The Soul of a Horse (6 page)

7

To Sleep Perchance to Dream

B
y human standards it had been a very short nap, but it was deep REM sleep, and it was all the stallion needed. He had dreamed about the humans on horses who had been chasing the herd. One had gotten close, and the stallion had turned and confronted the horse, who then reared, threw his rider, and raced off with the stallion to rejoin the herd. As it should be.

The herd had encircled him while he was sleeping, protecting their protector. The sentinel was on duty. It’s the same anytime any horse lies down. The herd gathers and guards. The sentinel watches and listens. Horses need REM sleep and cannot get it standing up. But on the ground they are more vulnerable to predators, so most horses will not lie down unless guarded by the herd. One of the many reasons why nature never intended horses to live in isolation.

It was dark now, and the golden stallion was up and about, fully refreshed. It was time to change locations. Move away from where they were last seen by man. He nudged the mare and she wandered through the herd, nuzzling and growling. Calling the troops to order.
Time to move on.
And they did.

The herd would move seven miles to the south before stopping again. A small stand of spruce along the edge of a ridge would provide all the cover they needed for others in the herd to get some sleep. The men, if they did come looking, would not find them, would not even be able to see them until morning, and by then they’d be gone, once more on the move.

8

The Wild Horse Model

O
ur new natural pasture was ready. Not a pasture in the
green grass
sense of the word. This one was dirt and rocks and virtually straight up and down. Very steep. But in those ways it actually matched our research on the
wild horse model,
which, in essence, is an attempt to imitate the way horses live in the wild. And it was the best we could do with the virtually unusable acre and a half behind our house. It was surrounded by an inexpensive electric fence inside a perimeter fence of chain link that was already in place.

And now it was time to try it.

We were worried.

Was it too steep? Would the horses like it? Were there too many rocks and boulders? Would they hurt themselves? Would they all get along in the same pasture?

Scribbles was first.

He’s the quiet one. A gorgeous paint, but not long on charisma. He’s the one most likely to be found standing in a corner, seemingly motionless, for hours.
Lazy
would be a merciful understatement. He has the best
whoa
of any of our six, because it’s his favorite speed. No reins needed. Just sit back a little, then hold on for the screech of tires.
Can we stop now?
is his favorite question. He leads like it’s an imposition to ask him to move.
Oh, all right, if you insist, but you have no idea how much effort this is.

Which is why his first venture into the natural pasture left me with my mouth hanging open in astonishment. As the halter fell away, he spun and was gone like a bullet. Racing, kicking the air, tossing his head, having the best time I’d ever seen him have. This was not a horse I had met before. He went on for a good ten minutes, with me just standing there, grinning like an idiot.

I could imagine that somewhere inside those two brains he was screeching
Whoopee! I’m free! I’m free!
Finally, he trotted back over and in his own begrudging little way said thank-you. That was the beginning of a new way of life for Scribbles and his five herd mates.

Horses in the wild, on average, are healthier and more sound and, under decent conditions, live longer than horses in domestic environments, say Dr. Strasser and natural hoof specialist Jaime Jackson, among others. That doesn’t mean we should turn all our horses loose. It means that we should exert every effort to care for them at least as well as they care for themselves in the wild. To pattern their care after the wild horse model rather than after the human or dog model. In effect, to replicate as much of their lifestyle in the wild as is humanly possible.

As the logic of that research sank in, Kathleen and I often found ourselves looking at each other through astonished eyes. Either our discoveries were truly amazing or we were certifiably nuts. How could so many people be so wrong for so long? It simply didn’t make any sense.

“But we began the same way,” Kathleen said one day. “We were right there, buying into the same things.”

She was right. When we began this journey, I’m not even sure we realized that wild horses still existed. We certainly didn’t know that they had been around for fifty-five million years. So, like most people, we had given no thought to how they had survived all that time with no assistance from humans. We had never read Dr. Strasser, so we didn’t know about her research, which concludes that horses in the wild today can live up to twice as long as the average domestic horse. So, of course, it follows that we had no idea why. We simply had no knowledge of any of it, so how could it apply to us? Which, unfortunately, is the case with most of the folks we’ve run into.

Now, when we start spewing all this information at some unsuspecting horse owner, eyes widen and jaws drop. And some of them rush off to get away from the weirdos.

But many of them rush off to be pardoned by their horses.

And that makes it worth the effort.

These are the easy ones. The open ones. The ones who see the logic of it all.

The tough ones say, “Oh, that’s so wrong. The domestic horse has been bred and cross-bred so many ways that he’s not even the same species as the wild horse anymore.”

This is unfortunate because the experts tell us that millions of years of genetics could never be wiped out by a few generations of selective breeding. The reason many of these folks truly believe what they’re saying is because their horse has had some sort of disorder, like lameness, for so long that they are certain he must be genetically unfit. However, the problem most often lies in his metal shoes, or his tiny stall, or his diet, or stress.

Documented case after case confirms that these unhealthy domestic horses can become healthy again if the source of their ill health is removed, if they’re given the opportunity to live as nature intended.

The story of Shy Boy answers the question of whether horses can be happier domestically than in the wild. Without debate. We know from study and firsthand experience that humans can have amazing relationships with horses. They can become part of the herd and be chosen as a leader. But a good herd leader cares for his or her herd in the best possible way. The knowledge we’ve gobbled up and the experience we’ve gained overwhelmingly confirms that the best possible way is from the perspective of the horse, not the perspective of the human. Horses want and need to feel safe, to be as healthy as possible, and to live as long and happy a life as they can. And none of that happens when they’re away from the herd, motionless in tiny stalls, eating only a couple of times a day.

I was out with the horses one night, thinking I could get the feeding and mucking done before the rain started. The rain that wasn’t even supposed to be here in October. But there it was, and wet I was, and cold. The temperature was only in the midfifties, but to me, sopping wet, that was
freezing.

I looked at our horses, heads down, dripping with water, and I just couldn’t stand it. I went for the halters and lead ropes and brought them into their covered stalls. The stalls are open, actually only half-covered, with one solid side facing the usual weather assault, but if we’d had a cozy barn with central heating and warm fuzzy pillows, I’m sure I wouldn’t have hesitated to take them right in.

It’s difficult for humans, especially when cold and wet, to understand that the horses do
not
feel like we do.

I was traveling with my son, who was looking for investment property in northern Idaho. We had been driven out to a gorgeous ranch with a huge log house, fenced pastures…and a spectacular six-stall barn. While my son was kicking tires and asking questions, I was having quite the nice time strolling around this beautiful place, lusting after such a spot, especially the barn. What is it about us humans that makes us want a big barn almost more than we want the horses that would go in it? As I walked down the center aisle, I was struck by how clean it was. Pristine! When the owner happened by, I said, “Do you never use this barn? It’s so clean.”

“Oh sure,” he said. “We use it for hay storage.”

“What about the horses?”

“They like to be outside.”

“Even in the winter? In the snow?”

“Yep.”

We were only twelve miles from the Canadian border. Winters are not warm here. I was amazed.

The owner walked around the barn to show me a lean-to he had built, which was attached to the side of the structure. Just a roof, with divided stalls, to keep the horses separated when eating grain. They had free access to this shed, but never came into it except for their grain. Again, I was amazed. This ran so counter to everything I felt for my horses. We want to think of them as big dogs, and treat them in the same manner.

They aren’t big dogs.

Not even close.

Dogs, like humans, are cave dwellers—predators, who feel comfortable taking care of themselves. They run in packs primarily to gain advantage in the hunt, not for safety. Pat Parelli says humans and dogs are most interested in praise, recognition, and material things. Horses are not interested in any of that. Horses are interested in safety, emotional comfort, play, food, and procreation. Praise, recognition, and material things are of no interest to them. At all.

Hard to grasp, isn’t it?

But, come on, what harm can it do to show a bit of TLC by storing them away in a nice comfy stall, with central heat and air, a bit of velvet on the walls, and a soft, cushy floor?

A lot of harm. Believe me when I tell you: a lot.

What we humans feel our sweet babies should have is most often exactly the opposite of what they need for health and happiness.

A horse’s entire physiology has been built over millions of years to:

                  Move a minimum of fifteen to twenty miles a day, on bare hooves

                  Be with the herd, physically and thus emotionally safe, unstressed

                  Spend sixteen to eighteen hours a day eating…from the ground, a variety—continuous uptake in small quantities to suit their small tummies

                  Control their own thermoregulatory system, thus controlling their own internal body temperature with no outside assistance, such as heat, blankets, and the like