HEALING THE HORSE WITHIN
I got the horse bug at five yrs old when my father would take me for pony rides every Sunday. Those would prove to be the fondest memories that I would hold dear to me of my Sundays spent with my Dad. Doing what I loved best, riding ponies.
My Father was an alcoholic and his alcoholism had progressed over the years. He had become extremely abusive, emotionally, mentally, verbally. He would tell me that I would never amount to anything. Like his alcoholism, his abuse had progressed over the years. I carried rage around inside of me, hurt, it was pure unbridled rage after living through years of abuse.
I had gotten into horses at 13, working at a barn in exchange for riding, but no one ever took the time to teach me the proper way of handling, or dealing with horses, I had never learned about riding the proper way either. I had seen horses at boarding barns weaving at their stall doors from lack of turn out. I had heard people make comments like, “oh the horse is so big they can’t feel a whip.” And I would think to myself, that horse feels a common house fly on it’s back and twitches it’s withers to get that fly off of it’s back. Are these people for real? I had always wanted to understand the horses more, how they communicate with one another, why they do the things they do.
In my 30’s, I purchased a horse I couldn’t handle, a big Belgian Cross. I paid a trainer for 30 days training, but wasn’t allowed to visit, or see the horse for the first 2 weeks of training, still not learning anything. I got on the horses back, but didn’t know how to work through his behavior issues. Sure he was one horse with the trainer, but I was his owner, what do I do now. I was told that I was too timid of a rider and that the horse was not for me, so, I purchased another horse that was more for me, bombproof, and a complete gentleman, but I still yearned to learn more about them and how to communicate with them.
One day I came across a small pony for sale, abscesses blown through her front hoof walls, thrush, and her hooves way too long. Head shy, I couldn’t touch any part of her body without her flinching and acting like I was going to hit her with an object. I’m a softie for animals that have been hurt, mishandled, misunderstood. Maybe because that was me growing up, hurt, crying out for help and always feeling as though no one was listening. I never anticipated this small, shy, pony and the woman I would meet because of her ,helping me heal from the inside, the way that the two of them are helping me heal today.
I answered an ad for a Natural Horsemanship Clinic held on March 14th at Leveland Farm on Purchase St. in Middleboro, Ma. being held by the owner of the farm, a woman by the name of Jen Goddard. Figuring this woman may be able to help me with my shy pony I contacted her. The woman answered me back and I went to meet her at her farm in Middleboro. She was working with an OTTB who had been pinning her ears back at her previous trainer lunging at the trainer.
I took one look at this horse and the way Jen was working with her, she had the horses attention, she had the horses respect. Not because Jen was being mean in any way possible, Jen knew exactly how to communicate with this horse using her own energy and body language with the horse. Once, and only once the horse pinned her ears back at Jen, but Jen was obviously in complete control and was able to get the horse back in the moment.
It hit me, that’s me, that horse, the OTTB that Jen was working with, I know that rage that horse is holding onto, someone mishandled that horse incorrectly. Even though the horse respected Jen, she was holding on to her dignity that someone took advantage of somewhere in her life. Jen showed me things that no one had ever taken the time and patience to teach me. She didn’t make me feel awkward about not knowing as much as she did about the horses she knows so well. She took the time with me patiently and walked me through the process.
I went home and tried what she had taught me with my pony the way she explained things. I figured what have I got to lose. This pony, I can’t catch, I can’t touch, I can’t pick up her feet, how do I get through to her. Within 20 minutes that pony was licking, chewing, dropping her head and blowing out air through her nostrils, submitting to me. I never had to touch the pony, what she feared most, the human touch. She came towards me walking ever so slowly for me to pat her and my heart melted for her. She was telling me from her heart and I was listening with mine. She said I’m doing what you want, please be gentle, please don’t hurt me anymore….DADDY……..
Suzanne Manning
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