The Soul of a Horse by Joe Camp Read Free Book Online

the time before. And I retreated immediately when he didn’t pull away.
    And rubbed him on the forehead.
Good boy.
    And so it went, gaining an inch or so with each try. If he pulled away, I’d go with him until he relaxed. It didn’t happen often. He was getting the picture.
    It took about ten minutes before my fingers were wrapped around the base of his ear, rubbing very gently. Then withdrawing.
    I quit for the day, feeling there had been a major breakthrough.
    The next day, after maybe twenty minutes of microprogressions, I wound up with my hand wrapped all the way around his ear and my thumb rubbing gently
inside.
    Just amazing.
    Approaching the other ear was not quite like starting at square one, but close. By the end of the week, I could rub both ears, inside and out, and today Cash virtually purrs when we do this, leaning into it, saying,
More, more.
    It’s truly exciting what a bit of understanding can do.
    And patience.
    That’s the huge lesson Cash, and all the other horses, are teaching me. I’ve never been accused of having a lot of patience.
    Not even a little.
    Cash showed me the way.
    Again.
    Don’t start halfway around the track, Joe. Start at the starting gate. Because when faced with an unruly horse who hasn’t begun at the beginning, a beast six or seven times your own weight, it’s a knee-jerk reaction to attempt to overcome the size relationship with force and dominance.
    I remember one of the first times I went on a trail ride. A mere kid, primed with years of cowboy movies, I wanted to let this huge creature know in no uncertain terms who was boss. Understand that this poor horse had probably been doing the same thing, dealing with idiots like me, day in and day out, for longer than I had been alive. But there I was, reins pulled tight, jerking this way and that, kicking his sides, establishing my dominance. Without a single clue.
    The real embarrassment is that, decades later, when Kathleen arranged the birthday trail ride, I was doing exactly the same things. Establishing my bossmanship. Looking like I knew what I was doing. Soaking up compliments from the trail leader.
    And in a way, I suppose, all of that’s fine for the occasional trail rider. Most trail horses know so much more than those who ride them, it’s difficult to do too much wrong. They won’t let you. They are turning, going, and stopping before you think about it so you don’t have to jerk on their mouth or kick them in the side. The years have taught them.
    But for the horse owner, there’s only one place to begin.
    At the beginning.
    Stand in the horse’s hooves. Study his history. Understand why he is the way he is, and why he acts the way he does.
    He’s a prey animal.
    You mean like a rabbit??
    Pretty much, yeah.
    But he weighs eleven hundred pounds!!
    Yep.
    Discover what makes him feel safe. What keeps him healthy. What he wants in a leader. And why.
    The following story is not mine. I asked and received permission from Monty Roberts to summarize it here because I feel it’s so important to understand what can actually be accomplished. Monty has written an entire book, entitled
Shy Boy,
on the subject. I encourage you to read it.
    Monty was asked by the BBC if he thought he could accomplish his Join-Up procedure totally in the wild. Without round pens, without lead lines. Just him and a wild horse. A mustang. He said yes, and a few months later he did just that. With cameras rolling, he joined up with a mustang in the wild, saddled, bridled, and placed a rider on the horse he later named Shy Boy. It took something like thirty-six hours to accomplish this feat. Monty was in the saddle of his own horse for most of that time. An amazing accomplishment. But the most important part of the story is this: A year later the BBC called again and asked Monty what he thought Shy Boy might do if he were returned to his herd. Would he choose to stay with the herd or would he stay with Monty?
    Frankly, Monty wasn’t sure he