Two of my horses came from an auction. I got them via a rescue. One had decent ground manners and was trustworthy to ride, but the other had seemed OK but was not at first. He was only 13.2HH but weighed over 800 pounds–picture a quarter horse size body on pony legs. He crushed one of my feet shortly after we got him, ground down on my foot on purpose. I still have two very flat toes, and this was 20 years ago. He bolted for home when my daughter was riding him, tried to scrape her off on trees, the clothesline, under the eaves of the house. My daughter thought he had back problems, and stopped riding him. Early on, DH and I tried to persuade her to send him back to the rescue, but she was adamantly against it. Luckily, she never got hurt.
I had to retire my Hackney pony, and I started training the larger pony to drive. I am pretty sure he’d done it before, as the training went faster than I expected. I got him out on the road, and he was always the perfect gentleman in harness. My daughter thought it was me versus her, but I strongly believe it was just that he far preferred driving.
After about the first year with devil pony, I think he figured out we weren’t going to mistreat him, and he became trustworthy on the ground. My theory is that he’d been abused, and it just took a while to earn his trust.
I kept him (as I did with my other horses) until he finally died of old age. Once his cataracts got too bad for him to be safe on the road, I just hung out with him. He turned into a very affectionate horse.
Rebecca