12/19/2025
I’ve spoken about this before but it bears repeating- it’s too funny how 20 years ago I would have said that roping a hind foot was abusive, that anything to do with a lariat rope was abusive. This was also at a time when I believed that anyone in a western saddle didn’t know anything about “correct” riding 😂
Anyway, turns out that roping and stopping by a hind foot is one of the absolute most important things I know to do for a horse. Aside from the benefits of helping a horse learn to soften into confinement (such as teaching them what to do if/when they become trapped or cast, preparation for the farrier, etc), stopping them by a hind foot just DOES something. I don’t know how to explain it and I certainly don’t have any “science” to back my theory, but something in the horse’s mind changes for the better when they’ve been through this and this has been the case oh, only 100% of the time.
For the horse, there’s a great deal we do to prepare them for this. It’s not about getting a rope on there and hoping for the best. For sure, bothered horses can be bothered by it and this speaks more to that horse’s chronic unregulated state of being than it does to whatever activity we’re doing together. What happens when they come out the other side is, in my opinion, worth a minute or two of concern and resentment. In our experience, youngsters, horses with secure attachment and feral horses rarely show any pronounced trouble. To them, it’s just the same as being asked to stop from a lead rope or rein. When they’re prepared, it’s smooth.
For the human well… that’s a whole other can of worms. Truth is, by my standards, I’m not any good at roping feet. I can do it and I can do it without trouble, not from loads of direct experience but because I’ve devoted my life to cultivating Feel, Timing and Balance in everything that I do. In this, Timing is EVERYTHING. If I were to put a feel in the lariat rope while the foot it’s attached to was going toward or already on the ground, I’d trip the horse up and cause a world of difficulties. The timing of take on the rope needs to be absolutely exact- right when that hoof is coming off the ground. A fraction of a second early or late and I’m causing harm. The timing of the release is just as important. If the moment where the horse begins to move toward softening (in anything!) is missed by the human, well, I feel this plays a large part in where learned helplessness evolves in the world of pressure and release.
Note too that I’m not wearing gloves- if I’m getting rope ripped through my hands I’m either holding on too tight/taking the horse over threshold or executing the aid with p**s poor timing. I can do it well enough because I have exceptional skill handling a lead rope. Skill that came from thousands of hours of practice, much of this without a horse on the other end.
When I practice this with Takoda, I can halt him from the canter simply by closing my leading hand on the rope while raising my arm in a gentle lift. Mind you, Takoda will halt at liberty from the canter cued only by my breath. So, it’s not actually great practice. Éowyn on the other hand, she’s something else. She’s far less experienced and we have far less time together. We’re not there yet and working with her is quite a bit more challenging for me. Lucky, I’m married to one of the best Horsemen I know and he was able to give me some pointers during this session that were immensely valuable. There’s always another layer waiting to be explored!
While I was complemented on the Feel and Timing of my release, Zak encouraged me to bring more awareness to my Balance. Can I set Éowyn’s foot down in a specific place and in such a way as to help her organize her body (and mind) to stay with me? When she starts to think about walking off, how can I best arrange my body and aids to ask her to stay? Which eye does she favour with me/the rope on that right hind? When does her expression show deeper curiosity, ie when does she start to communicate back to me through the rope as opposed to just “obeying” it?
Zak paused in his coaching to snap this sequence of me stopping Éowyn by a hind foot a couple of days ago and I’ve been meaning to sit down and do a little write up about it.
This morning, while out with Takoda, his hind legs became entangled in wire. It was a gorgeous morning and we were walking about without a care in the world, him trucking along contentedly and me swimming in a sea of gratitude. Colorado’s Front Range experienced level 3 hurricane winds on Wednesday (clocked upwards of 100mph) and debris was heavy in our field. Some of our electric fencing (not hot) had been more or less shredded and a long section of it had been blown out under the cover of long grass. It was very sudden- ‘Koda slammed to a stop, took several rapid backward steps and stood completely still, trembling only slightly, his breath coming faster. HELP, I heard. I dismounted before really assessing the situation and on landing discovered that BOTH of his hind legs were ensnared. Fighting my own panic at what I have seen such things can do to a horse, he allowed me to manipulate, manoeuvre and ultimately untangle him swiftly. Both of us walked away completely unharmed.
In the last decade, I have collected countless stories just like this- where a horse who’s feet had been roped became tangled, cast, trapped, etc and who gave to the pressure enough to remain safe and waited for the human to rescue them. Prior to that, I have countless stories of horses who were killed or suffered career ending injuries from these exact scenarios.
It’s hard. It’s controversial. It can be scary. It’s a heavy responsibility that demands complete accountability. And I rope the feet anyway.
*An Important Note*
I will lead a horse by a front foot but will never stop them by a front foot. I will stop a horse by a hind foot but will only lead them by a hind foot if they’re gentle and educated to it.
~ Chiara 💕
