Nicole Chastain Training Stables

08/24/2026

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07/19/2026

California spent half a century paying hunters to kill mountain lions to protect the deer. In 1950, at a hearing on creating a 40,000-acre refuge for the California condor in the Los Padres National Forest, officials realized the state had accidentally starved its rarest bird.

Condors do not kill. They are carrion eaters. They eat the carcasses of large mammals: deer, cattle, elk, sheep, sea lions, and whatever else dies and lies in the open long enough for a bird with a nine-and-a-half-foot wingspan to find it. For thousands of years in the mountains of Southern California, one of the primary sources of large mammal carrion was the mountain lion. A lion kills a deer, eats what it needs, caches the rest under brush and dirt, and moves on. What remains, the bones, the hide, the organs the lion left behind, feeds the scavengers. Ravens find it first. Turkey vultures follow. Condors arrive last, and when they arrive, everything else steps aside. The condor's beak can pierce the hide of a horse. It feeds at the top of the scavenger hierarchy, but it depends entirely on something else doing the killing.

In 1907, California placed a $20 bounty on every mountain lion scalp turned in by a hunter. The State Fish and Game Commission called the mountain lion a fierce and untamable varmint and justified the bounty by arguing that each lion killed one to three deer per week, meaning their removal could save 25,000 deer a year. The Ventura Free Press declared in 1908 that placing a bounty on mountain lions was one of the greatest of the deer-preserving movements ever undertaken. The bounty for a female was raised to $30 in 1917. The state hired professional hunters, the most effective of them a man named Jay Bruce who had 284 notches on his rifle stock by 1926 and over 400 kills by 1931. Counties added their own bounties on top of the state payment. Santa Barbara offered $50. Ventura County eventually matched it.

Between 1906 and 1963, approximately 12,580 mountain lions were killed under the bounty program. By the time it ended, the statewide lion population was estimated at roughly 600 animals. In Ventura County, 40 were killed between 1907 and 1917, and the killing continued through the 1920s, 1930s, and 1940s with local hunters, state trappers, and county bounties all working toward the same goal: a landscape without lions.

The 1950 condor hearing laid bare what that landscape looked like from the air. Officials told the committee that food for the endangered birds was running short. In the past, mountain lions had provided carrion by killing deer, but by then the lions were nearly gone from the region. Without a steady supply of large carcasses on the ground, even a 40,000-acre refuge might not be enough to save the condor. The state had removed the animal that was feeding the bird it was now trying to protect.

The condor population was already in steep decline by 1950. By 1982, 22 California condors remained on earth. The last free-flying birds were captured in 1987 and placed in a captive breeding program. The causes were multiple: lead poisoning from ammunition fragments in carcasses, DDT thinning eggshells, power line collisions, habitat loss, and shooting. But underneath all of it was a food supply problem that the bounty program had helped create. Fewer lions meant fewer deer kills. Fewer deer kills meant fewer carcasses. Fewer carcasses meant condors had to fly farther, search longer, and eat less reliably. A condor can travel 150 miles in a day looking for food. When the food is not there, the bird burns calories it cannot replace.

The recovery has been slow. Since 1992, captive-bred condors have been released into the Los Padres National Forest, the Ventana Wilderness near Big Sur, and the Grand Canyon. The population now exceeds 500 birds, roughly 350 in the wild and the rest in captivity. Mountain lions, protected since 1990 under Proposition 117, have recovered to an estimated 4,500 statewide. The lions are killing deer again. The deer are becoming carcasses again. The carcasses are feeding condors again. The food chain that the bounty program dismantled is being reassembled, one kill at a time, by the predator the state spent 57 years trying to erase.

Source: Museum of Ventura County / Los Padres ForestWatch / U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service / California Department of Fish and Wildlife / Cornell Lab of Ornithology / PBS SoCal.

07/18/2026

The Cars Aren't Yours: On Being a Professional Rider

If you want to understand what it's like to be a professional dressage rider, forget the horse world for a second and think about Formula 1.

The driver doesn't own the car. The team does. The driver is extraordinarily good at their job, better than almost anyone alive, and yet the car can be taken away from them at any point, for reasons that have nothing to do with their skill. Someone else falls into favor. The team needs to sell. The sponsor's priorities shift. Sometimes the owner never even wanted to be in racing in the first place, they inherited the team and would honestly rather be doing something else with the money.

Swap "car" for "horse" and you've got professional dressage in a sentence.

💛 Grateful, and still honest about it

Before I get into the hard part, I want to be clear about the other part: I am genuinely grateful to be a professional rider. Grateful to the owners who have trusted me with horses I could never have afforded to buy myself. Grateful for the experiences, the competitions, the travel, the sheer quality of animal I've gotten to sit on because someone else believed it was worth backing me to do it.

It's a lifestyle we choose, and one we choose because we love it. Nobody gets into this for the job security. You get into it because being paid to ride and manage horses, professionally, is the closest thing to the dream most of us had as kids on ponies.

But it is a hard sport. Especially if you don’t have your own property. Especially if you don't have your own horses. Especially if your whole professional existence is banking on literally being paid to do this, because that's a different deal than the one a hobbyist signs.

💛 The deal you sign without signing anything.

Most professional riders don't own the horses that define their careers. They can't. A horse capable of taking you to Grand Prix, of getting you noticed, of getting you on a plane to compete somewhere that actually matters, that horse is usually well beyond what a working rider could ever afford on their own. So you ride other people's horses. You take the opportunities that come with that: the quality of animal, the access, the travel, the events you'd otherwise only watch from the ground.

And in exchange, you accept a condition nobody says out loud but every professional understands: none of it is yours. Not really. Not in any way that's guaranteed to last.

💛 When the car gets sold.

Here's the part that doesn't get talked about enough. When it ends, and for most riders, at some point, with some horse, it does, it doesn't end because you did anything wrong. It ends because an owner's circumstances changed. Because they found someone else they'd rather back. Because the horse needs to be sold and the sale doesn't include you. Because the family member who inherited the barn was never actually that into dressage to begin with.

You can be riding brilliantly. You can be doing everything right. And you can still lose the ride.

For a hobbyist, someone who owns their own horse, funds their own program, answers to no one but themselves, this simply isn't a risk they carry. They have control. They decide what happens to their horse, their trajectory, their season. A professional doesn't have that luxury. The very thing that makes the job possible, riding horses you could never afford, is the same thing that makes it precarious. You don't get the opportunity without also accepting that it can be withdrawn.

💛 What it actually does to you.

This is the part that's hard to explain to anyone who hasn't lived it. It's not just a professional setback. It reaches into how you see your own value.

You build a picture of where you're headed, a horse, a season, a goal you've been working towards for months or years and then, sometimes overnight, that picture is gone. Not because you failed. Because the ground you were standing on was never yours to stand on in the first place.

And it takes time to come back from that. Not just logistically, finding another ride, another opportunity but internally. Relearning that your worth as a rider was never actually tied to that one horse. Rebuilding the belief that you can get back to where you were, even though the last time you tried to build something, it was taken out from under you without warning.

💛 Staying in it anyway

I say all of this from experience, not theory. And I don't say it to be bitter about the sport I say it because I think professional riders deserve to have this named clearly, rather than quietly absorbed as just "part of the job."

It is part of the job. But it shouldn't be a silent one. If you're a professional and you've felt this, the rug-pull, the sudden absence of a plan you were sure of, you're not imagining the size of it, and you're not weak for finding it hard to shake off. It's a real loss, even if no one else around you treats it that way.

You put yourself back together. You find the next horse, the next opportunity, the next version of the plan. But it's worth being honest about what it costs to do that, and why professional riders, more than most, need to hold onto a sense of their own value that isn't dependent on who currently owns the horse or car.

We accept this lifestyle, and most of us would choose it again.

06/22/2026

This article is from an an interview that is quite old bb

Why you will not see me being spectacular on a young horse:

Klaus Balkenhol explains, "Although breeders have created a better horse, the market has created a demand for a stronger, healthier, more powerful horse. It's easier to sell a horse that looks like a carefully developed eight-year-old, and not like a three- or four-year-old just beginning his career. If you force it, you can get a three-year-old to physically look like a developed eight-year-old. Too many colts remain stallions which, if approved, promise breeders higher prices as three-year-olds. Now 250 to 300 young stallions are presented each year, when only 40 or 50 will be approved.
Few breeders have the sense to geld the yearling stallions and leave them on the pasture to mature naturally. Instead, yearling stallions are brought into a stall, fed too much grain, and at three, look like six- or seven-year-olds. They have muscle mass, but not enough bone structure to support it. They look mature from the outside but aren't . . . and when started to work, degeneration sets in. Competitions also create pressure to push horses too fast as competitions are now scheduled throughout the year without any breaks."
Common Mistakes In Pushing Too Fast
Tightening the noseband: "A horse resists by sticking out his tongue. Tightening the noseband too much puts pressure on the nose and on the poll. If it is necessary to tighten the noseband very tightly, then something has gone very wrong in the basic training of the horse. The horse cannot be relaxed, the first step on the training scale," warns Klaus.
Specializing too early: "Drilling every day in the indoor arena is too intense for the young horse. It's very important, especially in the first two years of training, not to specialize the young horse. Training should include a variety of activities, including trail riding, which is good for the mind as well as building strength with hill work. It should include jumping, either free or low jumps under saddle, including small natural obstacles on the trail, and cavaletti. A variety of work will allow the horse to stay mentally fresh and to enjoy his work. Only when the horse is happy can dressage become art."
Not checking tack frequently: "Saddle and tack need to be checked constantly for proper fit and adjusted as the horse's body changes with growth, and as his fitness improves with the training. If the noseband gets too low, for example, and the skin between the noseband and the bit is rubbed and becomes sore, this causes the horse discomfort and loss of relaxation. Regularly check for sharp edges and bit problems in the horse's mouth and teeth."
Working too long: "The goal of our training is to build the horse's mind and his muscles. Suppleness and relaxation require adequate muscle strength. strengthening requires both contraction and relaxation. Blood flow and oxygenation occur when the muscle relaxes. If the muscle is kept in a constant state of contraction, it loses power and strength, and actually becomes smaller. Frequent rest periods, especially for a young horse at a free walk on a long rein, are necessary. The rest periods are not for a rider's fatigue, but to allow the horse to stretch and relax his muscles. The rest breaks will give you a completely new horse. This is the systematic gymnasticizing of the horse."
Riding when the horseman is tense: "Horses are particularly sensitive to the rider's mood. A rider shouldn't ride if she is under undue stress or doesn't have the time to ride. If the rider has a bad day, give the horse a rest day or go for a relaxing trail ride; don't work in the arena. The horse mirrors the rider's mood."
Not praising the horse enough: "The horse must perform from joy, not subservience. Praising a horse frequently with voice, a gentle pat, or relaxing the reins is very important to keep the horse interested and willing. If the horse offers piaffe, for instance, because he's excited, praise him for it. You shouldn't stop the lesson at that point nor make a big deal out of it. If you don't want piaffe, quietly urge him forward into trot, but you should NEVER punish him for offering the piaffe. - Klaus Blakenhol

06/06/2026

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