Savage Performance Horses

08/26/2026

Every one of them! Yes!

Would you buy your own horse today?

Not knowing them. Not loving them. Not having years of history with them.

If you saw your horse advertised by a complete stranger today—with their exact ability, quirks, maintenance, training level, competition record, pedigree AND price tag—would you actually send the money?

Because I think sometimes we get so emotionally attached to what we have that we stop looking objectively at whether it’s actually what we would choose.

And this goes both ways.

Some people might realize they’ve spent years trying to make a horse fit a job they probably wouldn’t buy them for today.

Others might look at what they have and realize there’s absolutely no way they could afford to replace that horse if they had to go shopping for the same thing right now.

So be brutally honest:

If your horse popped up on Facebook today, exactly as they are, at their current market value…

Are you buying them?

08/19/2026

110% 💥

If you really want to save horses from slaughter, get your horse broke.

I know that is going to make some people mad.

I’ve been in the horse industry for almost 20 years.

In that time, I have never personally seen a horse that was sane, sound, and safe end up on a slaughter truck.

I’ve seen horses neglected. I’ve seen horses get in terrible shape. And I’ve seen what happens when unwanted horses have nowhere productive to go.

When the slaughter market was shut down, we saw horses being dumped and neglected on a much broader scale because there was suddenly a huge population of unwanted horses with very few places to go.

That was horses suffering because of a broken market—not because slaughter existed.

And it’s an important distinction.

The horse business is an economic business.

If a horse is sane, sound, safe, broke, and useful, that horse has value.

If a horse trader can sell that horse as a useful riding horse, they’re going to make more money doing that than they are shipping it to Canada or Mexico.

So when I hear someone say, “I rescued this horse from the kill pen,” I think there is an important distinction to make.

That horse may absolutely have been in a bad situation.

It may have needed someone to step in.

But if that horse was a safe, useful riding horse, it had value before somebody rescued it.

That’s why I think one of the best things we can do for our horses is make them useful.

Teach them to ride.

Teach them to load.

Teach them to stand for the farrier.

Teach them to behave in new places.

Give them a job.

Make them productive citizens.

I think about classic cars.

One of the worst things you can do to a classic car is never drive it.

I think horses are similar.

One of the worst things we can do to a horse is turn it out in the back pasture, never handle it, never teach it anything, and then wonder why nobody wants to take responsibility for it later.

Walk through our barn and look at every horse Bent E owns.

Bent E could disappear tomorrow and every one of those horses would still have value to somebody besides us.

Some have valuable papers.

Some have breeding value.

But most importantly, they know how to be productive citizens.

They know how to do a job.

They know how to interact with people.

They know how to be handled.

They have skills that make somebody else willing to spend money, time, and resources taking care of them.

And that matters.

If your horse isn’t a productive citizen today, that’s okay.

That’s why horse trainers like us are still in business.

You don’t have to do it yourself. You don’t have to make your horse a show horse. And you don’t have to use me.

Find the trainer you trust and love, and give them a solid foundation.

Because training isn’t just about making your horse better for you.

It’s giving that horse skills that can help protect its future.

And God forbid something happens to you someday.

I’d much rather your horse be the one somebody looks at and says:

“I can do something with this horse.”

That’s one of the best forms of horse insurance I know.

08/14/2026

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬…

Not because it’s easy.
Not because it’s glamorous.

And certainly not because it will always go their way.

Let them become horse girls because there are lessons a horse will teach them that no classroom ever could.

Let them learn early that life isn’t fair.

That sometimes you can work harder, prepare better, give more, and still lose.

That sometimes you can do everything right…
and still get beat.

Let them learn that losing doesn’t mean they’re a failure.
It means they have another opportunity to get better.

Let them dream ridiculously big.
Then let them work their tails off chasing those dreams.

Let them learn confidence without entitlement.

Grace without weakness.
Grit without bitterness.

Let them build strong legs, strong backs, strong hands…
and an even stronger heart.

Let your daughters grow up in the barn.

Let them learn that the stalls still have to be cleaned when it’s 100 degrees outside.

And when it’s 20 degrees.

When it’s raining.
When they’re exhausted.
When they’d rather be doing literally anything else.

Because the horses don’t care about excuses.

The buckets still need filling.
The hay still needs feeding.
The stalls still need cleaning.
Responsibility doesn’t take a day off.

Let them set goals.
Let them reach some.
Let them fail miserably at others.

Let them learn what it feels like to pour everything they have into something and still come up short.

Let them learn that sometimes the girl who worked until her hands hurt, practiced until dark, rode the best horse she could afford, and took impeccable care of that horse…

is still going to get beat.

Maybe by someone with ten times the money.
Maybe by someone with a better horse.
Maybe by someone who simply got the better draw that day.

And when it happens, don’t rescue them from the disappointment.

Let them feel it.

Then teach them to tip their hat, shake their hand, walk back to the trailer…
and come back tomorrow.

Because that’s where character is built.

Teach them to drive the truck.
Back the trailer.
Hook up the lights.
Change a tire.
Wrap a leg.
Doctor a wound.
Give a shot.
Read a horse.
Feel when something isn’t right.

Teach them that horses aren’t machines.
They’re living, breathing partners who depend on them.

And yes…
let them make mistakes.

Let them leave a spur mark.
Let them get a bit rub.
Let them wrap a leg wrong.
Let them realize they could have done better.
Let them feel the heartbreak of knowing they caused discomfort to an animal they love.

Then teach them to learn from it.
Because accountability is love, too.

Let them cry over a bad run.
Let them celebrate a great one.
Let them lose.
Let them win.
Let them fall off.
Let them get back on.

Let them stand in the dirt with tears streaming down their face and hear you say,

“Okay. Take a breath. Now let’s figure out what we learned.”

Because horses will teach your daughter something the world desperately needs more of:

Humility.

They’ll teach her that talent isn’t enough.
That hard work matters.
That preparation matters.
That patience matters.
That trust has to be earned.
That you can’t force everything.
That sometimes you have to listen instead of fight.

That sometimes the best thing you can do is take a breath, regroup, and try again.

Let her grow up around good horse people.

The kind who will help her when she’s struggling.

The kind who will tell her the truth even when she doesn’t want to hear it.

The kind who will teach her without making her feel small.

The kind who will celebrate her success without letting her believe she’s better than anyone else.

Because someday, that little horse girl is going to grow into a woman.

And the world will test her.

It will tell her no.
It will disappoint her.
It will knock her down.

It will hand someone else the opportunity she thought belonged to her.

And when that happens…

she’ll know what to do.

She’ll square her shoulders.
Wipe the tears.
Take a breath.
Get back in the saddle.
And keep going.

Because she was raised to understand something powerful:

You don’t have to win every battle to become a woman who can handle the fight.

So yes…

Let your daughters be horse girls.
Let them get dirty.
Let them get tired.
Let them work.
Let them fail.
Let them dream.
Let them lose.
Let them win.

Let them love something enough to work their heart out for it.

Because one day, you’ll look at that little girl covered in dirt, exhausted from a day at the barn, and realize…

the horse wasn’t just raising her.
She was raising herself.

And the woman she becomes?

𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞.❤️

-Author Unknown

07/12/2026

26 years old & still comes in like this 🩵

06/01/2026

Gaging interest
CV Puro Gucci
2006 AQHA Grulla Mare
♣️Broke for anyone that can sit in saddle & hold reins.
♦️Shown in 4H & won ranch belt buckle with a novice 9yo
♣️Trail rode multiple states including South Dakota & Shawnee National Forest, Brown County, IN, Hocking Hills, Ohio.
♦️Side passes both directions / smooth trot.
♣️Had 1 grulla c**t she is EE
♦️Stands 14.3 Hands

Uncomplicated mare everything is easy with her. Owner is not riding her as much. Her only fault she likes to eat & is a little over weight. If someone rode her consistently she would be perfect weight. She’s not getting that now. Comes with a grazing muzzle. This would have to be the perfect home as she has been here since she was 6mo old. Always had the best of care. No maintenance. I started her under saddle as a 2-3 yo. Nothing phases her. As a 2-3 she was going over & thru tarps bridges logs whatever you wanted.
Videos are when I started her.
https://youtu.be/VI8S8ePBZtU?si=wSLSgb6szxmH_5v3

https://youtu.be/O5GBmxm5Xwg?si=r8cJckThZMCbx_Bd

https://youtu.be/c52LDZY6ASk?si=QBElHK8IzIjzRD7q

https://youtu.be/Ml0P5baG7E8?si=jEHHFaaHTW0TMQvd

05/31/2026

Not everyone can say they rode a 🐢

05/09/2026

🤪

05/06/2026

Doesn’t hold up.

03/16/2026

🤠

Respect for space.
When I talk about respect for space, I’m not trying to win an argument about dominance or prove I’m the “boss.” I’m talking about something far more practical: a horse cannot be the one making the decisions. Not because the horse is “bad,” and not because the horse is plotting against you—but because a thousand-pound animal making independent decisions in a human world is how people get hurt.

I’ve spent my life around horses, and I’ll tell you the truth as plainly as I can: a horse making the decisions is dangerous for the rider. It’s dangerous in the obvious ways—spooking, bolting, running over you—but it’s also dangerous in the subtle ways people excuse for years until something finally happens. The little decisions become bigger decisions. The small boundary becomes no boundary. Then one day the horse makes a decision at the wrong time, and it turns into a wreck.

So when I ask for a horse to respect my space, what I’m really doing is asking for one essential thing: let me be the leader. Not the bully. Not the dictator. The leader.

Because leadership is how the relationship works. Leadership is what makes the partnership safe. And safety is what allows both the rider and the horse to get what they want out of the relationship.

The Horse Doesn’t Get to Decide Where My Body Goes

Here’s the simplest way I can put it: if a horse can move my feet, that horse is already in charge.

A lot of people don’t realize that’s what’s happening. They call it “he’s just being friendly” or “she’s just a little pushy.” But in the horse’s world, movement equals control. If the horse crowds you and you step away, the horse just learned something. If the horse drags you to the gate and you go with him, he learned something. If the horse leans into you at the mounting block and you adjust to make it work, he learned something.

None of this is evil. It’s just horses being horses.

But if the horse is allowed to make those decisions on the ground, it becomes very likely that the horse will try to make decisions under saddle too—especially when the horse gets worried, excited, tired, frustrated, or distracted. And that’s when it gets dangerous.

So I don’t treat “respect for space” as a manners issue. I treat it as a leadership issue.

A Horse Making Decisions Looks Like This

Most folks think a horse “making decisions” is a big dramatic thing like bolting or bucking.

But the truth is, it starts long before that. It looks like:

stepping into you when you stop

pushing the shoulder into you when you lead

swinging the hip into you when you’re trying to move around them

walking past you instead of with you

drifting into your bubble while you saddle

crowding you at the mounting block

turning their head and leaving you mentally, even if their feet are still standing there

Those are all decisions. They’re small, but they’re real.

And here’s why they matter: a horse that believes it can decide where to put its body will eventually decide where to put its body when it counts. That might be into you, over you, away from you, or through you.

I’m not willing to gamble on that.

Leadership Isn’t About Being Mean—It’s About Taking Responsibility

This is where people get confused, because they hear “leader” and they picture somebody roughing a horse up to prove a point.

That’s not leadership. That’s insecurity.

Leadership is simple: I take responsibility for the decisions so the horse doesn’t have to.

A horse is always looking for someone to answer a question: “Where should I be? What should I do? Is this safe? Are we okay?” If I don’t answer those questions, the horse will. Not because the horse is disrespectful, but because the horse is wired to survive.

And the horse’s survival decisions don’t always match what keeps the rider safe.

A horse’s decision might be: “I’m leaving.”
A horse’s decision might be: “I’m running through this pressure.”
A horse’s decision might be: “I’m going back to the barn.”
A horse’s decision might be: “I’m crowding into you because I feel better close.”

All of those decisions make sense to a horse. None of them are what I want happening with my feet on the ground or my seat in the saddle.

So my job isn’t to punish the horse for being a horse. My job is to show the horse a better system:

You don’t have to make the decisions. I will. And if you follow my leadership, you’ll end up safer and more comfortable than you would on your own.

That’s what a partnership actually is.

Partnership Means Both Sides Get What They Want

A lot of people say they want a partnership, but what they really mean is they want the horse to cooperate while the horse is still in charge.

That’s not partnership. That’s negotiation.

Real partnership looks like this:

The rider gets safety, control, and reliability.

The horse gets clarity, fairness, and relief from having to guess.

That’s the deal.

When I’m consistent about space, what I’m really building is a horse that trusts leadership. Because a horse that trusts leadership will stop feeling like it has to manage everything.

And that changes everything under saddle.

A horse that is allowed to manage you on the ground often becomes a horse that tries to manage the ride: it chooses the speed, the direction, the distance from the gate, the amount of effort, the level of focus. It decides how much it wants to give. It decides when it wants to quit. It decides when it wants to argue.

That’s not a partnership. That’s a horse running the relationship.

A horse can’t run the relationship safely. The horse doesn’t have the same goals as you do. The horse doesn’t have the same understanding of risk. The horse doesn’t think like a human. And the horse should not have to.

“Respect for Space” Is Just the First Leadership Test

I like to keep it simple. Respect for space is the first place I check whether the horse accepts leadership.

If the horse won’t respect space, it’s usually not a training problem yet. It’s a leadership problem.

Because space is the easiest thing in the world to understand: “Don’t walk into me. Don’t push through me. Yield when I ask.”

If a horse can’t do that calmly and consistently, then I already know what I’m going to get later when the questions get harder.

And I’m not saying that to be dramatic. I’m saying it because I’ve watched the pattern a thousand times.

The horse that crowds on the ground becomes the horse that leans on the bridle.

The horse that drags you to the gate becomes the horse that sucks back to the barn.

The horse that won’t yield the shoulder becomes the horse that falls in on circles and ignores leg.

The horse that walks through you becomes the horse that walks through pressure.

It’s the same mindset—just different settings.

What It Looks Like When the Rider Is the Leader

When the rider is truly the leader, you can see it without anybody having to announce it.

It looks like:

The horse stays out of your space unless invited closer.

The horse matches your pace when you lead.

The horse yields the shoulder and hip when asked.

The horse stops when you stop and doesn’t step into you.

The horse waits at the mounting block instead of crawling into your lap.

The horse stays mentally with you, not scanning for its own plan.

And the horse doesn’t do those things because it’s afraid. It does them because it understands the system.

The horse understands: “If I follow this person, my life makes sense.”

That’s what leadership creates—a world that makes sense.

The Rider Being the Leader Doesn’t Mean the Horse Has No Opinion

This matters, because someone always hears “leader” and thinks it means the horse gets treated like a robot.

No.

A horse can have feelings. A horse can be unsure. A horse can be fresh. A horse can be opinionated.

But the horse doesn’t get to turn those feelings into decisions that put the rider at risk.

That’s the line.

I want the horse to be able to express itself within the relationship—without taking control of the relationship.

That’s why I correct space issues. Not because I hate the horse being close. But because I refuse to let closeness become control.

The Big Takeaway

If your horse is crowding you, pushing into you, leaning on you, or moving your feet around, I don’t want you to label your horse as “disrespectful” and get angry.

I want you to label it accurately:

Your horse is making decisions that you should be making.

And any time the horse is making those decisions, your risk goes up—on the ground and in the saddle.

So the goal isn’t dominance. The goal is leadership.

Leadership gives the rider what they want: safety, control, and progress.

Leadership gives the horse what it wants: clarity, fairness, and the comfort of not having to guess.

That’s how you build a partnership that works for both sides—because the rider leads, and the horse follows with confidence.