Argentine trainer Esteban Mera blends Patagonian horsemanship traditions with North American methods, creating a unique brand of horse-handling wisdom.

Argentina’s Route 40 is one of the longest highways in South America.  Born in Tierra del Fuego, just a stone’s throw from Antarctica, Route 40 follows the continental backbone of the Andes Mountain range through Argentina’s ranching countryside.

Located 15 miles off highway, near the town of Junin de Los Andes, Estancia San Juan’s entrance is marked by a dense poplar- and willow-tree grouping that stands out against the semi-arid landscape.  In the background, low-flying clouds snag on the peaks and crevices in the Andes Mountain foothills.  Pine forests and scrub-oak thickets cascade down the beige hillsides, and mountain streams intertwine below a shroud of early morning mist.

On a brisk fall morning, Esteban Mera rides a young colt in the ranch’s training arena.  He is dressed in earth tones that appear borrowed from the countryside: burnt sienna wool knit sweater, wide-brim hat tipped forward against the morning sun, and black bombacha slacks tucked inside knee-high riding boots in the traditional gaucho fashion.  Only the flapping devil-ears of a red neckerchief and the sweaty sheen of the strawberry roan gelding he rides contrast with autumn’s golden backdrop.

It’s not the scene you would expect to find at an international crossroads.  In the world of horsemanship, Argentine trainer Esteban Mera’s unique training methods, blended from those used around the world, makes his hometown of Junin de Los Andes an unlikely outpost amidst Patagonia’s rugged beauty.

The Worldly Horseman.      As the saying goes, nothing new exists under the sun.  Considering that it shines on all sides of the earth, it’s no surprise that the concept of bucking-out a horse is not unique to North America.  Argentine gauchos – widely heralded as the finest horsemen south of the equator – have a rough stock heritage similar to their northern cowboy cousins.  A difference, however, is that Argentina remains a largely agrarian society and the modern-day gaucho isn’t as far removed from life on the range as today’s North American horseman.  As a result, many gauchos continue to live by rough, frontier teachings, where a hand-whip and sharp spurs are all it takes to break a colt.

In recent years, disciples of gentler training methodologies pervading North America have made in-roads in rural Argentina.  In northern Patagonia, where Esteban Mera’s reputation as a “soft-touch” domador (horse trainer) precedes him, estancieros (ranch owners) line up to have him start their best colts.  Prospective trainers travel across the country to be his apprentice.  And when locals speak of the gaucho whose horsemanship journey took him across Argentina and Brazil, they read from a chapter in the annals of Patagonia folklore.

“My colt-starting program is the sum total of parts I’ve adapted from the many great horse trainers I’ve worked with,” Mera says, “beginning in my youth with my father and uncle, to the estancieros of Patagonia like Andino Grahn, to the Quarter Horse trainers of Brazil and the United States,” Mera says.  “I haven’t invented anything new.  What I’ve done is incorporate aspects from a wide array of approaches that I’ve learned during my career, and use common sense to differentiate the good and bad points of each.”

The Odyssey.    Mera doesn’t know when his ancestors arrived in the Andes Mountains.  His only certainty is that his family’s ranch, located along the coast of Lake Lolog, predates the 1937 creation of the surrounding Lanin National Park.  Today, the Mera ranch stands practically alone among more than 900,000 wilderness acres that once formed Mera’s boundless youth paradise.

“Growing up on my father’s ranch, I was introduced at a young age to the domador heritage of gaucho horse trainers,” Esteban Mera explains.  “My father and uncle trained their own horses out of necessity, and it was from them that I first learned how to start a colt in the ‘doma’ tradition.”

This traditional method begins when a colt is age 3, when a colt is roped from its mother herd, haltered with a heavy-duty rawhide bozal, and tied to a palenque post – a log buried in the ground in open, flat country.  Next, a domador saddles and mounts the colt – often requiring that the horse be blindfolded.  An assistant removes the blindfold and unties the bozal from the palenque, and gaucho and bucking colt are released to their fate in the open countryside.

“When I decided to become a professional domador, I was ambitious and went straight to the best horse ranch in Patagonia to ask for work.  Like we say, ‘If you go to dance, why not ask the prettiest girl onto the floor?’”

Estancia Mamuil Malal has a reputation for two things; a top-quality polo herd, and a notoriously charismatic owner, Andino Grahn.  Named after the Andes Mountains, where his family’s ancestors were among the first to settle Patagonia in 1897, Grahn’s legendary name fits his profile.  He’s renowned as the Patagonian gaucho that wears a six-shooter on his hip in place of the customary facón knife.

Mera mustered his courage and knocked on the estancia’s door to ask for work, well-aware of the hardened ranch owner’s reputation.

“I told Grahn that I could start any colt he put in front of me,” Mera says.  “He took me on and trusted me with starting a half-dozen polo pony prospects.  After successfully training those, he gave me a half-dozen more.  That’s how I spent my first years as a professional trainer on Estancia Mamuil Malal, training polo ponies and stock horses in the domador tradition.”

Mera’s next break came a few years later when Ole Mustad, owner of the Norway-based horseshoe supply company, Mustad, purchased a Patagonia ranch.  Mustad’s intention was to breed and train Quarter Horses in Argentina, and he needed a trainer.

“Mustad had heard of my reputation and invited me to work for him,” Mera says.  “I was sent to Brazil to apprentice in what we call the ‘North American’ horse training method.  At the time it felt like a low-blow; like an attack on my culture, my history, and the Argentine gaucho’s horsemanship heritage.  But those were the terms of the take-it-or-leave-it opportunity.  I’ve always been open to trying new things, and it was the best train passing by at the time, so I got onboard.”

When Esteban Mera packed his bags for Brazil, he left behind his hand whip and bucking spurs.

The Gaucho from Ipanema.  The Quarter Horse breed’s Brazilian history dates from the 1950s, when Texas’ King Ranch expanded its cattle-ranching dynasty into South America.  After becoming partners on more than 147,000 acres, the King Ranch needed a stable of reliable stock horses well accustomed to working cattle in Brazilian climates as equally unforgiving as those in southern Texas.  The solution was to begin the first-ever Brazilian-based Quarter Horse breeding program.

In the 1980s, when Mustad moved to Argentina, he was next in a wave of ranchers following the King Ranch’s lead and migating south.  Because there were few qualified cutting-horse trainers in Patagonia, however, Mustad decided to look for a promising gaucho domador and expose him to northern methodolgies.  This formula saw Mera paired with Kenny Knowlton, a cutting-horse trainer from Texas, working on Braz’l's Buena Suerte Ranch.

In the 1980’s when Ole Mustad moved to Argentina, he was next in a wave of ranchers following the King Ranch’s lead and migrating south.  Because there was a lack of qualified cutting horse trainers in Patagonia, however, Ole Mustad decided to look for a promising gaucho domador and expose him to the methodologies from the North.  This was the formula that saw Esteban Mera paired with Kenny Knowlton, a cutting horse trainer from Texas working on Buena Suerte Ranch in Brazil.

“The non-violent ‘North American’ system arrived in Brazil long before it did in Argentina, and my friend and mentor Kenny Knowlton is one of the original cutting Quarter Horse trainers in South America,” Mera says.  “I welcomed the chance to travel to Brazil and study under Kenny.  What I learned from him marked the moment when the system of training I use today began to take shape.”

Mera’s first impression of Knnowlton’s methods wasw that the emphasis on nonviolent training not only resulted in a better-tained horse, but also prolonged Knowlton’s training career.

“The physically aggressive nature of the gaucho doma is due to a sense of urgency in training a horse and a lack of tools to do it with,” Mera explains.  “The domador’s Icareer is relatively short.  There’s no way I could have continued this long with the training regimen I practiced in my youth.”

Considering Mera’s an accomplished saddle bronc rider – having made it to the Argentine national finals rodeo in 1988 – this realization was a watershed moment.

“Knowlton’s approach is more practical from several standpoints,” he asserts.  “I realized it would enable me to extend the length of my career because it isn’t as hazardous or physically demanding.  Also, the risk of injury to the colts I train is minimized.”

After Mera returned to Argentina, fate twisted when Ole Mustad sold his Patagonia ranch and stock to a Buenos Aires buyer – with Mera included as the trainer.  Mera found himself shipped off to Brazil, once again, only this time to train with legendary reining Quarter Horse trainer Pablo Curineto.

“Curineto, a reining-horse competitor, is one of Brazil’s most accomplished Quarter Horse trainers,” Mera says of his second mentor.  “I started young colts for him, giving them the good foundation I learned from Kenny Knowlton.  Curineto then mentored me on the finer points of training a reining horse.  Today, I incorporate much of what he taught me about the importance of preserving the suppleness of a horse’s mouth and instilling both confidence and willingness in the colts I train.  These elements are as important in a good stock horse.”

Confident Stock Horse.  The effectiveness of non-violent methodologies popularized by modern horse trainers, such as the Dorrance brothers and Ray Hunt, have proven that the horse isn’t a wild beast requiring extreme training methods.  This philosophy is relatively new in Patagonia, however, where Mera’s work has gone a long way in convincing gauchos that a horse’s ability to be trained gently lies in the hands of the trainer.

“It’s the trainer’s job to seek-out and develop the good, and not the bad,” Mera says.  “To me the most practical approach to starting a colt is also the simplest.  There’s no need to fill a colt’s head with unnecessary instructions.  I simply ask that a colt pays attention and gives me his confidence.”

Earning that confidence is the philosophy’s chief cornerstone.  In everything he does, Mera strives to reinforce the lesson that even though a colt’s decisions and actions are his, it’s also the direct result of a human command it chooses to obey.  The end result is a colt that trusts and confides in the trainer.

When Mera trains a cutting or reining horse,he employs modern techniques from Brazil and beyond.  When it comes to producing a confident stock horse, however, Mera calls upon Argentine horsemen’s centuries-old wisdom.

“In Patagonia we select our stock horses according to the climate, geography, and the season they will be used to work in,” Mera explains.  “Stock horses will travel 25 miles in the course of a week, averaging five hours of trail time a day working livestock, so they must be especially strong and hardy.  The horses of the fiscaleros – nomadic, public-land animal herders – have small, hard hoofs that enable them to ascend and descend rough mountain terrain.  You couldn’t take a horse from northern Patagonia to Tierra del Fuego.  The southern weather is extremely cold, and a horse that wasn’t born there and grown accustomed to those conditions will suffer.”

The handmade rawhide tack Mera uses are also gaucho-heritage relics.  Compared to the manufactured tack used by his peers elsewhere in the world, Mera’s tack seems crude and rudimentary.  The simplicity, though, is a reflection of the ideology that simple, efficient methods are best when starting colts.

“Tradition and folklore are things to appreciate,” Mera reasons.  “I still use my old basto saddle because it’s good for taking abuse.  The basto’s design is flexible on a colt’s back, where most every other saddle is rigid and has the potential for injuring a horse if he should throw itself to the ground.”

Another gem from the gaucho tack barn is the bocado – a rawhide loop wrapped around a horse’s jaw and attached reins that work in place of a bit and bridle.  Because rawhide is softer than metal, the bocado protects a horse’s mouth from injury.

The bocado has the additional benefit of reinforcing a stock horse’s fundamental skills.  Argentine stockmen mount and dismount numerous times in the course of a day, often in the middle of open country where a hitching post is not available.  Because the bocado minimizes the risk for mouth injury, a gaucho can safely throw their reins to the ground with the confidence the animal won’t injure itself should it step on the reins.  After a short amount of time, the horse learns to associate slack reins hanging to the ground with the expectation that it remain stationary, as if it were tied to the ground.  The rawhide bocado also allows Argentine Criollo breed stock horses room for the head movement their gaited walk requires.

In a nod to his polo-playing colleagues, Esteban Mera borrows the “Form-Up” method of herd management from Argentina’s polo horsemen.  The game of polo requires the use of dozens of horses during the course of a match and trainers have developed the “Form-Up” system to facilitate gathering and saddling fresh mounts.  A trainer will walk into a holding pasture or corral and call out, “Form-up.”  The horses gather in a line along the fence, facing the trainer, and wait while the trainer selects and halters the chosen horse.

“Form-Up” is especially handy to Argentine stockmen working on the enormous estancias, or livestock ranches.  A trained tropilla – troop or herd of stock horses – will gather on command in a line along a pasture or corral fence, at the base of hillside, or against a thick stand of trees in the open countryside, allowing saddle horses to be easily swapped.

 

No Prophet.  In Argentina there’s a saying, “No one’s a prophet in their homeland.”  Mera’s intention never was to return home and be treated like a prophet.  Rather, he wished to show that non-violent horsemanship and the traditions of the Argentine gauchos can coexist.

“My roots are in this land, Patagonia is my home,” he says.  When the time came, I returned to Junin de Los Andes and began to incorporate my new training methods with the gaucho doma traditions.”

At first, the northern Patagonia gauchos, a group he’d once been a part of, didn’t welcome the changes.

“I had the burden of proof in convincing them about the merits of my training program,” Mera says.  “As a professional horse trainer, I consider it my responsibility to show how a colt may be started more efficiently and introduce new ideas that cause people to think.”

“My experiences in Brazil cultivated an appreciation of the importance that horse trainers be selfless in sharing knowledge.  I greatly value what was taught to me, and I gladly impart those lessons to anyone that is interested.”

Through time, the northern Patagonia gauchos have come to appreciate Mera’s methods.

“The curiosity to learn is in all of us,” he says. “The positive results from my first wave of colts sparked a revolution in horsemanship that is now 10 years in the making.  People voluntarily show interest in adapting their horse training routines to include the methods I’ve introduced.  Tradition has its limitations.  There’s no reason to insist on traditional means that are out-dated and cause us to live life thrown to the ground, with broken bodies that won’t carry us to old age, just because we are proud of our traditions.”

“In my life, I always try to surpass my previous accomplishments,” Mera reflects.  “It gives me great personal satisfaction to know that I trained a colt well enough that it grew to be a great stock horse.”

On Estancia Mamuil Malal, the first colts Esteban Mera ever started as a professional trainer are now well into their twenties.  Today, a new generation of Mera-trained horses fills the stockmen’s saddles on the Patagonia estancias, and the rest of Argentina’s cattle-ranching countryside.