I didn't start the blaze-faced sorrel colt when he turned 2. I was anxious to begin, because there was something special about him, a cocky but friendly attitude, a tendency toward the mischievous, a spirit that promised a terrific ride some day.
But he was a gangly fellow, lightly built for his age, though his ample bone promised plenty of substance down the trail. So I waited.
Christmas came, and then New Year's Day, and finally, now that I could refer to Little Mack as "coming three," I caught him and brought him over to the small round pen near our house. Perhaps now there was enough horse there to bear my weight without injury.
Readers familiar with my book, Sketches from the Ranch: A Montana Memoir, know the story of an exceptional stallion named Mack, but in the book more often called simply "the stud colt."
I won't reiterate the bittersweet story (or ruin it for those who haven't read it). It's enough to say that "Little Mack" was sired by Mack and out of a mare named Misty, daughter of the first Tennessee Walking Horse to come to our ranch.
Thus, Little Mack's roots on the ranch were deep. I contemplated keeping him a stallion but thought better of it. Instead, he'd become one of mine, a gelding I'd never consider selling, a right-hand helper for tough tasks on the ranch and trail.
Round Pen Start
Nearly 14 years have passed since that first round-pen session. When you interact daily with an animal, it can take a while to realize just what a jewel you have. Little Mack isn't the prettiest horse I've ever raised, nor the best in conformation. Neither is he the smoothest to ride, the best behaved, or the most trouble-free.
But add up all his attributes, put them into one athletic never-quit package, spice the mixture with myriad experiences, Mack and I working as a team in tough situations on the trail, and the sum total is a horse deserving a very high place in my own private equine hall of fame.
Back to the round pen, in this case a very small one, a mere 35 feet in diameter. I built it years ago, limiting its size to the materials on hand, and apologized to my cowboy farrier Ralph, who arrived as I drove the last nail, for its diminutive size. He countered, "No, Dan, it's just right. With it being so small, you won't be tempted to stay in it too long. You'll soon get that colt out into sagebrush where he'll really learn something."
Coming from the same Western old-timer's tradition as I do, Ralph was results-oriented. And especially in my earlier training years, I tended to be the same way. It's both an attribute and a fault, I suppose, but as Ralph predicted, Little Mack and I spent only a short time in the small round pen.
I did what for me are the usual things, teaching Little Mack to lead by each foot; ground-driving to teach impulsion, direct-reining and "whoa"; familiarization with blanket and saddle; and, eventually the experience of a heavy rider on his back.
Little Mack never tried to buck, but from the very beginning I felt electricity under me. He was far more horse than his size or build would suggest. I was tuned to a hair-trigger "one-rein stop" should one be needed.
Then, after a very few rides in the round pen, bitter January weather shut us down. I had no indoor arena at the time, so Little Mack was free until March.
