All The Gaits: Explaining the Movement of Gaited Horses

I was asked by Karen to further explain the gaits of gaited horses, as not everyone is familiar with them. This was kind of a "Doh!" moment for me, as having grown up around Paso Finos and coming from a country where over 60% of the equine population in it is gaited, I do take that knowledge for granted.

Riding Lucero. Long time readers have seen this photo ad nauseum. For 20 years owning him, I don't have that many photos of us riding (this was during a time before cell phone cameras), and this is one of my favorites.
What gait are we doing? This, my friends, is the paso largo. More of that shortly.

A couple of years ago, Equus Magazine published a wonderful article on gaiting where they explained the footfalls of the basic "special gaits" across the gaited horse breeds. I had never thought about it before, but it was true: gaited horses all have the same varieties of "special gaits". What changes is the speed, laterality, and the knee, hock and fetlock action throughout each gait and each breed. The footfalls for each special gait are basically the same throughout.

Just like in your regular walk/trot/canter horses. Note that all of the horses below are trotting and are in similar phases of the trot. But note also how different each trot appears based on the breed, discipline and individual horse's conformation:

Same thing applies to gaited horses.

I will start with dispelling one of the biggest notions regarding gaited horses: "It's unnatural" "It's trained into the horse". Umm, no it's not. Lucero could gait from the time he was born. He'd gait at liberty when I started working with him at 7 months of age.

Lucero was not a freak of nature. Check out these adorable babies:

5 month old Colombian Paso colt, gaiting behind his mother.

At liberty with no training aids.

A 3-day old Colombian Paso Fino foal! Watch his legs when he calms down.

So you have horses that are born moving diagonally (trot) and horses born moving laterally (this type of movement is known by the generic term "pace"). Horses that move laterally, aka are able to pace, are considered "gaited." When pacing, the horse's legs on the same side of the body move forwards at the same time instead of diagonally. This creates a movement that has a side-to-side sway for the rider, as well as having the potential to be quite bouncy depending on the animation of the horse's movement, the speed at which the horse is travelling, and the tension in the horse's body: some gaited horses will be "pacey" when tense, creating a rougher ride for the rider. The pace is considered an undesirable gait in some breeds, but is actually selectively bred for in other breeds. Examples of horses where the pace is cultivated:

Racking horse demonstrating the speed rack. Speed racking horses are close relatives of the Tennessee Walker, and thus this gait is named after one of the 5 gaits that the TWH can perform
Depending on who you ask and what breed they are affiliated with, this is actually considered pacing. The difference between a proper TWH rack and the pace is that in the pace you can have a moment of suspension with all 4 feet off the ground, especially at speed, while in the rack there is always one foot on the ground. The rack tends to be more comfortable than the pace due to the horse always having one foot on the ground, eliminating that moment of suspension. The lateral movement, however, is the same, as noted in these 4 photos. In my own personal world, the two gaits are synonymous when performed at this speed; you can often eliminate that second of suspension of the pace and turn it into a rack-type gait with minor adjustments to your position, allowing for a slightly more collected & organized movement. So basically, what we call a rack in the TWH is a refinement of the pace. All gaited horses can pace from the time they are born but not all of them can rack. Some can rack with no special training, others need to be conditioned to be able to perform the rack. It's very similar to training a trotting horse for that medium trot in dressage.

Icelandic horse performing the flying pace.
They are raced at this gait.

A pacing Standardbred. Note that this photo captured the moment of suspension when all 4 feet are off the ground.
Standardbreds can either be trotters or pacers.
Dom's Ozzy can do both.

Andadura horse demonstrating the andadura gait. The andadura used for racing can be equivalent to a rack or a pace: the smoothness of the gait is secondary to its speed.
Andadura horses are close relatives of the Puerto Rican Paso Fino.
Lucero had fine Paso Fino bloodlines but had been bred to be an andadura racer.
When asked to canter or gallop, this is the gait he performed. His version was more of a pace.

As you can see by the photos, all of these horses are performing exactly the same gait despite being of very different breeds and the same gait having different names. Here they are in motion:

Andadura race in PR. Yes, they ride bareback. I don't know why. And yes, they ride on pavement: you can hear the hoof beats on the pavement, which also allows you to hear if the horse breaks gait and gallops. If they gallop they are disqualified.

This is one hell of an amazing racking horse. Note how smooth he is when he accelerates. Note how he is able to go THAT FAST while maintaining one foot on the ground all the time. Check out the speedometer on the car from which the video is being filmed!

This video shows the flying pace of the Icelandic horse with motion capture. You can see the difference between this, what is considered a true pace, and the horse above that is racking when both horses slow down in the videos.

All the slower gaits that come after the speed rack/pace/andadura/flying pace are basically slower versions of the rack or the pace depending on exactly how lateral the movement of the horse is.

There are different names for the same gait in different languages and different horse breeds. In the TWH, a true rack (not a speed rack) is a four beat gait executed at medium speed. The timing should be even, with the same amount of time between each foot striking the ground. The ability to perform this gait is passed on genetically and can be present in a horse to a greater or lesser degree. Some horses, for example high caliber Pasos that are bred for showing, are so thoroughly bred for this gait that the diagonal and lateral gait are not present at all, and the horse will perform a paso gait always, right from the day he is born. (See the video above of the 5 month old Paso with his mother).

Rack in the TWH

TWH mare and foal, both demonstrating the rack!

Video of a TWH demonstrating the rack.

The equivalent of the 4-beat rack in the Paso Fino horse is called the paso largo. It is exactly like the rack in that it is a four beat gait executed at medium speed. In pleasure quality Pasos, it can be more lateral, aka pace-like.

Video of the paso largo

In the Icelandic horse, this gait is known as the tolt.

Note how the footfalls are exactly as in the buckskin Paso performing the paso largo above!
There's just a lot more animation in the Icelandic's movement.


Video of the tolt

In the Missouri Fox Trotter, it is the fox trot.

Again, same gait. But the Fox Trotter has less animation than the Paso Fino and the Icelandic.


Video of the fox trot

In the rack, the paso largo, the fox trot and the tolt, the footfall pattern is the same as for the walk, being left hind, left front, right hind and right front. As explained above, there is no suspension phase like there is in the trot and pace because there is always at least one foot on the ground at any given time. As there is no suspension phase, the rider does not experience the bounce as in the trot and pace. Listening to the gait, it sounds like pa-ca-pa-ca-pa-ca. In Latin American countries where gaited horses are prevalent it is common to see them ridden on pavement to show off the sound of the gait. Back home on the island we had a couple of barns on our street and in the afternoons after work the owners of some of the horses would take them out for a jaunt. The pa-ca-pa-ca ring of shod hooves performing the paso largo on pavement still reminds me of long hot afternoons feeding Lucero and picking his stall. He'd always blast a whinny as these horses were ridden down our street.

Then we have the gaits that are even more collected. They are also 4 beat gaits with a footfall pattern imitating the walk but the horse glides along at the speed of a slower trot, sometimes even as slow as a Western jog.

In the TWH, this is known as the running walk.

   

This beautiful gelding demonstrates a perfect running walk during the first minute or so of the video.

 In the Paso, it is called the paso corto.

In most of the other gaited breeds, it's just a slower version of their medium gait. Example: it's a slower tolt in the Icelandic and a slower fox trot in the MFT. When you slow the gait down, you end up with 3 feet always on the ground at any given time during the horse's stride progression.

Show quality Paso Finos can be collected even further: they can do the fino gait which looks almost like a piaffe in manic fast forward. The horse's legs move rapidly with tiny strides, with more or less animation depending on the individual horse and barely any forward progression. Not all Paso Finos can fino-pleasure/trail quality Pasos are more likely to amble along at the paso largo and andadura depending on their capacity for speed while others can do the corto and largo. The fino is trained into Pasos bred for show just like you train the piaffe in an upper level dressage horse: you work on ultimate collection. In the Paso world there is a term called brio, aka "spirit". Show quality Pasos are expected to have tons of brio, which is what also makes them more likely to have very animated collected gaits that will win in the show ring. A horse with a lot of brio will have a really awesome fino. Some trainers create "brio" by abusing the horses and turning them into nervous wrecks. A really GOOD show Paso however can execute with brio on command: you can just as easily ask for a super collected, animated fino as you can get them to move out in a ground-covering paso largo on the trail as you can get them to walk in a relaxed manner with their head down on a loose rein. (The ability to just walk with their heads down is something that is not often trained into these horses but it is something that I will train into individuals I work with - I think this is important that they be able to stretch and relax while having a rider on their back, especially if they are not going to be showing.)

What the fino gait looks like in photos

But to really appreciate the fino gait, you have to see it in motion:

 

If you want to read more about my own personal experiences with these horses, I wrote a pretty cool post two years ago on my experience with Paso Finos vs Trote Galope horses during a pretty adventurous trip to Homestead, FL, where we got to try out and ride a variety of gaited and "diagonal" horses, from show caliber to trail quality. (The post does start with saddle woes; skip to the 6th paragraph or so to find the story about the Pasos.) It's still one of my biggest blog hits! It also shows the pride that us Latinos take in our Paso Fino horses: we like to show them off. We like to show them off so much that we'll let you ride them so you can see what an awesome ride we have. ;) 

Continuum

So life is supposed to go on, but it is difficult. The last 5 days have been like climbing a very steep emotional hill. Working over the holiday weekend did not help-we had a record amount of euthanasias, to the point where the freezer where we keep the bodies in the meantime before the crematorium can pick them up (in Florida it is illegal to bury pets in the ground because the water supply is so close to the surface-all dead animals must be cremated) overflowed. They had missed a pickup day because of the storm, and we had an unprecedented and unusual number of deaths on top of that. At one point I'm rearranging the bodies in the freezer, then trying to get it to close by sitting on the lid, and I just start laughing and sobbing at the same time hysterically. It was just cruel...the whole situation was just plain cruel to the point of being ridiculous.

On the upside, however, I got to work with good techs and a decent doctor, who, despite the hospital being insanely busy and us having to play Jenga with the dead bodies, managed to make us feel like we were worth a million bucks. It was a little ray of light in the middle of a whole lot of darkness.

And of course, Lily's treatments have continued. She rests the leg on and off, though I have seen her resting her other leg as well-a sign of improvement, I hope. I was unable to ride for 3 days in a row due to the crazy work schedule, but it was dry at night, so she got to go out with little Willy and move around on her own. She has 2 more days to go on her antibiotic, and I have continued to give her bute, though only once a day. Her reactions to the treatment vary-on some days she doesn't care, and just wiggles the leg, but day before yesterday, I actually got kicked in the ear! Both wash racks were wet, so I had cross-tied her in the middle of the aisle, however, so I don't know if maybe Pink tried nipping Lily while I was working with her.

I was just finishing up, stuffing the crack with a tiny piece of cotton covered in the doctor's medication, which usually ellicits no reaction at all from her, when suddenly she actually lifted her leg out of my hands, and kicked back. She has NEVER done this before! She missed hitting me square in the face by inches, and the side of her fetlock slammed against my ear. My jaw felt dislocated, and my ear was so hot it seemed impossible that it was not bleeding. I stumbled back, then stood still, furious, holding my ear while she danced forward on the crossties, trying to get away from me. Thankfully, the crossties did NOT give (it would've been a reward for the naughtiness) and at the same time, she didn't do anything where she could have hurt herself either-when the crossties didn't set her free, she piaffed in place, then settled to a trembling standstill when she realized I was not going to hit her.

After confirming that my ear was, indeed, not bleeding, and that my jaw was still in place, and after taking several deep breaths to let my temper simmer before approaching her, I picked up her foot again, and checked that the cotton was still in place. It was. She was wiggling the leg, so I simply held it up for a few minutes, not touching her foot, until she stopped. She did not get cookies that night, and I came thisclose to not buting her, simply because she likes the molasses I pour on it so much, but in the end I did give her her anti-inflammatory. I then turned her out with Willy for the night.

I have since started wearing my riding helmet when treating her frog.

Yesterday I was finally off, so I decided I'd lunge her in the arena to let her expel energy, since, it had been a week since starting her treatments. I'd had a particularly bad day on the Lucero front, and felt it wasn't a good idea to ride when I was angry at the world. I was still thinking about this when I went to put Lily's rope halter on. She felt my rage and immediately stiffened when I put the halter over her head. I saw her reaction, and I slowed my movements and let my breath out, clearing my head from everything except Lily. It's amazing how attuned she is to me-she immediately relaxed when she felt my own emotional release. I put my arms around her head and kissed her, "It's not you. I'm sorry." When I stepped back, her eyes and ears had softened, and she turned her head and nuzzled me. "It's okay." she seemed to say, as she blew softly on my cheek.

Judy had applied Roundup to some of the weeds in the arena, so I probably won't be working her at liberty out there in our remaining time at this barn. From what I understand, Roundup stays in the ground forever, and is extremely toxic to horses when ingested.

There was a storm brewing, and the wind had picked up just as I let Lily out onto the end of the lunge line. Of course it started whipping through the trees with tropical storm force, and Lily took off, bucking and doing bicycles in the air with her front feet, and almost ripping my arm out in the process. She showed absolutely no signs of lameness or soreness in that left hind. I reined her into a smaller circle and after she had settled into a steady canter, asked her to change directions. More bucking and bicycles, as we made our way from one end of the arena to the other. Lightning flashed horizontally across the sky, and a couple of potted palms next door fell over. She bolted, tail tucked in, then suddenly, as if a lightbulb had gone on in her head, she turned toward me unbidden and came trotting to me, coming to a stop right in front of me and giving a deep sigh.

It was the most moving thing that she has ever done for me so far. We stood in the middle of this raging windstorm, side by side, Lily's ears relaxed and eyes drooping simply because I was standing right there with her. My heart went all squishy inside.

We stood like that for what seemed like a long time. The wind calmed down a bit, and I sent her out onto the end of the lunge again. Judy had set up the arena as a sort of obstacle course, with the 3 water storage barrels in a small triangle in the middle, a small cross-rail by the arena exit gate, a pole "L" in the corner by Bali's turnout, and a fan of 4 trot poles at the opposite corner. I steered Lily towards the trot pole fan on the lunge. She did everything in her power to avoid them-veering towards the inside, or circling wide around them. I shortened the lunge and aimed her towards them, making their approach inevitable. She completely surprised me by leaping like a deer into the air and clearing all 4 trot poles in a single bound. All 4 poles. It was like a 10-foot wide jump, with a good 3 feet of air.

We tried again. And again. Each time, she jumped the first 2 or 3 poles, then tripped over the last 1 or 2 poles, even when giving the command to TROT...Goofy mare! I tried taking some photos of her incredible jumping skills, but the light was dim due to the storm clouds. This is the best I could get:

You can barely see her, but she's coming out of the right of this photo to leap over the first 3 poles...

Jumping over the first 2 poles. Note her position-it looks like she just cleared a 4' fence!

Finally she trotted once over them:

HIGH STEPS! *lol*

Then we switched directions. This time she continued trotting over the pole fan, but still with the same ridiculous high steps.

On a whim, I laid the water barrels down in a single line, and lunged her over them to see if she would jump. She refused 3 times, then on the 4th try, she did another deer jump, all 4 feet in the air, overjumping by a good extra 2 feet. It was a monumental jump that I wish I'd gotten photos of-I was looking UP at her as she cleared the barrels!

After that she realized she didn't need that much extra room to go over the barrels, and her jump was a lot more conservative. We did 4 jumps total in each direction, then called it a day. I let her walk herself out on the lunge for a long time before bringing her in.

Of course her foot was sore again after all that activity and I felt horrible. I gave her a double dose of bute, Stud Muffins, and I linimented and wrapped her legs for the night for extra support. It did start to rain while hosing her off, so I put up her stall chain and dumped extra shavings in her stall to make it extra cushy so she could lie down if she wanted to.

Today, she was feeling better again. It had rained in the afternoon and the arena footing was damp, so I wrapped her foot in Vetrap and Gorilla tape (there are 2 rolls of duct tape at the barn and for the life of me I couldn't find either one!) to keep it dry, and tacked up. We did a long walk warmup, first on a loose rein, then the usual lateral work we've been doing at a walk (shoulder-in, shoulder out, renvers, baby leg yields), then moved up to a trot. She did not feel sore at all-very even in both directions, and did not resist any of the lateral work. We did some more trot-halt-trot transitions, which she did fairly good on-she trotted off after each one, but not as snappy as she's supposed to. I did give her a break though, because of her foot. I made her wait extra long during one of the halts and she got soooo pissed because I was making her stand! She began tossing her head until she got her curb chain off, but stood still while I turned her head and reached forward to reattach it. I then let her trot off.

She was a really good girl. We did a canter half-circle in each direction because I just wanted to see how she felt. She was reluctant to pick up the left lead, so she is still sore on that foot for sure, but she is feeling better: she maintained the canter until I asked her to walk after the half circle.

Most of what we did was walk, however. We did tackle the trot pole fan again (at a walk), and she tried dodging it, even at a walk, "I really don't want to jump that today." she said. "But you're not supposed to jump it; I just want you to walk over it." I replied. After 2 more tries and much giggling from me at my mare's silliness, she finally grumbled "Alright!!" and stepped hesitantly over the poles as if they were going to jump up and bite her! I saw the lightbulb moment again, "OH! I get it!" and so we walked over the fan a few times in each direction, no more high steps, and no more hesitation. She's hysterical though-I've told you guys how my reward for her is to let her stretch down at the walk when she does a good job, and how she sometimes anticipates it. So right after going over the poles in both directions, she pulls her head down as if saying, "Ok Mom, that was hard and I did a good job. Give me my head please." I did.

Our achievements for the day: leg yielding around the barrel triangle, and then doing a shoulder-in/turn on the forehand combo around one barrel, in both directions (at a walk). She did a FANTASTIC job, and I was able to keep her going without getting her frustrated.

Diana arrived at the barn, and poked her head out the arena gate to say hi and ask how I was doing. The day before she had been asking me how do you get a horse to move laterally, and so now while we were talking, I shifted my weight first one way, then the other to make Lily sidepass to the left and then right. (Yes, we were showing off!) Diana completely lost track of the conversation, watching Lily move sideways so effortlessly.

My mare rocks! :)

On another note, I noticed today that her neck has started to smooth out. Back in May, it was lumpy, and it had me concerned-I knew I had to be doing something wrong somewhere. According to Hempfling and Equus Magazine's conformation series, this kind of neck lumpiness may be caused by use of side reins and draw reins:

May 18, 2012, back when we had our picadero work phase. Note the 3 giant knots in Lily's neck.

As you guys know, I only used draw reins on her very briefly back at the beginning of the year, and only very lightly-only as a suggestion. I really, really hate this, and would never do it to my horse:

But I had been using side reins about 50%-75% of the time when I lunged her. I figured it couldn't hurt to try, though at the back of my mind I was afraid she'd continue to overdevelop the underside of her neck.

I'm happy to report I was proven wrong-the experiment worked.
This is her today:

The knots are still somewhat visible when she turns her head (I did ask Dr. Gillard for a reference to a good equine massage therapist months ago, when I first noticed these knots, but apparently there are none in our area that are good enough for him to recommend!), but are so much less obvious-I haven't worked her in side reins in over 6 months

My trimming equipment arrived. I rasped her feet a bit, but you can barely tell the difference. I'm being timid-I want my farrier to check out my work before I do more. I do love my rasp and gloves, though! Along with the equipment, I also ordered the book Horse Owner's Guide to Natural Hoof Care by Jaime Jackson, and have started reading it. One fascinating thing I read on there (pg 266):

"The "double-back" is a physical characteristic wherein the longitudinal muscles that parallel the horse's spine rise up even with or above the interjacent spine. This muscular configuration occurs in sound, healthy horses that move naturally most of the time. [...] Xenophon noted that the double-back was a sign of correct training and that it was more comfortable to ride than horses with unnatural backs with protruding spines and withers."

Also (same page):

" Leslie Ann Taylor and Carol Brett of England [have written]: One common symptom of saddle damage is the horse that is described as having 'high narrow withers'. It has long been accepted by the equestrian world that certain horses have this as a natural conformation...[but] it is usualy a lack of natural, healthy muscle below and to the rear of the withers that makes them and the shoulder blades appear more prominent than they should be. This lack of muscle mass is often caused by the pressures of a saddle fitted or used in a way that does not allow normal movement and blood flow in this area. There are so many horses who have this 'compromised' shape to some degree or other, that it is considered normal."

Lily:

May 2011. Note the high withers and the discernible shoulder blades.

August 2012. BIG difference in her back, withers and shoulders! (And demeanor, too!)

Mr. Jackson also proposes that most healthy, balanced horses in their natural state, without riders or ill-fitting saddles, develop a "double back" of muscle, as clearly seen on the bay stallion below:

Lily's back, today:

A "double back" if I ever saw one!

I guess we're doing something right! Coooooool!

Lucero

On August 29, 2012, Lucero, my Paso Fino died. He turned 20 this past April.

I had posted about him back in March, but I felt so guilty about everything that was happening with him, that I removed the post.

I haven't been able to write about this. But I need to-I need to recognize how important he was in my life, and how much I am going to miss him, and make sure that he is never forgotten. So I will tell you about him.

I've written about Lucero here before. He was my island boy, my first horse, given to me by my grandfather when I was 13 years old. I had begged and begged for a horse for 3 years and had submerged myself in riding lessons and learning about their care. I had to prove how much I wanted this. We had 2 acres of property, shared by my grandmother's and my grandfather's houses. We lived in the larger house at the top of the hill; my grandfather in a small cottage further down. There were 2 stalls in his backyard-one of them had been set up as a chicken coop, the other was simply a vacant stall. Towards the end of 1992, I watched eagerly as the dirt floor of that second stall was re-done with concrete, and a couple of weeks later, on November 4, we arrived home from art school to find my horse had finally, finally come home.

Lucero was just a spunky little weanling at the time, with a blond mane that stood up every which way, ears covered in ticks from having been turned out 24/7 since he was born, and the most curious nose I'd ever met. He'd had very little human contact since he'd been born, as the young horses at the breeding operation that he came from were mostly untouched until weaning time. You couldn't tell though. Even as a youngster, he was fearless and opinionated.

Baby boy. A month after he had arrived (his ears had already been de-ticked, of course!)

My grandfather initially helped me raise him. Grandpa had old school training methods, not violent, but nowhere near the natural horsemanshp methods we are so familiar with today. I'd never heard of Parelli, Monty Roberts, or Buck Branaman-their training style was still unknown on the island. I read all of Grandpa's old horse training books, and, horrified, I decided there had to be a better way. So I figured things out by myself-I trained Lucero based on my own methods that ended up being very close to what we know today as natural horsemanship: good behavior was rewarded, bad behavior was either ignored (such as him grabbing at his stall door with his teeth at feeding time-I'd make him wait, doing other things, until he stopped), corrected (if he tried to lean on me while leading him, I made him stop and back up), or turned into something productive (later when I was riding him, if he balked or tried to choose where he wanted to go, I'd make him circle to distract him and turn him in the direction I wanted him to go.) It was not easy-I was just a kid, and I wasn't always the most patient, and sometimes I really was afraid of Lucero. One time he reared and struck out while my grandfather was leading him, nailing Grandpa in the back with a front hoof-he missed blowing out a kidney by fractions of an inch. Lucero was a feisty little thing, and super-smart-you always had to be on your toes around him, because he would test you every step of the way. But with time and dedication, and the occassional help from a trainer, he became more and more manageable, and learned that he could not do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. I never gave up, though, and I continued to educate myself as Lucero grew, so I could shape him into the horse that I wanted him to be. In the end, 99% of his training was done by me.

I rode him for the first time when he was 3 years old. I could've started him at 2.5, but I chose to give him the extra 6 months. I was 16 years old. At this point, I had introduced him to the saddle and bridle, he knew how to lunge and he would obey voice commands (when he wanted sometimes, but his favorite was "whoa", and he would always, always stop on command. If he could get out of work, he would!).He was 100% desensitized, and I had already introduced him to the weight of a person on his back, hopping up and hanging draped over his back. He never cared.

I had started taking jumping lessons at this point-I had always thought he'd be a handful to ride, and figured if I could stay on on a freaky OTTB trying to bolt coming up to a fence, staying on a baby Paso would be a piece of cake.

As it turned out, it was kind of an anticlimax. I got on Lucero for the first time, Grandpa holding the end of the lunge line, and Lucero just stood there. He nuzzled my feet a couple of times, but just stood quietly. He had never been nervous, but this did not upset him in the least. He stood there like he knew that this was what was meant to happen, like he knew that this was his job-he was my horse, and my place was on his back.



Grandpa held the end of the lunge line during those first rides.


I was surprised at how difficult it was to teach him leg cues. He was thick-skinned, so unlike Lily in this sense, and I had done such a good job desensitizing him that I guess I took it too far-even with the tap of the lunge whip, he wouldn't always go forward when asked when it was accompanied by a leg squeeze or the tap of a heel. You truly had to want to go for him to go. Years later when friends of mine would get on him for a spin, he would just stand there because he knew they were timid or downright afraid. "I know you're not my mom, and I know you don't really want me to move...so I won't." No one else could ride him, not because he was naughty, but because he simply would grow roots whenever anyone else was in the saddle!



Posing during one of our first rides


The only time I fell off of him was probably about a year later. I went through a long phase of riding him bareback, but we had a small argument as to where we were going. Circling wasn't working-he figured out that he could back up into oblivion and thus get out of going forward. Well, he backed himself up into the fence, and he was so focused on arguing with me, that it caught him completely by surprise! He leaped forward into the air and I went flying, somehow rocketing over his shoulder and landing under his feet. I felt him scramble and jump over me, doing everything to avoid stepping on me. He did graze my chest with a hoof, but I didn't feel it at the time-only later when it turned into a purple bruise. I just lay there for a minute with the wind knocked out of me. My little man, instead of turning tail and running for his stall like I expected, stood by me trembling, watching me, as if thinking, "Oh my God! I killed her!"

I did get back on, but afterwards I rode with a saddle 80% of the time! He never got into that sort of argument with me again, and in 21 years of owning him, I never fell off of him again.

I was a shy kid and wasn't very good at making friends-I was socially awkward. But Lucero was my best friend. Growing up, he was my reality check. If I was feeling sorry for myself, he'd get an attitude and try to nip at me playfully, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself." Most of the time, it worked. I could always count on him to make me smile, and taking care of him myself every day motivated me to keep going even in the middle of adolescent funks. His care was the one constant in my life, and it most likely kept me out of trouble, not that I was ever tempted to do things like party, drink or do drugs like some of the kids were doing at my high school. My excuse was that I had to be home in the evening to feed him.

I hated how I looked in this pic-I had gained the freshman 15 and then some, but I loved how Lucero looked, and this was my grandfather's favorite photo of us. It was on his desk until the day he died.

When I turned 19, however, I developed a deathly allergy to horses. I couldn't so much as pet him for more than a minute, before my eyes would start tearing up, I'd begin sneezing uncontrollably, and I'd become so congested I couldn't breathe. The allergies were manageable in the beginning, but over time they became so bad that I'd end up wheezing, feeling like I was breathing through a straw-I would have an anaphylactic reaction to horses. After almost ending up in the hospital a couple of times after trying to clean his stall, I had to quit riding, and Lucero's care was relegated to Grandpa's handyman. I still fed him, but our handyman did his stall.

It was 4 years before I figured out a way around this. 4 long years. I had nightmares about that time for a long time-it was like I had lost a piece of my soul. Lucero sat in his stall, and I turned him out to eat the long grass on our hill when I could, but sometimes even that would be enough to trigger an allergic reaction. I considered finding him another home, but the Paso world in PR was a cruel one, and the chances of him ending up in the hands of someone who would most likely abuse him or ride him into the ground were very high. I kept him, figuring that this was better than submitting him to an uncertain and most likely horrible fate.

He always knew he was hot stuff. :)

When I was 23, Flonase and Zyrtec had become very popular as prescription allergy meds. I read about them, and asked my doctor for samples. I didn't really expect them to work, but after a week on both medications, I walked into Lucero's stall and brushed him.

It was the first time in 4 years that I could touch him without sneezing, without my eyes tearing up. My throat got a little itchy, but that was it. It was really and truly a miracle. I tried again the next day, and over time, my throat stopped itching altogether. After 3 months, I started weaning myself off of the allergy medication-I continued the Zyrtec, but dropped to Flonase just once a day, and then stopped it altogether after a few more months. Over the course of the next year, I was able to completely stop taking them-as long as I was exposed to horses every day, the allergies stayed at bay. Go figure.

I started conditioning Lucero, and soon I was riding him 3-5 times a week. But then he started having allergies himself. He developed heaves, and during the summer, rides had to be kept to a minimum because he would be so congested. Some summers in PR, there is a serious problem with the African sands-they make the sky white, they coat cars with a fine dusty layer, and exacerbate respiratory issues, in man and beast alike. I was unaffected, but Lucero was not-I tried cough medication, decongestants, antibiotics-nothing worked; nothing made his condition better. Most supplements did nothing. And then I discovered Ester-C about 2 years after he developed the condition, and somehow this kept his symptoms at bay. Like with myself, I was eventually able to discontinue the Ester-C, and he continued to breathe easy long after I moved to FL with Charles.

That same year I started riding him again, I moved him to a little barn across the street where I could have him on full board and have more horizontal space to ride-riding on the slant of our hill got old after awhile. Those next 2 years were probably our best together-I rode him more than I ever did as a teenager, and he looked amazing: he was fit, his coat glossy, his mane looked like spun gold. He was one of the most beautiful horses in the barn, and was often complemented. People marvelled at our bond, too-he was still feisty and spunky as ever, but I trusted him 100%. One time Lucero had developed a fungal infection on his back legs, and I was sitting on the ground practically underneath him treating it-not something I would have done with any other horse-when one of the other boarders made a comment about it, probably thinking how stupid I was, but I told her I knew this horse would never do anything to hurt me. And he never did.

Riding in the arena at the new barn

I always wanted to ride him on the beach, but I'd never had access to a trailer to teach him to load, and the trailers at the barn were all very small-I couldn't see myself trying to convince him to get up into such a small space comfortably. The Bayamon river flowed through the valley next to the barn, and I had been told that if you followed the river, it was a 4-hour ride to get to the beach. When I was 24, I started conditioning him hard-core, with the intention of one day doing that long ride. But his conditioning was thwarted when summer came, along with a particularly bad season of African sands. He couldn't tolerate even a 15 minute ride without wheezing. I wouldn't discover Ester-C until that winter, and the following summer I started my long-distance relationship with Charles.

I moved from the island in the winter of 2004. By then, I had taught my kid cousins to ride, and my uncle took over Lucero's care-he would belong to my cousins, who adored him. It was the first time in his life that he would go for anyone other than myself. I was happy with this decision and felt that it would be a good life for my baby.

One of the first lessons with my cousins. Lucero kept trying to follow me instead of staying out on the lunge circle!

Juan, my cousin, riding Lucero off-lead

Lucero makes my cousin Melissa smile

However, my cousins' passion for horses was short-lived, and after 2 years, my uncle threw in the towel on Lucero's care. At this point, Charles and I were broke and I couldn't afford to bring Lucero to FL, nor even send money to pay for his board. My mom took over his care for me.

Happy in his broodmare stall, enjoying his retirement. This photo was taken about 2 years after I had left the island. His stripe had started to blend out with gray.

I wish I had brought him with me when I could. I wish I would've made the arrangements when I first left the island-I had the money at the time; I could have done it.

I went back to visit my family with Charles right after my mom took over Lucero. He was grossly overweight, to the point where I had to ride him bareback because none of my saddles fit him, much less his girth. I had a fit-I knew he could develop insulin resistance and laminitis from being so fat, and I had a talk with the stable hand that since Lucero wasn't being ridden 5 days a week anymore, he needed to halve his grain ration.

Cantering up the gravel driveway to the barn, bareback, during our first visit back to the island. One of my favorite photos of us. I had this pic on my desk when I worked at the tack shop.

We had been caught by rain. He looked so happy!

My beautiful boy. He was overweight and his feet were long, but he was still beautiful, and always will be.

We had a psychic connection, I swear. Whenever something was wrong at the barn, I would dream about him and let my mom know, who would go check on him to make sure that everything was in order-his stall was clean and he was being fed properly.

Charles and I had the opportunity to visit again a year after that, and Lucero was at a much healthier weight, and happy. He was enjoying his retirement. Granted this barn is not what we're used to here in the States-turnout was limited to a couple of times a week, but it was in a paddock with super tall, lush green grass. He lived in a broodmare stall, a good 20x14 in size, with rubber mats over the concrete floor, and windows on 3 sides of his stall. That visit was short, and I was only able to ride him once or twice, which for some reason I barely remember.

I do remember my good-bye, right before leaving for the airport. He seemed subdued, as if he knew something I didn't, and barely wiggled his lips when I played with his nose. I couldn't wrench myself from him-I hugged him repeatedly and cried into his mane. He used to never let me hug him, but this time he did. Something motivated Charles to take photos of the moment, and I'm really glad now that he did. I got into the car that day, bawling, and I told Charles, out loud because I hoped that by saying it, it wouldn't be true, "I feel like this is the last time I'll ever see him." I get separation anxiety from every living thing that I love, a by-product of my parents' traumatic divorce, so I chalked this feeling up to that.

Our last good-bye

I never imagined I would be right.

It's been 5 years. 5 years have flown by since I last saw him...we had not been able to go back to the island due to a combination of lack of simultaneous vacation time for Charles and me between school and changing jobs, or a lack of money when we did have coinciding time off-it just never seemed to work out. I hadn't even dreamt about Lucero in all of this time, so I figured he'd been fine. The barn changed ownership, and grew-more stalls were added, but Lucero remained in his huge broodmare stall long after all the other broodmare stalls were split in two. My mom would stop by to visit him, but there was a period where she was a couple of months without seeing him-life just got in the way for her. I know it happens.

In March of this year she went to visit him after that long hiatus, and this is what she found.

He'd lost weight, and all of his muscle. All that hay on the floor? What he wasn't eating.

One flared hoof. All of his feet were long, and they had supposedly just been trimmed. I still think he had laminitis but no one recognized it because no one knew enough to see it.

He had not been turned out in months, if not for the last year. It had been so long that he refused to leave his stall, and he was monumentally stiff. His legs were stocked up, he was lame in his left hind, his hooves uneven, even though the farrier had just come-my mom had paid him! He was only being fed once a day. When did the feeding schedule change at the barn?? The horses had always been fed twice a day prior...apparently this had happened during the last year or two. All that time, my baby had been starving, and what he was being fed, he was refusing to eat. Unlike before, he never let me know. I was distraught. I think he forgot about me, or thought I abandoned him that last time I said good-bye.

 The vet came out and bloodwork revealed, surprisingly, only arthritis-nothing else. All of his organs were functioning fine. We did a major diet overhaul, my mom scoured the island for better quality hay and came back with timothy for which she had to pay $25 a bale. I sent joint supplements, SmartOmega3, SmartBreathe (his heaves was out of control again), and small hole haynets so he'd always have food in front of him. His grain ration, a 14% protein pellet, was cut in half, his hay ration was tripled, and he was also started on a wheat germ oil/soy oil blend-in PR, there is no access to all of the wonderful oil supplements for horses we take for granted here in the States.

I wanted to jump on a plane to go see him, but the tickets were prohibitive at the time (March is still the high season for travel to PR), and though Charles insisted I go, I decided to wait. My mom and I had discussed euthanasia if Lucero didn't improve, and I wanted to save the money for when the time came if the trial period didn't work, so I could say good-bye.

I wish I'd gone back then.

He gained weight in the right places, his heaves improved, and found the desire in himself to want to leave his stall again, to eat grass, to move around, even though the lameness persisted. He flirted with the mares again, and gave my mom a hard time, sometimes not wanting to go back to his stall unless she tempted him with bananas. My mom found the time to go see him every single day to make sure his stall was being cleaned, the supplements were being fed, the haynets were being filled. My mom went above and beyond to make sure he was happy, even though it broke her heart to not be able to provide him what I could have if he'd been with me.

It broke my heart too, and it wracked me with guilt.

For the last 5 months, Lucero had stayed even-keeled in his improvement. A couple of days of rainy weather meant a couple of days locked in his stall, in which his legs would stock up again and he would become stiff again. His heaves improved and even disappeared, but as soon as another bout of African sands came over the island, it would worsen again.

Apparently at the beginning of August, the supplements stopped working and he started to decline again. My mom was still going out to visit him, not every day now due to her multiple jobs, but still several times a week. She told me about the occassional swollen legs, about the on & off heaves, but she never told me that he'd stopped wanting to come out of his stall, that he again lost the spark in his eyes, that he didn't want his bananas anymore. She didn't tell me she had made an appointment with the vet to stop his suffering.

She told me the day after. She thought Lucero would say good-bye. I was sleeping after an overnight relief shift when he passed.

He did not say good-bye.

I didn't know he was gone until my mom told me. I am thankful for every single hour and every penny that she put in trying to save him, but I wish I had been given the chance of being there. Not just to say good-bye to him, but also to be there for my mom. Lucero was the last living legacy of my grandfather's, my mother's dad.

I'm just...destroyed. I'm wracked with guilt because I didn't go see him before. I didn't get to say good-bye. I didn't get to say I'm sorry. I didn't get to tell Lucero one last time that I loved him; that I didn't abandon him. And now I never will.

Words do not suffice to explain how I feel right now. It's hard to get through the day, though Lily and Charles help. I'm not right, and I don't know if I ever will be. It's just...hard.

I love you, Lucero. You were my very own personal sun.

Please forgive me.

.