The World Record for the Slowest Horse Starting
Flicker was 5 years old in 2022, the first time I sat on her back. I had decided to start the process using clicker training. I believed that if I approached this new experience with the right kind of motivation, Flicker would be enthusiastic about being ridden. I also made the decision not to use any tack at first, because I wanted to see if she would agree to me sitting on her when she had the choice to leave at any time.
Over the course of two months, I worked with Flicker to prepare for this first sit. The sessions were brief—around five minutes each—and took place in her open track system, where she lived. I worked with her after her breakfast, when the other horses were still confined in their feeding yards nearby. This arrangement allowed Flicker to feel comfortable in her natural environment, with the other horses close by but unable to interfere with her. Most importantly, she was free to leave if she chose.
Flicker seemed to enjoy these sessions. She would whinny when she saw me approaching with the mounting block, eager to get started. She’d line herself up and stand still, allowing me to lean over her and gradually put weight on her back.
Then, on 11 April 2022, I sat on her properly for the first time. She stood still, looking calm on the surface, while I stayed mounted for a few brief moments. I continued to reward her with treats, increasing the rate of reinforcement to make sure she stayed focused while I was on her back. After a short time, I slid oJ and ended the session. That would be the only time I sat on her back for the next two years.
At the time, I felt proud of what we had accomplished together. I had trained a horse to accept a rider with no tack, no pressure—just patience and careful work. But, even though I had reached this milestone, I struggled to see where to go next. There was doubt lingering in the back of my mind, and it took me two years to unravel the underlying causes. I had to break everything down, piece by piece, to understand what was missing and how to holistically address it.
The Pitfalls of Clicker Training
One of the things I learned from this process was the limitations of clicker training. Clicker training is an eJective method for teaching a horse new behaviours, but it can also create a diJerent dynamic between you and your horse. When you’re using a clicker, the horse is always trying something. Their mind is constantly searching for the next answer, the next behaviour that will earn them a reward. They’re actively seeking that dopamine hit, which can be exciting for them and also addictive. This engagement can be a good thing—it helps horses remain motivated and happy in training, especially if they've had negative experiences before.
A parallel example is a child who struggles to learn to read. They may become disillusioned and uninterested in books, but then someone introduces a fun app with games and rewards to teach reading. The child becomes excited, re-engaged, and before long, they’re reading without even realising how far they’ve come.
Clicker training can work in a similar way for horses. It’s great for teaching horses to accept things like having a wormer administered or getting their girth tightened. They learn to associate these experiences with positive rewards, which makes the process easier and more enjoyable for them. But there's a catch: while the horse feels good about these experiences, they don’t necessarily feel good about you.
This subtle shift was something I noticed early on when I first introduced clicker training to my first Icelandic horse, Svalur. He became very excited when he saw me. He would whinny and run to me, eager for the next clicker session. But, as the training progressed, I began to sense a change. While he was happy to interact with me, I no longer felt the same deep, authentic connection I once had with him. He felt somehow disconnected, like he didn’t quite see me any more. Our relationship had become more transactional. He would look at me with a question in his eyes: "What about this? What about this?" If I told him it wasn’t time for training, he would disengage and show no interest in simply being with me, like he used to. We used to hang out together in a friendly way, interacting or just being in one another’s presence. Now, our time together felt like all or nothing.
I pushed this feeling aside for a long time, but it stayed with me. I wanted something more than just a horse that was excited to earn treats. I wanted a connection—a mutual trust and understanding. For me, riding is about much more than just getting a horse to do something. It’s about deepening the relationship. It’s about sharing a moment of trust, of joy, of moving together.
The Missing Piece: Mutual Connection
I began to realise that, while clicker training was great for getting results, it wasn’t fostering the kind of deep connection I sought with my horses. When a horse is in clicker training mode, they are focused on the next treat. They are completely driven by the motivation to find the next "correct" behaviour. There’s not much space for the horse to process their emotions or communicate discomfort. Everything is moving quickly, and the horse’s attention is solely on the next reward.
On the day of the first mounting, Flicker stood with her back legs splayed and her neck braced—her body wasn’t truly balanced, but her brain was overriding these signs of discomfort in her search for the next click.
I, too, was anxious, sensing that I wasn’t fully connected with her. The constant clicker rewards were keeping both of us focused on the external: the training, the treats, the goal of the next click. Neither of us was fully immersed in just being together. We were two separate entities, temporarily joined by the treat-driven process. Her goal and mine were misaligned: my goal was to sit on her back, and hers was to earn treats.
What I needed—what we both needed—was for me to be able to sit on her back, without any pressure, without any expectation. Just being together. Enjoying one another’s company, with a mutual goal of safety and connection. She needed to feel safe with me there, and I needed to be able to relax into her and trust her without the crutch of clicker training or treats. But how to get there??
And so, I realised that I needed to start again—this time with a different approach, one that would allow us to just be.
Two and a half years later, in October 2024, I sat on Flicker for the second “first time” and wow, what a different experience. She rearranged her own body into balance and softness and continued munching on her hay while I sat and allowed myself to be fully immersed in the experience of sitting on my beautiful horse.
