I started doing horse therapy at Pegasus Special Riders when I was twelve. Over the years, I have met dozens of horses there, and, though I tell myself not to grow too attached because they are not after all my horses, there have been certain horses that I have really connected to.
I have this tendency to fall for the horses that no one else likes. Stubborn, or moody; sometimes it's the "ugly" horses that I like. I don't know how many times I've heard, "How can you like -Insert horse name here- he/she bites/kicks/is stubborn/is butt ugly". But there is something to be said for each one of those horses. I get bored with the horses that are dull, the ones who go about their tasks in a robotic fashion, not offering any trouble, but also not offering any personality. I would prefer a horse that tries to make things interesting. It keeps the class from getting too boring.
One horse came along a few years ago that I even had a tough time liking at first. Her name, ironically enough, was Jubilee. She was a bay Tennessee Walker, and if not for the fact of her breeding, we most likely would not have used her. She was a pill. She tried to bite or kick when she was tacked, and she was just flat out moody. Her smooth gait though, was perfect for our riders, who lacked balance, and had difficulties sitting a trot. They could get the speed with her running walk, but not have the bounce of a typical trot. Much more therapeutic, and less scary.
The day I decided I liked her was the first day she kicked me (yeah, I don't know why I like the horses I like. Though I tend to like people who "aren't the people I should like" too, so go figure). I was sidewalking with her while the group was trotting, and she kicked out at me. She barely clipped me, and my first reaction was to get mad at her. We did not need a therapy horse that kicked people. Watching her though, I realized that she was not kicking to be mean. She was kicking out of fear. She had a person in front leading her, and a person very close on the right, and a wall very close on the left. She was claustrophobic, and reacting in the only way she knew to react. That seemed to be her reasoning for reacting badly to being saddled as well. Several people tacked her up every week, and each one had a different way of saddling. Some were gentle as they tightened the girth, some were pretty rough, jerking on the cinch, and hurting her sensitive girth area. Finally, unsure of what to do with all of the people constantly around her, she sunk into the only defense mechanisms she knew, and became a moody, aggressive horse. Her aggression always seemed half-hearted, as though she didn't really want to be that way, but didn't know how else to act. Out in the pasture, she was with a couple of dominant mares, who pushed her around and chased her away from the food, so even when she wasn't working, she didn't really have a reprieve from the negative. Her defense mechanisms grew deeper, and she didn't bother trying to discern between people who would be gentle, and people who would be rough.
One summer, I offered to take Jubilee home with me, just for the summer. She and Magic, an Arab gelding who was the epitome of the perfect therapy horse, were both in need of a lot of grazing time. So I took them and they spent the summer at my Grandparents' house, grazing to their hearts content. We rode a few times, and the surprising thing was that, while Jubi was the bad therapy horse, and Magic was the perfect one, Magic was a terrible trail horse, and Jubi was good. I definitely had more fun riding her, which I was not expecting. I came to like the little mare even more over that summer.
The time came to return the two horses, and I did, but then after some thought, decided that there was no way that I could let her stay at Pegasus over the winter. As thin as she was (she was old and had bad teeth), she would never survive the winter. So I pretty much just told people that I was taking Jubilee home with me to stay. No one really cared. No one liked her, so I didn't have any problems convincing anyone that Jubilee would be better off at my place.
Over the winter, we didn't do much, because it was cold (and Jubi was so skinny that she definitely needed to be ridden with a saddle. Bareback is much nicer in the winter). But come spring, I was out riding her. It took very little time to get her over her bad habits. Tacking up was the biggest deal for her. She had come to expect pain when a saddle was put on her, so she reacted accordingly. One day, I took the saddle out, and put it on her a few times. Put it on, cinched it up gently, took it off and did it again. After that, she knew that she didn't have to kick. It got to the point, with very little work actually, that I could touch her anywhere I wanted to, and she wouldn't even threaten me. It took little work, but it took some time. I had to show her that I could be trusted, and as soon as she really accepted that, that was all there was to it. She came out of the little fort she had built from her defense mechanisms, and became an awesome little horse. I took my cousins riding with me on her, and we could canter around, riding double (Tennessee Walkers also have incredible canters, come to find...), and I had no concern for their safety. She was a sweet horse.
The week that she died was a cold one. It was around Christmas time, and one day she laid down and couldn't get back up. She was laying up on her chest though, looking around, eating and drinking, and seemed really happy. I spent a lot of time sitting with her that week. Every time she saw me coming out toward her, she would whinny happily. I think she got bored when she was alone. A few nights, I put on my snowsuit and went out to spend at least part of the night with her. I'd curl up next to her (she was wrapped in blankets so she didn't get too cold either), and fall asleep til the cold woke me. She was happy to have my company. She was no longer a horse that merely tolerated people, and I wasn't the least bit concerned sleeping next to her that she would try to bite or do anything mean. We had a mutual trust and affection for each other.
I only had Jubi for a couple of years. It wasn't very long. There were times that I regretted taking her. Not because I didn't like her, but because I didn't realize what a great horse she was. I didn't want to grow so attached to her, only to have her die. But really, that last bit of time here seemed to be the best she had seen in a long time. She was able to be the horse she was meant to be, affectionate, sweet, a good friend. And I was glad to be able to give her that, and to be the one to help her trust again.
One horse came along a few years ago that I even had a tough time liking at first. Her name, ironically enough, was Jubilee. She was a bay Tennessee Walker, and if not for the fact of her breeding, we most likely would not have used her. She was a pill. She tried to bite or kick when she was tacked, and she was just flat out moody. Her smooth gait though, was perfect for our riders, who lacked balance, and had difficulties sitting a trot. They could get the speed with her running walk, but not have the bounce of a typical trot. Much more therapeutic, and less scary.
The day I decided I liked her was the first day she kicked me (yeah, I don't know why I like the horses I like. Though I tend to like people who "aren't the people I should like" too, so go figure). I was sidewalking with her while the group was trotting, and she kicked out at me. She barely clipped me, and my first reaction was to get mad at her. We did not need a therapy horse that kicked people. Watching her though, I realized that she was not kicking to be mean. She was kicking out of fear. She had a person in front leading her, and a person very close on the right, and a wall very close on the left. She was claustrophobic, and reacting in the only way she knew to react. That seemed to be her reasoning for reacting badly to being saddled as well. Several people tacked her up every week, and each one had a different way of saddling. Some were gentle as they tightened the girth, some were pretty rough, jerking on the cinch, and hurting her sensitive girth area. Finally, unsure of what to do with all of the people constantly around her, she sunk into the only defense mechanisms she knew, and became a moody, aggressive horse. Her aggression always seemed half-hearted, as though she didn't really want to be that way, but didn't know how else to act. Out in the pasture, she was with a couple of dominant mares, who pushed her around and chased her away from the food, so even when she wasn't working, she didn't really have a reprieve from the negative. Her defense mechanisms grew deeper, and she didn't bother trying to discern between people who would be gentle, and people who would be rough.
One summer, I offered to take Jubilee home with me, just for the summer. She and Magic, an Arab gelding who was the epitome of the perfect therapy horse, were both in need of a lot of grazing time. So I took them and they spent the summer at my Grandparents' house, grazing to their hearts content. We rode a few times, and the surprising thing was that, while Jubi was the bad therapy horse, and Magic was the perfect one, Magic was a terrible trail horse, and Jubi was good. I definitely had more fun riding her, which I was not expecting. I came to like the little mare even more over that summer.
The time came to return the two horses, and I did, but then after some thought, decided that there was no way that I could let her stay at Pegasus over the winter. As thin as she was (she was old and had bad teeth), she would never survive the winter. So I pretty much just told people that I was taking Jubilee home with me to stay. No one really cared. No one liked her, so I didn't have any problems convincing anyone that Jubilee would be better off at my place.
Over the winter, we didn't do much, because it was cold (and Jubi was so skinny that she definitely needed to be ridden with a saddle. Bareback is much nicer in the winter). But come spring, I was out riding her. It took very little time to get her over her bad habits. Tacking up was the biggest deal for her. She had come to expect pain when a saddle was put on her, so she reacted accordingly. One day, I took the saddle out, and put it on her a few times. Put it on, cinched it up gently, took it off and did it again. After that, she knew that she didn't have to kick. It got to the point, with very little work actually, that I could touch her anywhere I wanted to, and she wouldn't even threaten me. It took little work, but it took some time. I had to show her that I could be trusted, and as soon as she really accepted that, that was all there was to it. She came out of the little fort she had built from her defense mechanisms, and became an awesome little horse. I took my cousins riding with me on her, and we could canter around, riding double (Tennessee Walkers also have incredible canters, come to find...), and I had no concern for their safety. She was a sweet horse.
The week that she died was a cold one. It was around Christmas time, and one day she laid down and couldn't get back up. She was laying up on her chest though, looking around, eating and drinking, and seemed really happy. I spent a lot of time sitting with her that week. Every time she saw me coming out toward her, she would whinny happily. I think she got bored when she was alone. A few nights, I put on my snowsuit and went out to spend at least part of the night with her. I'd curl up next to her (she was wrapped in blankets so she didn't get too cold either), and fall asleep til the cold woke me. She was happy to have my company. She was no longer a horse that merely tolerated people, and I wasn't the least bit concerned sleeping next to her that she would try to bite or do anything mean. We had a mutual trust and affection for each other.
I only had Jubi for a couple of years. It wasn't very long. There were times that I regretted taking her. Not because I didn't like her, but because I didn't realize what a great horse she was. I didn't want to grow so attached to her, only to have her die. But really, that last bit of time here seemed to be the best she had seen in a long time. She was able to be the horse she was meant to be, affectionate, sweet, a good friend. And I was glad to be able to give her that, and to be the one to help her trust again.
No comments:
Post a Comment