Posted on 11/06/2005 3:33:39 PM PST by linkinpunk
The Times November 04, 2005
People love horses. the payback is that they will break your bones, your bank and your heart
By Simon Barnes
WHEN you enter the horsey life, you make a pact. Like a pact with the devil, but different. A pact with the angels, if you like. The deal is that you will find incomparable joy in the beauty and the wildness of the life. The payback is that horses will break your bones, your bank and your heart. This is a deal that people accept willingly, avidly. And with the shockingly public death of the great champion, Best Mate, this week, it is worth reflecting on the way the pact works.
The horse is a genius. A genius of evolution. Across the world, wild equids are under threat: the African and the Asian wild ass, the Grevy’s and the mountain zebra, Przewalski’s wild horse. But Equus caballus played a card that these other horsey creatures did not. They acquired an affinity for humans. They adopted the difficult and dangerous strategy of domestication.
Humans and horses established a relationship of mutual exploitation. Horses were domesticated for meat, for transport, for warfare, in ways that ranged from violation to worship. Either way, at least in survival terms, it worked for the horses. They got fed, sheltered, watered, protected. They bred, increased, thrived. It worked for countless millenniums.
Then came the tricky bit in the early part of the last century. Transport and warfare were mechanised and horses were no longer needed for purely practical tasks. But once again, horses performed an extraordinary evolutionary shift. They showed that if they were not needed for practical tasks, they could still fulfil a human need. Modern humans do not need horses for anything but pleasure and the horses have adapted and now give pleasure without stinting. Joy, quite literally, is the reason for the horse’s continued existence.
It is a strange business, and death and sadness are an inextricable part of it. That is because the whole business is based around love; and love is the greatest risk in the world. To love is to accept that loss will give you the deepest pain imaginable. Love, then, is also a pact.
To love an animal that has a shorter lifespan than your own is to make the possibility of loss a near certainty. Some scoffed yesterday that the fuss about Best Mate was over the top: only an animal, only a horse. This is to take an unrealistic view of love. People love their dogs, their cats, their horses. Love is not something we give only to humans. To lose a loved one cannot fail to bring grief. This is not to say that dogs and cats and horses are human, only that love is love.
There is a difference, one not always noted, between sentiment and sentimentality. But there is an important difference between horses and dogs, cats, hamsters and goldfish. The horse is the pet that can kill. This puts the relationship on an altogether different footing. I’ve had a couple of injuries this year, one from a fall, one from a kick. It happens.
It’s dangerous. It’s supposed to be dangerous. All the fussy procedure you find in the horsey world, particularly from such organisations as the British Horse Society, is designed to help you to deal with an inherently dangerous situation as safely as possible. That doesn’t make it safe: well, would we bother to do it if it was safe?
Every domestic animal has been selectively bred for docility. Except the horse. With the horse, the wildness has never been bred out. You can take the horse out of the wilderness, but — as a matter of deliberate policy — you do not attempt to take the wilderness out of the horse. You want a horse that runs and jumps, and these are wild matters.
Speed comes from the way a wild horse lives, the way a domestic horse still thinks. A horse will fly from danger and stick with the herd, and the top dog will want to be in front. Flat racing is a sport based on Darwinian principles: only the best get to breed, only the best get to become ancestors.
The enormous human response to horses and, by extension, to horsey sports, goes back to the nostalgia for wildness. I have spent extended periods in the Luangwa Valley in Zambia and friends often ask if I miss the life in the bush. I tell them that, at home, I have wildness all around me; and I find it in the hearts and the minds of my horses.
Life in the bush is hard and beautiful and uncompromising. The bush teems with life and therefore it also teems with death. In the bush, these matters are brought into sharp focus. The buffalo go down to drink and the lions are waiting. That is the way it is, and good.
The horsey life brings you something of the same clarity. Life is not something you take utterly for granted; death is not something you can avoid thinking about. Horses die. So do the people who choose to live around them. In one terrible year of 1999, five riders were killed in the sport of eventing.
A few weeks ago, my young horse understood for the first time that it was acceptable to gallop with a rider on her back. She put her head between her knees to express her delight at this and bucked and bucked, and I managed not only to stay on board but also to encourage her onward, so that she forgot about bucking and found as much joy in the gallop as I did.
But it is not the peak experiences that keep us involved in the horsey life. The point about Best Mate was not just that he won the Gold Cup three times. There is also a long story about foaling and nurture and daily involvement; a long story about his trainer’s attempt to understand that wild mind.
The horsey life is an unending journey to the limits of the human mind. It is an attempt to understand, not an alien culture or an alien religion or an alien race, but an alien species. The extraordinary and thrilling affinity between the radically different minds of humans and horses has rewarded both humans and horses for thousands of years.
Even in the 21st century, we turn to horses. No, let me rephrase that. Especially in the 21st century, we turn to horses. Our world is too tame, too comfortable, and our children grow up in shopping malls with childhoods circumscribed by paedophilia-phobia and the laws on health and safety. We are becoming a species cut off from all others, and it doesn’t feel good.
But when we associate with horses, we claim back something of our lost wildness, our lost wilderness. With horses, we are back in touch with our fellow animals. With horses, we become more truly human. The more we concrete over the world, the more horses such as Best Mate mean to people.
Circus trainers will tell you horses are the stupidest animals they train. They forget their routines quicker than any other animal. As a former rider who has been thrown, kicked, bitten and otherwise abused by horses I can say that I have no love for them. In fact, I think the French actually have a pretty good attitude towards horses. They eat them.
I have never seen any study comparing a horse's intelligence compared to other animals.
But I have met plenty of stupid people who got themselves hurt because they did stupid things around horses.
And I did not mean that as an insult to you. : )
Pinging the horsey set
You can be smart around horses and still get hurt. They're large powerful stupid animals. I was raised around Quarter Horses and they are some of the most inbred nervous horses out there. If I had been around a different breed I might have a different opinion.
It does help to know about horses before you get around them.
And they average 1,000 pounds, not 2000 pounds, btw.
Horses' instincts tell them to run from danger since they are a prey animal, not a preditor.
They think much like a deer thinks. They see potential trouble and run.
This time of year, I hear lots of hunters talk about how they were outsmarted by a deer.
"They are smart. That buck knew I was out there. As soon as he saw me, he ran."
But when a horse has a similiar reaction, it is called "stupid."
I have Quarter Horses, and I would not characterize them as in bred or nervous. Our stud horse is the most gentle laid back horses I have ever owned and I have had alot of young beginner children ride him.
No doubt there are some out there that have problems. I've had some:). But most of the problems I've encountered with QH's have been caused by people. IMO, Quarters are about the most level headed breed out there.
JMO tho:), and I admit to be being throughly prejudice:)
Becky
The average riding horse is NOT 2000 lbs.
They can still hurt you tho, no doubt. They do require alot of respect.
Becky
Ping
Becky
We've discussed this issue on the Saddle Thread. I guess alot depends on your definition of pet. But by my definition, I don't consider my horses as "pets". That's where you can (IMO) get into trouble when dealing with a horse. I view them as "working animals" Yes I love my horses, but they still have to do the work I need them too. The minute I get halter them they go to work, we don't "play" together like I would with a pet. Anyway, just thought I'd throw that in.
Becky
I learned to ride on an Arab with A-D-D.
Yes, QHs are a much quieter breed. Wish I had started on one of them.
My husband and I were discussing this today. He says I'm the first and he is the later. We are trying to "understand" each other:')
I agree.
Last weekend, I went on a trailride with a girl (woman) who's horse was her "pet."
The horse had very little respect for her, failing to stop when asked to and bucking when excited.
Her solution was to run to TSC and buy a new and stronger bit.
I rode an Arab early on in my horse career too. He was actually pretty good. when my kids got into rodeoing that's when we started going towards Quarters. Now I wouldn't own anything else. I do long distance competeing on mine and he does fine.
Becky
:(
Becky
The Arab is now very quiet. But he was rescued from an abusive/neglectful home. So it took a lot of work to get him that way.
My 15 year old daughter rode her for fair this summer.
And now my 10 year old daughter and non-horse riding wife both like him now since he is so quiet.
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