What is a happy horse? See the photo below of Gus, knee deep in green grass on a sunny June day, indulging in his favorite sport — eating. (Photo by Candace Fish)
It has taken several years to win his trust because after a happy beginning, he had a rough year or two before winding up with me. During the first year I had to go to him, and I was just lucky he would stand and wait for me to bring the halter. Now when I call him, he whinnies or nickers and trots to me. I see articles on how to catch your horse, and I giggle. During the first 18 months, he did not want to be ridden, even after an equine practitioner straightened out his back. It would often take me half an hour to mount up. Now he stands by the block and waits for me to haul myself into the saddle.
Why did I persevere with him? I was a fearful novice, and he was my first horse. He was suspicious of humans and as fearful as I was. Not the usual recipe for success by any means, and I don't recommend other novices to take on difficult horses who have been mishandled or mistreated.
That being said, I sensed a connection between us from the beginning, despite our mutual misgivings. Oh, heck, at the risk of being accused of a mysticism I don't subscribe to, I confess: the inner voice spoke. "Your horse is here," it said, and left me to figure out which one was "mine."
Twice, after incidents that could have left me dead or seriously injured, but only gave me a few bruises, I contemplated quitting. I told myself "one more time" and that one more time never happened.
To what do I attribute our success? To the uncommon generosity of other horse people who share their knowledge and advice, to a couple of wonderful instructors. To a cowboy who speaks "horse." And to gifts of patience and kindness that ultimately come from God.
I earned Gus's trust because I never retaliated, but gentled him down after each incident.
Gus himself wants to show me the horse he can be. He speaks with every twitch of his ear, or sidelong look, or restless lift of a hoof. He can read my mind and change gait just as I ask. Yet he is still no pushover.
I'm by no means a horse whisperer, but I'm learning how to be a horse listener. Gus is a great teacher. He's got a job, though, teaching me how to ride this dressage horse!
The equine artist, Betsey Hurd, has done a bronze sculpture of Gus, now in a private collection. Click on the link to see it, and at the same time, look at her other work.
Here's a sample:
http://blogs.msdn.com/tiptalk/archive/2007/02/13/tips-on-avoiding-junk-e-mail-spam.aspx