Language separates humans from animals, and yet there are so
many experts out there that claim to “read” animal language. I suppose that puts animal trainers and
handlers in a certain class with translators and interpreters. We decipher a “foreign” communication, and
give a voice to those who cannot be understood.
I volunteered for many years in an equestrian center, drawn
by the natural beauty of horses, and perhaps riding a horse was the fulfillment
of a dream passed down from my Polish grandfather. His portrait in my home
shows him brandishing a sabre as he sits astride a horse that I would guess to
be an Arabian, with its small stature, dished face and dancing feet. Someone once told me that it is particularly
tiring to sit an Arabian horse, because they never stand still. My grandfather’s horse looks as if it wants
to fly off the wall.
Early on in my exposure to horses, I found it interesting
that human handlers routinely “spoke” (in first person) for the horses in their
care. “Where’s my hay?” “I don’t really want to go for a ride today.” I
suppose all humans put words in the mouths of their beloved four-legged
companions. My dog communicates fairly
clearly to me: licking his nose while
standing next to the fridge where his bag of kibble sits means “hey, I’m hungry.” Standing by the front door means “I need to
go out.” Putting his toy at my feet
means “can we play fetch now?”
Horses, on the other hand, are infinitely more discreet than
a dog, and almost entirely non vocal. They
don’t bark or wag their tail to let you know they are happy to see you. Their communication is so subtle: the direction their ears are pointing, the position
of their head, the amount of white showing around their eyes. Unlike the happy hind end message of a dog, a
swish of the tail on a horse (if not to chase a fly) might be a warning signal
that a hoof is going to come off the ground in your general direction pretty
soon, especially if his ears are flattened against his head.
As an interpreter, I would listen in quiet amusement while humans
in the barn would “interpret” for horses.
Horses do communicate, but their very nature makes the communication
complex. They are both powerful flight
animals and submissive servants and we
humans have had to figure out which side of their nature is operational at any
given moment, without too much of a sign from the horse. Human history would have never progressed to
where it has if there had not been generous equines to assist us. What if all we had to work with were goats or
kangaroos? Horses, with all their muscle
and size and speed, stand for us and let us climb aboard, allow us to attach
all manner of leather and metal to their bodies and in their mouths. I am always deeply touched by the generosity
of this animal towards humans. It is
their very generosity that makes them inscrutable. Saints are not complainers.
As an interpreter, I am limited to my experience and
exposure to situations in my foreign language.
I have actually toured a nuclear power plant with French speakers. While this allowed me to learn some specific
technical vocabulary, that one encounter does not make me an expert in nuclear
power. Likewise, spending years and
years with horses might give me some vocabulary, but would I actually “speak
horse”?
There are horse “whisperers” and trainers who, through
extensive exposure, interpret what the horse is thinking and feeling. Unlike language interpreters, however, who
are trained to remain neutral, and who are interpreting within their own
species and maybe even under a common modern cultural “umbrella” of
understanding, the horse whisperer or trainer is making a bigger leap of
faith. Seriously, no one really knows what a horse is
thinking.
I have watched the conflicts that have arisen between horse
handlers, each interpreting equine messages differently and subsequently
providing different responses and reactions.
There are those who will beat the horse and intimidate it (the caveman
approach), shout, whisper, massage, clicker train and reward.
The trainer I respected the most was the very first one I
encountered in a barn. He didn't speak
so much to the horse as LISTEN. And, as
any interpreter knows, effective LISTENING is crucial. Horse communication is full of tacit messages,
and can go misinterpreted for a very long time until the horse has a “freak
out” moment, or lies down in pain on the ground.
There are as many different styles of training and managing
horses as there are barns across the countryside, and horse handlers are often
immovable in defense of their preferred method. They fervently cling to their method like a
religion.
That is why I so appreciated my first instructor, Matt
Trynoski. His reflective approach to any
horse problem would begin with: “Hmm,
that all depends….” tempered with years
of experience and a lot of listening.
Through my contact with horses, I have found them to be
wonderful teachers. They have much to
teach human beings on the subjects of fear and confidence, dominance and
submission, persuasion and force, strength and gentleness, generosity and
collaboration.
If we only know how to listen…
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