Often when we refer to trust in relation to horses, we treat it as a one-way street from the human to the horse. How often have we not heard that the horse needs to learn to trust the human? Part of the truth, as Pip has taught me, is that a horse does not need to learn to trust. They either trust or they do not.
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Similarly, Pip has helped convince me of a lesson that Anaïs and our geldings, Farinelli and Gulliver, had already taught me. It is this. Trust is a two-way street. You either trust your horse or you do not. I remember early on in my relationship with Pip there were times when she swung her head around and, if I was in the way, I got bashed. At a certain point she started to take pains to avoid bashing me. Now, if I happen to be in the way, she lifts her head over mine. The experience is similar to those I have had with Anaïs and our geldings.
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Trusting your horse can also be a truly liberating experience. About a year ago I rode Pip out on the trail solo for the first time. I did so after only having ridden about five times in seventeen years. And I did so with nothing but a bitless bridle and a bareback pad without any stirrups, the first time that I have ever done so in my entire life. A little short of 59 years of age at the time, I simply had to trust my horse in a situation like that or stay off her back. She did not let me down either literally or figuratively. The feeling was awesome.
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(Taken from the book, When Horses Speak and Humans Listen. For more information see http://www.horsesandhumans.com/mainsite/whsahl.htm.)
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Michael Bevilacqua has noted that a true relationship with a horse creates a “connection stronger than any rope or bridle” (Beyond the Dream Horse, p. 55). At the heart of that relationship is the trust that comes from the commitment which we give our horses to love and care for them selflessly and without expectation. Horses recognise such a commitment. Their response is trust, even to the point of going out of their way to protect their carer and to accommodate the outlandish (to the horse) requests we sometimes make of them. Indeed, they even tolerate our mistakes and weaknesses as long as we remain committed to their well-being and a relationship with them based on mutual trust.
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At least this is my experience. My weakness is a tendency to be bossy. In the past I wanted my horses to do as I commanded, and how and when I did so. And if they did not, by god or whomever I would show them. This is the route to impotence and this in turn gives rise to anger. I take the route of impotence far less frequently now than I used to but every now and then, I catch myself in the act. My horses look at me in askance and I look away in shame. And then I rein myself in and we continue on our new path together.
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And the more we trust each other, the less we need to communicate in the way of tools, techniques, gizmos, gadgets and the latest training approaches and methods. The metal went a long time ago, as did the rope halter and “carrot” stick, to be followed by the whip and all those more kindly sounding surrogates we are tempted to employ in lieu of one: the twigs, reeds, bamboos and the rest of them. Most of what I do with horses involves their care and well-being, and is done at liberty (such as trimming Pip’s hooves in a herd of up to forty horses as shown in the picture above) or on a loose lead attached to a comfortably lined webbing halter without any attempt to drive the horse one way or another. What makes all of this possible? In essence, trust!
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