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It was a bit of a toss-up, determining where to start on the question of riding. My instinct tells me that Klaus Ferdinand Hempfling is right: you start with the human and not the horse, for ultimately it is the human that needs to change and to rediscover what it is to be human if they are to be of any value to the horse. On the other hand, the horse already knows how to be a horse and has not lost that knowledge of its species as we have of ours. Yet in the absence of the horse, a human has no need to consider the matter of riding, a realisation which seems to suggest that the horse must nevertheless be mentioned first, for it is the sine qua non (without which nothing) of riding. So let us turn to the horse in the first of this series of posts dedicated to the preparations which Pip and I are undertaking towards riding.

What is a horse?

Gosh, what a dumb question! We all know what a horse is, don’t we. It is a “solid-hoofed plant-eating domesticated mammal with a flowing mane and tail, used for riding, racing, and to carry and pull loads” (Oxford online dictionary) or a “large animal that is used for riding and for carrying and pulling things” (Merriam-Webster online dictionary). So there you have it. Let us take the common denominator of these definitions from the most authoritative dictionaries in the English language: a horse is a domesticated animal used for riding, and carrying and pulling loads.

Which means that, if you did not have any idea what a horse was before you read either of these definitions, once you had, you might only expect to see a horse with bits of metal, rope and/or leather about its body to enable humans to ride it or get it to carry or pull a load. If you want to get to know horses better, you would probably start out by visiting a riding school, where your initiation would start through an interface made up of your bum and the horse’s back. Odds are that this is probably how you started out with horses, if you did not grow up in a family that keeps them. But if you did, the chances are pretty high that the bulk of your relationship with a horse has developed through that very same interface.

Interfacing with horses: bums on backs. Here the French mounted police.

Doesn’t it come with tack on?

In fact, most people who spend time with horses and have come to learn about them can probably trace much if not most of their knowledge of equus caballus back to that interface of bum and back. You learn about the tack you need to keep your bum on the horse’s back and the training you require to do the very same while learning how to make the horse do things while your bum is on its back. Indeed, you may even go further and learn about the accommodation, feed and care a horse should have in order to be able to bear your bum on its back.

If you are really keen, you may even learn a bit about the biomechanics of a horse, which will enable you to “train it” to such a high level that you can make it do spectacular moves while your bum is firmly ensconced on its back. Indeed most of us who spend time with horses will probably know of few ways of spending that time with a horse other than with our bum on its back, and if we do manage to find another way, it is usually merely designed to enable us to do just that but with greater finesse.

We should therefore be excused if we fail to comprehend how anyone could walk with a horse on a lead in a forest instead of being seated on its back (a lack of comprehension which numerous riders have expressed to Vicki and myself when they have encountered us walking next to Anaïs and Pip in the forest). Indeed, we might even be excused if we have difficulty visualising a horse without tack on its body, a saddle on its back and metal studs on its hooves. Doesn’t a horse come with tack and metal studs on it? If you were unfamiliar with the concept of a “horse” and saw this illustration from a highly recommended book on equine biomechanics, you might even be forgiven for thinking that. Actually, I do highly recommend this book by the British horse masseuse, Gillian Higgins, along with the accompanying DVD. Details below.

The light comes on at fifty

This is more or less how horses came into my life as a teenager. I knew nothing about them other than that many of my friends owned one and that every now and then I was given the opportunity to ride one of them. Someone taught me the basics of how to keep my bum on the horse’s back when it moved, and how to make it move while my bum was on its back. This stood me in good stead on the odd occasions when a horse bolted under me, although it was not much help the day Gulliver and I encountered a wallaby (a smaller “version” of a kangaroo) in Australia. Good old Gulliver instilled in me the knowledge that a horse is a creature of flight, the lesson being learned the moment he veered out of the path of the skippy and I kept on going straight without a horse’s back underneath me and landed on my head. Fortunately, I was wearing a helmet. I may have been macho in my younger days but I was not comfortable with the idea of dying (let alone “being”) stupid.

And so horses drifted in and out of my life as creatures with whom a relationship could be developed through my bum and their back, until I lost interest in about 2002. Yes, I was prepared to help Vicki with our two geldings, Gulliver and Farinelli, when work commitments allowed but I was no longer interested in riding or doing anything else with them or any horse really. I could simply no longer see the point of making another creature do something for me, especially one with whom I did not seem to have much affinity and only really appreciated as another member of our menagerie (we had four dogs and four cats at the time) and fellow earth inhabitant.

It was in the year when I turned fifty, that everything changed. I discovered Nevzorov (and through him Michael Bevilacqua later on) and Klaus Ferdinand Hempfling. In ways peculiar to them these people inspired me to set off on a journey which, amongst other things, has led me to discover horses for what they are and not merely what we humans would like them to be. It is a journey that has revealed what other humans have discovered about horses but more importantly it is one that has allowed me to develop the skills and ability to start learning what horses offer us for discovery about themselves and ultimately what we can discover through them about ourselves.

Horses before humans

In a sense Nevzorov, Bevilacqua and Hempfling (and later Imke Spilker, Frédéric Pignon, Carolyn Resnick, Mark Rashid and Linda Kohanov) made it possible for me to start seeing horses as they are before humans exert their influence over them. It became clear to me that they are exceptionally sociable, seeking safety and security in relationships with other horses both as members of the same equine community and as close friends with another horse in the same herd. They are also creatures that are highly sensitive to and equally perceptive of an array of stimuli that are visible and invisible, audible and inaudible, tangible and intangible, and are capable of responding intuitively to them. In addition, they prefer collaboration and cooperation to the disquieting effects of conflict (with the exception of stallions competing for mares). It has also become clear to me that horses are capable of bonding closely with humans and those in captivity rely on us entirely to have their physical, emotional and other needs met, while acquiescing in or enjoying our guidance. To this extent”, but only to this extent, we are the dominant species and, as such, we have the challenge conferred on us to empathise with horses, to be enlightened in our dealings with them, and to empower them, rather than to dominate them for our own selfish purposes.

These perceptions and deductions have since been confirmed by further study, for it is my belief that I should not aspire to riding a creature in the absence of instruments of force – that is, placing my trust in the horse to the extent that I unconditionally put my aging bones at its mercy – without understanding its nature. High on the list of studies recommended for anyone seriously wanting to understand the essential nature of the horse must be the work of the New Zealand ethologist, Andy Beck, and the cinematographer, Ginger Kathrens. Based on an ongoing, long-term study, Beck’s Horsonality is a work that no one who is serious about spending time with horses should neglect to read. Nor should such a person forego the opportunity to watch Kathrens’ enormously informative and entertaining Cloud trilogy, the story of a stallion and the horses around him in the Arrowhead Mountains of Montana in the United States of America.

Yet there is another aspect which needs to be mentioned, because it explains why of all the animals on the earth, the horse has held an appeal for humans over the centuries beyond its role as a beast of burden which is more widespread and extends to more profound spheres of human endeavour than any other. In the course of time the horse has featured prominently in human politics, religion, sport and imagination as expressed in the arts and iconography, and still does to a significant extent today. At a personal level the horse is also arguably the only animal species with which humans can interact in a way that is capable of generating a nobility and beauty which is greater than the sum created by the two species doing what they might otherwise do best together on their own.

Safe, secure and at home

In his YouTube videos, Immediate Connecting with Horses: 1 and 2, Hempfling notes what I feel is so important, that I wish to quote it here. Speaking about the connection he achieves with a horse during his first encounter with it, he states that to get a…

positive response from the horse immediately means that I have to have a kind of unspoken contract with the horse. And this means, for example, that I will do everything not anyhow to hurt you, and I promise you to be on the maximum of peace in whatever I am going to do. I’m promising you that I’m going to take care that I will not be doing anything, not a simple step which is not in accordance with your proper individual growing.

I’m the one who has to lead. There is no doubt about it. I have to lead in accordance with the needs and with the nature of the horse: give him safety, give him everything he needs to feel at home.

Whether or not you agree with Hempfling’s claim that he manages to connect immediately with every horse that he encounters for the first time – there is evidence that he does with most of the horses he chooses to encounter and evidence is also available to the effect that he fails to do so with a small proportion of the horses that he selects – is utterly irrelevant for our purposes. What is relevant is the essence of what he states, a lesson which Pip has personally been trying to teach me since April 2012 and which she finally managed to do in January this year (some of us are hard learners).

That lesson is this: if you truly want to achieve a true, magical connection with your horse on a lasting basis, you will have to do everything in your power to show through your actions that your horse is safe and secure enough with you to be able to relax and be itself, which is simply its way of expressing its trust in you. It is my belief that anyone can make a horse move and some of us are far better doing that than others. The true challenge though lies not in making the horse do something but in the human finding it within themselves to encourage the horse to want to join in the dance with us, to become a willing partner. This, if I correctly understand the Nevzorovs, Bevilacquas and Hempflings of the world and the other guides whom I have cited, is the true goal of training. Yet without that true, magical connection it will be impossible to achieve that goal and without the horse feeling safe, secure and at home with you, it will not be able to trust you and that connection will remain an unattainable aspiration.

So what?

So what does this mean to Pip and me, as we continue our preparations for riding? In a nutshell, it means that before I can even begin to contemplate preparations for riding, Pip needs to be a happy, healthy horse in mind and in body. She needs to feel so safe, secure and at home with me that she will trust me enough to go along with anything that I ask, which she might initially feel is utterly alien and inappropriate, and that she will trust me enough to know that I truly do not seek to ask more of her than she is willing and able to give.

So how can I gauge the progress that we are making in this respect? Simple. Pip shows me. She has shown me that she is healthy. I look at her neck and see that the short, hard muscles which she had when she came into my life have given way to long, loose muscles which give her greater flexibility. My mare’s feet have also improved. Not only has her hoof healed but she is now also capable of negotiating the hardest surfaces without any pain or discomfort. In addition, she is straighter and more balanced when she stands and walks. Pip now stands square and upright, and when she walks she now overtracks (the toe of her hind foot lands beyond the print of the toe of her fore foot) on both sides instead of only on the left.

Pip up close and personal

The evidence is also discernible in Pip’s attitude towards life and me. She is no longer that anxious bundle of nerves she used to be. Instead, she is more self-assured, is moving up the ranks in the herd and is even beginning to challenge Anaïs on occasion. Pip and Anaïs are part of a herd of 18 horses that have been living together relatively uneventfully for some five months now. When Vicki and I arrive at the yard, either or both of us normally call to the horses from the entrance to the horse enclosure and our mares simply come to us. In the past Anaïs used to initiate the action and arrive first. Now it is Pip. In fact, on many occasions she recognises my tread on the pebbles close to the gate before she sees me and often arrives at the entrance before I have even looked around to find her.

Putting Pip on a pedestal

Another example. Vicki has taught Anaïs to stand on a pedestal. For ages I had tried to do the same but every time Pip simply walked off almost shaking her head as if to say, “You’re crazy”. As I mentioned in my previous post, caring for Pip while she was having problems with her hoof was a watershed experience for us. Her attitude towards me changed completely. I did not realise just to what extent it had, until I took her to the pedestal, put my foot on it and uttered the cue, “Step”, as I had vainly done so many times before, and she lifted her hoof slightly. I then bent down and raised it on to the edge of the pedestal to show her what I meant and then we tried the whole thing again. This time Pip simply put her foot on the pedestal and turned her head towards me as if to say, “Oh that’s what you want? Well, here you are then.” I could not believe it.

But more was still to come. A few days later I took Pip to watch Anaïs put both front feet on the pedestal but my mare did not seem to be overly impressed. A week later I discovered why. Asking Pip to put one foot up onto the pedestal and trying not to expect anything, my mare looked at me, turned back to the pedestal and simply stepped up onto it with both front feet. The next time I asked her a week later, she promptly walked right up and over the thing.

Pip watching Anaïs step on the pedestal

Is Pip ready for preparations for riding? I do not think that I am putting her on a pedestal when I say, “I think so”. Of course, although I am hoping to start riding Pip next month, I am aware that I may never do so for one reason or another, for instance if she declines to have my bum on her back. At the beginning of April Pip and I will have been together for two years. Next month we will also both celebrate our respective birthdays. She will turn 17 and I will be 57. It is not the youngest age to contemplate a new start and certainly not one which envisages riding without metal in the mouth or on the feet. With the exception of the odd occasion on which Vicki has sat on her for a few minutes at a time in the manège, Pip will not have felt a human bum on her back for a little over two years. I have not had my bum on a horse’s back for more than 10 years. There are moments when I suspect that sanity has deserted me. But then a consoling thought comes to me: even though I may never get to ride Pip, it sure is great preparing to do so. For both of us, I think.

Tags: horses, humans, Klaus Ferdinand Hempfling, magical connection, Michael Bevilacqua, Nevzorov, Pip, true connection, trust