Do We Love Them Too Much?

I have a possibly touchy subject in mind today.

It goes hand in hoof with the decisions I've been wrestling with about my own horses.

I have too many. I can't afford them all. I don't have time to ride them all. I am uncomfortable carrying the responsibility of this many horses on my shoulders.

My extra horse is highly rideable, healthy, a good age (12) and sound. She is a national champion with a solid amount of earnings on her.

She also is emotionally fragile, sometimes anxious and prone to falling apart in the show pen. I take responsibility for her problems because I was her owner when they developed.

My gut reaction is to keep her forever. I am afraid for her. Anybody who rides her will want to show her. I can't reliably say what she would do or how she would behave.

I am afraid she will end up at a sale.

It was pointed out by an astute reader of this blog that I am stopping someone from getting a wonderful horse at a good price because I think I'm the only one who can possibly understand her.

So I have been thinking, when does our ego interfere with the reality of horse ownership?

Why are we so sure we're the only answer for our beloved companions?

Do we really understand the bond we form with a horse?

How much of our own needs do we put on our horses?

I worked an awful lot of horses during my years as a trainer. There were times when they became such a blur I stalled them according to the bit they were in. I couldn't remember their names or color. I couldn't describe them to my assistants.

So I quit thinking about it. I tied a rag to the stall door for every bit change. Then I just felt around on the horse until something clicked and I remembered where we were on our last ride.

It worked fine unless an owner called to chat about their horse's progress after 8 p.m. Then I was stuck.

I have noticed something. Every time I run into a horse I started or trained, even if it was years ago, the horse remembers me and gives me a friendly greeting.

They don't whinny and come running. But they give me a bright look, extend their nose and sniff as I pass. Invariably I stop and the horse's name, training and how things went come rushing to me. I love the feeling.

I also loved the day when a horse accepted me. I often had horses who came in either angry or afraid. I made them angrier or more afraid with each passing day until about the 30 to 45 day mark.

Then one day I would walk into the barn and be greeted by a friendly horse and a look of "What's up today boss?"

I always got a huge rush when this happened. It meant the horse was finally getting the idea and my job was about to become much easier. It also meant the horse liked me. It might be unprofessional, but this was really important to me.

When do we start confusing friendship for undying love?

I was extremely close to my first horse, Mort. When I went away to school he would be quiet for a day or two. When I came home there was a wild bucking display as I got out of the car. Here was a horse who actually came trotting up with a nicker and a snort.

The thing is he was just fine in between my visits home.

My daughter has a horse who is wild about her. When she comes to see him he comes running. If a month goes by in between rides he is still as wildly excited to see her as when she rides him for 2 weeks straight.

When she's not around he is fine.

I have seen a horse mourn. My old mare Annie went into a deep depression when she was first separated from her companion of many years, a ditzy mare named Trixie.

She stood at the corner of her pen and looked up the road in the direction of our old ranch. She went off her feed and was down enough we called the vet. He gave her a vitamin B shot and told us to keep an eye on her. Eventually she cheered up and was fine.

Years later she met with Trixie again. Annie whinnied and hollered and about drug my daughter to see her old pasture mate. Trixie seemed unaware of who she was. Annie got so mad she kicked her.

I know horses recognize old friends, both equine and human, they also remember old enemies.

Does this mean they love us so much we're hurting them by selling them?

Horses are herd animals. They are genetically programmed to form tight bonds in order to keep the herd strong.

Horses are also prey animals. They are eaten.

In the wild, newborn foals are immediate targets. So are the old and sick.

What stronger bond can there be than the bond between old friends and mother and off-spring?

Yet when a horse dies the herd continues on. The horses eat, drink, run. A mare may call for a day or two, but eventually she goes back to grazing.

If horses weren't able to accept the loss of a herd leader, a foal or a long time friend they wouldn't survive as a species. I really think they are hard wired to accept sudden, often traumatic loss and continue on mentally undamaged.

If they weren't as adaptable and accepting as they are we wouldn't be able to ride them. They would never be able to leave their dams.

Humans, on the other hand develop strong fierce bonds. We horsaii develop the same bonds with our horses. We can't imagine life without them. We can imagine all kinds of horror that could happen to them. The sadness we would feel at their loss becomes, in our minds, the horse's sadness.

An old hand once told me, "A horse's best friend is whoever shows up with a hay bale."

I don't know if I can go quite that far, but I think he was wiser than emotional me.

When I have the opportunity to ride a horse for several years there is a level of communication that develops that I do think is irreplaceable. I know if I ride the same horse years later we will fall in sync within a couple of rides.

It doesn't mean the same horse doesn't have an entirely different, but equally satisfying relationship with the person who currently rides them.

It's what makes them so wonderful.

It's what makes them so hard to part with.

But I don't think it matters that much to the horse. When we're not with them I think they accept it. When we come back it's a welcome surprise, but in between I think we're kidding ourselves if we think our horses are dwelling on where we might be.

Food, water, sun, companionship. It's all they want.

So I guess I have to decide what my needs are in this relationship. I have to decide what's the best deal for us both.

I wish I could talk Crystal into another horse.