05/19/2026
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I get asked fairly often if I ever get a horse that is just not trainable. My answer is usually that every horse is trainable to some degree, but that answer can also be misleading if people do not understand what I mean by it. Trainable does not always mean safe. Trainable does not always mean suitable. Trainable does not always mean the horse should continue in the job the owner wants it to do.
In over thirty years of training horses professionally, I have only had a very small number of horses that I would say were so low in trainability that almost nobody could handle them. Those horses exist, but they are rare. I can probably count on one hand the horses I have seen where their trainability was so low that maybe less than one percent of riders could deal with them. But those are not really the horses I am talking about here because that kind of horse usually reveals itself pretty clearly.
The more important group is the couple of horses a year that I identify fairly quickly as horses I do not want to continue with. I do not need months to figure these horses out. Most of the time, they show me early who they are, and once I believe the horse is still going to be dangerous after training, I would rather send that horse home early than keep taking the owner’s money just to prove I can make some improvement. That is an important distinction. I am not talking about quitting on a horse because it is difficult. I am talking about recognizing that even if the horse gets better, I still do not believe it will become trustworthy enough for the owner.
These horses are not necessarily untrainable. In fact, that is what makes them more complicated. They can learn. They can improve. They can have good days. They can look better after a few rides, in some cases even excel. Somebody watching from the outside may even say, “That horse looks fine.” But underneath the improvement, there is still something dangerous in their mind. They are looking for an opening. They are looking for a weak spot. They are looking for a time when the rider is not paying attention, gets out of position, or makes a mistake.
That is the part a lot of owners do not understand. A horse can get better and still be dangerous. A horse can learn to respond better, carry itself better, guide better, stop better, or tolerate more pressure, and still not become the kind of horse I would call trustworthy. Improvement and safety are not the same thing. Progress and dependability are not the same thing. A horse can show enough progress to make an owner hopeful while still showing enough danger to make me unwilling to attach my name to the outcome.
Those are the horses I am most likely to flunk out of training. I am not flunking them out because I cannot ride them. I am not flunking them out because I cannot make progress. I am not flunking them out because they are too difficult for me on that particular day. I am flunking them out because after working with them, reading them, testing them, and seeing how they handle pressure, I believe they will eventually hurt the person they are going home to.
That is a hard thing to tell an owner. Nobody sends a horse to training hoping to hear that. Most owners want to believe the horse just needs more time, a better program, more consistency, or someone who understands him. Sometimes that is true. I have had plenty of horses come in with problems that were caused by poor handling, lack of clarity, lack of leadership, soreness, fear, confusion, or simply never being taught correctly. Those horses can often change dramatically when the training becomes fair, consistent, and understandable.
But there is another kind of horse that is different. This horse may improve, but underneath that improvement there is still a dangerous intention. I am not talking about a horse that makes a mistake. I am not talking about a horse that gets worried, confused, or overwhelmed. I am talking about a horse that, even after training, still is watching for an opening. He may comply when everything is in order, but he is still looking for the moment when the rider gets weak, the handler gets out of position, or the situation gives him a chance to take over.
That is the horse that concerns me. Not because he cannot learn, but because he does learn. He learns where the opening is. He learns who he can intimidate. He learns when the rider is off balance. He learns when the handler is late. He learns which people will quit if he threatens them. He learns that certain behaviors create space, stop pressure, or make the human back down. A horse like that can become more dangerous with the wrong kind of experience because he is not just reacting blindly. He is learning how to use his behavior.
This is why I do not judge these horses only by whether I can ride them. There are plenty of horses I can ride that I would not want their owner riding. That is not bragging. That is just the reality of experience, timing, and awareness. A professional may be able to stay ahead of a horse, feel the thought before it turns into action, correct the smallest change, and keep the horse from completing the behavior. That does not mean the horse is fixed. It may only mean the horse has not found the opening yet.
When I am deciding whether a horse should stay in training, I am not just asking, “Can I get this horse better?” I am asking, “Will this horse be safe enough for the life he is going back to?” That is a much more important question. If the answer is no, then continuing to take the owner’s money just because I can keep making small improvements is not honest. At some point, a trainer has to be willing to say that better is not good enough.
That is usually where these horses land. They are better than when they came in, but not good enough to trust. They may be more responsive, but still too opportunistic. They may be more rideable, but still too dangerous. They may have fewer bad moments, but the bad moments that remain are the kind that can put someone in the hospital. I do not care how talented a horse is. I do not care how expensive he is. I do not care how much potential he has. If I believe he is still looking for a way to hurt someone, I do not want my name attached to him.
This is especially important because owners often measure progress differently than trainers do. An owner may see a few good rides and think the horse is fixed. A trainer sees the same rides and notices the moments where the horse thought about doing something dangerous but was stopped before he got it done. The owner sees the improvement. The trainer sees what is still waiting under the surface.
That is one of the biggest differences between watching behavior and reading a horse. A horse does not have to complete the dangerous act for me to know the thought is there. If I feel that horse thinking about rearing, bucking, biting, striking, dragging me somewhere, or using his body against me, that matters. The fact that I was able to stop it does not erase the thought. It only tells me I was ahead of it that time. The owner may not be ahead of it. The next rider may not be ahead of it. And eventually, the horse may find the person who misses it.
That is why I do not like calling these horses “fixed” just because they have improved. Fixed means something different to me. Fixed means the horse has changed enough that I believe the owner has a reasonable chance to continue successfully. Fixed means the horse is not just behaving because I am staying ahead of him every second. Fixed means the horse has developed enough understanding, willingness, and acceptance that the improvement can survive outside my arena. If the horse still requires professional-level awareness every moment just to keep someone safe, that horse is not fixed. He is being managed.
There is a big difference between a trained horse and a managed dangerous horse. A trained horse has learned to accept the human’s decision and find the answer. A managed dangerous horse may comply as long as everything is controlled, but the wrong rider, wrong timing, wrong environment, or wrong pressure can bring the dangerous behavior right back to the surface. That kind of horse may look improved in the right hands, but the improvement is fragile.
That is why some of these horses can fool people so easily. They are not bad every day. They are not explosive every ride. They may have stretches where they look completely normal. They may walk quietly, lope nice circles, stand tied, load in the trailer, or go through a training session with no obvious blowup. Then, when the situation changes, when the rider makes a mistake, when the pressure hits a certain point, or when the horse decides he has an opening, that dangerous thought shows back up.
Those are the horses that make people say, “He did it out of nowhere.” From their perspective, it may feel that way. But many times, the horse did not do it out of nowhere. The horse had been showing who he was the whole time. The problem was that he did not show it in a way the owner recognized, or he only showed it when someone was skilled enough to stop it before it became a full event. That is why a professional might be very concerned about a horse that looks fine to someone else.
When I send a horse home or tell an owner that I do not want to continue, it is not a decision I take lightly. I know there is money involved. I know there are emotions involved. I know owners are attached to their horses. I know some people will take it personally. I also know there will always be somebody who says, “Another trainer could fix him.” Maybe another trainer will take the horse. Maybe they will make more progress. Maybe the owner will initially be happy. But my concern is not whether someone can make the horse look better for a short period of time. My concern is what happens later.
What happens when the horse goes home and the owner is not as quick as the trainer? What happens when the horse has a few weeks to test the boundaries again? What happens when the owner misses the first thought, then the second thought, then the third thought? What happens when the horse finds the same opening that worked before? Those are the questions I have to think about, because those are the situations where people get hurt.
I would rather lose a training horse than send home a horse I believe is going to injure someone. I would rather have an uncomfortable conversation than pretend a dangerous horse is just misunderstood. I would rather tell the truth and have the owner upset with me than give them hope that I do not honestly believe in. There are times when the most responsible thing a trainer can say is, “I do not think I will be able to train this horse to be safe for you.”
That does not mean the horse has no value. It does not always mean the horse should be put down. It does not always mean there is no possible situation where the horse could exist safely. What it does mean is that I am not going to market the horse as trained, safe, fixed, or suitable when I do not believe that is true. I am not going to use my experience to make the horse look better just long enough for the owner to feel good, while ignoring the danger that is still there.
This is also why I have very little patience for people who think every horse problem can be solved with enough kindness, enough time, or enough love. Kindness matters. Fairness matters. Patience matters. But none of those things replace judgment. A horse that is dangerous still has to be evaluated honestly. Sometimes the kindest thing for the horse and the safest thing for the people is to admit that the horse is not suitable for the job people are trying to make him do.
People want training to be a redemption story. They want every horse to turn into the success story at the end. I like those stories too, and I have been part of a lot of them. But my job is not to create a fairy tale. My job is to evaluate the horse in front of me and be honest about what I believe that horse will become. Sometimes the honest answer is that the horse has improved, but he has not become trustworthy.
I see a couple of these horses every year. They are trainable enough to make progress, but dangerous enough that I do not want them in the hands of the owner. They are not the completely untrainable horses people imagine. They are more complicated than that. They can learn. They can improve. They can have good rides. They can make people hopeful. But after enough time with them, I know the danger is still there.
When I flunk one out of training, it is usually not because of what happened one time. It is because of the pattern I see over time. It is because of what the horse keeps returning to when pressure increases. It is because of what the horse thinks about doing when he feels challenged. It is because the improvement does not change my belief that the horse is still likely to hurt someone.
That is a hard standard, but it is the only standard I am willing to put my name on. I do not want to be known as the trainer who made a dangerous horse look good enough to send home. I would rather be known as the trainer who told the truth before someone got hurt.
So yes, every horse is trainable to some degree. But that is not the most important question. The more important question is whether the horse becomes trustworthy enough for the person who owns him. If the answer is no, then progress is not enough. Better is not enough. Looking good for a few rides is not enough.
Some horses do not fail training because they cannot learn. They fail training because even after they learn, I still do not trust them.
