When Archie refuses to load after a long competition day

A horse that loads beautifully at home can behave very differently after a full day at an event. By the time we have finished dressage, show jumping and cross-country, Archie is tired, warm, mentally full and ready to go home. That is precisely when a simple walk into the float can turn into a slow, frustrating standoff. Learn more about Partyponyeventing.com.

I have learned that refusing to load at the end of the day is rarely about stubbornness. Usually, Archie is telling me that something feels difficult, uncomfortable or unsafe. He may be worried about the dark interior, bothered by a noisy showground, reluctant to leave his horse friends or simply too tired to process another task.

My approach now is deliberately boring. I make the area safe, give him time to settle and break the job into small pieces. The aim is not to win an argument in the car park. It is to get Archie home calmly, without damaging his confidence or turning the next loading session into something he dreads.

I check the practical problems first

Before asking Archie to take another step, I check the float from the ground up. The ramp needs to be secure, the partitions must be correctly positioned and nothing should be hanging where it can swing into him. After a long day, a loose bar, a dark corner or a slippery ramp can seem much more alarming than it would at home.

I also check Archie himself. I run my hands over his legs and shoulders, look for fresh rubs and make sure his feet are not packed with stones. If he has worked hard across firm ground, I give him time to cool down properly before loading. A horse that is breathing heavily or carrying muscle soreness is not in the right state for a rushed trip home.

Australian venues can add a few complications. A float may be parked on uneven grass at a country showground, beside a busy road or under floodlights that throw strange shadows. In summer, the metal ramp can hold the heat well into the evening. I move the rig into shade where possible, open the vents and replace any dusty bedding before trying again.

Water is another early priority. I offer Archie a drink, but I do not become anxious if he refuses it immediately. Some horses will drink from their familiar bucket but ignore a strange trough at an event. A small feed of soaked beet or his usual recovery ration can help him settle, provided it is something he already knows and tolerates well.

I give Archie a proper reset

My first step is to stop pulling. If Archie has planted his feet at the bottom of the ramp, constant pressure on the lead rope usually makes his neck tight and his feet even more rooted. I stand quietly, keep enough contact to stay safe and allow him to look at the float without being dragged towards it.

Sometimes I take him for a short hand-walk away from the ramp. This is not an attempt to wear him out; he is already tired. I simply let him stretch, breathe and look around while we move to a quieter patch of the grounds. A few minutes of loose-rein walking can bring his attention back to me after the noise of the event.

I speak in the same calm voice I use at home. Around Australian yards, people often say, “Give him a minute,” and in this situation that advice is usually better than a crowd gathering with competing ideas. I appreciate help, but I ask spectators to stand back. Archie does not need six people, waving ropes and clucking behind him.

When we return to the float, I look for a softer starting point. If he will stand near the ramp without tension, that is useful progress. If he will touch the ramp with one foot and step back quietly, I count that as a successful repetition. The session becomes a series of small decisions rather than one dramatic demand to load completely.

I use the training he already knows

At home, I practise leading Archie towards the float, stopping, stepping back and approaching again. I reward him for standing square and keeping his attention on me. Those exercises are valuable after competition because they give us familiar language when he is mentally tired.

On a difficult evening, I may ask for one front foot on the ramp, then allow him to step back. If he stays relaxed, I repeat it and wait for the second foot. I avoid snatching the rope when he retreats. A controlled step backwards is safer than a sudden leap, and it tells me that I need to make the next request clearer or easier.

Food rewards can help, though I use them carefully. Archie receives a small piece only when he has made a calm effort, not while he is rushing backwards or swinging his quarters. I never place feed deep inside the float and then trap him once he follows it. He needs to learn that entering is safe, not that the doorway is a trick.

When his front feet are inside, I let him pause. The temptation is to keep asking because the finish is close, but tired horses can panic if they feel hurried at that point. I quietly ask him to walk forward, wait for his hind feet to follow and then stand him for a moment before securing the breast bar and ramp.

I manage the people and the surroundings

A late-night loading problem often becomes worse because everyone is keen to leave. Riders are packing gear, officials are closing areas and other floats are heading out. At a large Australian event, the parking lane may be full of utes, generators and vehicles towing stock trailers. I move Archie away from that traffic rather than trying to force him on while engines are revving beside us.

If another calm horse is available, a familiar travelling companion can make a real difference. I do not use a strange horse as a lure or put it in a dangerous position, but a sensible buddy standing nearby may reassure Archie. At smaller Pony Club grounds, people are often generous about waiting or sharing a quiet corner, which can remove the time pressure.

I also check the lighting. A bright torch pointed into the float can create glare, while a shadow across the ramp can look like a hole. I prefer even light from behind me or from the float’s own interior lamps. If the venue has a loudspeaker, nearby band, barking dog or loose tarpaulin flapping in the wind, I wait for a quieter interval.

I have found useful travelling and competition notes through eventing resources, especially when thinking about how preparation, venue layout and horse management affect the final part of the day. Loading is part of the competition routine, not an isolated chore that begins once the last rosette has been handed out.

I know when to stop and get help

There is a point where persistence stops being training and becomes a safety risk. If Archie is rearing, striking, rushing backwards or trying to spin into traffic, I create distance and call an experienced person. I would rather spend extra time waiting for a knowledgeable handler than allow a tired horse to injure himself or someone nearby.

I do not use ropes around Archie’s hindquarters, aggressive driving from behind or any method that could make him feel trapped. I have seen how quickly a loading attempt can become dangerous when a horse slips on the ramp. No result, travel schedule or expensive hotel booking is worth compromising basic safety.

If he is genuinely distressed, painful or showing signs of heat stress, I reassess the whole plan. A refusal accompanied by sweating that does not settle, unusual breathing, repeated pawing, lameness or signs of colic needs veterinary attention rather than more loading pressure. In hot parts of Australia, especially after an exposed cross-country course, I take heat and dehydration seriously.

Sometimes the safest option is to wait until Archie has recovered enough to think. If the venue has a stable, yard or secure overnight area, I arrange that rather than forcing him into the float at midnight. It may be inconvenient, but responsible horse care includes accepting that the day’s travel plan has changed.

I make the next trip easier

After Archie is safely home, I write down what happened while I still remember the details. I note the weather, the surface, the time, how long he had been standing, whether he had eaten and which part of the loading process caused trouble. Patterns are easier to see in writing than in the middle of a stressful evening.

The next training session is not a punishment session. I return to easy float work when Archie is rested, beginning with standing near the ramp and gradually building towards a complete load. I might practise at different times of day, with the ramp open and closed, and with the partitions arranged as they are for competition.

I also prepare the travel equipment more carefully. A familiar mat, clean bedding, a hay net positioned safely and a bucket that smells like home can make the float less strange. I check the tyres, ramp springs and internal fittings before each trip, particularly after travelling long distances between Victorian, New South Wales or Queensland venues.

My competition checklist now includes cooling gear, extra water, a head torch, spare lead ropes, electrolyte supplies that Archie already knows and a plan for unexpected delays. I keep the loading routine consistent whether we are leaving a dressage day at a local showground or heading home after a full eventing weekend.

Most importantly, I judge success by Archie’s state of mind, not by how quickly the ramp closes. A quiet load after a long day is worth far more than a hurried one that leaves him frightened. With patience, sensible preparation and a willingness to pause, the trip home can become the calm final phase of competition rather than the hardest part of it.