A horse's heart

The greatest explorer on this earth never takes voyages as long as those of the man who descends to the depth of his heart. - Julian Green

The Institute of HeartMath is a research and education organization dedicated to heart-based living – people relying on the intelligence of their hearts along with their minds to conduct their lives. HeartMath has been researching heart intelligence, stress and emotional management for more than 18 years and according to them, the human heart creates an electromagnetic field so strong it is measurable from several feet away.

Research has found that one person's heart energy waves (electrocardiogram output) are detectable by electrodes wired on the surface of the other person's body when they are seated three feet apart. However, when they are holding hands, each person's heart energy waves are detectable not only on the surface of the other's body, but even in the other's brain waves. Thus, we now know that the heart energy field is both conducted by physical contact and radiated across space between people.

But what about horses?

Think about this: An average horse heart is about thirteen times larger by weight than the average man’s heart and over 20 times larger than the average woman’s heart. Research at the Institute of HeartMath has shown that the human heart's energy field is "approximately five thousand times greater in strength than the field produced by the brain."
How great, in this case, is the energy field of a horse’s heart?
I am convinced that it is absolutely enormous. And imagine if we let ourselves feel it, if we let ourselves be “touched” by this powerful energy field. How much can we be moved emotionally by being in the presence of something that radiates genuine love, acceptance, support?

Yesterday, when I went to the barn, nobody else was there. I immediately got Little Love out of her box and took her into the indoor arena. In the winter she rarely gets to go outside due to the strict rules concerning paddock use and she loves to roll more than anything. I let her loose, as usual, and after a few rounds walking around and checking that everything was safe, she went down for a roll. Then, when she stood up again and shook, we began our dance.

If you have read my previous posts (for example May 16th of this year), you may remember that Little Love is a very private horse, one that doesn’t like to be touched, one that doesn’t care for physical closeness. She has encountered some abuse in the past and her trust of humans is still limited. So usually, when we play, she lets me run next to her, but at a distance of a minimum of six feet. I accept this and never push for more. In fact, I have in the past six months demanded less and less from her and instead allowed her to demand something from me for a change. This has resulted in us riding the trails instead of working in the arena, or “free running” instead of long lining.

As a result of my approach, Little Love has changed under saddle, giving me her back willingly as we trot on the trails, demonstrating gates that would wow a Grand Prix audience. And not only that, something has changed between us in the arena, in liberty. She has invited me closer.

And so yesterday, in freedom, we trotted and cantered together slowly, shoulder to shoulder in circular patterns. She is a massive horse and I could feel her energy roll over me like a tidal wave. Every now and then I put out my hand and touched her, and she would respond by arching her neck and collecting, her eye cocked slightly inward, creating a bend in her neck. She was absolutely beautiful, stunning and she was there with me, wholeheartedly, with body and soul. I knew exactly what she was thinking, where she was going to turn, how she wanted me to move. I felt her joy, her trust, her strength, her power. I felt her heart like it was inside me.

Scientifically there is much more to this heart to heart business that I am revealing here, but if there is one thing I know for sure, it is this: when I am with Little Love there are no words to describe the feeling inside. It is with her that I find my own peace, my equilibrium and the clarity I need to continue living my life to its fullest. It is with her that I can be who I truly am, congruently, with no hold backs or assumptions or expectations. It is with her that I can be a simple human being living in a simple moment, with no past, no future, just the present, the glorious present.

Little Love has a big heart, in fact, it is so big it can fit a whole person inside and then some. But, I have discovered, her heart is like any a true heart of a horse: it is only there if you accept it with childlike innocence, with no strings attached, no pushy human agendas, just with an open heart of your own. It sounds so simple, but yet is one of the hardest things to do. I urge you all to stop what you are doing, to stop and stand absolutely still to listen; I urge you all to stop doing and start being… and if you are as lucky as I was, perhaps you will get to feel something absolutely priceless: a horse’s heart.

Take care of your heart,
~K

www.heartmath.org

Funny?

This week I did something I have never done before: I spoke up to complete strangers in defense of a horse.

It all started when I received one of those mass emails that circulate the internet. The subject line read FUNNY!!! and there was a link to a video on YouTube followed with a prompt to watch the film in slow motion to really get a good laugh.

The video was of a man, a total beginner, riding a very well trained jumping horse in an actual jumping competition. The result of this combination was absolutely appalling. The jumps were relatively high, but the horse cleared them with grace despite the full grown man hanging on his mouth and pounding on his back the whole way. Only once did the horse deny a jump and when he did, he was punished with the whip, after which he continued to jump is heart out until the end.

After watching the video I was stunned: this was supposed to be funny? Where was the joke? All I could see was a suffering horse, forced and humiliated by a human being.

I thought about it for a day, but no matter which way I looked at it, I realized it was time to SAY something, DO something. I know, pretty idealistic of me, but once I had made up my mind, I couldn’t stop myself. I wrote an email and replied to all. Here is my letter.

Hi everyone,
I realize most of you don’t even know me, but I was one of the people on X’s email list which means I, too, got this “funny” video. I usually don’t do this, but I have recently decided to stop living in silence and speak up, mainly because I want to speak for those who don’t have human words for us to hear.
Did you laugh when you watched the video? Or, did you, too, find the video highly disturbing and sad. I thought it a good example of how people behave with horses – with not a lot of consideration for the animal. You may look at the man on the video and think that you are different than him, perhaps you know how to ride really well or you (think you) never hit your horse with a whip like he did, but in my experience there are not a lot of humans out there who don’t take advantage of these beautiful animals in one way or the other. I certainly have and I could bet money that you have, too. It may not be much more than putting a bit in their mouth or kicking them with spurs when they don’t go, but the act is there, nevertheless. It all stems from the same school of thought where horses must tolerate us and obey us, no matter what.
Who ever gave us the permission to ride these animals? Who ever gave us the authority to use them as sports equipment? Yep, nobody. We took the right, because we figured that since we are the self-appointed leaders of the world, we can do whatever we please. For example go and jump horses over fences when we clearly are incapable of riding over them ourselves. Pretty selfish of us, don’t you think? And not that funny.
Anyways, I hope this letter (and video) makes you think, if nothing else, of what horses have to endure from us humans on a daily basis. Let’s all try to be a little more aware of what is happening to the horses in the world and perhaps one day these animals will get the respect and kindness they deserve.

I wasn’t sure what would happen when I pressed “send”, but I did it anyway. I hoped that at least one person would stop to think, at least someone would make a connection and see the world differently.
I didn’t get as many responses as I had expected, but the ones I did get, varied from utterly hostile to somber agreement. One email, however, in particular shocked me, because it made me realize what an uphill battle being on the horse’s side is and continues to be.

Here is an excerpt from the email:
“I love my horse… he is my friend, and my partner, because without him, I am not a horse person. Yes, I will hit him if he needs it, I don't need him to bite me because he doesn't realize that I am NOT a horse, and that biting me is unacceptable. While I have respect and love for him, I do believe that I, as his person, outrank him in the hierarchy of life… As I am sure you are aware, horses don't actually want to be in charge, they are happy to give that control to us. Anyway, yes, I did feel badly for that horse [on the video], but yes, I also laughed.“

I will hit him if he needs it. Wow. I had never realized that there actually was someone who believed that horses needed hitting and by using violence, they were actually doing them a favor. I always thought people hit horses because they couldn’t control their own anger. This was certainly the case for me long time ago. I knew hitting was wrong, but short of having any other means to communicate at the time, I reverted to violence and then felt horrible afterwards. But to actually believe it is alright to use violence?

…because he doesn’t realize that I am NOT a horse… It is always surprising to see how many people, who have obviously spent a lot of time with horses, think horses are not very intelligent. No, they don’t speak English, or any other human language, but this doesn’t mean they don’t communicate; they don’t have emotions, thoughts, ideas, awareness. Biting is one way for them to say something, but so many people don’t take it as a message, but as a punishable act. This is, of course, closely linked to the fact that most people believe they should control the horse because they are above horses “in the hierarchy of life” mentioned in this email as well. In fact, most humans seem to think we are the king of pretty much everything: animals, nature, the world and in some case even each other. Looking at the current environmental and political predicament we are in, we can see where this thinking has taken us…

Perhaps I have had too much faith in the human race, perhaps this path I have taken is much less traveled than I originally thought. I know we can’t all think the same; it’s just an impossible fantasy. But could I dream of kindness? Could I dream that some day it would be considered abuse instead of training to hit a horse, that some day a man like the one on the video would be disqualified from the competition on terms of abuse, that videos like this would no longer circulate the web as funny?

Could I dream of kindness?

~ K
If you want to see the video for yourself, go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=opMiCyoRzYM

Bone spurs

The horse dentist came to check Little Love’s teeth a few weeks ago. I wasn’t there, but I heard from her owner that Little Love’s mouth was doing well and there was no longer noticeable irritation on the gums. There were, however, visible bone spurs on the “bone bars” where the bit had sat for some ten years before she transferred to the bitless bridle.

This information leaves me stunned. It’s not that I haven’t known about the possibility of bone spurs before, I have read Dr. Cook’s Metal in the Mouth and seen the pictures of horse skulls – along with the bone spurs. And it makes sense, doesn’t it? When a metal piece rubs back and forth on the gum and bone for years some abnormalities are bound to happen.

I watch the women and men at the barn ride their horses in the arena and cannot but notice the bared gums, the open mouths, the tongues hanging on the side, the tense muscles on the faces of the horses. Do these horses too have bone spurs? Did any of the horse I rode during the past three decades have bone spurs? All of them?

Dr. Cook writes in Metal in the Mouth that “[the] survey of 74 jaw bones in 4 museum collections, from horses 5 years old or older, has shown that bone spurs on the bars (generally both bars) were present on 55 of the specimens, or 74% (Cook 1999e). As some of the 74 horses were feral and had been bit-free all their lives (the feral horses had no bone spurs), the real incidence of the problem in the bitted horses was actually greater than 74%.”

Suddenly I remember my beloved friend Socks and how he used to bare his front teeth when we were doing dressage and how I bought a two piece noseband to keep his mouth closed. I think of Hunter who used to curl himself under to lose contact with the rider and then take off when you regained the contact. I think of Sebastian and how he played with the bit, jingling it back and forth and De La Chance who hung his tongue out and tossed his head. These are all signs of discomfort.

Why is it that we are so innovative when it comes to other areas of our lives, but when it comes to horses, we hang on to thousand year old traditions tooth and nail?

I recently was reading a horse book my son had brought home from the library and on the page where they were talking about equipment, there was a picture of a snaffle bit from 490 BC. Apart from the darkened color of the metal, it looked exactly like every other snaffle bit I see in the tack room of the barn next door. For at least 2500 years the snaffle bit has stayed the same? Yet during just the last century we have managed to create trains, cars and airplanes, invent the television, radio and internet, cure lethal diseases and visit the moon among other things?

And even now, in the age of change and critical thinking, when I tell people about the harmful effects of the bit, they nod and say: “But if it truly is so bad, why does everyone then use it?” Why? Because it works so well – for us humans.

Little Love’s owner has slowly started to use the bit again, because, I believe, she is encouraged by how accepting of it her pain-free horse now is. I can see that it is tempting, as riding the mare’s big and powerful movements is a lot easier when you can rely on the “control” of the bit, instead of your body. “I’m only doing it once or twice a week,” she defends her actions as if this makes a difference. And I suppose it does. Causing pain to an animal only once a week is definitely better than causing it every day. But if I told you I beat my dog only on Tuesdays, would you think it was alright?

I can understand people’s resistance to my bitless ideas. I agree, it is scary, because once you give it a little more than a minute of your thought it hijacks your entire brain. Not many people want to look in the mirror and admit they have been causing pain to their horse. I should know; I used the bit for over thirty years. Heck, I have even used the double bridle, draw reins, side reins, standing martingales, crank nose straps and what not. What does that make me? Ignorant? Stupid? Cruel?

Perhaps I was all that and now I am like a recovering alcoholic, admitting to my past mistakes, apologizing to the appropriate parties and trying to redeem myself through all the guilt that weighs me down on a daily basis. I know I can’t change what I have done in the past, but I can try to change the future even if it means I have to do it one rider and one horse at a time.

Growth is the only evidence of life. ~John Henry Newman, Apologia pro vita sua, 1864

~K

A friend to remember

He came into my life when I most needed a horse’s presence. I had recently moved to a foreign country and I missed the familiarity of horses, the stability they gave me. Horses are that way, they follow me everywhere and no matter where I go, where I live, they are the one thing I know, the one thing that doesn’t change.

He was young and untainted, an innocent soul. He was owned by a lady who needed help riding her two horses and gladly I took on the young gelding which she felt was a bit difficult. She had raised him herself, had owned his mother who had died a few years back and this horse was special to her because she had helped it come into the world.

And what a horse he was! He was jet black and although his conformation was not exactly that of a perfect dressage horse, there was something about him that melted your heart. Perhaps it was the size of his own heart, and the manner in which he took humans in, as if they were his long lost friends.

It was obvious from the very beginning that he had body issues, a crooked way of traveling, tension in his back. The owner had been riding him in drawreins to “get his head down”, but I could tell that anything past training level frame made him uncomfortable. So, I started to work him slowly, staying within his comfort zone - he was only four, after all.

We had a good eight months together, learning how to behave on trails, how to balance on circles and do relaxed canter departs. He was an exceptionally friendly horse, a big Labrador Retriever who wanted his head held and his face stroked every day. His eyes were beyond kind; they were trusting and innocent like the eyes of a baby horse.

The owner was a dressage judge and a serious competitor of the sport and wanted the horse to become, if not a great dressage horse, at least a decent example of the sport. She hesitated to compete with him herself, as he was young and sometimes spirited, and she had unspoken fear issues. So the gelding and I did two shows together, mainly to get out there and try to find pleasure in it. He did well, in my opinion, but not well enough for the owner. We wanted different things: I wanted a relaxed horse, she wanted a horse with impulsion and collection.

Later, we parted our ways, but remained acquaintances. I rode other horses in the barn and kept an eye out for the gelding, my friend. It didn’t take long for his life to change for the worse. First it was the draw reins, later the double bridle that controlled his daily life. It was for the best, said the owner, he needs to move up a level in the dressage world and with this crookedness in his body, there was no other way.

His neck started to take on a distorted shape, concaved on one side, bulging on the other he looked like a two separate horse halves put together. His back started acting up and he was rein lame on the longe. The owner declared that more riding was the medicine, the horse was just stiff and needed to work out of it. She kept going.

Months passed and turned into years. The gelding no longer came to the door when you walked by, but stood with his head in the corner with a sad, glazed over look in his eyes as if tormented by a permanent headache. The owner took lessons and then some more, but things were not progressing. She tried riding with spurs, then two whips, then both. Finally, the gelding was sent away to a hot shot trainer. Just for a few days, to help his body get more flexible, to get him motivated, said the owner. But even she admitted that the horse she sent away came back another animal altogether. Angry now, he tried to bite her. His kind spirit had been broken for once and for all.

But it didn’t stop there. He had a little rest, the vet came out and the reason for his body problems was identified. His back was sore, he had problems with his front legs. No worries, there was special shoeing available and some rehabilitation for the back. In two months he was back in business, first going out on trails with the double bridle “to guide his head into the right position” and later in the arena performing dressage moves that looked painfully forced.

Finally, it all came to an end. The owner had to admit that things were no longer looking up, but rather down. She took the gelding to the vet clinic where they told her that he had developed scoliosis in his neck. He could still be ridden, but no longer dressage and definitely no collection; for the first time in years, the gelding would be allowed to control the position of his head himself.

Shocked by the news and her bad luck, the owner took a few weeks to reflect on the facts. I was both happy and worried. Happy because I knew it was finally over for the gelding, he would no longer be forced into frames he could not manage, but worried because he had just lost his value as a horse. What would happen to him? I left for summer vacation with a heavy heart.

When I returned his box was empty. I thought about his options and feared the worst, but then heard he had been sent away, to be retired in a pasture with some ponies and other retired horses. The gelding, now eight years old, would live the rest of his life in this herd, never to be ridden again. Discarded like a broken toy, he was at a horse junk yard, forgotten and released from his duties to the humankind.

A few weeks later there was a new horse in the gelding’s box. The owner stood around, proud of her new purchase, exited of the prospects that lay ahead. Not a word was said in the memory of the gelding that was sent away, there was no room to reminiscence on bygones. All the owner could talk about was the bright future of this new gelding, which had arrived just in time to be abused and adored, simultaneously. Because, truth told, the owner loved her horses like they were her children, her pride and joy. She came to the barn every day, religiously, working her horses the way she had been taught to do, the way it had always been done. And she was respected for her commitment, the sacrifices she made for her horses were admirable, both personally and financially.

Vet bills, countless hours of lunge work, ground work, trail rides that extended for miles, herbal medications, chiropractor appointments, different bits to get the right feel, custom made saddles not to mention all the dressage lessons. All the owner had wanted was what she thought was best for her four legged friend; she had done everything in her power to give him that. And in the end, isn’t that what we all want to do – provide our horses with what we think is best for them?


~K

The Power of Positive Feedback

When I was in college studying sport science, I majored in coaching. I had a knack for teaching and passed my teaching demonstrations with flying colors. The main criticism I received concerning my teaching had to do with the amount and quality of feedback I gave my students: there was too much of it and it was too positive. My teachers explained that if I told my students too many times how great they were doing, I would “wear out” the nice words and they would lose their effectiveness.

I didn’t argue their point then, they were my teachers after all, but secretly I never agreed with their theory. In my eyes, teachers and coaches can never support and encourage their students too much. Through positive feedback I have seen insecure girls grow into self-confident world class athletes; I have seen sullen and shy teenagers turn into captains of their sport team; I have seen adults and children alike learn skills they always thought were out of their reach. When it comes to positive feedback - it works.

Recently I started working with Prince, the fearful little pony, by using “clicker training”. Clicker training is an animal training method based on behavioral psychology that relies on marking desirable behavior and rewarding it. In other words, this teaching method uses solely positive reinforcement.

Before I started my work with Prince, I was relatively familiar with the concept of clicker training, but had never truly used it myself. It has been more than an eye-opening experience to work with him in this way. As Prince has such deep rooted fear over many aspects of his everyday life, the clicker has helped him understand what it is that humans really want.

Using clicker training, Prince has learned how to pick up his front feet without fear, to touch scary objects (target training) and now he is also learning how to stand at the wash rack and, eventually with time, how to get washed.

For example, to teach Prince the wash rack behavior, I utilize a small rubber mat which I place on the ground. Prince has learned that when his two front feet stand on the mat, he gets a click and a treat. This is an easy task for him to perform, if the mat is for instance on the floor next to his box, but when I take it to the wash rack – it’s a different story. It may take him 5 minutes to creep up to the mat, and some days he doesn’t want to do it at all – and that’s ok.

The beauty in clicker training is the fact that you reward desired behavior, but if something goes wrong, nothing happens i.e. there is no punishment. The constant positive feedback and absence of punishment encourages trying and trying encourages learning. And not only is Prince learning, he is choosing to learn, choosing to participate (or not). Having a choice means you have control of the outcome, having control means less fear and more self-confidence.

Clicker training can change lives; it certainly has reinforced my own trust and faith in positive feedback. As teachers, riders, animal handlers, parents, friends - AS HUMANS - we need to be more positive in our daily interactions with animals, with each other and with ourselves. Give credit where credit is due, be it to your horse, your friend, your child or yourself. Good job, well done – we all want to hear those words, so – let’s hear them!

~ K

The horse and the girl

“So tell me, “ the horse said, “what is it that you want from me. If you had to say it in just one sentence.”

The girl didn’t hesitate. “Friendship,” she answered. “I want to be friends.”

The look on the horse’s face was impossible to read. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke.

“I wasn’t planning on this subject right away, but we might as well dwell into it, because – “the horse turned his head and looked longingly over the fields. “Well, let's say it will help us reach the core of the real subject.” He chewed for a moment and then sighed.

“Can you tell me more about friendship?” he asked. “What does it mean to be friends?”

Now it was the girl’s turn to look over the fields.
“Well – when you are friends, you share secrets. A friend is always there to listen to you, to be on your side and to help you. And you do the same for your friend, of course.”

The horse snorted, but it sounded more like a scoff, as if he was laughing at her. The girl blushed, realizing how naïve she must have sounded, how stupid it was to even start to talk about mutual friendship with this horse she had so much trouble with.

“Okay, let’s stop there. My next question is: do you think we are friends?”

The girl looked down at her shoes. She pushed a rock around with her toe and wondered how she had gotten herself into this predicament.

The horse snorted again. “Does my question make you uncomfortable?”

“No.” The girl rolled her eyes. There was no point of lying if the horse really could read her mind like she thought it could. “I mean yes, but it’s not just that…” She didn’t know what to say, she could barely understand her own thoughts.

“No, I don’t think we are friends." She finally said. "But it’s not like I didn’t try, you know. I really wanted it. You have to believe me.”

“Oh, I believe you, don’t worry. I was there, remember.” The horse looked kind again and the girl felt the tears behind her eyes resurface.

“I just don’t think you really know what friendship is, my dear.”

“What do you mean?”

The horse shifted his weight and rested his left hind, the gesture made his body contort sideways.

“Do you have human friends?”

“Yes, of course I do.” She knew she sounded defensive, but she couldn’t help it.

“Do you lock your human friends in boxes the size of a phone booth and keep them there all their life separated from their other friends so you can then visit them for an hour or two a day, let them out and expect them to bend to your will and do what you want?”

“Of course not, that’s not friendship, that’s – “ She thought of a proper word, but failed.

“Imprisonment?” the horse suggested lightly. The girl looked up from her shoes. She felt the hair on her arms raise up and she shivered.

“Yes.” She said slowly, her brow wrinkling. The realization of the horse’s words crept into her consciousness and she gasped. The horse looked at her, his face was grave.

“You never thought about that before, did you?”

The girl was apologetic. “No, I didn’t.” She peered at the horse. “I thought you liked your box. You have a window to look outside and it’s right by the door where you see lots of activity.”

The horse nodded in agreement. “Yes, you are right, I have the window and - it is my home. The only one I have. But -”

“But what?” The girl was truly curious now.

“But in the end of the day, it is a prison cell.”

They looked at each other for a long time and a certain sadness hung between them, like a scent of something very old. The horse was the first to break the silence.
“Let me explain.”

“No, you don’t have to, I get it.” The girl was crying now.

“But I want to, to make sure you understand. You humans tend to think of everything from your point of view. Like for instance, you think horses like the deep, soft straw bedding but mostly we don’t really care of soft beds. Humans care and because they care, they think we care, too.”

“I thought you liked the bedding!” The girl wiped her face.

“My point exactly.”

They looked at each other again. For the first time the horse looked welcoming and the girl wanted to touch him, but didn’t dare.

“Tell me more.” She said.

“Horses would rather live outside, together. And with together I really mean that, together in a heard.”

“But –“ The girl found an old tissue in her coat pocket and blew her nose.

“But it rains outside? Is cold? Is that what you are wondering about?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t like the way he read her mind, as if he knew her every move.

“We have hair, we don’t care. Again, it’s just humans who care, because humans would never want to live outside like that, you like to live in a house.”

“That’s true. And I suppose you could use blankets.”

“Blankets?” the horse laughed.

“What’s so funny?” The girl felt left out and wondered if he was laughing at her.

“Oh, it’s just that blankets are the running joke in the barn. Between us horses, that is.”

The girl stared at the horse. “You joke about things?”

The horse continued, as if he had not heard the last comment.

“Why do you suppose you use blankets on horses?”

The girl shrugged. “To keep you warm?”

“But we have hair, why would we need the blankets?”

“Well, if we didn’t use the blankets, your hair would grow really long.”

“So?”

“Then we would need to clip the hair.” The girl was not sure where this was going. She thought they were supposed to be talking about friendship.

“And why would you do that?”

“To keep the hair short, of course.” She was starting to get frustrated, it seemed like the horse didn’t understand what she was saying and the conversation was running in circles.
“It just makes things easier, like then you horses don’t sweat so much when we ride and it doesn’t take so long to cool you down.”

The horse moved his feet and started resting his right hind in turn.

“Clipping the horse’s hair makes life easier.” The horse looked at the girl and she nodded. “Easier for whom?”

The girl looked down. “Easier for us humans, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” There was a trace of irony in the horse’s voice. The girl felt like she wanted to get up and leave, like she was on trial over something she had done unintentionally.

“Sorry,” the horse said and she knew he meant it. “Let’s go back to the blankets. Don’t you think it’s a lot of work to blanket us? How many blankets does an average horse have? Three? Five?”

The girl laughed. “I get your point. My mom thinks you have too many. They’re expensive, you know.”

“So, what’s the point?”

The girl thought about it for a while and then she said: “I think ultimately we just don’t like to see a really hairy horse, we like the hair short because it looks better, prettier.” Somehow she felt ashamed, but was not quite sure why. The horse looked at her quizzically.

“How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know.” The girl looked over the fields. “I think I’m embarrassed now.”

“Why?”

“Because I just realized that a lot of what we do here at the barn is based on… I don’t even know what to call it.” She looked at the horse for help, but he said nothing. They were silent for a while, then he spoke.

“I think you know the word.”

The girl nodded. She did know what she wanted to say, but the word was stuck in her throat. She stood up.

“I think I should leave now.”

The horse nodded. The girl wondered if he was disappointed in her.

“We can continue some other time, if you want.“ His voice was soft; as if he understood how she was feeling. She took a tentative step towards him.

“I’ll be back soon.”

The horse looked tired.

“It is up to you,” he said and the girl knew he was right, it was all up to her as far as he was concerned.

Prince of Fear

Fear is no stranger to any of us; everyone feels worried or afraid sometimes. Most people who live in the so called Western culture, however, live their lives relatively fear free. Perhaps there are short moments of worry or panic here and there, but generally speaking our environment is safe and we don’t have to deal with intense terror or fright. Our lives are, in fact, so boring that we actually seek fear by watching scary movies, taking intense amusement park rides or performing extreme activities such as sky diving.

For example, last week I did something completely out of character: I went to an adventure climbing park set high in the trees. This doesn’t sound like an extraordinary event; after all, am I not a person who is always up for a challenge, especially if it involves a physical activity of some sorts? I certainly am confident of my own abilities. And the park was more than safe; between the harness and cables I was hooked to at all times, there was little danger of falling.

What made this experience extraordinary was that I am absolutely and utterly horrified of heights: I get vertigo.

I have to admit, during the first 30 minutes, I didn’t think I would be able to get through it. It is amazing how gripping fear can be. There I was, 40 feet up on a platform, literally hugging the tree as I stared at the task, a wobbly wooden bridge, which would get me to the next platform. My friend, who equally suffers from heart-stopping vertigo, smiled nervously, as I attempted to crack a joke. But the situation wasn’t funny; I was paralyzed with alarm, my mouth was dry from terror. I didn’t want to move.

Yet, with an encouraging friend on my side, I managed to push myself beyond my mental capacity and step on the bridge. And somehow, despite my terror-stricken legs and my white knuckles gripping on the safety wire, I managed to get to the other side to hug a new tree. And then another tree, and another.

After three hours of climbing and facing our fears over and over again, my friend and I were wiped out, and I don’t mean only physically. I could hardly think straight, let alone perform another complex task in the trees. When we called it a day and sat down in the shade to eat our well deserved ice creams, I could still feel my muscles twitching from the constant state of alertness I had been experiencing for the past three hours. My brain was equally fried; I was exhausted.

But what if we had to live with real fear on a daily basis? There certainly are people in this world who have to face the worst case scenario on a daily basis.

And then, of course, there are horses.

Recently, I have had the privilege to work with a little palomino pony called Prince. Prince is the cutest little thing, at barely 13 hands he looks more like a miniature horse than a real pony. He is very polite and sensitive, and apparently jumps beautifully. But Prince has one problem: he is very, very fearful of everyone who walks on two legs.

It is hard to say if he has been abused, but it is definitely clear that he has not been trained properly. He is afraid of human touch, of objects in your hand, quick movements, and sometimes just the presence of a person. If you try to pick up his hind feet, he nearly collapses and then tries to kick you. If you go into his box with the fly spray bottle, he spins around and hides in the corner shaking.

Despite all this, he allows kids to ride him, to brush him, to walk him around. If you cross tie him, adults can pick his front feet and brush him as well. You can catch him from the field if you have a carrot and some patience. You can lunge him at walk, trot and canter and although he tries to occasionally run off, he mostly tries to stay with you on the circle. You can coax him to the wash rack using gentle force and hose his legs down all the while as he trembles on the end of the lead rope.

The interesting thing is that most people find nothing wrong with these scenarios, after all, Prince is doing what he is told. “Sure, he is afraid, but he’ll get over it. Look how well he’s doing compared to last month! He is dealing with it, right?”

I agree, he is “dealing” with it. But the fact that he is allowing the daily activities to take place does not mean he is no longer afraid, it just means he has discovered that it is better to comply, rather than bolt and run since no matter what he does, the riding and grooming is not going to go away. Life is certainly easier if you obey, no matter how scared you are.

What does this mentality imply of our culture, our way of thinking? That it is alright to overwhelm another being without taking into consideration the emotional and mental health of that individual?

The difference between what I felt and what Prince feels on a daily basis is the fact that I had a choice: I could have stopped climbing those trees at any time; I could have walked away from the situation. Nobody was standing behind me, breathing down my neck, telling me to get over it and to get on with it. And certainly if someone had, I would have not been able to climb those trees, I would have quit before even the first attempt.

The positive environment and the fact that I was able to choose to continue made it possible for me to face my fear. And because it was my choice, because I took the initiative despite my fear, it was a highly empowering experience. I may have felt exhausted afterwards, but I also felt like the biggest winner. How, in comparison, does Prince feel at the end of each day? Does he feel only exhaustion and apprehension of the next day? He certainly has not had many choices in his life; so far he has had no other option but face his fear every time humans decide they want to handle him.

The big question now is: how can we help fearful horses feel confident, how can we give them the same feeling of empowerment I felt in those trees? How can we help them feel like they are in control of their emotions? How can we provide them an environment where they can choose to participate, choose to conquer their fears? How can we provide such a positive environment for horses that they feel compelled to try new things with confidence?

I will leave you with these vital questions in hopes of perhaps igniting something in your own thinking. At this moment I certainly do not have all the answers myself, but I without doubt have an urgent need to find solutions. When there is a will, there is also always a way.

Take care of your animals – and yourselves,

K