Horse Mavericks

Lanny West pointed to a little shelf under the window of the barn. “Go get that brush over there,” he said.

The horse shifted his weight on the concrete slab when I walked around him.

“Make sure you follow the direction of the hair,” he said.

I ran my hand along Gambler’s coat to feel how his fur swept back and down. Then I brushed. Gambler’s muscles twitched. Hair and dust billowed into the air at the end of each stroke.

“Don’t dig in the bristles,” Lanny said. “It irritates him.”

I lightened the pressure. I hoped that the less I bothered Gambler, the more Lanny would be willing to teach me that day. I became engrossed by every detail–the direction of the hairs, the way crusty fur smoothed after a few strokes, the way Gambler’s muscles held still when I didn’t press too hard.

Lanny’s voice interrupted my concentration. “Make sure he’s watching you. If you can’t see his eye, discipline him.”

I snorted. It was silly of me to become so focused on brushing the fur that I wasn’t aware of what the horse was doing. I shifted my attention. Out of the corner of my eye, I looked to see if I could find Gambler’s dark glassy lenses. The horse turned his head in the opposite direction.

“See right there,” Lanny said. “Discipline him.”

I took a step back and held the brush at my side. It was too late. Gambler would not have known what I was asking. “Hey” I said to get his attention. Gambler swung his head toward me. I went back to brushing. After a couple of strokes, he turned his head away. I gave him a resounding swat on his shoulder. “Good” Lanny said.

Maybe so, I thought. But I felt mean. I continued to brush. I could see Gambler’s eye, but his nose was slightly tilted in the opposite direction. I wasn’t quite sure if the behavior was acceptable.

Lanny seemed to read my mind. “As long as you can see the eye, he’s watching you,” he said.

I ran the brush down Gambler’s back. He glanced away. I swatted him with the palm of my hand. He swung his head around and looked directly at me with his right eye. He understood what I wanted from him. After a second or two, he pointed his head forward, but kept watching me.

When I resumed brushing he tilted his nose ever so slightly in the opposite direction, but I could still see his eye. He was testing me. I waited for the inevitable. When Gambler snuck a glance outside, I swatted him so hard, my palm stung. This time, I didn’t feel mean at all.

Gambler wasn’t a bit alarmed. He turned his head back just enough. “He’s messing with me,” I said.

“You gotta get after him. Move his butt around.” Confused I took my attention off the horse and gave Lanny a quizzical expression. Gambler turned his head away.

“Stand back,” Lanny said.

When I took a couple of steps away, Lanny’s voice suddenly filled the barn. “Now you listen to me,” he said to Gambler.

My shoulders jumped involuntarily. I slinked into the tack room safe from the startled horse and the authoritative energy coming from Lanny.

I peaked through the door just as Lanny tapped Gambler’s rump with the end of the rope. That horse moved his butt so fast it was as if he had just been shocked.

Then everything was quiet. The horse lowered his head. The muscles, which were quivering moments before, relaxed and he chewed his lips.

“See what just happened,” Lanny said pointing to Gambler’s mouth.

I nodded.

“He knows I’m boss. He doesn’t have to worry about it anymore.” In times past, Lanny had explained the importance of pecking order. When a horse knows his status in a herd, he can relax. Lanny clearly asserted himself as the leader, so Gambler didn’t have to worry about it anymore.

“You can’t pick at a horse. You’re just irritating him. You have to make sure he knows you’re boss.” In other words, my swats were not communicating to Gambler that I was the one in charge. “You’ve got to get a hold of the horse’s mind,” he said.

I thought Lanny just wanted me to learn how to groom a horse. I should have known better. He always emphasized the importance of keeping the horse’s attention no matter what I was doing. If I didn’t have a hold of the horse’s mind, I was unsafe.

photo credit:  David Blaine