Sometimes you poke away busily at the trees and then get surprised by a sudden view of the whole forest. I have that experience frequently as I find my way into “natural horsemanship” or “the better way with horses” with the guidance of my teacher, Kathleen Sullivan. I go along for months at a time, happily working at specific tasks with my horses and suddenly I get a big idea, an insight into the better way, that makes sense of why I’m doing what I’m doing. The discrete tasks—improving my horse’s yields, working for an independent seat, acclimating the horse to ropes flapping—are intriguing enough to keep me busy and engaged. But then a big idea shows up and makes it all even more exciting and meaningful.
My most recent big idea came in relation to Kathleen’s work with my troubled rescue pony. I adopted Danny Boy from a local horse rescue to be a pasture companion and project horse. He is seven years old, healthy and sound, was not abused or neglected but has had only sporadic training over the years. Danny’s weakness is his habit of going into blind panic attacks whenever he gets startled or bothered. Because of this, he is a serious danger to himself and others, of any species, because he literally loses his mind when he panics and he panics so easily. I’ve seen him run literally blind, even running into obstacles during a panic episode. This horse should not be ridden. Yet, anyway.
Despite this, people have ridden Danny Boy in his recent past and reported only that he is “a little squirrelly” and needs “a little more training.” First of all, I’m glad no one has, as far as I know, been hurt riding this horse. But it both boggles my mind and enrages me that they rode him at all. I’m not in awe of their tremendous riding skill; I’m certain that Kathleen could ride Danny and survive just fine, too. Me, I’m too green to even think about it. But I consider Danny unrideable not because he demands too much skill but because riding him now is an outright violation of the better way.
This new big idea became apparent to me as I tried to reconcile what Kathleen and I were seeing in Danny Boy with what others reported. It hit me clearly that this disconnect shows the difference between getting by with horses and the better way with horses. Anyone riding Danny recently was merely getting by rather than exercising good horsemanship. If nobody got hurt, it was only because of a little experience and a lot of luck. It does not mean, as I have been told, that Danny is “broke” or “rideable.”
I learned early on that natural horsemanship, or the better way, is about a kinder, less stressful, more logical and harmonious way to train horses. It was also immediately apparent to me that the resulting horse-human relationship is much to be preferred over relationships born out of more coercive and brutish methods.
But each month I learn that there is more to the philosophy, that it goes much beyond kindness and bonding.
My latest big idea is that the better way offers the difference between just getting by and doing well. The big idea is that we should strive to develop horses that are thoroughly mentally, emotionally and physically at ease with and prepared for the things we ask of them, rather than hopping on and hoping for the best.
The big idea demands that we know what we are working with. Not many people would buy a used car merely because it had a nice paint job and seemed to run. Most of us would at least look at the engine compartment, if not have an expert check it out. But even well-intentioned and experienced people are constantly riding and working horses when they haven’t checked under the hood. Danny’s story is proof that people can get on horses, move them around and not get hurt, even though there are serious problems just under the surface. The big idea is that skating over or getting by with those problems is not good enough.
Danny Boy is a perfect example of a booby-trapped horse. He has refrained from killing the few people who have ridden him, bless his heart. He looks very sweet and can seem quiet, but it only takes a sneeze or a tickle on the leg or a question he doesn’t understand to send him into a panic. Anyone who took a moment to check under the hood would have seen this and known that Danny is not prepared to carry a rider. I once thought Kathleen was just being cautious or picky when urging us to take great care with what seemed then like trivial things with our horses. Will they yield to pressure? Can we move each end of the horse? How do they feel about things flapping around their heads or legs? Will they yield their feet without a rodeo? I thought we were doing these things because it was Kathleen’s way of introducing us to the techniques and devices of the better way, such as using flags and ropes, which is probably partially true. But now I understand that these exercises also gave us critical information about our horses and their mental and emotional readiness to work.
Besides the danger he poses, I think it is just wrong to ride Danny Boy at this stage. He is so mentally unprepared that it must be traumatic for him; I imagine he’s spent his time under saddle in a confused and frozen panic of some kind, surviving but not learning. Another thing that bothers me is that Danny is a very clear communicator; his body language speaks volumes about how he is feeling. To saddle up and ride this horse without serious remedial work, people must have dismissed or just ignored hundreds of signals from Danny that he was not okay with the program. That disrespect of a sensitive and intelligent being frankly pisses me off. Yes, Kathleen could ride this horse and we could call him rideable, but it’s the furthest thing from either of our minds because riding him now would be totally inconsistent with the better way.
It could have been different for Danny. Someone could have broken it all down for him as a colt. Someone could have taken the time to acclimate him to all the unusual things humans will ask of him—strange items attached to and flapping around his body; plastic and rubber and leather; saddles with latigos and buckles and stirrups; activity above and behind his head; things appearing in the periphery of both eyes at the same time; sudden and unfamiliar noises. Each one of these is a serious, life-or-death challenge to a prey animal, and they are all incorporated in the simple act of saddling and mounting. If Danny Boy had been appropriately introduced to each of these components and taught to reason through his initial fear, he could be a good, solid, rideable horse right now. Instead, people glossed over all of it, insisted on riding the horse and just getting by, leaving Danny deeply frightened and confused in the process.
Kathleen’s teaching motto offers “foundations for success.” I believe the choice of the word foundation was particularly apt. Kathleen asks us to consider the thousands of foundational aspects of our work with our horses. Maybe we can ride around and even accomplish or win some stuff, but have we checked under the hood to see that our horses are really understanding and comfortable with what we are doing? Have we checked to see how our horses will respond to foreseeable but unexpected stressors? Have we helped them learn better ways to deal with their fears and concerns? I am so grateful to have found a teacher in Kathleen who is dedicated to leading us to the better way. Danny Boy is very lucky, too. So, I wonder what the next big idea will be.
Kate Burke lives in Durango, Colorado, and studies horsemanship with Kathleen Sullivan, based in Pagosa Springs, Colorado (www.kathleensullivanhorsemanship.com).
