Yesterday, I slipped out into the afternoon sun, grabbed a halter and walked up the farm to get Saffy out of the paddock. I had planned for working longer, but the still warm day seduced me, and it seemed that there was no better time to be spent than outside with a horse.
With their rugs off in the first day of the spring sun, Saffy stood in her rich redness and I sidled up to have a conversation. For the best part of a year, we have done little together by way of formal work. Much of what we might have considered to be “challenges” together have self-resolved; or rather resolved without intervention on my part.
Her fellow horsey friends have taught her about order and manners and our daily interactions of rugs on, rugs off, may I check your feet, may I brush your mane, can I give you a snuggle, have afforded us a level of trust that makes our dealings together smoother when more is asked or required.
Saffy is a red mare. She’s smart, focused, and athletic. She likes to be asked to do something in a manner that understands the queen that she is. She can take care of herself and does not suffer fools.
If she’s in the paddock, she’s the first to march ahead if something new or unusual is introduced. She’s brave. A horse you could see would stand in front of her people and look out for them.
I love that about her.
Given her limited experience in the world of training for Wot-humans-want, she is brilliant. Quick to learn, quick to understand and quick to apply.
As I send her out on the line, I love that the platform we begin from is in reverence of that.
You are so smart, Saffy, I tell her. You are brilliant.
I’m overwhelmed with the intelligence of horses. How they figure things out and decipher the human game of charades that we present them with.
I wonder how much better our experiences would be if we all started from that place.
If the first thing we did when we looked at our horses is thought, you are brilliant.
How smart you are.
I wanted to share that with you today.