Page 66 - The Pocket Guide to Equine Knots

As with halters, hobbles can be improvised if lost. Of the separate types, those made with
rings that attach in a figure eight pattern are too easily lost unless they’re attached with

most slack taken out. And, in tall grass or snow, they’re difficult to find. When I use this
type, I plant the horse’s front feet closely together, not only to prevent loss of the hobbles
but to limit the horse’s movement.
The material of which these hobbles are made is also important. Nylon hobbles are light,
impervious to moisture, and inexpensive, but I avoid using them on animals that are likely to

resist and be overactive in hobbles. Leather is kinder to the skin.
Don’t count on the limitation to movement hobbles are supposed to impose. A few horses
I’ve owned never really figure out how fast they can move in hobbles, but the majority soon

discover they can hop, then actually gallop with their front feet hobbled. Indeed, I once had
a young walking horse that actually jumped fences while hobbled. In order to utilize grass
around the homestead, I’d hobbled him here and there and kept spotting him on the wrong
side of the fence. Finally, I caught him in the act. He’d approach the fence, square up with it,
rear back, and jump! Had he been a mule I’d have been less surprised.

Partner, my senior gelding, runs like the wind while hobbled, and I fear for his safety on
rough ground. I’ve seen him tear along on a rocky side hill in order to find the next spot of
green grass. The solution for him has been three-legged hobbles.

On one of my earlier pack trips I took two young sons twelve miles up a familiar drainage
and camped in what westerners call a “park,” a big, beautiful clearing high in the timber.
This clearing was a favorite with horse people, because to reach it you crossed a narrow
bridge over a river that would be nearly impassable without it. Since horses normally didn’t
attempt to cross the treacherous river willingly, all one had to do to hold horses in camp

was place a pole across the bridge entrance, and a pole was always left there handy for
that purpose.

Three-legged hobbles.

The boys and I rode over the bridge, then up the path a couple hundred yards to the

clearing. We made camp, ate Polish sausages, and watched a young cow moose graze in
the south end of the big clearing, only occasionally raising her head to check us out. Young
and foolish as a packer, I had hobbled all of our horses.
After supper, I told the boys we should go down to the river and brush our teeth, and,
while we were there, place the pole across the bridge. We skipped down and did so, then