Whoa. A Hands-Free Halt.

Thyme lives in England but managed to get her rider to email me with a question. “Did you ever write a post on the halt?” he asks. “She will stop in the school, but it’s a different story on the trail. I don’t think she wishes to listen to me.”

Thyme may be half-deaf but it doesn’t mean she wouldn’t like a quieter cue. I ask the usual questions, and yes, he’s trying to break the habit of using his reins to stop, not that it’s really working.

“I am loaning her from a local yard. They thought she was going to have to be put down at the end of last winter as she looked so bad as she is a poor doer. She’s too old to be useful as a proper trail riding horse but suits me fine. She put on a lot of weight over the summer and is still looking pretty good now. The right horse definitely found me, she is a great teacher but sometimes needs some outside help for her slower students,” the rider adds.

Far be it from me to disagree, Old Girl, but he seems smarter than most.

My guess is that Thyme has aged out on having her face pulled. And by that, I mean even the thought. I know you aren’t pulling hard because she’d have you off, she wouldn’t suffer idiots. My guess is that you do a sort of kind-hearted slow-motion lean on the rein, just an ounce of pressure at a time, and she returns the same ounce back, as she strides on. She does it instinctively to protect her mouth. If the rein slacks and tightens, it’ll hurt more. She’d tell you horses don’t give to pressure. Maybe she was manipulated to concede in the past, but her arthritic neck… Aged out on that, without regret.

See it from Thyme’s side. Why would a human ask feet to stop moving by pulling on a horse’s mouth? The two body parts aren’t related. I agree with her, reins just confuse the question. You say stop and she says don’t touch my face. (She softens an indignant eye.)

I’ll give you my best system for halting without hands, but I warn you, it won’t work for a while, because you have some things to prove to this mare.

Start by making a neck ring. You’ll need about 7 feet of rope, 1/2 inch or so thick. Measure it so if you were in the saddle and there was an imaginary oblong tissue box on her withers, you could hold it up at either end of the box and in front of your saddle. Tie a square knot. Start in the school. As you ride, you’ll feel the rope contact where her chest and neck meet. Your hands will hold the reins long, but both of you feel the neck ring before the bit. Now her face is out of the conversation, not that she believes it. Please bend elbows, and hold your own hands slightly up, rather than resting the heel of your hand on the reins. (She nods almost imperceptibly.)

How do we send a cue to their feet? First, take a walk. She needs a good long stride to warm her cranky joints. No contact with the reins, just the neck ring, and care more about her stride than steering. Feel your sit bones in the saddle. One goes up and then the other. Using just your sit bones ask for a longer stride. She may or may not oblige, but act like you don’t care. Then back to the normal walk. Then again with just your seat, ask for a smaller step or two and back to her normal walk. By now, you’re more relaxed and you can feel a difference in her stride, longer and shorter.  Exhale to congratulate her, watch her neck stretch just a fraction. March on freely forward. Don’t hurry her, but keep energy in your sit bones, asking for stride changes with breaks in between to thank her. (She gives me a sideways ear.)

There you are, working on your halt. You are moving together, communicating with your seat in rhythm with her stride, and influencing the length of stride. The rider’s seat cues the horse’s hind. It’s logical that if sit bones moving means walk on, then still sit bones would be a halt. (She ignores me, as this is just common sense.)

In preparing to halt, I count three strides with my sit bones, and on three, I melt to stillness in the saddle. She won’t stop yet, but she might slow down. Tell her she’s a good girl.

Go again, knowing that forward movement is needed for any transition, ask with your seat for a long walk, count and melt on three. This time exhale long and slow. Some people say whoa, that word is nothing but an exhale. Thyme might be aged out on chatter, so I advise just an exhale. She still didn’t stop, but she has heard the exhale twice, so now she’s listening. Soon, the exhale will be the only cue to halt but she doesn’t trust it yet.

On the next try, ask for long strides, count to three and melt, as you exhale audibly, and lift (don’t pull back) the neck ring. Maybe lift and hold it tight to her chest, or maybe lift and release a few times. See what she says. She probably still won’t stop but now she’s thinking more about her shoulders and less about her face. Particularly good girl.

You’re waiting for a marginal stop, maybe in five or eight strides. You’ll cheer and vault off her back quickly. Then stand away from her head, breathe, and give her a minute. Horses learn in hindsight, let her figure out what just happened. That you had a clear idea without interfering with her mouth. She won’t be perfect the next day because she isn’t about to spoil you now. You’re changing the conversation and she’ll take the time she needs. I could give you a fancy half-halt lecture, but she’d think we were showing off. Just stick with the neck ring, don’t drill it, and praise her endlessly. Eventually, you exhale, she halts. She’ll stop when you’ve proven to her that you can ask with no hands because it was never really about the halt at all. (She gives me a moist snort from her big old lips.)

Dear Rider, I don’t know the instance she doesn’t stop. It might be she wants to go back to the barn or charge up a hill. It could be a hundred anxiety-fueled reasons, but when one of you softens, the other will follow. I hope you’ll stick with the neck ring, and as long as you are both safe, let her take you for a walk. She knows everything, and you’re a good student. I kinda hope she never stops.