One of the stories my Grandfather would tell was of his first farm as a young man. He was renting a small farm, and like any rental farm it came with its own unique terms. The unique terms on my own rental farm, was that there were a half dozen cats living here (six down from “lots of cats”). I didn’t need to keep all six, but the owners were clear, they wanted a handful of cats on the premises to help keep the rat population down. The unique terms on my grandfather’s farm was that there was an unbroke, unhandleable, and otherwise wild horse living in one of the pastures. For whatever reason, the owner had resigned to give this horse a home for the rest of its life (this is saying something– in the 30’s, and in this part of the country, there wasn’t much room for “added expenses”).

I can still hear my grandfather’s voice, thick with a Swedish accent as he tells the story.

“On te farm I was renting, dere was tis horse, a big black. Mean. No one e’er did nuttin’ wit it. Jus dere on te corner pasture, where he lived his life. I was workin’ in te field one day, an here he comes, running up to te fence, snorting and stomping. I continued to work, but I could tell somting was wrong wit him. Usually, he jus wanted to be left alone, dat was fine wit me. Well, he wasn’t leaving. Which wasn’t right for dat horse. Standing dere, stomping his hoof an’ snorting at me. So I stop te team and watch him. Yah, he was standing dere wanting somting. I walk over to te fence to see what his problem was. He jus stood dere, looking at me and stomping his hoof. I was looking at him jus trying to figure out what was wrong wit him. Den I decide to go in an get a closer look.

I had never done nuttin’ with tis horse. I was just a kid, and scared of him. He didn’t have no use for no one, except now. He would kick and bite, and te owner jus said to leave him alone. Which was fine wit me. But I couldn’t leave him out dere like tat, so I crawl through the fence and he comes right up to me, snorting and stomping. I was so scared, I jus fell over backwards. Right den he jus stops, paws once more and stands dere an lifts a hoof. I notice dat his hooves are cracked, breaking off. He was telling me he needed a trimming! Well, I didn’t have my tools wit me, out dere. I just had my jackknife.

So I pulled out my jackknife, and I was shaking. I picked up his hoof, just waiting for someting to happen. He jus stood dere. So I did what I could, trimmed the hoof, sole and frog with my knife. It wasn’t pretty, but was better dan what his feet was. Ten he pulled his hoof down, and stomped. I jumped outta te way. Ten he stomped his other hoof and lifted it up. He was telling me which one to do next! Stomping the one that needed work. If he tought my trim job wasn’t enough- he would keep stomping wit dat leg, testing dat trim. He did dat wit every leg. I jus worked on him the best I could dere wit my jackknife.

So I finished up, and I guess I did a pretty good job, he jus looks at me, spins, and heads off for te other end of te pasture. He never did dat again.”

I think about that story from time to time. For myself, my Grandfather’s horse stories were a highlight of my childhood. I thought I’d post this here for you to read, because it captures something that many people are missing, some never knew to ask and a few have forgotten. And that is to try to understand what your horse needs from you.

I see so many people that own horses for their own pleasure– meaning that the horse is there to be a prop for that human. It doesn’t even have to be as extreme as the instances where humans use or abuse their horses for pride, to win a show or get a ribbon. It might not be as extreme as the horses that run to the end of the pasture to avoid their owners. It can be just the horses that get ridden on the weekend. Their owners go out to the pasture to catch their horse to go for a ride. They catch the horse, brush them, saddle up and go. This might be enjoyable for the horse (they are smart as hell and do get bored of their pasture- a change of scene is so welcome), or it might not. Horses are biologically programmed to get along with the herd- so they do this for us, even though they might rather not. They would rather be somewhere else. For the owner, well, they might as well be riding an ATV. How they treated their horse might not have been all that different. When they walked out into that pasture they might as well been entering a foreign land.

Good horsemen* seem to understand this instinctively. Maybe it was from being raised around horses all their life. They see how much a horse will give of itself, it is natural to want to give back. But these people didn’t get there by magic. They wondered, they figured, they spent time with their horses, understanding all of them, their individual quirks and finding the small ways of being useful to a horse. They PRACTICED giving. It shows, their horses gravitate towards them.

I find myself tempted at the point to write about all the small ways a person can do this. But I’ll resist that temptation, because then it could turn into mechanics. Scratch an ear there… project this energy… or push this button there… and your horse will… Its just not like that.

I will say that you have to be aware. Be THERE. Be there for your horse so when they ask you can notice. Not all horses will be as bold as the horse from my Grandfather’s story. Second, spend time with your horses. Last, remember that horses have their own personalities. What one horse loves, another might find intolerable. Try to find what your horse needs and be that for them.

Don’t wait for your horse to come running up to you demanding you do something. Most won’t. And if you do have a demanding horse, be grateful. They will do what it takes to get their owner to try to understand.

Oh, and leave the grain and treats in the tackroom.

Acknowledgements:

Thanks to my Grandfather for sharing his love of the horse and all his stories, as his horse riding and driving days were past by the time I entered his life.

Thank You Liz Graves for pointing out when my stud was just going through the motions and would rather be somewhere else. I am pretty sure I don’t have it all figured out, but I try to every day.

*I use horsemen to refer to both men and women. It is cumbersome to write Horsemen/horsewomen and horsepeople is just a mess of a word.