What happens when you start noticing that your horse is not very happy? What do you think when you see signs that your horse is not happy to be with you, to have you catch him, saddle him, ride him? When you see his ears go back as you lead him out of his yard or paddock, when he dances out of your reach as you try to put your foot in the stirrup to mount?
You have two choices here. Tell yourself – and him – that he is just being a cranky tantrumy child who doesn’t want to work. Or try to find the reason for him feeling and acting the way he does. Is he hurting somewhere? Is the saddle of a wrong fit? Is it the way you handle him? Is it the way you communicate with him? Is it the way you ride? Be careful – you are on a very slippery slope here! The time when you could chuck a saddle on, jump on his back, ride out a pigroot or two, and then just point him towards the rosy misty hills of an early morning and just GO, just RIDE… and NOT CARE whether he wants to or not...that time may be behind you for good. Because you started to care about his emotional wellbeing, not just physical; about how he feels, what he thinks and how he sees the world - as opposed to how you’d prefer that he saw the world and his place in it. Once you see this – you can never un-see it. You can never again just jump on a horse -any horse – and completely not care about whether this horse is happy or not, understands what you are asking or not… and not take responsibility for it. Even when you don’t want to care. Even when all you want to do is just ride. Sounds like a pretty good argument against this knowledge doesn’t it? Five (or so) years after I stopped this “just jump on a horse and kick him to go” way of riding and started to explore the natural horsemanship way, I found that I still sometimes felt frustrated with it and wished that I was able to just Not Care. I’ve been working with Becky for 3 years now. Every time I come to see her, and every time I work with Marina, I feel challenged and inspired to do more with her as I see progress every single session. We achieve more every time. This time we achieve it in harmony, where she understands what I am asking, where her belief in the consistency of my leadership increases, and where she feels safer and more willing to do as I ask. And yet, sometimes, all I can think about is that while I was working at Uncle Nev’s trail riding farm I could DO so much more. I could ride in a group. I could gallop across the fields…I haven’t ridden in a group for 3 years now. Actually I haven’t even properly ridden out of the property - "on a trail" - since then.
… And then I remember the gritted-teeth heart-pumping fear of not being able to stop while galloping; of knowing that Becky was in such a state of enraged panic that any attempt to stop her would result in her bucking or jumping or twisting in the middle of that gallop, and risk not only getting me killed but herself too, if she lost her footing in the grass. And then I remember Bozo laying his ears back and looking sulky and sad as he followed me out of the paddock for more of this care free trail riding. ... And then Marina comes, shakes me out of my funk, and tells me to “get out of that arena and onto that trail”, and to stop worrying about Becky’s every single individual step, but give her a job to do, a place to go, a pace to keep – up that hill, at a trot – and just BELIEVE that we can do it... and just go. Because now, after 3 years of learning how to understand Becky, and understanding myself, and learning how we can be working together, all I am now lacking is the belief that our relationship is at the stage where we can … just go. Well, maybe not at a gallop just yet, but definitely without the heart-stopping death-courting panic and fight. Instead, there’s a good chance that both of us will be enjoying ourselves – something that has never happened on a trail before. Would I go back to not caring if I had a choice? No way.
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