When I was new to horses, the first thing I tried was riding. It wasn’t that I was particularly drawn to riding, it’s just that seemed to be the only access to horses available to me at the time. I tried out multiple riding stables, but would get a few lessons in and then stop, because it never felt good. I always left sore, exhausted, and sometimes in tears. It felt like I was trying my hardest to make the horse do what the instructor was telling me to do, and though it took all my effort, it was never enough. Today I am grateful to those horses for slowing down when I was told to go faster. For edging forward when I was supposed to make them stop. For standing still while I held back tears and kicked their ribcage with all the strength that I had. (I was in my 20’s and taking Tae Kwon Do at the time. I broke solid wood boards with those legs. That poor horse.) They drove me away from riding and into a place where I could figure out horse/human relationships first, before ever getting on a horse.
The thing I find most puzzling about riding (and in other areas, but riding is where I see it most) is the distortion of what is necessary. As a student I was told to fight with the horse, to tell them that whatever I was asking for was absolutely, beyond a doubt necessary, regardless of if they took objection to it. And yes, there is merit in getting something very clear in your mind and body before asking so it is definitively conveyed in a confident way. This changes for me the moment the horse says “no.” The next question, for me, is always “what makes you say that?” There was no room for that question in lessons. The immediate response to the “no” had to be “yes, or else.”
Is this necessary?
“Of course,” the traditional training says, “because if you allow a horse to have any question in following your cue then their training slowly falls apart.”
To this I ask, “but in this moment, is it necessary?”
If a horse trotting in circles with an unbalanced rider on their back is a matter of life and death, then I would like to get off the horse. That is too much. It should not be that important. There are too many variables in what might be causing the “no,” especially with a new rider. Especially with one the horse has not spent time building a relationship with. Are the cues wrong or vague? Is the rider nervous? Tired? Distracted? Is their body tense, off balance, or uneven? Is the horse sore? Tense? Sleepy? Hungry? How far into the lesson is it? Has the horse been used in multiple lessons today?
My argument is that we gain far more by asking “why” than we gain by saying “or else.” The small backslide in training that happens as a result of not insisting it’s absolutely necessary is far outweighed by the benefits that both horse and rider gain from digging into the relationship a little more. Even better than this is learning where a refusal might happen in the future and breaking things down into smaller “yes” or “maybe” pieces. Not even asking the question you know you’ll get a “no” to. In the end, it’s not necessary to trot in a circle. That isn’t a matter of life and death. What’s necessary is learning the landscape of the horse/human relationship so that the two can work together without injury, short or long term. That is the success.
Learn more about my early days with horses in my book, Standing in a Field With Horses, available in eBook and paperback formats.
Maeve Birch Home 