03/23/2026
Not the horse's fault is not an excuse for bad behavior.
I hear this all the time—“It’s not the horse’s fault, it’s the owner’s.”
And every time I hear it, I understand what people are trying to say… but I also cringe a little. Because while that statement might be technically true, the way it gets used is where the problem starts.
Let me explain it the way I’ve come to understand it through real life—not theory, not opinions, but outcomes.
I once had a neighbor who raised their kids in a very specific way. If the kids did something wrong, all they had to do was apologize. No consequences. No accountability. No correction. Just say “I’m sorry,” and everything moved on like it never happened.
That system worked… until it didn’t.
One of those kids grew up and committed murder.
And what stuck with me wasn’t just the act—it was his reaction afterward. He genuinely did not understand why he was going to prison for life. In his mind, he had followed the rules he had been taught his entire life: do something wrong, say you’re sorry, and move on.
But real life doesn’t work that way.
Now, was that entirely his fault? Or was it the result of how he was raised?
You can argue that all day long.
But here’s the part nobody argues about—the consequence.
He still went to prison.
He still paid the price.
And the victim still paid the ultimate price.
That outcome didn’t change based on where the blame started.
Now bring that same line of thinking over to horses.
Horses don’t have the ability to sit around and decide right from wrong the way we do. They are a product of their environment, their experiences, and the decisions made around them. In that sense, yes—many behavioral issues can be traced back to people.
But here’s the question I always come back to:
If a horse, because of how it was raised or handled, hurts or kills someone… does it matter whose fault it was?
Does that change what happened to the person?
Does that change what has to happen to the horse next?
No, it doesn’t.
That horse may be put down—not because it’s evil, not because it “meant” to do anything wrong, but because it has proven to be unsafe. Because the risk is too high to allow that behavior to continue.
Fair? No.
Real? Yes.
And that’s the part people don’t want to sit with.
So let’s bring it down from the extreme example to something much more common—because most of what I deal with isn’t life-or-death situations. It’s the everyday behaviors that people excuse.
The horse that crowds you.
The horse that pins its ears.
The horse that refuses to move forward.
The horse that pulls, braces, or checks out mentally.
The horse that uses resistance, anxiety, or avoidance to get out of work.
And someone says, “Well, it’s not his fault.”
I agree.
But what now?
Do we just accept it?
Do we excuse it?
Do we allow that behavior to continue because the origin of it wasn’t the horse’s decision?
Because here’s the reality—whether it’s the horse’s fault or not, that behavior still creates risk. It still affects safety. It still affects usability. It still affects the horse’s future.
And the horse will still pay the price for it.
Maybe not in the form of being put down, but in the form of limited opportunities, constant frustration, or being labeled as “difficult,” “dangerous,” or “not worth the trouble.”
That label follows them.
That outcome follows them.
And it doesn’t care whose fault it was.
So when I hear “it’s not the horse’s fault,” what I actually hear—whether it’s intended or not—is an excuse to avoid dealing with the behavior.
Because if it’s not the horse’s fault, then people feel like they shouldn’t have to hold the horse accountable.
But accountability and blame are not the same thing.
That’s where most people get this wrong.
Blame looks backward.
Accountability looks forward.
Blame asks, “Whose fault is this?”
Accountability asks, “What needs to change so this doesn’t happen again?”
In training, I don’t spend my time worrying about who created the problem. That doesn’t help the horse standing in front of me today.
What matters is this:
What has this horse learned?
What behaviors is it using?
What responses have been reinforced?
And how do we retrain those responses into something safe, consistent, and productive?
Because at the end of the day, the horse has to function in the real world.
It has to be safe to handle.
Safe to ride.
Safe to be around people.
Not because it’s fair.
Not because it deserves it.
But because that’s the requirement to exist in our world.
Just like people.
If a person grows up with poor guidance, bad habits, or no accountability, we might understand why they act the way they do—but that doesn’t remove the consequences of their actions.
The same is true for horses.
So when I work with a horse that has developed bad habits—whether it’s fear-based, resistance-based, or simply learned behavior—I’m not punishing the horse for something that wasn’t its fault.
I’m teaching it a better way to respond.
I’m replacing what it has learned with something that will keep it safe, keep people safe, and give that horse a better future.
Because here’s the truth that doesn’t always sound nice, but it is honest:
A horse does not get a pass on behavior just because it didn’t create the situation.
It still has to be retrained.
It still has to learn new responses.
It still has to meet the standard of being safe and manageable.
And if it doesn’t, the consequences don’t go away—they just get delayed.
So yes… it may not be the horse’s fault.
But that doesn’t change the responsibility we have to fix it.
Because ignoring it in the name of fairness doesn’t protect the horse.
It puts it at risk.
And in the long run, the horse is the one that pays the price for that misunderstanding.
