Monthly Archives: February 2020

Horse Talk

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A man visited me recently with Kat. He’s called Ross and he can talk Horse.

It’s a blessed relief to be honest as Kat can’t. Well, not my version of Horse. I speak Pure Horse.

Pure Horse is the subtle body language that only horses, other prey animals and a handful of humans can speak and understand.

The wrinkling of a nose or the twitch of an ear is as clear as day to us, but way too understated for many other species, including humans.

Infact, the whole purpose of Pure Horse is that predators can’t understand us. No real surprise humans struggle.

Echo told me Pure Horse was no good with Kat so she used a more direct, simple version called Beginner Horse. This version gives clearer signals including affection for getting things right and unadulterated fury for getting them wrong. She said it worked a treat with Kat.

Kat obviously got it right this time.

I don’t think there’s a picture of her getting it wrong – she was probably too occupied with running away.

Anyway, turns out Ross is going to help me and Kat understand each other better. I can already understand Human so he’s going to teach her Pure Horse. Hurrah, I’ll finally get to tell her all my gripes.

The body language of people is what we horses call Human. Horses understand Human completely. Unfortunately most humans seem to have no idea what their body is saying – to us or each other.

Learning Pure Horse would help humans not only understand our subtle body language but also their own.

If a human’s body language is tense we will be tense. If a human’s body language is soft and relaxed, we will be. You could call us an emotional mirror.

Apparently, this is why we are sometimes used for therapy – to help troubled humans understand what they are feeling.

We horses really are the gift that just keeps on giving aren’t we!

Perhaps there should be a National Horse Appreciation week. When Kat can understand Pure Horse I’ll suggest it.

In the meantime, she’s got some work to do…

GMFN

Fx

The Beast of Burden and her Saddle Tramp

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Apparently Tilly and I are going on a trail riding adventure holiday in, what our humans call, May.

Kat says I am a trail riding horse and this is my purpose. I personally don’t see why I can’t just chill my hoofs in the field with my pals, but Kat says all horses have to work for their grassy munchies.

Tilly and I are going to travel in the sweat box on wheels to get to a place called Rushup – I wonder if we have to run very quickly up hill to get to it?

This is where we’re staying. Not sure where our humans will be.

Then we have to carry our humans and all their belongings for 3 long days. For their amusement.

I know. Why doesn’t she just rename me her ‘Beast of Burden’ and be done with it? You can probably tell, my hairy feathers are extremely ruffled about all this.

Is this to be my fate?

Couldn’t they just get one of our Donkey or Mule cousins to carry all their human stuff? There’re much better at this kind of thing than us horses. Also, less forgiving so Kat would need to behave herself. That could be fun.

However, what alarms me the most is where in all the blazing green grasses are my soggy grassy munchie supplies and hay cob treats going to go?

I blatantly refuse to go through this level of toil and strife unless I am amply rewarded. A lot. Every hour I would say.

I did suggest to Kat that she could walk – on her feet, on the ground – carrying her own stuff. I would happily walk beside her carrying my stuff (the grub). Apparently though, that is not fulfilling my purpose of trail riding horse. Meh.

Tilly seems quite accepting of all this servitude and toil. She says it’s grown up and exciting to have a few nights away from home and we will get to share a field.

She told me to stop getting my forelock in a twist and be grateful I’m not being asked to dance like the dressage horses. She’s got a point there, I do have 4 left hooves and would undoubtedly trip over my extremely hairy feathers.

She also reassured me that my substantial stoutness means I won’t even notice the extra weight – not sure if I should be happy or offended about that.

Finally, she reminded me that our humans never seem to change their clothes and are always quite disheveled. They’re clearly not typical female humans, and will probably wear everything they need, opting for the saddle tramp look. This of course should free up pack space for our essentials – food.

I can always trust Aunty Tills to make me feel better.

GMFN

F x

The Wrath of Ciara

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Recently my pals and I were subjected to the full fury of Storm Ciara.

While my friends at the farm were in their boxes called stables, we were hunkered down in our field as she raged around us for a day and a night.

The thought of those snug stables did cross my mind – especially when the torrential deluge turned sideways – but my extreme hairiness and amazing physiology prevailed in the end.

Stables just aren’t really for me. I love the freedom and fresh air of outside too much – even when that air is extremely fresh and wet.

You might remember my recent experience of being in a stable was when Vet put that stick up my bum – didn’t really put me in the best frame of mind to enjoy my new surroundings. 

Despite having a great roomie for the night (one eyed Jake, who is very old and impressively hairy) I didn’t really take to pooing and weeing in my own bed – the fumes got a bit over powering somewhere around 3am.

I can’t see humans doubling their bed up as a loo, so I’m not sure why they expect us to…

I also lost my freedom of choice. I had to wait for Kat the next morning before I could move freely, eat again and talk to my pals. In the field, I can make these choices at liberty, in line with how I feel and what I need.

I think when all is neighed and munched, I really am an outdoors kind of a Cob. I wasn’t born with this extreme roundness and abundance of hair for no reason.

With a constant supply of forage, my wonderfully thick winter coat, fresh air, open space and my pals, I can keep warm, dry, healthy and happy – even in the eye of Ciara’s storm

The bacteria my gut produces from eating forage – hay in the winter – kicks starts an internal furnace and the long, slow digestion process really helps me sustain this heat.

Stoking up our furnace

There is also great natural shelter in our field with a line of trees against a stone wall. This is our hunkering down spot of choice when the weather is bad – we often while away this time swapping notes about our humans.

As well as huddling together, being able to freely move keeps my blood circulating and my body temperature toasty. Then of course there is my amazing thick winter coat that traps in body heat, provides insulation and helps keep my skin dry. 

The day Ciara came, Kat bought me an extra-large bucket of warm soggy grassy munchies which stoked up my furnace nicely. Seeing her battling through the storm, trying to stay on two feet while being pummeled with the sideways deluge, was also a welcome distraction.

Although Ciara is now spent, I think we will be hunkering down again soon when her brother Dennis descends his fury on us. Despite my amazing ability to thrive in this foul weather, I think I speak for all horses and humans when I say ‘Spring, we are now ready for you’.

GMFN

F x

The Shoot Creature

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There wasn’t a dull moment on my last trail riding training session with Aunty Tills.

We negotiated icy roads, waited at a red light on a stick, waded through deep water, and scrambled up a rocky path. Then we met The Shoot…

trail ride with horse
  • trial riding
  • trail riding horse on track

Coming home from this action-packed 10-mile session (yes, I agree, it is a very long way for my wonderfully hairy but unfortunately very short legs) we heard some loud, continuous boom, boom, bangs. Kat and Sara said it was The Shoot.

The others didn’t seem too worried but I was. What was this loud scary Shoot creature that was booming and banging all around us? The noise was so loud, I reckoned it was either very large or very close. Or both!

I began to, what can only be described as, run on the spot. I didn’t want to leave Tills, but I needed to be good and primed in-case I had to hot-hoof it. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted something.

It must be The Shoot, coming for us!!!!

Well, that was it for me. I did what any horse keen on staying alive would do. I ran.

Every last inch of me, right to the tips of every hair on my extremely hairy body, said RUN NOW!!!!!! Kat’s yell down my ear and Tilly hot on my heels only bolstered my need to instinctively run. Faster.

After a few seconds I realised Tills wasn’t behind me any more and that my head had been pulled sideways making a forward projection somewhat difficult. It also seemed that The Shoot creature was gone, so, I let Kat slow me down.

When Tills caught up she asked what in the blazing green grasses was I playing at? Was I really hearing her right? Hadn’t she seen The Shoot creature coming for us? And, shouldn’t she be thanking me for getting all four of us to safety with my speedy hot-hoofing?

Apparently not. And, what follows is a tad embarrassing, but, let’s not forget, I am only 5 going on 6.

Turns out The Shoot, was a bunch of humans playing with something called guns and, what I saw out of the corner of my eye was just humans perched on those two wheeled contraptions called bikes.

I would point out that we horses don’t do things like this for fun or to scare our humans so they don’t ride us any more. Although, that is grassy munchies for thought…

No, we are genetically wired to instinctively run when our fear and adrenaline levels spike. There is no conscious thought process; it’s simply a primal act to stay alive.

Once she could speak, Kat said we just need to keep working together so my trust in her as Leader grows. Then, eventually, my instinct will be to turn to her, instead of letting the fear take over every inch of my extremely hairy body.

She also said if I ever did that again she would ban hay cobs for a month and reduce my soggy grassy munchies to one a week.

I’d better start working on my trust issues.

GMFN

F x