In the Beginning

When I first began working at the rescue, The SummerWinds Stables had recently taken over management of Greener Pastures, a 165 acre horse sanctuary located on the Sassafras River in Maryland. Donated years before by Doris Wear, the property was to be used both as home for retired and rescued horses and a wildlife sanctuary. It had been managed by several organizations before SummerWinds and had a resident population of 15 horses, most retired thoroughbreds, a great blue heron rookery and a nesting pair of bald eagles.


The fifteen horses at the sanctuary lived on good pasture and were well nourished but were not handled frequently and many of them were cautious around humans. Since it was late spring when I first came to the rescue, many of the horses were still shedding their winter coats. While most of them were in good physical condition, their coats, manes and tails showed the effects of a lack of grooming. This was particularly true of their tails with many of them being so tangled and matted that they were almost club-like. Horses use their tails as fly swatters and in their current condition; many of the tails would be ineffective. As the weather continued to warm, the increase in insects would likely be very bothersome to many of these horses.

In my experience, most horses like to be groomed, particularly when they are shedding so I thought it would be an easy task to clean up this group of horses, improving their appearance and making them more comfortable by removing loose hair and detangling their tails. But these horses were not used to being handled. Some of them were difficult to catch and they all became agitated when haltered and removed from their pastures buddies. It was clear to me that before I could begin any serious attempts at grooming; I was going to have to gain their trust.

At the time, I didn’t know anything about natural horsemanship. I had heard about horse whisperers and read one book by Monty Roberts but that was about as far as my knowledge went. What I did have was 25 years experience working with my own horse, Max, who had taught me that a horse will mirror my energy. When I was quiet and confident, Max would remain calm but if I got upset or excited, Max would get frightened and agitated. So I figured the best approach to working with these horses was to just be a calm and constant presence.

At the rescue, the horses were split between three pastures. They were fed grain morning and evening, coming into paddocks to eat from buckets hung from the paddock fences. After the horses were finished eating, I would take a curry comb and brush and go into each paddock to groom whichever horses would stand still for me. In the beginning, several of the horses wouldn’t even let me touch them. If a horse turned or walked away when I approached, I would retreat and approach a different horse. If I was brushing a horse and it chose to walk off, I would let him go. I never forced the issue. I might try to approach the horse again, but I always let the horse have the final say. I spoke quietly while I was working and purposefully stayed calm. Some days, I would take a halter and lead line into the paddock and try to halter the horses. If I could get the halter on a horse, I would lead it around and then take the halter off and walk away.

Without really knowing what I was doing, I was using the technique of approach and retreat to get the horses used to my presence. Horses are prey animals. Their primary concern is their safety and their best defense against predators is their ability to run away. Despite our best intentions, we humans are predators. By giving the horses the choice of leaving when I was working with them, I was allowing them to feel safe in my presence. Pretty soon, I could walk up to most of them and brush them all over their bodies. Some of them would even let me brush their manes and tails. I had taken my first steps on my natural horsemanship journey without even realizing that was what I was doing.

Gaining the trust of some horses took longer. The most extreme example was Jody. Jody is a bay thoroughbred with one white sock and a tear drop of white on his forehead. Early on, when would enter the paddock to groom he always hung back, staying just beyond the edges of the group, never directly looking at me, never allowing himself to be touched.

All that first summer I tried to get near enough to Jody to groom him. I would approach and if he started to move away, I would retreat. It was like an elegant dance of predator and prey. If I went into the paddock when the horses were eating, I could sometimes stroke Jody’s neck. But he never tolerated my touch for long before he would move away.

Summer became fall and occasionally Jody would stand for a few moments to be brushed. He never brought his head around to look at me with two eyes. He only looked out of the corner of one eye, sometimes with eyes half closed, like he had drawn way inside himself in order to allow this brushing. He was tense, withdrawn, not enjoying the scratching of the curry comb or the stroking of the brush on his skin.

In winter, Jody would occasionally let me approach him and would take a carrot from my hand, but he wouldn’t let me put a blanket on his back. Often, I would see him huddled at the end of the run in shed, looking cold and miserable and it saddened me that there was so little I could do to bring comfort to this quiet animal.

By spring, I could put a halter on Jody and hold him for the blacksmith. He would stand to be brushed and no longer flinched away at my touch, but I sill couldn’t sense that he took any pleasure in my company. Yet still I approached him every day I went to the rescue, spoke to him in soft tones and rubbed the dirt from his back with my fingers. “How’s it going big fellow?” I would ask him. And I would rub him until he chose to walk away.

For fourteen months Jody and I performed this ballet, always with me in the lead, approach and retreat, until finally one day I entered the paddock and Jody actually walked toward me. First one hesitant step and then another, until he stood beside me. “How’s it going big fellow?” I asked as I stroked his neck and his back. Then I began scratching at the base of his mane, starting from the withers and going up his neck. Slowly, he stretched his neck forward and down and began to work his lips. I scratched harder. He sighed and closed his eyes. I could feel his body relax and I could tell he was enjoying this contact that he had finally invited. When I stopped scratching, Jody turned his head toward me and looked at me with both soft chocolate eyes.

We can never know exactly what our horses are thinking about us but at this moment, with this horse, I’m sure he was thinking, Thank you for not giving up on me!

My journey toward becoming a better horsewoman took a huge step forward that day. By then, I was actively studying the Parelli method of natural horsemanship and I had learned that all of the time I spent that first spring at the rescue free grooming horses was all about establishing a mutual respect. There is no shortcut to building trust. It takes time and consistency and an occasional carrot. That was a lesson taught and reinforced by Jody.