Snapshot: Horses.

As Beth Supermanned through the air tethered only by a thick rope lead three thoughts occurred to her, “hold on or let go?”,  “avoid the metal edge of the trailer” and “don’t let the horse escape”.  However, the problem was  that they were mutually exclusive, there was no way to follow all three commands at the same time.  In a speed which only the presence of adrenaline can create, pros and cons were weighed and the rope stayed firmly in her hands, as she pulled her arms towards her in an attempt to bring her feet underneath her before smashing her substantial frame into the trailer and landing with a less than graceful stance.   

“7.5 out of 10, with extra points awarded for difficulty and sticking the landing with your feet rather than your face,” snarked her inner monologue.

The horse continued its rear and reverse maneuver that had sent her sky bound with no signs of slowing.  The attendant at the end of the trailer who had dropped the rump strap at the first sign of resistance was cowering in the corner.  Useless. It was clear she was on her own to calm the horse down.  It was, of course, practically the worst case scenario. A young un-trailered horse, an inexperienced loading crew, and bad weather that had startled the horse with its Zeusian thunder at the crucial moment.  The only way it could have been worse is if the horse was injured in the scuffle.  But thankfully it would appear the only damage thus far was to her own frame and that of the trailer.

“I fucking hate horses,” she thought again for the 3^rd time today.

The thing about horses is that they are highly intelligent, logical, and stubborn with the weight to override a human’s demands.  This is why you always hear the phrase, “she’s a horse person,”. It translates to, “that person has the patience, love, tenacity and willingness to speak to the horse in their own language in a way that results in reaching a mutual understanding in which the horse subsumes its own will to please the human.”  Beth is not a horse person.  She can act like a horse person because she has grown up at their knee, but in no way was she naturally inclined towards speaking their languages, and she found no joy in the horse/human relationship.

Flashes of watching her parents teach young horses how to trailer flashed through her mind. The first rule, don’t attempt to teach loading by yourself, was already blown as her assistant had fled.  Some things required teamwork and this was one of them. The reason being that the cardinal rule was to apply pressure, gentle or otherwise, to the rear of the horse whenever the horse moved away from its intended target, in this case, the inside of the trailer. The pressure (rump strap, flick of a crop on the rear of the horse, etc.) only eased when they moved in the correct direction.  This includes staying the course when the horse escalates their resistance else the horse learns the very fast lesson that “bad behavior” = “avoidance of the thing that scares me”. ßthat is the intelligence bit.   

As Beth was currently leaning back on the halter lead of the horse while walking forward (the beast still in reverse), resistance was most definitely not abating but she was losing the battle. She had to do something to fix this situation as the field in which they were loading didn’t have the benefit of being in any sort of enclosure. Unless she planned on leaving heel marks down the length of the mile long drive before walking into traffic she needed to correct the direction issue immediately.

To stop a horse from moving in the wrong direction or at a speed you do not wish there is one effective maneuver – circles, tight small circles in which their large body must follow their head and physics wins. Ha Ha!  Now Beth just had to get herself positioned along the side of the horse, the appropriate location for a tight circling maneuver. She also had to do it without giving the horse enough reign to bolt away or rear and take her off her feet again.

A quick pivot and fast step later Beth was at the front shoulder of the beast and pulling the head to the side while using the tail end of the lead to flick the rump of the beast…Fast circles, a dervish of mane and clumps of grass, whoa nelly, fast circles, calming, slowing…calming.  Finally control was restored as the horse lowered its head and relaxed its gait in a lazy clomp clomp that said “okay I understand what you want human, I subsume my will to leave to your desire for me to stay,”

As the blood from Beth’s gashed arm dripped its way onto her rapidly swelling wrist she breathed deep to collect her calm but determined energy, gathered the reign and started walking the horse back to the trailer.

“I so fucking hate horses,” she thought for the fourth time today.