Hiding Behind My Horses

By Kerry Kuhn

This book is about one man's journey to becoming real with himself and stop hiding from his past. The pursuit of childhood dreams and the enticement of fame became his two biggest masks. What was left behind was divorce and devastation. But through all the pain and deceit, freedom and redemption were found in the truth...the truth about his past, the truth about how he was living, and the truth about a Savior that can redeem it all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098022167

Book preview

cover.jpg

Hiding Behind My Horses

Kerry Kuhn

Copyright © 2019 by Kerry Kuhn

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Bay Bar Becky

Pancho

Tommy

Lacy

Spook

Peppy

Cisco

Seven

Short-Term Horses

Event Horses

The Blessing in My Divorce

Moving Forward

Preface

The inspiration for this book comes from the people that have come up to me as I’ve traveled around this country and said to me, I wish I had your life.

"In an age where self-help books are everywhere, everybody is looking for a quick fix. Social media today has created this alternate fantasy world of perception, how we view others, and how we want them to view us. The concept of being real, being open, and being honest are almost non-existent. We will go to great lengths to cover things up until it has become a way of life for us. Is that really what we want to pass on to our kids? There is only one thing that will set a person free. It’s not time, it’s not success, it’s not money—it’s the truth!" This book is about one man’s battle to face the truth!

The idea behind this book is something that I have been hesitant to accept. This book is not about training horses but, rather, how a man hid his struggles behind the image of his horses. The Lord has blessed me to be able to do what I do with horses. He didn’t give me a special talent with horses; He gave me a passion for them. My passion has taken me across this country doing what I love. It didn’t take me long before I began to find my identity in what I can do with a horse and hide the real me behind that passion. This book is about becoming real with who I am, what I’ve done, and what I’m capable of. If this book can speak truth to someone and help them focus on the things in this life that really matter, then it’s worth the vulnerability of being open and honest…a skill that has been a process for me to learn.

Throughout my life, there have been horses that have greatly impacted me. Each one of these horses came into my life at a particular time, and their journey with me is marked by my place in life at that time. As there have been thousands of horses that I’ve been blessed to work with, I’m going to share a few of them with you and some of the stories that they endured with me. Looking back, it’s very clear that the Lord was trying to speak to me through those horses. I was just too prideful to see it at the time. As I share these horses and their stories with you, I pray that you will use them to look into your own life and not just read about them at face value. It’s not until a person is willing to look at something else on a deeper level that they become willing to look at themselves on a deeper level too.

To all the people out there that brought me horses to train over the years, I say thank you from the bottom of my heart. I didn’t always do the best thing I could have for your horses, but it’s only because I didn’t know any better at the time. Every horse I ever worked with made me a little better for the next one. Some of the stories I’m going to share might sound like I didn’t have a clue about what I was doing, and that was definitely the case at times. But whether things worked out the way I wanted them to or not, I never forgot one thing along the way about what your horses taught me. The hardest part for me at that time was admitting that they could teach me anything at all. Your horses have played a huge role in who I am today, and for that, I am forever grateful.

The industry that I am in is defined by a never let them see you fail mentality. Well, that’s nothing more than an exhausting line of pride that will get a person nowhere. I’ve hid behind my horses for long enough, and I’ve hurt a lot of people along the way, particularly those closest to me. I’m tired of letting an industry define who I am and how I have to do things. In this book, I will share how I became a slave to my industry that would stop at nothing to get noticed. I was unprepared for the recognition I was subjected to, and it didn’t take long before it became my God. If this book can help just one person out there not fall into the traps and lures that I fell into, then it’s all worth it.

Standing in front of packed audiences, it was difficult to not be driven by the attention and fame that came with the job. It was very easy for me to feel superior to others and take advantage of how people looked at me. The environment that I was often in put me in the spotlight in front of thousands of people, and I did everything I could to build my name bigger each time. There were always certain things that I was encouraged not to say during my demonstrations, and if I did, it would mean not being asked back in the future. When I started traveling and presenting, I didn’t care what parameters they put on me. Now that I’ve been in the business as long as I have, I can’t live like that anymore. This book illustrates where that life led me. And for anyone out there that looks at someone like me out of envy or jealousy, I would say this—there’s a very good chance that you aren’t seeing the whole picture. The horse shouldn’t represent notoriety for anyone; they should simply represent personal reflection. And that’s the gift each one of these horses in this book has helped bring into my life.

In order for me to share truth in this book, I’m going to have to discuss some painful and regretful incidents in my life. I have no intent in causing anyone any pain through my story, and I will do the best I can to protect those that have been involved by not mentioning any names. What I have finally realized in my life is that my past does not define me. But to find freedom from my past, I must open up about it and not hide it anymore. I’m not worried about being judged or condemned because no one can do that to me worse than I can to myself. I feel like the only way that I can be a different father to my three sons is to be honest with them about the road that I walked and where it ultimately led me. I pray that knowing what’s down that dark lonely road, they might choose a better path than I did. These stories will reflect my journey to becoming a better horseman and, more importantly, a better man.

Chapter 1

Bay Bar Becky

Growing up as a little boy, we had three horses. They weren’t anything special, but they were ours, and we definitely had a lot of fun with them. I say we because I have two older brothers, but I should probably just speak for myself and to the fun I had. Becky was a bay mare that was very quiet and very forgiving. There wasn’t much that bothered her. I’m not even sure where my dad acquired her, but she was the perfect fit for three little hoodlum boys that had lots of energy. I have pictures of Becky packing me around in a little saddle that would barely fit a small monkey. All of my memories of Becky are of her babysitting me. As a very young little boy, I knew nothing about horsemanship, but I loved to ride. I could pull to stop (and turn) and kick to go. Well, actually, the kicking didn’t work out to well because my legs were so short they pretty much just stuck straight out, but I tried. And Becky took it very well.

We raised two colts out of that mare, Shorty and Poky, and they were total opposites. Shorty was a sorrel mare that had lots of go. I had to get a little older before I could ride her by myself because she really liked to run. Our answer at the time was a tie-down and pulling on the reins all the time to hold her back. Seemed like the logical answer. It didn’t take me long to figure out that, as long as I stayed at a walk, she would stay pretty quiet. But once I sped up past the walk, it was all go after that. Being a young boy at the time, I was intimidated and scared of her energy, so I didn’t take my anger out on her because I wasn’t sure what I would get. The anger would come out as I got older!

One other thing that Shorty blessed me with was being very hard to catch. I can say blessed as I write this only because that was thirty-five years ago. I sure didn’t see it as a blessing at the time. If Shorty ever saw a halter or rope in my hand, she would do everything she could to avoid me. We kept them in a pen that was way too big to be chasing a horse around on foot, so Shorty sure had some fun with me over the years. I would try to corner her, I would try to bait her in with feed, I would even hide the halter inside my coat or shirt and try to slip up to her while she was eating. Of course, I would have to act like all I wanted to do was pet her, because if I ever acted like I was going to catch her, she’d be gone! So I’d slip up to her, rubbing the whole time, and try and position myself by her neck with my back to her eye so she couldn’t see me slip the halter or lead out of my shirt to put around her neck. There were many days where I’d get the rope around her neck and she’d jerk back and run off. I would love to blame that horse for being the cause of any anger issues in my life. But as I reflect back on her now, she was really enjoying herself with me. Ropes, rocks being thrown, even the BB gun was brought into the scenario as she continued with her games. I know, I agree, using a BB gun on a horse’s butt is not good horsemanship, but I had no idea how to change the situation. And the BB gun gave me some satisfaction at the time. Trust me, this is only leading up to other incidents of finding satisfaction as I got older. I think it would be safe to say that I only rode Shorty when she was the only option. And that mare did everything she could to make sure she wasn’t an easy one.

The other horse we had was a paint mare named Poky. She was smaller than Shorty and much easier to deal with. Poky was my primary horse when she got old enough for me to ride because Becky was getting up there in years. By the time Poky came around, I was getting old enough that going slow was no longer fun. Going fast on Poky was fun because when I asked her to slow down, she would…unlike Shorty! And my parents didn’t want me going fast all the time on Becky, so Poky was a good fit for me.

I suppose I better throw in a quick mention of JR. He was a miniature donkey that my parents got us. He rode home in the back of a van in a cardboard box when they got him. If that poor donkey would’ve had any idea where he was headed, he probably would have been contemplating his own death at the time. That little guy endured a lot at the hands of some little boys that just wanted to play cowboy. Once he got big enough, we rode him, we roped him, we bucked him out, and we drove him, oftentimes all in the same day. JR put up with a lot! But as time went on, he began to develop his own payback ideas and began to have some fun with us. I can’t tell you how many times he rubbed me off on a tree or on the fence. He never stopped very good when I pulled on the reins. But that little rascal could stop on a dime when it was his idea, and his idea always included having his nose on the ground. So you can imagine where the saddle and I often ended up. That donkey became like a brother and just as ornery as my other two!

At this time in my childhood, I was getting old enough that I could go check cattle with my granddad, Dale Lukens. My grandpa Dale was my idol. I worshiped everything he did with horses, and I always wanted to go with him. He had quite a few horses himself and took care of a lot of cattle and day worked at that time. I loved how he used his horses for everything. To be able to go out with him doctoring cattle was my idea of heaven. Poky wasn’t very big and neither was I, so I wasn’t much help. I was what you would label as more of a tag along. My grandpa never made me feel that way though. He always treated me as his helper and constantly made me feel like he was proud I was with him. I would follow him around in the pasture hanging on every word he said to me. He was always talking to me about what we were doing with the cattle, what we needed to do with our horses, and so on. I can still remember today how I felt as a young boy checking and gathering cattle with him…like he actually wanted me there! That was huge for me. Some twenty years later, those tables would be turned as he would be following me around the pasture because his eyesight was so bad he could barely see.

My grandpa was raised in an era where they viewed horses as a tool and a means to survive. I heard stories of him plowing the fields with a mule when he was four years old. Growing up that way, all of his horses were broke to drive. He had buggies, wagons, drills, plows, just about anything you could pull behind a horse. He had extensive knowledge on how to handle and drive horses. He later rodeo-ed, showed some cutting horses, and raised paint horses. He was known in our area as a good horseman, and from what I saw, he was the best!

One story I remember about Poky and my grandpa was quite traumatic for me. We were out checking cattle southeast of town in a pasture that was pretty rough and had lots of brush. With all the brush, they had a lot of issues with bad eyes in the cattle. They would end up poking their eye with something, and inevitably, it would turn into pink eye, so we were out there that day to doctor some cattle with bad eyes. On the way out there, my grandpa was talking to me about how these cattle can be dangerous to be around, especially when you get them roped, because they can’t see where they are going. His intent was not for me to rope one myself; he was just making sure that I didn’t get to close to one. We made it to the pasture, unloaded our horses, and headed through the brush. I remember we had just crossed this creek and were headed up this little hill through some tall grass. I was riding right beside my grandpa when, all of a sudden, Poky panicked and took off. I was a good enough rider that I didn’t just fall off, but I had no idea what spooked her…and she wouldn’t stop. I tried to steer her back towards my grandpa, but she just kept running sideways. She was in full panic mode, and I’m not sure I had ever sat on a horse in that frame of mind before. So I was screaming for my grandpa to come help me, and he did what he always did, just calmly loped over to me and grabbed one rein out of my hand. She was still dancing around at this point, but I was a little more composed since he was right next to me. Poky finally began to settle down a little and Grandpa just kept leading her around in a big circle. What I didn’t understand at the time was Poky had gotten some wire wrapped around her legs and she was simply reacting to it. All the dancing around she did only got her more tangled up in it. Thank goodness she didn’t get so wrapped up that she fell down. And thank goodness Grandpa was there to help get her out. He ended up having to cut her out of the wire because she was so tangled up. Did I mention that my grandpa always carried a pair of fencing pliers on his saddle? Man, did they sure come in handy that day. I’m guessing I was probably seven to eight years old at the time. And that was for sure the first taste of real fear that I had ever felt setting on a horse.

So up until I was twelve years old, Becky, Shorty, and Poky were my only options for horses to ride. They were my stepping stones early on to build confidence and balance in the saddle. At that age, it was really about just sitting up there and having fun. And the day I beat both my older brothers at the county fair in the western pleasure class on Becky, I was hooked!

It would be safe to say that those three horses really weren’t dealing with me. I was young enough that I was only doing what my grandpa shared with me, so they were actually getting more of him than they were of me, even when I was on them. I was a student of my grandpa and I only tried to emulate him. I’ve later found out in life that when you ride horses, the horses are concerned about who you are, not about who you are trying to emulate.

How I approached Becky, Shorty, and Poky at this time in my life is how I found myself relating to other people. I didn’t have an agenda of my own back then. I was just a young boy that was interested in riding horses and going with my grandpa. I had no worries about who or what I was going to become later in life, just enjoying the moment at the time. I wasn’t confident with what I knew about horses and neither was I with people. In fact, I spent a lot of my childhood avoiding other people. Possibly even hiding in the closet when people would come by our house. Was I timid? Probably so! I didn’t like to be around large groups of people, and I sure didn’t want to have to talk in front of them. If I was around friends of my parents, there was a good chance I wouldn’t say a word. I can remember that, if given the choice, I’d rather go do something by myself than with someone…except for with my grandpa of course.

Again, I’m just trying to lay the groundwork and establish the correlation between how I treated horses and how I treated other people. I lived and breathed horses at this time, so it wasn’t hard for me to put my attention to them. Thirty-some years later, I can see just how much more value I put in those animals than I did people. That way of looking at life was going to lead me down a path that would only be feeding my own selfishness.

Chapter 2

Pancho

In 1985, the one horse that played the biggest role in my life was born. I was ten years old when Pancho arrived. We bred Poky to a gray stallion named Dick Sonoita and ended up with this little jet-black colt that would become the first horse I ever started myself. The stories I have with this horse are far too numerous for me to list them all. Let’s just say that this horse came at the perfect time in my life and quickly became my best friend. Not only did he come at the perfect time, he was the perfect horse for me from the beginning.

When Pancho was born, I was so eager to get my hands on him. I had watched and helped my granddad with colts up to that point, getting them gentle and halter broke. At only ten years of age, what’s cooler than having your own baby colt to grow up with? Nothing! So my dad and granddad helped me get my hands on him from day one. It didn’t take long before the little rascal was like a pet. He was my guinea pig actually. All the things that I had watched and helped my granddad with were now becoming real for me as I was able to be the one person to do all that with Pancho. I really believe Pancho was a naturally quiet horse from the beginning, but it wouldn’t have mattered because I handled him so much from day one that he never had a chance to be wild.

The next two years were like clockwork. By the time he was a yearling, I was ponying him and saddling him as much as