Vanessa and PassU before a summer ride on New Yorks Otter Creek Horse Trails. A project with the stallion helped her through a medical scare.

Every so often on a trail ride, at a horse camp, and even on a farm, we’ve come across a well-behaved stallion. This is the one stud in a thousand that seems calm and friendly, not ready to explode. If a whole male horse has a mellow temperament, and can be saddled up and ridden down the trail with no fear of inappropriate behavior, he’s a Trail Stallion.

Vanessa had always dreamed of riding a stallion down the trail, a big white stallion, an officer’s horse. She’s marveled at those who rode stallions on the endurance circuit. So developing a well-bred, trail-savvy, polite, competitive trail stallion became our goal.

We’ve owned and trained six stallions: Mikey, Rudy, Dylon, Shellaco, Kovat, and now PassU. All come from great lines, and all came to our farm needing saddle training. Vanessa approached each as a Trail Stallion prospect. They were all primarily trained for the trail and some served their duty in the farm’s socio-gram as stud.

Despite our best efforts, each of the five who preceded PassU didn’t make it on the trail, and eventually started a new life in the big pasture with abundant mares to breed or as humble gelded trail horses.

Then, in 2001, PassU came to our farm as a weanling from Oklahoma. This dark colt was destined to be a 16-hand, flea-bitten gray. That year, I was pushing 50, and Vanessa wasn’t far behind.

We figured we should try something different this time. We’d still teach the basics ourselves and put PassU into social situations. However, starting at age 4, we’d introduce him to a diversity of handlers, one each year. Each would have a different training style and ride in different tack.

The strategy seemed to work. By age 7, our boy had sired three foals, had become a social pussycat, and had been trotted down the trail by a number of trainers in the company of other horses.

Vanessa and I had rarely ridden PassU ourselves. But nonetheless, our next step was to introduce him to our camp at the Otter Creek Horse Trails in New York’s North Country. Van would soon have the tall, gray, polite officer’s stallion to accompany Beene, Thunder, BeBop, or Khan as we rode down the trails.

A Medical Scare
But as the year unfolded, life’s issues reared their heads. Did you ever notice that events seem to happen in groups of three? Just before Easter, my mother suddenly passed away. In April, we learned that we’d be welcoming our first grandchild into the world. Distracting matters for sure, but we moved through them.

Then, in May, came the bomb. A small, dark spot growing on Vanessa’s shoulder over the clavicle was biopsied, identified as a rare sarcoma, and needed to be removed. The world paused.

We were now in the grips of the medical community, which gave Vanessa an appointment with a specialist the following month. We’d have to wait 30 days to find out more.

Vanessa didn’t wait. She typed her condition into The Google and was taken aback by what she read. The information painted a bleak picture of a rare skin cancer condition. We got really frightened really quickly.

I realized we needed to do two things: first, take a more active role in managing Vanessa’s treatment. By doing so, we were able to move up her appointment by two weeks. Second, I realized Van needed a mental diversion, a distraction from the talk of "what if."

"While we’re waiting for your appointment, let’s find a refresher course to get PassU solid on trail," I suggested. "We need to make this the year he rides at Otter Creek.

"Let’s get him up there now, so he’ll be ready by the time you’re healed from the surgery," I continued. "I’ll tell you what, if you aren’t up to riding him in a month, I’ll keep him trail fresh for you until you are."

Vanessa got to work on the phone to the North Country. For the next two weeks, the only talk in the house was about PassU and the great riding location she found at a horse farm nearby in the town of Watson.

We started talking about the stallion, not the doctor. PassU was the perfect diversion.

Two more weeks passed before the surgery and another before the pathology was completed. To our relief, the sarcoma was benign. And more good news: PassU was performing on the trail above expectations. He was ready for his first Otter Creek experience.

After the surgery, the doctor placed Vanessa on the injured reserve list for three weeks. I kept my promise and boldly accepted the responsibility of riding our new trail stallion on his initial outing. Keep in mind that I’d never ridden a stallion.

Through diligent training, PassU became a reliable trail mount  a Trail Stallion. Shown is Ben Theyres friend, Andrea Swarting, riding the stallion bareback.

Into the Forest
I had no time to fret. Once at camp and on the high-tie, I saddled up while Vanessa double checked my work. PassU resisted the bit at first, but soon we were ready to go. I grabbed the saddle, lifted my leg, and realized just how tall he was. With no pride lost, I moved him to a nearby stump to mount up.

I settled into the saddle, took a deep breath, and gave him a nudge. He walked forward. I tapped the bit via the reins. He stopped. "Go-and-whoa work," I said. "I’ll be back in two hours." And with confidence, I walked PassU down Bad Road and into the state forest.

When we reached a flat trail, I took PassU through his paces without incident. An hour later, we found ourselves overlooking the Independence River. We took in the view for a moment and headed back toward camp. On the way, we met our neighbor, Dave, who stopped to admire our boy.

"Meet PassU, I said, "He’s our stallion. You’ll be seeing a lot of him."

We got back to camp right on time. Vanessa was waiting for us, holding a cup of tea and sitting at the campfire. I looked down from the saddle and smiled. I told her the ride went well and that we now had a Trail Stallion. "He’s a nice horse," I commented. "Do you mind if I ride him tomorrow?"

We can never escape the challenges that life brings us. Keep in mind that it’s not what happens to us, it’s how we handle it. Success is more likely if we face our challenges head on and keep a positive attitude.

If life throws you a knuckle ball, start a project with your horse. Or, just go for a trail ride. Working with your horse creates a pleasant diversion. When you get back to life’s hard realities, you might have a fresh perspective on how to handle them.