We have owned Gabriel since he was a yearling. He was important to us because he came from a close friend and good stock. Gabe started out as being mild mannered and willing. By the time he was three, he grew to be 15.2 hands, and he was the trickster, always finding a way out of a gate, showing the youngsters new ‘Chase games’, and stealing jackets laying in the field (while people are working). While Gabe had always been good, his size made it difficult to make him do the routine clipping and trimming he had known since birth. Once at two he had an anxiety attack breaking into a sweat as if his life were ending from being reprimanded. We started biting him at three years old—he was lunged until the back-pad was added. He violently broke the crupper and broke into a sweat from head to toe as we had seen the previous year. We were able to get the back pad back on him the next day, but not the crupper. There was no way short of tranquilizing him that we could get him back into a sane program, he acted like a horse that had never had human contact. He whinnied to go back to the pasture and he would not tie anymore, which was not like Gabe. For two days he had nothing but diarrhea. On the third day, we accomplished getting regular stools and successfully able to tie him only to a tree that he could not break. My sister was visiting from WI. They thought he was crazy, but she did not want to give up either. We loved Gabe; we knew his past but no longer had any sane visions of a future for him. My sister Stephanie said, "call Zeke, there has never been a horse that he could not train."

We really had no other options—the opposition this horse showed was severe. Zeke it would be.

After the first week of training Stephanie went to see Gabe, and reported that Zeke was riding him. My question was ‘On his back?’ "UNBELIEVABLE." After 3 weeks of training, my daughter and Stephanie both saw Gabe. They saw Gabe stand quietly while Zeke cracked bull whips around him and rode him at the walk, trot, and canter. Two weeks later Gabe trail rode and did flying lead changes. Amazing—I hardly believed them.

Gabe came home—I tacked him up with the western saddle and straight reins and used him for three weeks. Then I gave lessons to my best friend who is a 46-year-old beginner—intermediate rider. He watched corn pickers go by while still performing. He dropped the 'I’m going to kill a human' routine, and turned into the nice, pleasing clown that we always knew. He was such a good boy. All the words in the world but "Miracle" could not describe how much Gabe improved. You could actually see him process thoughts. He listened and tried to do everything asked of him without opposition, but still with that great light he always had.