 |
| Photo courtesy of Sara Fogan |
One of the most important qualities of a good relationship is the amount
of mutual trust shared between the partners. I believe this is especially true
of the relationship shared with our equine partners, as well. I am grateful
that I have twice been blessed to share this kind of bond with two equines. My
first horse, Geeves, was a big Thoroughbred gelding and retired schooling
master. He passed away in 2010, and I still feel his loss every day. Galahad,
an Arabian/Lipizzan gelding pictured above, is one of my greatest joys and a
true embodiment of the knight in shining armor. He really lived up to his name
a couple weeks ago.
My trainer often reminds me that the Arabian horse is historically a
“people” horse. Many people have first-hand experience of how well this breed
takes care of the humans in their lives. They love and are great with little
kids: put a child on an Arabian or part-Arabian horse’s back and you can trust
that the animal will do its best to keep the person safe during the ride. I
still remember my first ride on a little Arabian gelding when I got back into
the sport in 2003. Even though I was a grown-up, Vinnie knew that I needed
extra support and even some TLC the first time I got back in the saddle after a
19-years’ hiatus. When I lost my balance—which I did a couple times during that
first ride—the gelding adjusted his body under me and even stopped so I could
find my seat again.
Galahad does that for me, too—and not just when he is under saddle. When
I go catch him in the paddock where he is turned out with the other geldings,
my horse often turns his body sideways as if to block his herd-mates’ access to
me. It is as if he knows and understands that, as a human, I am more fragile
and vulnerable to injury from the rough play that he enjoys with his buddies.
No matter where we are in the paddock, my horse immediately changes his posture
as if to shield me when another horse approaches us. Is this action a gesture
of true protection or jealous territoriality? For the first few months after I
bought him, Galahad often moved his body on the wash rack just so to block my
visibility to cars passing by on the street. He actually did this a few times
before I realized what was going on, because he usually stood quiet and still
to get rinsed off after a ride. But before I
could detect the sound of an engine, my horse took those few steps to position
his body closer to the street.
People have scoffed about my interpretation of these behaviors, alternately
chastising me for anthropomorphizing Galahad’s actions and warning me about the
inherent danger of handling and riding horses. Nonetheless, I know what I
believe. When I work with equestrians in hypnotherapy, one of the first things
I ask is for them to rate their level of trust they have in their equine partner
and whether/how much their horse trusts them. Without trust, how can we explain
or understand the various things horses allow us to do while we are on their
backs? Without trust, how do we feel confident and secure to do those things without being frozen
with fear that the horse will run away with us or dump us into the dirt the
first chance they get?
I experienced the most significant example of my horse’s apparent
concern about my well-being a couple of weeks ago. Once a week or so I take
Galahad for a walk around the neighborhood. It is good for him to get a change
of scene and relax after spending so much concentrated time training in the
arena. We are still “training” while I hand-walk him in that we practice
serpentine figures, lateral movements and even backing up the street. We
practice staying calm and being “brave” when the donkey living next door brays
and trots up his fence-line or neighbors’ dogs bark as we walk past. However,
Galahad he gets to do all of this work just in his halter, not bridled and
under saddle.
On our last walk, I was coming down with a bad cold. I felt okay when we
started out, but after about 10 minutes I became so weak that I could barely finish
walking up the street back to the barn. It took fifteen minutes for us to
travel about fifty feet, but my horse never put a hoof wrong. Every few yards I
needed to stop to catch my breath; every time Galahad, just stood quietly and
even cocked a hind hoof as I leaned against him for support. He was like a
rock—my rock. Of course, I told him what was going on—that I felt ill and I
just needed to rest for a minute before we started off again. I have no doubt that
if I actually needed to stretch out on the side of the road he would have been
a sentinel for me then, too. (Fortunately, I never needed to do that.) At one
point, we stopped very close to where the donkey comes out to greet us. Galahad
is getting used to the sound of the little equine’s bray but he still sometimes
does a double-take or takes a side step if he isn’t expecting to see the
animal. That day, however, my horse never flinched or even look anywhere except
over his shoulder at me or straight ahead as we forged our way slowly back to
the barn.
Looking back, I can only express
how grateful I was and am to have such a loyal and, yes, protective horse in my
life. I was truly vulnerable that day: if he spooked at a car or a loose dog,
who knows what would have happened. I doubt that I could have been able to hold
onto the lead line and keep Galahad calm in that situation. What amazes me most
is that, at the time, I never even worried about it. I had complete faith and
trust in my horse to help get me safely back to the barn the way I have always
done for him in the past. Galahad was described as “a knight in shining armor”
on the promotional DVD my trainer gave me to watch before I bought him. On that
day—and every day—he truly lives up
to his name and that description.
© 2016
