18/10/2026
EDIT!!
I put the wrong picture on. So the canter lead is correct. But on the first canter it was wrong.
Sometimes, the right decision isn’t technically the correct one.
There are several things about this photo that experienced horse people might notice that less experienced eyes may not. You might even look at it and think it’s a lovely picture.
But let’s talk about what’s really happening here.
This is me riding Cisco today in the warm-up arena at a Western show.
I enjoy competing in ranch trail and trail classes. These involve negotiating obstacles such as gates, bridges and other challenges that simulate ranch work. They’re also brilliant for developing skills useful for hacking and trail riding.
So, here’s a question. What canter lead am I on? And is it correct?
The answer…
Left lead, on the right rein.
Technically incorrect.
Now, I knew that. I could feel it.
But here’s why I didn’t immediately correct it.
Cisco is still relatively green when it comes to competing away from home. He can become overwhelmed by unfamiliar environments, and canter is a gait we haven’t developed as much as I’d like, for various reasons.
He was tense in the warm-up arena. There were lots of horses, people and distractions, and his attention was divided between me, the environment and particularly the entrance to the arena.
We’d been trotting around when he offered to canter.
So I said, “OK.”
He chose the left lead.
Now, I had a choice.
I could bring him back to trot and ask again for the correct lead. And under different circumstances, that’s exactly what I might have done.
But in that moment, Cisco was offering something. He was forward, maintaining the canter and, despite his heightened emotions, trying to work with me.
I felt he was balanced enough to negotiate the curve at the end of the arena, and he was.
I also felt that interrupting him at that point, bringing him back to trot and asking again, might have tipped him over the edge emotionally.
So instead, I said…
“Yes, Cisco. Thank you. Let’s canter.”
And we did.
We completed a lovely circuit of canter. It was forward, perhaps more forward than I’d ideally like, but he maintained the gait and stayed with me.
Then I asked him to trot.
And he gave me a lovely downward transition.
Later, we achieved the correct right lead, which is actually his preferred lead anyway.
But here’s my point.
Sometimes, I believe it’s more important to acknowledge a try than to insist on technical perfection.
Cisco tried.
I know he did.
And as someone who trains his own horses, I also know how difficult it can be to ride in public, particularly at a show, knowing that people may be watching and judging what you’re doing.
Some might see a horse cantering on the wrong lead and assume the rider doesn’t know any better.
But sometimes, what looks wrong from the outside is a very deliberate decision based on what’s happening on the inside.
I’ve had Cisco since he was almost two years old. He’s now ten.
He’s been a slow burner. His education hasn’t always followed a conventional timeline, and that’s OK.
I know this horse. I know his strengths, his worries and how much he sometimes has to work through emotionally.
Horsemanship isn’t just knowing how to correct something. It’s knowing when to say, “Thanks, but no,” and when to say, “OK, thank you for trying.”
And there’s something else about this picture.
Look at me.
My jaw is tight. My hands and arms are tense. I’m not exactly the picture of softness and relaxation either!
And when I reflect on it, I realise that in some ways I was feeling just like Cisco.
A little overwhelmed.
Lots of people. Lots of horses. Lots going on.
Trying to do right by my horse, make good decisions and manage everything happening around us.
Perhaps we both needed that canter.
Perhaps it helped us find a little more confidence and relaxation together.
And perhaps, had I been better able to regulate my own emotions and relax my body, Cisco might have found his relaxation sooner too.
That’s something for me to work on.
Because I’m human.
I’m still learning. Still developing. Still trying to become a better rider, a better horseman and someone who can manage his own emotions more effectively.
And I think it’s important that we acknowledge that.
Experience doesn’t mean we’ve finished learning.
Today wasn’t perfect.
There were things I would like to improve, both in Cisco and in myself.
But progress was made.
And that’s what matters.
Rome wasn’t built in a day. And without good foundations, the Colosseum wouldn’t still be standing today!
The same applies to our horses.
Build the foundations. Recognise the try. Give them time.
The rest will come. ❤️🐴
