By By Sarah Montrowl

This is the first of a two-part series.

I watched the ribby dark horse, lathered from head to toe, spring into
the nearest corner and start circling madly.  His companion, a small
gold bay, was unmoved, casually strolling along the railing,
investigating the ground with his lips.
To imagine that both of these Thoroughbreds came off the same trailer,
from the same racing life, and were the same age was incomprehensible
to me.  This, I realized, was going to be the greatest obstacle in my
new career of what I like to call "the unwinding, re-imprinting,
re-training of off the track Thoroughbred (OTTB)." You just never know
what you are going to get.
As with any horse you inherit, there are bound to be differences in
handling and care.  Couple that with a polar opposite training goal and
a high stress life from a very young age, and it proves quite a
challenge for even the most patient equestrian.  One must spend hours
on ground work, socializing and natural horsemanship to broach the work
under saddle.
Despite these challenges, this period of my riding career is my
fondest.  I uncovered what I found to be the core of the Thoroughbred: 
hardworking, eager to please, sensitive, and brave.  The aforementioned
"large dark horse" was my retraining project of three years, Jocko.  It
is through him that I learned the majority of my veterinary knowledge,
explored every training method known to man and, ultimately, can
reflect back with irrepressible pride.
About two weeks after Jocko arrived at our stable, I received a
somewhat panicked phone call that the barn hands couldn't turn Jocko
out.  The manner in which the 16.3 hand TB had been pacing, lathering
and crying once all the other horses had gone out was alarming.  As a
result, he had not been turned out for three days and was having a
meltdown.
I rushed over, at this point just a friend of his owner, put a chain
over his nose and led him bucking and rearing out of the barn.  After
several angry words once we were out in the open, hysterical bellow
after bellow, it dawned on me that he was not the willful menace
described on the phone, but a terrified 7-year-old with a mind of a
2-year-old.  I was hooked.  The next day I spoke with my friend and
Jocko became my project.

After cutting out his oats, upping his hay and drowning his grain in
corn oil, he began to fill out a little and mellow.  A month into this
change I began to see a droopy bottom lip or a rested foot, here and
there.  I took advantage of evening when all the horses were in to put
him on the cross ties, walk him in and out of the barn.  While horses
were cooling out elsewhere, I walked him in and out of the ring to try
and get him used paying attention to me, regardless of the activities
and horses around him.
During feeding I'd spend my time sitting near him in his stall.  He was
dropping an alarming amount of grain on either side of his bucket,
"wolfing" his feed and looking around anxiously.  In an effort to stem
this habit, I split his meal into four installments, put a salt block
in his bucket, tried everything from a shallow ground tub to a deep
corner bucket.
Still not putting on the ideal amount of weight, after his metabolism
should have slowed, I tried everything from gastro guard, in case of
ulcers, to a high fat, low protein grain.  Although his seal brown coat
glistened as he shed out in the spring, he was not making the strides I
desired in the fundamental health.
What I wasn't achieving in physical improvement, I saw in great
improvement on the ground and was finally doing some work under saddle.
  One futile attempt at lunging made me realize that I would need to
make sure he got turned out everyday.  To the left he ran at a
45-degree angle to the ground and to the right he was incapable of
bending in and turning around the circle.
His owner and I worked with the farrier to bring the toe of his hoof
back slowly, as the track style is long and low to grab that extra
fraction of a second.  Slowly, his tripping became less and less
frequent, and he was finally stepping under with his hind end.

Next Time:
Making progress
Health problems
Time off and starting from scratch

Sarah Montrowl, a San Diego resident, worked as a veterinarian
technician for an equine specialist and as a trainer in residence for
Rosewood Farm on Martha's Vineyard in Massachusetts.