Way back in my mis-spent youth....about the time I discovered beer, airplanes, and girls....I fancied myself a rider of horses....young unridden horses. Teaching helicopter flying is exactly like that in a lot of ways.
I seems to recall one horse in particular who was even more hard headed than most. Every time I showed up at the corral with a view towards convincing him it was his role in life to be a beast of burden things got interesting.
Upon laying eyes on me he would lay his ears back....start trembling and shaking his hide like ants were eating him...and snort and blow....paw the dirt. Not a good sign. Over a period of months, usually broken by a week of my hobbling around trying to get back to walking upright....we finally came to an understanding. I finally rode him out to the point he seemed to accept the inevitable.
Life was good.
On a trail ride, nice fall afternoon, in the middle of the forest at the furtherest end of the ride from the barn, while standing still looking at some deer crossing the trail, without any warning what so ever....not even a twitched ear or trimble of a flank....instant Rodeo! I mean lots of dust, bellowing, bucking, jumping, twisting, cutting donuts the entire slate of tricks and with emotion too! I probably made the eight second bell but wound up tossed square into the thistle patch with vigor. When I realized I was not dead, I sat up to see that rascal slowly walking for the barn. Knowing the effects of a hide full of thistle barbs....I did not lie there and conjer about what had got into that horse. I had no earthly idea what went through his mind to provoke such a bucking bronco act. Maybe he had a flashback to another life or something where he thought he was a part of Buffalo Bill's Traveling Wildwest Show.
Student pilots and pilots under training must be horses in a new life.