I realise this essay may bother a few people, so I apologise in advance if that’s you.
For many people, having a close and mutually satisfying relationship with their horse is at the top or near the top of their priority list. Most people want their horses to view them as friends, and “working with” or “hanging out” with them is something their horses willingly choose. I believe this is a very worthy goal and something we should all keep in mind with every interaction with our horse.
However, most of us (professionals and amateurs alike) don’t know what that looks like.
People rely on different parameters to measure the quality of their relationship with a horse.
For many, a horse’s obedience is the highest measure of how happy a horse is to be with them. This is especially true for people who practice liberty training. They are convinced that the absence of gear is a true sign of a strong relationship. But a horse's obedience is not an indicator of a horse's willingness.
Other people feel that applying positive reinforcement methods is the path to a fantastic relationship with their horse based on willingness. But it is easy to confuse a horse’s behaviour when we bribe it with treats as a horse that loves to work with us because we have a brilliant relationship.
Many other folks are convinced that the principles of good horsemanship, natural horsemanship, classic horsemanship, etc are the answer to building the strongest friendship with a horse.
It may surprise you to know that I don’t think any of these approaches are the answer to having a true partnership with a horse. They can help, but they alone are not going to create the sort of relationship most of us desire with our horses. There is something vital missing from almost every relationship with a horse that hinders it from being as good as it could be.
Almost every horse views time spent with a human as an interruption in its day. For most horses, time spent with us is not part of their day, but an interruption to their day. Grazing, drinking, playing with others, snoozing in the sun, swatting at flies, chasing away the pesky new horse, standing by the gate at feeding time, etc. These are viewed by a horse as part of their day. They are routine and predictable and horses determine when, where, and how they will be done.
But when the human arrives on the scene with a halter the routine, the predictability, and the option to choose when, where, and how are taken away. Time with us is an interruption to what it is to be a horse.
Horses do not see their days are meant for chasing a cow, flying lead changes, trekking along tracks for 2 hours, having their hooves trimmed, or whatever we do with them. When we do these things we are interrupting what it is to be a horse. They spend 23 hours a day doing their thing - being a horse - doing what they decide to do. Then we take that away from them for 1 hour a day (or however long we are with them) and expect them to be happy about it and be our best friend.
The only way around this problem that I see is for us to be part of their day rather than a blip in their day. Instead of my horse thinking “Oh, here comes Ross again. I guess he is going to ride me,” I’d like him to think, “When the hell is Ross going to get here? He’s late.”
I have never had a “no limit” relationship with training or lesson horses. I don’t even have it to the full extent with my own horses. But I believe I have experienced a connection that is as strong and as pure as can be between a human and a horse.
It has happened with my horses when I would go trekking. Some of you know that in the past I have traveled horseback long distances and for many months in the Australian bush. Anywhere from 3 to 12 months, it would be just me and my horses. All day every day my horses and I were together. We relied on each other for everything every day. Even during the night, they knew where I was and I knew where they were. Being together was not an interruption in our day, it was how we lived every day, all day. We were an inseparable herd. We were a family. We unknowingly evolved a secret language and they would willingly do things that I never taught them, but somehow figured it out. There are so many stories of them going above and beyond what I expected. The stories of our relationship could fill a book.
I had never had this experience before I started long-distance riding, despite all my years working with horses. And I have never quite felt the same connection with horses since. I can’t explain it if you have never experienced this type of relationship with a horse. I believe I have a wonderful relationship and connection with all my horses. But I am still not part of their herd. I am not with them when they are sheltering under a tree sharing body heat during a storm. I am not sharing with them the experience of a family of emus running through their paddock. I am not part of the herd when the boss mare says they are all going to the other end of the paddock. I am still an interruption in their day whenever I walk outside to give them a scratch or feed them. Even when they approach me from across the paddock, I am no more than a welcome visitor. It feels a little transactional.
Please don’t get me wrong. I work hard at trying to be my horse’s best friend. I love them dearly and I appreciate every gift of friendship they offer. But I realise that while I remain an outsider who handles and works with them a few hours a week, our relationship will always have its limits and be a little transactional for them. I cannot be as much a part of my horse’s life as other members of its herd. I cannot be its best friend when we finish working in the arena and I go inside my house for a coffee while my horse goes back to the paddock.
I know some of you are convinced the relationship you have with your horse is exceptional. I hope you are right.
