Here’s the thing about horses: they’re basically toddlers with hooves, super strength, and a deep suspicion of anything you thought was a good plan. If you say, “Hey buddy, walk through this perfectly harmless puddle,” the horse hears, “Go boldly into that dark, watery death trap and probably perish.”

And if you demand something? Cross your fingers your horse doesn’t realize you’re a pushover. You might as well try to convince a cat to take a bubble bath. The art is to help the horse think it was his bright idea all along.

I learned this the hard way, as most worthwhile lessons tend to be. I learned that a stubborn horse only becomes willing when I stop being stubborn myself and start being clever. Instead of force, I can simply set boundaries and wait for the right response. Follow that with rewards and—voilà!—my horse now thinks it's his idea to head in the right direction.

Take trailer loading, for example. If you try to shove, coax, or beg a horse into a trailer, he will remind you that he weighs 1,100 pounds and has the patience of a marble statue. But if you let him sniff it, explore it, back off, come back, and—this part’s important—think he decided to step in because he’s brave and bold and not because you were waving a carrot like a desperate street magician or swinging a flag at his butt like you’re Andre Agassi practicing your serve… well, then you’ve got something. Especially if you set clear boundaries about where you don’t want him to go and offer rewards where you do want him to go.

Helping a horse believe it was his idea isn’t manipulation—it’s relationship-building. It’s the difference between a power struggle and a dance.

What does this look like, practically? Timing. Patience. Rewarding the try. Pretending to be mildly disinterested when the horse does the right thing—“Oh, you want to walk in the trailer? Huh. Interesting choice, I suppose”—so he thinks he’s the one calling the shots.

And the beauty of it is, once the horse thinks he’s figured something out, he owns it. He’s proud of it. He’ll do it again. Unlike people, horses don’t come with egos that need credit for ideas. They just want to feel smart, safe, and like they weren’t bullied into anything.

So next time you’re out there with your four-legged partner, remember: it’s not about dominating or outmuscling or micromanaging. It’s about becoming the kind of leader who says, “What do you think about this idea?” and then grins quietly when your horse says, “Well, I suppose I could do that… if I wanted to.”

​Which, of course, was your plan all along. But we don’t have to tell him that.