My step-mother Arlene, my brother Mark and I all piled into his pickup truck with his girl friend's borrowed trailer in tow and headed for Canyon City where Bella was being trained.  Although I had made an appointment the details about the status of Bella were vague.  I had picked her out at an adoption event in Meeker and the BLM transported her to the prison.  At that point she was in the hands of the prisoners and the wild horse training program.  At that time, from what I understand, the methods they used were a bit more "rustic" than today.  All I knew was that she had been there 6 months, which is twice as long as she was supposed to be.  The man on the phone thought that she should be ready to take home, but he hadn't bothered to verify it. 

So, with some trepidation we arrived at the training area only to find that Bella was out on a trail ride.  The guard called them back in.  We waited on some bleachers while a group of prisoners from the program gathered behind us and began to talk.  After a few moments I realized they were talking about Bella.  They said she had aborted her foal a few weeks earlier. I hadn't realized that she was even pregnant!  They also told me that the prisoner assigned to train her had been removed from the program for drug use. 

When the prisoner rode her into the pen and removed her saddle and blanket, I could hardly believe it was the same horse I had adopted.  With her photo in hand I studied her features and then compared them to the horse in front of me.  She was a different color, her coat was rough and dirty, she had lost a lot of weight.  She looked horrendous!  I was stunned and saddened.  My only thought was that I had to get her out of there that day.




Bella the day I adopted her in Meeker: Fat and Sassy!  She was fat and shiny after coming off the range



Bella more than 6 months after adoption and a few weeks after I got her home from Canyon City.  Her coat
 was still very dull and she had sores on her hips.  If you look closely, you can see her ribs.

The BLM representative, Brian, suggested that I leave her there because her training wasn't finished.  She had fallen through the cracks and due to some problems with the person training her, she wasn't ready to leave.  Yes, she had aborted her foal but they had not called a vet, had not called me, and had no idea why other than horses under stress tend to lose foals.  I was livid, but focused on Bella.  I told him that I didn't care about the money I spent, I had already spent more money to get down here to pick her up and she was coming home with me TODAY.  He acquiesced, finally, and we loaded her quite easily into the trailer.  This will be important later in the story...  Let me say it again:  she loaded easily and quickly right into the trailer!

                          Here she is, IN the trailer coming from Canyon City to her new home.

Once home Bella proved to be extremely skittish and afraid of everything.  She wouldn't leave her pen once she became comfortable there.  Her tail was matted with dried afterbirth and mud clung to her coat.  Once she would let me get close to her I cried into her neck.  I felt so guilty for sending her there and putting her through all that.  For the record, no one had known she was pregnant at the time of adoption, but I couldn't forgive them for not letting me know she had aborted and giving me the option to have a vet look at her. 

Suddenly, there we were, Bella and I.  Neither of us knew anything, both of us full of fear.  But this was my first horse and I wouldn't give up on her or on myself. I would have to do the training that had not been finished at Canyon City. At that moment a horse trainer was born - there was no looking back.



We've got some work to do...


Among the first problems I encountered with Bella, my adopted mustang, was that she wouldn't leave her pen.  She was difficult to bridle, and she had only been ridden a few times. In fact, it was difficult to groom her because she wasn't relaxed and flinched every time I touched her.  I had never experienced a horse that was hard to groom or was afraid of me. As a student at Colorado State University, I had a class taught by Temple Grandin.  She spoke about how animals don't like to go into dark spaces, and I realized that this was why Bella wouldn't leave her pen.  It would require her to walk into a dark barn (the gate to her pen was inside the barn).  Once the door to the barn was opened, she would come out of her pen. However, there were many other things that she needed to learn.

My first lesson was that I trusted myself to know when things made her uncomfortable.  To be honest, I jumped in and did what I knew - moved slowly around her, kept working at something until she relaxed and didn't judge her or myself.  The funny thing is, that patience is now gone from me!  In my quest to become a "horse trainer" I lost that natural connection for a time.  In remembering that experience I realized that something had been lost that was so valuable.

Which is not to say that there weren't things that I learned from conventional horse training and I really did need to learn them.  But the unselfconsciousness is now gone.  In it's place are comparisons to the likes of Clinton Anderson, Lynn Palm, etc. etc.  Did I do it right?  If Clinton did it, would it look like this?  It's easy to get trapped into self-judgement and it's something more of us should avoid to some extent.  More on that later...

I spent the next few months getting Bella to the point where I could ride her, going  very slowly.   She learned to lunge and to stand absolutely still for tacking up.  She let me groom her all over, and she was finally relaxed.  At this point the trainer I had lined up for lessons took over and we began to have riding lessons on Bella.  They went very well for the most part.  Bella learned quickly and I began to relax while riding her.  At this point I had neglected to do much "groundwork".  My goal was to ride, and that's what we did.  This proved a costly mistake later.

I have loved horses since the day I first saw one.  It was hardwired into my brain, and I know I'm not alone.  Those of us that are horse lovers cannot be dissuaded and nothing that a horse can do to us will change our minds. The love of the animal and the drive to be with them overcomes the fear of falling off, getting stepped on, bitten, all the broken bones and concussions.  I beleive that's why people have something they love more than anything else - it's the thing that drives us to face our fears. 

I didn't set out to become a horse trainer.  The only job I knew of where you could ride and get paid was a jockey.  This was a major career goal until I started growing, and growing...and growing.  Way past 5'4" - all the way to 5'9".  Being tall was awful!  All my career goals were smashed, not that we lived in an area where people raced horses.  When I was 8 years old we moved from cowboy country - Denver, Colorado - to Hawaii.  Yes, it's paradise - except if you love horses.   There are horses there, and even a rodeo that we attended as children.  But it was a luxury and all the horse things were far away from our house and what I figured was expensive.  I gave up, which was my first mistake.

My parents used to ask me, especially every summer, what kinds of activities I wanted to do and never once did I ask for riding lessons.  It just never seemed like a viable option.  Then, after getting married to a man in Air Force and getting stationed in England, at age 24 I began taking riding lessons.  Due to our nomadic Air Force lifestyle, I took lessons for 7 years without owning my own horse.   One of my instrutors suggested that I become a really good rider first and then I could buy a horse that needed some training or was more difficult to handle but cost less. 

Finallly, after taking lessons for years, my husband left the military and we moved back to Colorado. I asked  if we could purchase a mustang from the government - the BLM adoption program.  They only cost $125, plus another $300 (at the time - it might cost more now) for training provided by prisoners at Canyon City Correctional Complex.  He thought this was great and more desireable than having a baby, so he readily agreed.  A few months later I was the proud owner of Bella, a black 8 year old mustang mare. 

She spent 6 months at the prison in training, which was only supposed to take 3 months.  I grew concerned.  I called and asked about her and the guards would respond vaguely.  I asked if she was finished with her training and the guard responded that since she had been there so long of course she was ready to go home!  So I headed to Canyon City with my brother pulling his trailer and my step mother in tow.  What I found on arrival shocked and saddened me.

Bella the mustang as she looks today.  The BLM freeze brand can be seen on her neck.