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Galahad
when he was approximately 12 hours old
Photo
courtesy of Sara Fogan
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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/.
© 2016
