Every riding school or agistment property has them. They are as much a part of these establishments as manure piles and weeds in the paddocks. They are constant and part of the landscape. I’m talking about a group of clicky teenage girls. The members of the group come and go, but the group is ever present. There is always a leader and each member yearns to be her best friend. But even more than that, they all dream of the day when the leader moves on and they become the new high priestess.

The riding school where I worked was no exception. At the time this story is placed Bobbie was the tribal chief. She was about fifteen and was revered by the others for her daring. She was the first of them to smoke and the first to shoplift from Mr Rigozza who owned the local corner store. But what really made her numero uno was that she was the first of the tribe to have sex. Second in charge was Bobbie’s older sister, Wendy. She was a year older, but not as bold or scandalous as Bobbie despite her desperation to be like her sister. Then there was Narelle and Sarah and poor Maria. Maria was only thirteen and so much wanted to be part of the group. She was often the butt of their jokes and was far too nice for the coven of witches. But they tolerated Maria for two reasons. Firstly, she was useful as a slave. But more importantly, Maria was striking to look at it and everyone knew that she was going to grow up to be drop dead gorgeous. The other girls sensed that one day it was going to be to their advantage to be a friend of Maria.

My position at the riding school afforded me a certain status. Even though I was a manure shoveller and didn’t come from money like the members of the group, I did have a certain authority and could make life easy or difficult for anyone I chose. Bobbie discovered this early when I caught her sneaking a boy into the girls bunkhouse one night during a camp. At first she was all belligerent and abusive, but that quickly changed when she realized that I had the power to decide whether or not to report the incident to her parents. Bobbie was never again rude to me and she was always very helpful when asked to do something.

I saw the group huddled together talking as I was wheeling a barrow of manure over towards the pile. I stopped and asked what was the conference about.

“We were talking about that new boarder, Marilyn,” Bobbie said.

“Oh yeah. What about her,” I asked?

“Well she says she is a psychic and can communicate with the horses. So I asked her to talk to Tempest and she came up with amazing things,” Bobbie answered.

“Like what?”

“One thing she said was that Tempest is sad because she left somebody behind four years ago and hasn’t got over it. Marilyn said it was a person that Tempi really loved. She said that is why she is so nervous all the time. It’s so spooky because it was four years ago that Tempi was brought over here from New Zealand. Marilyn couldn’t have known that. I never told her. She’s amazing!”

“Well she told me that Penny doesn’t like being in the paddock next to the jumping paddock because she used to be a jumper and every time a horse knocks down a rail it reminds her how much that use to hurt her legs. So I’m going to ask Ben if I can swap paddocks with Phil’s horse,” Narelle piped up.

I left the girls to continue their diatribe and toe dipping into the spiritual world of animal communication. I had work to do and if I was going to help Amos with his new breaker I had to get moving.

After the session with Amos and his horse I asked him about Marilyn.

“Amos, do you believe people can talk to horses and horses talk back?”

“Matey, you do it all the time.”

“No, I mean is it possible that you can read their thoughts and have a conversation with them? Can they tell you things like if their leg hurts or if they had an accident when they were a foal or stuff like that?”

“Matey, ‘ave you been talkin to Marilyn?

“No, but Bobbie and the girls have. Bobbie said that Marilyn told her that Tempest was nervous because she was heart broken about leaving a person four years ago. And it was four years ago when Tempest came from New Zealand! How could she know that? How could Tempest have told her that?”

“Matey, my question is how can a horse count? The last I knew countin was human invention and horses didn’t buy calendars.”

I was struck by the obviousness of Amos’ observation. How could Tempest know how long ago it was since she last saw her friend? How would Bobbie’s horse know how long four years is?

“Matey, I don’t know if there is such a thing as psychic communication with animals. I don’t reckon there is, but that ain’t the same as knowin. But if there was such a thing, so what? What good does it do Bobbie to know that about her horse. She’s got problems with that horse because she ain’t helped it feel any better about workin with her. It don’t matter if it’s because of somethin that happened four years ago or because of a drop in the stock market yesterday. Bobbie still ain’t doin nothin to fix it. So big deal if Marilyn is right or wrong. The problem is still Bobbie’s to solve and the cause don’t matter a hoot. D’ya think Bobbie’s dad is goin to track down Tempest’s friend and re-unite them. Nah. Bobbie needs to stop lookin for others to blame and others to fix it.”

“But Amos if a horse tells you the saddle is hurting or the horse in his paddock worries him or he is afraid of jumping, isn’t that useful,” I questioned.

“Of course matey. But do ya really need a psychic to tell ya those things. What sort of horseman can’t get that information for himself by watchin his horse?”

I guess you’re right, Amos. When you explain it like that,” I said.

“Matey, have ya seen Marilyn ride her horse? What did ya notice?”

“Well, I know her horse is not very forward. Most of the time she has to keep kicking him and he pins his ears in the canter transition every time,” I told Amos.

“Do ya really think that if Marilyn could talk to her horse and she understood what her horse was sayin that she wouldn’t be able to sort out that problem? What sort of communicator allows her horse to be so cranky? I know for sure matey that you could help that horse have the prettiest transitions and you ain’t got that much goin on up in ya head to be communicatin with,” Amos chuckled.

Despite Amos’ back handed compliment. I saw his point about Marilyn and the trouble inside her horse.

Since then I have met several people claiming to be animal communicators – probably about a dozen, I guess. They have all been very nice and sincere people. And they have all had horses that were troubled in their work. I have not met one communicator who had a horse that was happy and settled in their life. I have not met a single person who claimed to have psychic abilities with horses and who was also a really good horse person.

A few years ago, one of the most revered animal communicators in the country came to a clinic. She was a very nice lady, very softly spoken and quiet in her manner. She only came to observe and stayed for several days. I was working a Warmblood in the round yard. He had the habit of tuning out and I had a lariat around his neck while I asked him for transitions. The first time I asked the horse to canter and he passed the gate of the yard I took a strong feel on the lariat and spun his body to face me. The horse leaned back and then lurched forward a step towards me. The lady instantly got out of her chair and asked why I did that. I asked her if she saw the horse leave when he approached the gate.

“What do you mean, leave?”

“His rhythm quickened, he dropped his inside shoulder and his thoughts flew across to the horses in the yards over there,” I explained.

She simply said, “Did they?”

“Did you not see me ask him to check in with me three times before I took a feel on the lariat,” I asked?

“No,” was the reply.

I was quite dumb struck that a person who supposes to be so in tune with animals failed to observe something so obvious.

But for me the most potent reason not to get involved with psychic communicators was explained to me by Amos.

“Matey, this stuff maybe real or maybe not. It don’t matter. You take me brother, Walt. Walt can’t read a book let alone a horse’s mind. But it’ll be a long time before ya see anyone who’s as good with a horse. That’s because Walt sees everythin a horse has to tell ‘im. Readin a horse’s mind ain’t goin to make him better with a horse.

“The psychic stuff and the need to make trainin and understandin horses somethin so mystical takes away from ordinary people the realization that we all have the ability to be good horse people. Talkin to horses with our minds makes bein a good horse person out of the reach of most people and leaves it to only them special people with special gifts. It ain’t so and folk shouldn’t be made to feel they haven’t got what it takes to be amazin with horses just because they can’t read their minds.”

Maybe one day I will meet an animal communicator who will help me change my opinion. It could happen. It just hasn’t happened yet.