Today if I were putting you on a horse for the first time I would teach you the "one rein stop." I can hear you saying, "Stop, why stop, we haven't started yet?" Why? Because the "one rein stop" can save your life when a horse takes the bit between its teeth and heads for the woods, the barn, or a cliff as if its tail were on fire.
It's as simple as lifting one rein and pulling the horse's head around to the side. When you can see the horse's eye, its hindquarters are disengaged and it can't run or buck. Your horse will run in smaller and smaller circles until it comes to a stop. Think of the "one rein stop" as your emergency brake. Foolproof? No, nothing is foolproof, but it surely beats the alternative.
Today most clinicians who practice natural horsemanship teach the "one rein stop." It isn't a new technique however. The famed cowboy, writer and artist, Will James, mentioned it in his book, Cow Country, first published in the mid 1920's. James and another cowboy were chasing wild horses when, "Taking another look at the bunch so as to make sure of their going straight down the mountain, I sat on one rein, brought my running bronc' to a crow hopping standstill, and then made him head back up the mountain.
When I was still an inexperienced rider, two horses nearly got out from under me. In Montana, on the only warm day of our ranch visit, rattlesnakes were sunning themselves on every rock and buzzing a warning that couldn't be misunderstood. We had just taken a small herd of cattle to a new pasture to graze and were crossing a flat when, having never before worn spurs, I raked my horses sides. We shot past all of the other riders and while I struggled with my horse, I felt panic rising in me. I hauled back on the reins and nothing happened, if anything, the gelding was running faster than before. I was desperate to stop him and I pulled back on the reins with all my strength, bringing the horse's nose straight up in the air. He began to "root" his nose from side to side while doing a crazy stiff legged dance across the flat. While it wasn't pretty, he finally slowed to a walk and I began to breath.
The second time came in Arizona, near the Mexican border, riding a beautiful chestnut gelding named, Tomahawk. I was told he was the second best horse in the string, but I could never get much out of him. Like the horse in Montana, he got away from me, only this time I was just riding over my head. The high desert was flat as a landing strip and Tomahawk, despite my best efforts, broke to a canter, and then a walk with no help from me.
Sadly, no one had ever breathed a word about the "one rein stop."
Copyright, January 23, 2014 by Loren Schumacher
Tomahawk and Me by Carol Lang, Copyright January 23, 2014