Dances with horsesLike the vaqueros of Spain, Kathy McClarrinon plies a gentle, steadying training style Seattle Post-Intelligencer Tuesday, October 9, 2001 By CATE
MONTANA "You have to ask yourself, 'Is my trainer bettering my horse? Is he
adding onto my horse? Or is he taking things away? That's the difference
between a trainer and a horseman. A trainer usually takes away from the
horse -- taking away from its spirit, taking away from its life, taking
that light out of its eyes -- shutting it down to where it's just kind
of a robot and it operates off of verbal commands or cues." YELM -- A powerful bay horse races defiantly around a dusty round pen, ears pinned back, avoiding eye contact with the small, resolute woman standing at the center. Striding across the pen, she firmly waves a blue cloth flag to get the horse to change direction.
Slamming to a stop near the gate, he kicks viciously at her as he turns, venting anger and fear, then gallops off again. No halter, no ropes, no lead shanks are used for control. It's just the woman and the horse, together, in a very small space. Twenty minutes later the same horse is following her around like a puppy, ears pricked forward, eyes soft and attentive. He stands respectfully as she slips a halter over his head and leads him quietly from the pen. Kathy McClarrinon has just worked her first horse of the day. Horses from all over the country, of every breed, age, discipline and price tag, end up at her training facilities outside the small town of Yelm, where she lives with her husband, Mike, and two sons. She's the only solo female trainer in Washington professionally plying the vaquero style of horsemanship, a gentle, steady training style that brings out the best in a horse. (Vaquero is Spanish for cowboy.) McClarrinon has what is termed "the feel." Educated by some of the finest horsemen in the world, including Buck Brannaman of "The Horse Whisperer" fame, McClarrinon uses methods pulled from every discipline. From round-penning, where the horse moves free of rider and all restraints, to the subtle movements of dressage; from using a flag to teach a horse to track her with both eyes; to jumping. From roping to desensitizing techniques that calm a horse around frightening objects, she uses whatever works best for each animal. The bay she just worked is well-trained -- a finished reining horse. Sent to her when it started to rear and strike at people during showmanship classes at horse shows, the sudden aggression puzzled the owners and defeated other trainers. Not McClarrinon. A specialist at starting colts and helping problem horses, she found the bay an open book.
"You learn to read a horse," she says. "Watch him and he'll tell you a story about his life. About how he was treated and the things that scared him and the concerns he has and the places that he just doesn't think he can put his feet and how he can't bend his body that way or put his head down." McClarrinon says 70 to 80 percent of the time she finds that things go wrong because the horse was not properly halter-broken. "Everyone's in a hurry to get on 'em," she says. "But horses aren't fax machines. If your beginning isn't right ... the end, which for some people is the show ring, will fall apart. You'll have a mess. And then you'll say 'Get rid of him. He's a bad horse.'" According to McClarrinon, instead of curing problems, most trainers resort to using mechanical devices to control unacceptable behavior, such as increasingly severe correctional bits. Tie-downs, including martingales and "brain chains," for example, are straps and/or cables attached to the bridle or looped over the horse's head to keep the head down and the neck arched in a particular shape. To McClarrinon, who only uses a gentle snaffle bit, such devices are unnecessary, painful and counterproductive. The end result, she says, is a horse that temporarily looks right, but which carries, underneath the surface, a seething mass of resentment and fear. Pinned ears, angry looks, glazed expressions, twitching tails, restless feet, rudeness, biting, head tossing, inability to stand still, difficulty in catching -- all are beginning symptoms of a 1,200-pound juvenile delinquent in the making. "If he does rebel, big bad things will happen," she says. "Any horse that bucks or kicks or gets aggressive -- those horses aren't kept around. They're quietly taken out the back door. ... If they hurt someone ... (they) eventually end up in a canning pen in Canada. "So is that horse a bad horse? No. He just couldn't take it anymore. It happened because somebody just didn't give him the time. "What is time? I know for some people it's money. But if they made a Mercedes in an hour, it would fall apart too." A lifelong passion
McClarrinon can't remember a time she didn't have a passion for horses. Raised in Montana, she hung around rodeos where her father ran the bucking-horse chutes. After moving to Washington state, she progressed from backyard horse owner and trail rider to working as an apprentice for Sumner cutting-horse trainer Bert Lindsay. Soon she was showing and training other people's horses on her own. But questions plagued her. Why was a horse calm one day and neurotic the next? Why did they buck when they did? Or rear? Or run away? For 10 years she attended clinics throughout the West. Wil Howe, Richard Shrake, Dennis Reis -- superb clinicians all -- each had answers. When she began studying with Ray Hunt and Buck Brannaman, her skills multiplied dramatically. "Kathy taught me each horse is an individual," says English Pleasure and Hunt Seat client Tina Grace of Puyallup. "And so is each rider." The blame humans place on horses for poor performance and behavior really gets McClarrinon in a lather. "Buck taught me that the horse is never wrong," she says. "Never wrong. Period. And so did Dennis. ... With them ... I was held responsible for every move my horse made. They taught me that my horse wasn't wrong. I was. I was either late, or too much, not enough or too early." Coached by Brannaman to see things from the horse's perspective, she put a bridle on her own head, had a friend grab the reins and drive her around. That experiment resulted in increased compassion and respect for every horse that has to correctly interpret the jumble of mixed signals a rider sends via the reins. Her passion to become a true horseman and train bridle horses, like the vaqueros of old, drove her to develop the versatility, impeccable timing, balance and feel necessary to be there for the horse. "As these methods and techniques have been passed down, there have been very few women who have embraced this concept," says Archie Woodliff of Sebastopol, Calif. "And to my knowledge, none as well as Kathy." A former business manager for Dennis Reis, Woodliff says it is McClarrinon's absorption and complete commitment to the horse that has impressed him most. "Just like you wonder how a child prodigy can play the violin at age 6 or 7, you wonder if these skills and this timing and the feel that Kathy has for her work with horses isn't a gift from God," he says. Strong words. But then McClarrinon, definitive and outspoken herself, seems to attract that sort of thing. "When you meet her, she's sort of a take-no-prisoners sort of gal," says Dr. Tom Sweeney of Woodinville. "She gets the job done." Sweeney, a periodontist in Bellevue, has owned horses all his life. When he purchased a registered paint colt, he decided to take him to McClarrinon to start -- in traditional training parlance, to be broken. "It's the first time I've had an animal that hasn't been somehow wrecked by somebody else," he says. Seeking unityA firm disciplinarian, it is precisely her refusal to "break" a horse, that makes McClarrinon so successful with them. Instead, she works to understand them and bring out their natural elegance, while inspiring the same obedience and willingness her personal bridle horses display. Not surprisingly, she says the intimate dance she has learned to do with horses has spilled over into every other aspect of her life. To help other people learn to apply these methods with their own horses, McClarrinon lectures, runs clinics and conducts private lessons year round. "This approach, it's helping people," she says. "It's helping the human being come back to a spot where integrity and self-discipline are important. "I've watched women that have really stuck with this. I've watched them change into very self-assured ladies. You know, they have a different presence. You walk up to them in a respectful manner ... because they're starting to put to use some of the things they've learned off their horses into their life." She also is writing a book titled, "On Behalf of the Horse." Overall, her message offers hope for those who want to experience the joys of true partnership with their horse. "What other animal in the world gives you as much access to movement and freedom as a horse?" she asks. "The ultimate is when those feet become yours and you can put them where you want them. It's like being a centaur. Like having the head of a human and the body of a horse. There's no separation. There's no friction. It's like waltzing. "Most horse people ... they're looking for that unity. That's kind of what riding is all about." CONTACT INFORMATION: Kathy McClarrinon works out of the Longmire Training Barn and Arena, 16105 Longmire Road S.E., Yelm, [Washington]; 360-894-1582. http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/lifestyle/41909_trainer.shtml |
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