Spirit

Spirit was her name when she arrived, and I’ve never considered changing it.

Since as long as I can remember, I’ve been crazy about horses. Everything I had was centered around horses. My books, my calendar, my little knick-knacks, my favorite movies. Horses were my theme; the only thing I was interested in at that time. I talked about them, I drew them, I even dreamed about them. I checked out every book at the library that had anything to do with horses. I thought, If I were to get a horse right now, we would become bosom friends and ride into the sunset together. I believed that I was completely prepared. After all, I’d read every horse book in the kids’ section at the library. So I started asking my parents, telling them how much I wanted a horse, and how I would take the best care of it and bla bla bla. My mom told me that maybe it might happen someday, but not now. That was probably a subtle kind of “No; absolutely not; out of the question.” But I didn’t give up on the idea. I started praying for one. I kept reading. I watched horse movies and read fiction, and learned how you were supposed to treat the horse very kindly, be gentle, and earn its love and trust. You must never lose your temper, raise your voice, or hit the horse. People who hit horses in the movies were tyrannical brutes, determined to break that horse’s spirit. I knew I would never be like them.

Years later, I walked outside to see a trailer pulling into our driveway. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I distinctly remember pretending not to be interested so that nobody would make fun of me for getting my hopes up. I walked out casually to watch. My dad was out there, talking to the people. And then the horse appeared. The woman who led her walked her into the yard. I was ecstatic, watching that horse wander around, the woman trailing behind her. She was such a small, dear little horse with a sweet face. I was overjoyed. I could only stand there and stare at her. My dream had come true!

Our neighbor had started helping us in the way he knew. The first day, he told me and my brothers that he wanted us to take turns walking her around the yard to teach her to lead. So we started doing that. It was great. I could even start running and have her speed up slightly. I was practically running in place and dragging her behind me sometimes but what did it matter? She moved a little bit, and that was enough for me. The next morning, I was in a good mood and everything. Time to continue her training! I clipped on the lead rope and started to walk the length of the yard. She was doing great! I felt a slight pull at the rope and so I turned to look at her. She was up on her back legs, rearing, and towering above me. I was scared. I forgot about being a gentle friend and coaxing her down. Instead, I backed off fast. She came back to the ground, and lowered her head. She tore up grass as if nothing had happened. I thought maybe she had just gotten a little frightened for a moment, so I picked up the lead rope and started walking again, pulling her along behind me. It wasn’t long before she reared again, and this time, I panicked. I called my brother over and asked him if he wanted to walk her for a little while. He was fine with it. I don’t think he had seen her rear up. I got behind the fence and watched him lead her around the yard. She did good…for a few minutes. Then she reared up again, and I yelled out the instructions I could remember from the horse books and movies. “Calm her down! Speak gently to her! Maybe scratch her neck a bit!” I think he tried, but he came back and we took the halter off her and decided that she’d had enough for one day. She turned as soon as I took off the halter and walked off. I pressed myself against the fence so that she wouldn’t flatten me against it when she walked by. I was shocked. Horses weren’t supposed to act this way.

For the next several days, it was the same. We tried to walk her, but she would rear up, so we would leave her alone. Maybe the next day would be a better one. But it never was. In fact, it got worse and worse. when the farrier came to trim her hooves, I was surprised that she kicked at him and tried to rear up a couple of times. I thought, Well, maybe she just doesn’t like him. I wouldn’t want anyone messing with my feet, either.

One day, when I was pulling her behind me across the yard, she reared up again. This time, she hit me in the back of the head. I undid the halter, let her go, and went inside. I remember I was crying. Everything was all wrong. She didn’t like me at all, not one little bit. She didn’t want to be my friend. I wasn’t sure I liked her very much any more.

Things went on the same. Our neighbor finally put her in the roundpen and started to lunge her. She would move, because of the whip, but it was crazy every time anyone stepped in there and tried to move her. She would crash against the sides of the roundpen. I wondered why she didn’t injure herself. And when the person inside the roundpen grew tired of running after her and swinging the whip to make her move, she grew lazy. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. Finally, we tried to lunge her outside of the roundpen. It was a mess. She would turn out of the circle we tried to lunge her in and pull the rope right out of our hands; drag us halfway across the yard. Things were just getting worse and worse, and I didn’t want to waste time with her if I was only going to be pushed around. I left her alone. But I still went outside and watched her stuff her face with grass. Well, that is, until one day she started backing up in my direction and I ran so I wouldn’t get kicked.

One day, I noticed my dad was watching some horse training videos on YouTube. I watched over his shoulder. It was impressive, what the trainer could do, and how beautifully the horse responded to him. I wished Spirit was like that horse. I wished that she and I could be as coordinated as the horse and trainer on the screen. That trainer was Clinton Anderson.

My dad decided that we were going to take riding lessons so that we could gather a little bit of experience around horses. We started going to them and we were able to ride, and interact with 3 horses. It built my confidence a little, but Spirit was sitting in the yard doing nothing but eating and drinking and intimidating anyone who came up to her. We still had no clue how to manage her. It was about then that my dad decided to purchase the Fundamentals, Intermediate, and Advanced horse training dvds of Downunder Horsemanship. Until he brought them home, I really hadn’t known much about Clinton Anderson. I had only heard what he’d said about it, and it sounded good. We started watching the videos, and as we began to learn the Method, I realized how completely wrong about horses I had been, how I had allowed her to get as bad as she was, and how I’d encouraged her, and taught her to be that way. I had been doing everything wrong. It was an eye-opening experience.

I had nagged at my horse until she grew frustrated, and reacted. When I chose to back off so I wouldn’t anger her, I was teaching her that in order to get rid of me, all she had to do was rear up or kick out and I’d leave her alone. All that time when I had been thinking about showing her that I wanted to be friends, she had been establishing her dominance from the beginning, pushing into me and moving my feet all over the yard. I had shown her that I was weak, and that she was the boss. And as a result, she had become the boss.

We decided to try Clinton Anderson’s way instead of the way we’d been doing things. It was a tough experience, and I completely relearned everything I had known about horses. I realized that Spirit was not looking for a buddy, she was looking for someone to dominate. I couldn’t make her respect me by loving her and being kind, she didn’t understand that. The one thing I could do to gain her respect was to move her feet: Forwards, Backwards, Left, and Right. Nothing else could make her understand. It was difficult sometimes, but perseverance always has its reward. She began to change. Her head lowered. She would give me two eyes, and wait for my move. I could actually touch her without her rearing up.

I completely regained my confidence, because I had learned who she really was, and what she really wanted. I had learned how to speak in her language. There were still bad days, when she made me so mad that I hated her, but if I kept the pressure and released as soon as she did what she was supposed to, she learned.

She still tests me every now and then; she’s not perfect…but the great thing is, I know what to do now. There’s an explanation for everything, and there’s an answer for everything with Downunder Horsemanship. Any problem can be fixed. We brought her through the Fundamentals, and she’s at a point where I can ride her and enjoy myself now, because I know that if she tests me, I can yield her hindquarters, I can flex her to a stop. And then I can move her off again. Because of the exercises that we’ve taught her, riding her is fun. I’m still astonished at how different she is now from when we first got her. She is a great horse, and I like her a whole lot more now than I did when I first got her.

The reason I’ve never considered changing her name is because her spirit was not broken when we changed our way of thinking. She is still a horse, and she still makes mistakes, but it doesn’t take her long to learn the right way to respond. The right way to apply that spirit. I enjoy groundwork and riding with her now. But I can’t imagine what it would have been like if we hadn’t changed the way we did things. I don’t want to imagine! A long time ago, I dreamed of the moment when I would ride into the sunset on a beautiful horse. It’s not a fairy tale by any chance, but I think I can honestly say that my dream has come true.