it was no wonder when I quickly took stock of the tack adorning each horse: long shanks attached to metal bits pulled so tightly against their mouths that they all sported forced “grimaces”... heavy and weathered roping saddles with thick, sweat-stained pads (in an effort to compensate for pinching bars no doubt, gauging by the ripe, vintage age of the saddles), and metal shoes on all four overgrown hooves.

But then, as quickly as it had appeared, the spark was gone. “Aw poor fella", I thought... "I really can’t blame you.”

On the hilly ride down to the beach, I noticed within minutes how sore my seat bones already were and how my knees and ankles were torqued and starting to rebel against the strain. Oh how spoiled I’ve become, riding all these years in my gloriously comfy Western treeless saddles where I can ride literally for hours and not feel any discomfort! My husband Mark said the same thing. 

I also couldn’t help but notice how my gelding was struggling to navigate the steep downgrades, his hind end essentially “giving out” with each step and his front end stiff and unyielding. Knowing both the mechanics (and limitations) of not only a rigid treed saddle, but an ill-fitting one at that, it was no surprise. This clearly explained the restricted shoulder movement which I’ve seen remedied time and again via my treeless saddles with the absence of the rigid bars. Now, the hitching & stumbling hind was another issue...

That said, I also recognize that they “Don’t know what they don’t know.” Heck, I’ve been there! As an adult re-entering the realm of horse ownership just under 12 years ago (having grown up on a cattle and grain ranch in northern Alberta), I readily purchased snaffle bits and high back saddles (ie: torture devices for today’s wider-shouldered horses). But that all changed and they were relieved of them in short order when I discovered the world of quality treeless saddles and bitless bridles. 

Additionally, I quickly discovered the deep value of chiropractic care and how much relief it can provide horses that struggle with alignment of any kind. Just like people—go figure!

But I couldn’t help but wonder how one of this professional riding outfit’s “best” ranch horses could be struggling so much physically (never mind emotionally, as I was soon to find out on a whole new level), and it apparently flew completely under their radar.

We arrived at the beach and pointed the horses towards the water’s edge. To our guide’s credit, she had prepared me a little in advance by letting me know (to my chagrin) that my horse was not entirely fond of the water... that other riders had apparently “let him get away with avoiding it”, so he tended to be a bit evasive. 

Understatement!! He would have NOTHING to do with it! No amount of calmly facing the water's edge, allowing him to acclimate to it and hopefully igniting his natural curiosity made any difference. Somewhere in his past he likely had a bad experience and it had never been properly remedied. That, or he just had never had the courtesy of a proper introduction to it. “Oh wow, a beach horse who has an abject fear of water!!” I said to my husband who, by this point, could see I was just a little incredulous that my horse was irreconcilably water-phobic. “We can switch horses if you like!” our guide cheerfully offered. Her lively little buttermilk Buckskin mare wasn’t stumbling or hitching, and at least would let the water touch her feet, so I immediately took her up on it.

I was barely seated in the saddle when the mare tried to skooch off, tossing her head in the air. Radically. The nose-to-the-sky kind, the flipping-her-reins-wildly-back-and-forth kind. First getting my feet secured in the stirrups, I quietly took one rein (after returning it to the right side of her head) and asked for her nose to come around to her shoulder in an effort to engage her mind, disengage her hindquarters, and most importantly, to tune in to me as her new leader.

“Oh, don’t do anything like that!” Informed our well-meaning guide, “She only likes to be neck-reined and goes a bit nutty if you try to do anything else.” Oh dear. A "seasoned" horse who doesn’t tolerate (never mind understand) simple lateral flexion..?! Oy. So employing a one-rein stop was just tossed out of my Toolbox of Emergency Measures should things go south.

And so off we rode, three abreast down the beach. My new horse continued nose-flipping and getting edgier and edgier as my former mount continued to balk and bolt (and right into us, I might add), our guide even less successful in getting him to accept being at the water’s edge. Finally, we got to the far end of the beach in relatively one piece… but by this point I was seriously starting to doubt if anything above the walk for the duration of the ride was the smartest thing.

“Okay, you can canter now if you like,” offered our guide as we turned our agitated horses around.

No sooner was this said than I found myself with an unhinged rocket engine beneath me in two seconds flat. This mare was heading home, with or without me—and frankly, could care less if I was coming along for the ride! I knew there was no stopping her even if I tried. I might have even contemplated settling in for the high-speed thrill, but not even a dozen or so strides in to her reckless and highly emotional flat-out gallop, she spooked sideways at a clump of washed-up seaweed in our path. And then again without warning ten strides later. 

Exhilarating beach gallop? Exit stage left. Pure survival-mode? Enter stage right. 

Preferring not to leave the beach on a stretcher, I hung onto the horn like a flipping lifeline.

Meanwhile, little did I know that hubby Mark was on a rocket engine behind me as well! He tried to pull his mare up to get a more reasonable pace. Instead, she defiantly grabbed the bit and ramped up into sixth gear. No way was his mount getting left behind! We both finally pulled our two horses up when the beach turned into a wall of impassable rocks ahead. Stone has a way of stopping things, you see.

Needless to say, the hilly ride back to the trailer was very, very quiet. At times it took all my focus to manage this mare, who only had one goal in mind: get back to home NOW, where the restrictive tack and oppression of humans would be relieved. There really were no words— that would have been very charitable, anyway.

When we finally dismounted and parted ways with our guide, my husband and I shared a knowing look... and on the ride back to the hotel I was finally able to process what I had just experienced with what I have come to learn…

The last time I was on a runaway horse was just over 11 years ago with a snaffle bit in my new mare’s mouth and my two week old baby boy Bradley sleeping peacefully back at home. I’ve never been more scared or felt more vulnerable in my life. This recent experience in California was a very close second. But both incidents have a common denominator of being aboard out-of-control horses with metal in their mouths.

As Mark and I headed to the airport the next day, still a little incredulous at our runaway experience the day before (and missing our wonderful, happy-to-be-ridden horses back home--go figure!), we spotted the sign for a zoo just off the freeway.

“Hey, we could have gone to see animals in captivity—instead of riding those horses in captivity!” he joked, half serious.

Truth is, he was bang on. These horses, and so many others like them, are literally being held prisoner to a way of thinking that has robbed them of their freedom in both mind & body. It doesn’t need to be this way!!! If only their owners had the eyes to see and the ears to listen to what good horsemanship has to teach us, including what I’ve learned about the amazing freedom and comfort bitless and treeless gives our horses.

I’ve had the great privilege to be able to tap into beautiful alternatives, and it’s just too good not to share with the world.

And so, my little mission continues :-)

..........................

Until next time,

Anyone who knows me, knows I'm passionate about all things "horse". Even as a toddler being hoisted up on my dad's trusty steed Danny Boy (and even the brat pony Sparkles I could only ride up and down the alley leading to the chute a few years later), the love was immediate and deep. There is no better smell on the face of this earth than that of a horse's neck. Next to the fuzzy heads of my babies, that is. 

I grew up herding and checking cattle on horseback (in a ripe old high back saddle on my first equine soulmate Patches) with my dear dad on our beloved family farm in northern Alberta. Later on, even between pregnancies with our eight beautiful babies, I managed to find someone, anyone, with a horse and squeeze in my horse fix here and there... but it wasn't until in my early 40's that my insatiable longing to have my very own horses again became a blessed reality. 

Finding ourselves in a little rural community in central Saskatchewan with a farmer's field bordering our property on the edge of town, I began to dream & scheme of the possibilites... and thus started hounding the farmer to pretty please rent a few acres to us. Well, I can vouch that relentless persistence does indeed pay off! He finally acquiesced when it became rather apparent that I was a lady with a serious mission coupled with fierce determination... and a cooperative husband who had NO idea what he was getting himself into!

Nearing full term and getting ready to pop with our last baby Bradley, we quickly set about fencing that few acres--complete with a corral in our side yard (never did ask town council if that was allowed!)--and bought our first two horses... who quickly taught me how very LITTLE I really knew about buying horses! Or tack. Or horse care. But what I DID have was tenacity and a voracious hunger to learn and experience all that I could about being a better handler, rider and steward on my journey with these magnificent creatures.

A year later, we had our feet wet enough playing "quasi-farm" that we felt empowered enough to dive in and do the real thing. After six months of heavy duty searching, we found and fell in love with what we dubbed "Glory Lane Acres" in the middle of podunk Saskatchewan. We've poured many hours of elbow grease in to making it a great little farm to raise our kids, grow our own food (yes, we have a milk a cow, gather eggs and even butcher chickens amongst other things!), and of course live out my heart's desire on a wonderful horse property. My soul comes SO alive on the farm--yes indeed, that saying is entirely true that you can take the girl outta the country, but you can't take the country outta the girl! My country-girl roots run very deep indeed.

Here on our little "oasis in the desert", the journey of discovery and sheer euphoria has not only continued at full steam ahead, but my passion for connecting with my horses has morphed to a level that has brought me to a place of seeking the most natural communication I can possibly have when I ride and work with them. Various treeless saddles, bareback pads, bitless bridles and even some home-brewed inventions of my own have made their way into my tack room, and bit by bit, the treed saddles and bitted bridles have either gathered dust or been sold.

And so as a counter-cultural western rider on the prairies of Canada with the entrepreneurial spirit of a pioneer in uncharted territories, I now share with you those treasured things that I have searched long and hard for, personally use (or would use) with my own horses, and am able to wholeheartedly endorse.

You will be highly unlikely to find the products on this site at local tack stores or Peavy Mart, as much of them I have gleaned from the UK. Nor for the most part will you find items from local tack stores or Peavy Mart here--goodness, why do what's already being done...? I've always kinda been a different duck that way.

Anyhoo... if you bite the bullet and invest in any of these great products and love them even half as much as I do, watch out, you'll be a convert... and so will your horse! I could almost bet my life on it.

Enjoy the ride!

ps) The pic shown above was taken on a beautiful fall Sunday ride on my lovely mare Belle--& my oh-so-comfy Macon Extra Sheepskin pad!