All in the Family

Galahad when he was approximately 12 hours old

Photo courtesy of Sara Fogan

This afternoon while I groomed Galahad I couldn’t help but laugh as clumps of gray hair came off his body. The weather in Southern California is so warm that he already had his first soapy bath at the end of February.  It’s not even officially Spring for another few days, but my horse has almost completely shed his thicker winter coat, with the shorter hairs of his summer coat laying smooth and flat against his body. I wondered how much more I looked like my horse with so much of his hair sticking to my sweaty skin and clothes. Never mind. Galahad was thoroughly enjoying the extended grooming/massage session I was giving him. His eyes were half-closed, his neck stretched and a hind hoof cocked. As my trainer likes to say, Galahad is a hedonist like his father was. That works for me. I could groom him like that all day. I love it that much, too.

This observation got me thinking about my horse: his equine family, his pedigree, how similar and different we are as members of different species. My trainer owned and bred Galahad’s parents—the Arabian stallion, Calypso, and the Lipizzan mare, Alisa—nineteen years ago. I did not know either of my gelding’s parents, but I have been told details about each horse and some amusing anecdotes about Alisa’s pregnancy and Galahad’s birth. Although the mare gained weight, she continued to tease Calypso throughout her pregnancy to such an extent that my trainer didn’t even know she was in foal until the vet came out to investigate her tremendous weight-gain. Galahad was born in the middle of the night (as foals often are) a few weeks before he was due, so when my trainer came down to feed breakfast the following morning she was surprised to see four dark legs beside his mother in the stall he now occupies, alone. He was already standing and had figured out how to nurse on his own, and looked at the human on the other side of the stall as if to say, “What?” My trainer gave me the photo I have shared with this blog; this was the first and last time he has ever looked like he didn’t really know what was going on, she says.

As I continued to brush and curry away Galahad’s winter coat, I noticed the flecks of chestnut hairs dispersed throughout his coat. He has a constellation of these marks just above his cheekbones, like the freckles I have in this area of my own face. Otherwise, his once-black coat is gray and getting lighter every year, except for those chestnut flecks. His sire had been a chestnut, with the self-confidence and charisma to go with his status as the foundation stallion of the property. I have been told that Galahad has inherited his father’s confidence and self-assurance. Like Calypso, he is also very protective of his human (me), which he frequently demonstrates by placing his body between me and his pasture-mates when I catch him in the turnout.

Galahad is also like his parents in terms of his tremendous work ethic. He seems to have a lot of pride (and ego) about his training, because you can see it in his body language that when the work is going well, his tail swings gently and the expression on his face can only be described as “soft” and relaxed. How many times have I felt Galahad shift his weight underneath me if I start to lose my balance? His sire used to compensate for my trainer when she had a bad ride, too. She says Calypso’s attitude seemed to be, “I got this, just let me handle it and don’t make me look bad up there!” I can see that in my horse, too. I often get the feeling that he is very careful about what he does when I am on his back; I can usually rely on him to be very sensible and not shy at every little thing when I ride.

Like his dam, Galahad does not like the far corner of the arena where his half-brother, Amadeus, is stabled. If he is going to shy, this is the area where it happens. Like his sire, my horse often grunts when he is working on his right side; although his stride is even going in both directions, it is more work going in this direction and he likes to let me and my trainer know it. Sometimes Galahad also likes to play catch-me-if-you-can when I go out to catch him in the paddock; apparently that was also one of his father’s favorite games.

My horse is the last gift my grandparents gave to me. My late grandfather was kind, loving and chivalrous. He played clarinet and violin, and knew a bit about classical music, but he hated Ravel’s Boléro. My horse also seems to enjoy music—my trainer often has classical music playing in the barn when she is working with the horses or riding. Unlike my grandfather, whenever Boléro comes on Galahad gets an extra spring in his step and his tail starts to sway with the rhythm. This irony is priceless, precious. It’s like my grandparents continue to live through my enjoyment of my horse the same way his own parents live through him. While the individuals never had a chance to meet, their likes/dislikes and behaviors live on through the relationship that Galahad and I share, right down to the last note of music.

 

Sara R. Fogan, C.Ht. is a certified hypnotherapist based in Southern California. She graduated with honors from the Hypnosis Motivation Institute in 2005. For more information about Calminsense Hypnotherapy® and to set up an appointment, please visit http://www.calminsensehypnotherapy.com/.

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