Sometimes your horse
speaks louder than words.
BY KITSON JAZYNKA
How many times have you heard someone say “hors- es teach us patience”? Maybe my horses have been the quiet kind of educators over the years, teaching invisible lessons that had unnoticed impact. But that’s not how it was one Friday night last summer. My horse (using an equine version of positive reinforcement) refreshed my skills in managing frustration. I arrived at the barn grinding my teeth about summer
plans gone awry, long-distance family drama, work, heat and kids. I drove down
the driveway and slowed as I passed the gate to Taff’s field. He was standing
there as if he was waiting for me. I called to him. He looked my way. I lingered a
moment then drove on to park my car. I didn’t notice him turn away.
See Ya Later
After grabbing my halter, I walked back out to the field. I called to my horse. He
hadn’t gone far, but he didn’t lift his head or nicker like he often does when he
sees me coming. Instead, he turned
his rear to me. He seemed to shift his
weight so he could be ready to walk
away if I approached.
Of course I approached. I stomped
my way across the distance between
him and me. He walked farther away.
I showed him that I had treats and
waited for him to walk to me. But he
went the other direction. We repeated this sequence a few more times.
I resorted to doling out my sweet
treats to the other horses crowding
Taff, a Welsh Cob whose name
means “friend,” looked back at me
YOUR HORSE LIFE