Back in February, my friend, Karen, bought an imported Icelandic horse.
He was advertised as quiet and well broke, the kind of horse anyone could ride.
It quickly became clear that was an exaggeration. Although rideable, he considerably greener than expected.
And as for the quietness, that was true, but in a real checked out, not-all-there kind of way.
We - and by we, I mostly mean Karen - spent a lot of time drawing him out and filling in some of the most obvious gaps in his education.
It was going okay until the beginning of April, when all of a sudden everything fell apart.I can not tell you exactly what happened. In all my life, I have never seen a horse go from functional to feral so quickly and completely. Karen had the vet out to do a nose to toes evaluation, but there was no obvious physical explanation. The vet said simply, "This horse is terrified." A trainer was consulted next. Her advice was to donate him. It was bad.
Still, Karen and I believed in Kaffi. Instead of pursuing exit strategies, we doubled down on connection and training, spending lots of no pressure time with him and treating him like an untouched baby. The first couple weeks were really rough, but we kept going. It took awhile, but eventually everything got better.
When he was ready, I started lunging him - just at a walk - every morning before work.
When he was comfortable with that, I added a saddle. No problem.
The next step was the bridle.
He has a very nervous mouth under saddle, but on the lunge line, this was fine.
A couple days ago, after a particularly good session, I climbed aboard.
I didn't know what to expect, but he carried me quietly and calmly around the ring.
The best boy!
I don't know what the future holds for Kaffi, but I am committed to doing everything I can to help him through this stage. He really is the sweetest little guy, and I feel like he's going to be worth every single moment.
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