For those of you who don't know the story about Lucky, he's also a Comstock wild horse. Actually he's the first Comstock mustang we had at the ranch. He was picked up by the state as a long yearling by himself (with no band) near a state highway not too far from where the 34 horses were shot. We don't know that he was from that group but for some unnatural reason he was by himself and he had the worst case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder we'd ever seen in a horse.

His reaction to anything and everything was to run headlong into the fence. In the time he spent in Mustang Manor he did more damage than I have time to describe or you want to read about, but suffice it to say that he tore up things that were engineered to be mustang proof, often literally in a matter of seconds.

We couldn't put Lucky with other horses. He had no social skills and if another horse pressured him, even in play, Lucky would spin around, violently kick and not stop. Our initial discussions ranged over subjects like brain damage and whether it would be more humane just to have him put down.

But there was something about Lucky that kept us going. When he got to the point that he wasn't violent we were able to use him as the case study for "Gentling Wild Horses 101." So long as we didn't try to confine him in a small space or apply too much pressure he tolerated things. Lucky taught us all about the significance that stress has on learning; that a horse packing stress doesn't really learn and the secret to success is setting up the training with wild or unstable horses to be as stress free as possible.

When we started the Olympic Horse Project we had three horses and four pens so we moved Lucky over with the Olympic horses. He was calm enough that we could get him into the safe squeeze (so long as we didn't push too hard), halter him and lead him around. He was far from comfortable with it all but he was no longer threatened by basic human interaction.

Then along came Betty.

Betty Retzer, a diminutive retiree from the telephone company, came by to volunteer to work with the Olympic horses. The Olympic "boys" were already out practicing in the horse course so I asked Betty if she wanted to work with Lucky. Our first conversation went something like this:

Betty said, "I don't know. I'm kind of nervous. I've never done this before." To which I replied, "That's OK, neither has he."

She carefully led Lucky out to the horse course where they followed the other horses through the obstacles. A relationship was born that day that transcended common sense and all of the terror of Lucky's past.

And this relationship, and the trust that came with it, grew until this windy November afternoon when Betty was ready to climb on Lucky.

Now most of us would have used a saddle for this effort because a saddle gives us security and control. And Lucky could have worn a saddle. By this time Betty had saddled him many times, even standing in a stirrup and leaning over his back as he walked in a small circle.

And most of us would have used a bridle or side pull, or at least a riding halter, because those things give us security and control.

But Betty went out into the round pen with her friend Lucky, armed only with a rope halter and lead and a plastic tree pot that she needed to stand on in order to get a leg over his back... on a windy day when most people had stayed home... because it was time to get on Lucky.

And it was an appropriately magnificent moment. Fortunately there was enough life in the digital camera batteries to preserve a few images of this event.

So with uncompromising trust Betty climbed on Lucky with nothing more than courage, a halter and a tree pot, and together they stood... a monument to the fact that with patience, trust and a sensible plan anything can happen.

We've had a few triumphs here at KBR but those who have known Lucky and the issues he's had to work through (and still is working through) can appreciate the significance of Betty's accomplishment; relying on trust and communication rather than hardware and restraint."

Back to Betty's page...