09/04/2026
Something to think about . . seriously!
Not every act that feels kind to the person is actually kind to the horse.
Most people are not trying to cause a problem. They are trying to be fair. They are trying to be gentle. They are trying to avoid being too hard on the horse. But horses do not learn from our intentions. They learn from timing, release, repetition, and what behavior got them relief, comfort, or a break.
That is where so many people get themselves in trouble.
People often reward the wrong thing because they are looking at the situation through human emotion instead of through training. They think they are being kind when they stop asking the horse to stand still because the horse is nervous. They think they are being kind when they pet the horse while it is crowding them because it seems unsure. They think they are being kind when they let the horse drift, root, lean, or avoid because they do not want to make a big deal out of it. What they are actually doing is teaching the horse that anxiety, resistance, pushiness, or avoidance works. And that anxiety piece is important, because even when the emotion is real, a horse can still learn that acting anxious changes the pressure, changes the question, or gets relief. Once that happens, you are no longer just dealing with a feeling. You are dealing with a pattern.
The horse does not walk away from that moment thinking, my person is so compassionate. The horse walks away thinking, that worked.
And I see another version of this all the time with owners.
I often hear, my horse doesnât like this thing. It might be a bit. It might be standing tied. It might be being washed. It might be having its feet picked up. It might be loading in a trailer. It might be being sprayed, blanketed, saddled, or handled around the ears. There are endless versions of it. Then, because the owner believes the horse âdoesnât like it,â they avoid that thing altogether or tiptoe around it every time it comes up.
That is where a small hole in training starts turning into a much bigger problem.
Most of the time, what the owner is interpreting as my horse doesnât like it is not really about preference at all. It is a gap in training. It is a place where the horse has learned resistance, avoidance, discomfort with pressure, or simply learned that objecting changes the outcome. Then instead of addressing that hole, the owner works around it. That workaround feels kind in the moment, but it usually becomes expensive later.
If a horse âdoesnât likeâ standing tied, and every time it fidgets, paws, pulls, or fusses it gets untied early, the horse is learning that standing tied is optional. If a horse âdoesnât likeâ having its feet picked up, and every time it gets tense, jerks away, or leans on the handler the person quits, the horse is learning that resistance gets relief. If a horse âdoesnât likeâ the wash rack, and the owner avoids washing it unless absolutely necessary, that horse is not learning to handle pressure better. It is learning that avoidance works and that the hole in training gets to remain there.
Then later people are shocked when the problem grows.
A horse that âdidnât likeâ being tied becomes a horse that is dangerous to tie.
A horse that âdidnât likeâ its feet handled becomes hard for the farrier.
A horse that âdidnât likeâ the bit becomes heavy, fussy, or difficult in the bridle.
A horse that âdidnât likeâ to be washed becomes a horse that is hard to manage in ordinary care.
Most horse problems do not come out of nowhere. They come out of patterns. Small ones at first. The horse tries something, the person responds in a way that rewards it, and the horse files that away. Then it tries it again. Before long, what started as a little moment has become a habit. Then people say the horse suddenly developed a problem, when really the problem has been getting practiced for a long time.
I am not saying horses do not have opinions. Of course they do. I am not saying a horse cannot be worried, uncertain, sensitive, or physically uncomfortable. Those things matter, and a good trainer pays attention to them. But too often my horse doesnât like it becomes a phrase people use to excuse a lack of training instead of recognizing a need for training.
That is a very important difference.
Because when you label every gap in training as a preference, you stop addressing it as a problem that can be improved. You start organizing your whole handling routine around the horseâs objections. Then the horse learns that it has a say in more and more basic responsibilities.
That does not make the horse bad. It makes the horse a horse.
Horses are always learning. They are learning when you mean to be training, and they are learning when you do not even realize you are training at all. Every time you release pressure, every time you quit asking, every time you change the plan because the horse objected, you are teaching something. The only question is whether you are teaching what you meant to teach.
This is why I say real kindness is not the same as emotional softness in the moment.
Real kindness is being clear enough, consistent enough, and fair enough that the horse learns how to succeed. Sometimes the kindest thing you can do is not comfort the wrong behavior. Sometimes the kindest thing you can do is calmly hold the line until the horse finds the right answer. Then you release. Then you reward. Then the horse gains understanding instead of gaining leverage.
That is real kindness because it brings clarity.
Confused horses are not helped by unclear people. Pushy horses are not helped by weak boundaries. Worried horses are not helped by turning every anxious moment into an escape route. In the short term that may feel softer to the human, but in the long term it makes the horse less secure, less respectful, and less dependable.
A lot of what people call kindness is really discomfort avoidance. Their own discomfort.
They do not want the horse upset.
They do not want to feel mean.
They do not want to be judged.
They do not want any tension in the moment.
So they back off, excuse it, pet it, soothe it, or quit.
And sometimes they rename the problem.
They call it personality.
They call it sensitivity.
They call it preference.
They call it he just doesnât like that.
Maybe. But very often what they are actually describing is a place where the horse has learned that resistance works, and that people will rearrange the world around that resistance instead of training through it.
Again, this does not mean every situation should be handled with more pressure. Sometimes the answer is actually less pressure, better preparation, more understanding, better timing, or making the question smaller. But whatever approach you take, the principle stays the same: the reward must land on the behavior you want, not the behavior that pulled on your emotions.
That is where good horsemanship separates itself from feel-good horsemanship.
Feel-good horsemanship is often built around what makes the person feel like a nice human being in that exact moment. Good horsemanship is built around what actually helps the horse become better over time. Those two things are not always the same.
The horse that learns to stand quietly, respect space, accept handling, soften to pressure, and stay responsible is a horse that can live with more peace, more freedom, and more trust. That horse understands the rules. That horse is easier to handle. That horse is safer for more people. That horse has clarity.
That kind of horse is not created by rewarding every emotional display or avoiding every area of resistance because it looks kind. That kind of horse is created by fair expectations, good timing, and rewarding the right answer.
Kindness matters. I believe that. But in horse training, kindness without clarity often becomes unfairness in disguise.
Because when you reward the wrong thing because it feels kind, or avoid the thing the horse supposedly âdoesnât like,â what you usually get later is a horse that is harder to help, harder to trust, and harder to live with. Then eventually somebody has to deal with that problem, and by that point the horse has practiced it enough that it is no longer a little issue. It is now a trained behavior.
That is why I pay so much attention to what I am rewarding.
Not what I intended.
Not what I felt.
Not what sounded compassionate.
Not what the owner called it.
What did the horse just learn?
That is the question that matters.
Sometimes fixing a problem does not look soft or kind. That is because the behavior people once excused as kindness was often the very thing that allowed a hole in training to grow into a dangerous habit for both horse and owner. By the time I see it, it is no longer a small misunderstanding. It is a practiced behavior. The clarity, consistency, and accountability that should have been there in the beginning still have to happen. The only difference is that now they have to be applied to a bigger problem. So I am not always dealing with a horse that just needs kindness. I am often dealing with a horse that needs the clear direction it should have gotten from the start.
