The Friendship Walk that Healed Two Grieving Souls
Every once in a while, we meet a horse who seems to be just out of reach; a bit aloof and extremely present at the same time; sometimes highly reactive and extremely tense. There is a quality – a depth and an air of importance about them that they seem to carry with ease and so other horses always take heed of them. They may live along the outskirts of the herd but when they choose to enter, the herd will part and make a spot for them inside the group. They do not have to push their way in or fight their way to the top. This is certainly not the norm, and we believe that this shows the herd’s respect and acceptance of the new horse. They seem to know he is special.
Paddy
One cold day in the winter of 2017, Stephanie, the E.D. from New Mexico Equine Rescue came out for a visit. After we toured the ranch she asked if she might be able to see me (Erica) work with a horse. I brought Yogi out of the barn and down to the round pen to give her a glimpse of our work. We conversed lightly as I brought this huge guy in, but when I began the session the air became quite still. Yogi and I moved as one around the rim of the pen in our initial “friendship walk”. Our feet began to hit the sand in a unified cadence and then we began to move in circles, twirling in patterns together, then apart, then back together and so the dance went on and on till we were done. When we finished my new friend, Stephanie, remarked how amazed she was that there had never been a lead rope around Yogi’s neck and that he was just stuck to me like some kind of invisible glue. Then she asked me “What is he like to ride?” I answered, “ aah, no we do not ride this horse.” She looked down at us in the pen and her eyes were more curious now. I said “he doesn’t want to be ridden.”
As we walked Yogi back to the barn Stephanie paused as she touched my sleeve and asked if I was willing to work with one of the horses from her large horse rescue operation. Turns out she has a “special guy” that needs some help. I asked her why this horse, out of the nearly 50 horses that she cares for? “There’s just something about him” she offered. “He’s been through several trainers already but no one seems to get him, so we keep pulling him back out of their training.”
I remember being extremely hesitant, for a few reasons: one is that we knew we would have to charge for our time to work with this horse, and their operation is a nonprofit too. Another is that the horse had already been through 2 or 3 training programs with little or no success.
What, I wondered were we going to be able to give him that no one else had tried. We were really curious about the horse though and of course we hoped we could make a difference so we agreed to take him for a few months.
He arrived on a bitter cold day in November. A beautiful sorrel with a thick white blaze down the center of his face. Maybe something like a quarter horse- draft horse cross, with the broadest chest I’d ever seen. Strong, stoic, and deeply braced against the world.
Paddy began his training with us that day. It took several weeks to get a halter on him and many more to begin any formal training, since touching him was out of the question. Even though we did regular sessions with him both at liberty and in the round pen he remained aloof and braced. Joost worked so patiently with him doing very basic horsemanship sessions and even had him under saddle for brief moments, but he always felt as if Paddy could explode at any moment. One thing was getting very clear; this horse was not adoptable yet and our friends at the horse rescue made the decision to take him out of training. We knew this was a special guy and we had made such a commitment to him already. We decided to adopt him from them to continue his rehabilitation. It was then that we also decided to stop doing any kind of formal “training” with him because we now felt that he needed more time to let go of his trauma. We put out a call for help and many people sent money so we could keep him here. We made him a promise that he could stay here forever and that he could take as long as he needed to trust us- if ever.
That Spring we went to France to work with our mentors, Frederic Pignon and Magali Delgado. At the end of a glorious week of visiting, riding, and training with their herd of Lusitano Stallions I asked Fred for his advice with Paddy. We already understood that we had to give up everything we had done so far and start over. We asked about how to “work” with him, and Fred answered, “no no no- you cannot work with him yet. He’s not ready for that.” And that’s when It all began to change, even if the change was minuscule and almost imperceptible.
We gave Paddy a primo paddock in one of the barns where he could live alone but surrounded by the herd. Every day I would walk into his paddock, my pockets stuffed with treats, which would spill carelessly out of my shorts as I mucked about in there. I would ignore him entirely except for an occasional sideways glace in order to spy on his reactions. Each time I returned he would be a bit more curious and some days I pulled a chair in to nap in the corner. I didn’t engage or try to touch him. Eventually he began to follow me around, waiting for delicious things to fall in my wake.
Slowly (so painfully slowly) I introduced a bucket of grain on my lap for him to eat from, and this is how we “worked” for many months. As he ate grain from the bucket I’d notice how every once in a while, his cheek would graze my hand. After another long while I reintroduced his halter and lead rope and began a new courtship with him while I tried to click the rope on and off. Again, after another long while, I opened up his paddock and walked him over to the “cookie jar” in our tack shed. (It’s about 200 yards away.)
Eventually I could put his halter on and lead him outside to the cookie jar without any persuasion. At some point we had to move him into out main paddock with 5 other horses and it was then that everything started to backslide. It happened so fast we couldn’t believe our eyes. He was distant from us again so suddenly that is seemed like he felt rejected.
He was distant from us again so suddenly that is seemed like he felt rejected. Our beautiful intimate long slow dance had abruptly ended, and we couldn’t find each other. I was heartbroken. (Maybe he was too.)
After all these days, weeks, and months I was at the end of my own rope. I lost all hope and thought we had failed. I felt, (for the first time) that he was never going to really trust us or anyone, and I wondered if I could believe in our work really.
Joost never let me believe there was no hope though. My best friend told me about her teenage daughters that backslid all the time while they were growing up. I grit my teeth, let go of my expectations and started over.
Then COVID happened. We were ordered to shelter at home. And I suddenly had a whole lot more time to be with him so I just sat in his paddock while he ate or slept. And I waited. We took walks. We played together in the arenas. The truth is I had grown incredibly fond of this guy and I could feel him starting to trust me again.
When we needed to move horses around I made the decision to try again to bring Paddy out with the others into the main paddock. It was just time to try something new. This time he watched me intensely as I tentatively took off the halter. He stood with me for a moment instead of running away. I lowered my head and said a prayer as I left the barn
First thing the next morning he was waiting at the gate when I walked in. He now asks for a scratch on his cheek and sometimes asks to be scratched all over. He approaches me now to be haltered. He stands by the gate, looking out with soft eyes, hoping for a visit from me or with one of our clients.
My own lessons with Paddy are becoming clear to me now;
my expectations and my plan were inspired and informed by my personal experience, but when my plan didn’t work as expected I felt I had to give up. In fact, it was precisely when I surrendered that the magic began to happen.
Faith is not the same thing as knowledge, even though they are both learned.
Faith creates miracles.
Corinne’s Story
I found myself at A Chance of a Lifetime, by accident, or so I thought. A friend of mine was relaying the story of one of her horses; her newest addition. I was entranced by her story and mentioned that I would really love to overcome my fear of horses. I secretly envisioned a time when I would have them in my own life in some remote way. My husband and I had just moved to New Mexico from California leaving our home of 30+ years in California. It was the death of two people who were like family to me that prompted the move. For the two years leading up to their passing I had been one of their primary caretakers, along with holding down a full-time job. When we arrived in New Mexico I was emotionally frozen, physically exhausted, and just plain burnt out. My friend recommended I meet her horse trainer, that perhaps she could help me. I was reluctant to try anything new or commit to anything at that time but got Erica’s number and called. We talked at length and I had the odd sensation that I’d known her for a long time. So, I decided to trust her – at least enough to get to the barn one time.
Truthfully, the dilemma was could I push aside my shyness of people to work on my fear of horses. Thankfully I did and found myself paired with Yogi, a giant and loveable horse. My first session was a small workshop during which I felt inexpiably emotional and almost intimidated by the other ladies in the class, as they looked like they had it all together, and were way beyond me in horse everything.
I was also embarrassed to discover that the more I worked with Yogi the more I would spontaneously tear up at the most inconvenient time. I was not sure what was happening, I found myself melting down emotionally at each class. I didn’t feel like I had it all together at all.
Eventually as things have a way of going, I wound up doing one on one classes with Erica, which was better for me. I could no longer hide behind the other classmates, which I was inclined to do, stand on the outside looking in. Little by little the emotional iceberg began melting, I wasn’t as nervous about working with Yogi, I began to relax and little by little tune into the horse and actually feel through my heart with him. The fear was abating as I learned more about Yogi and the other horses and have hands on experiences with them. Mission accomplished, or so I thought. I had just scratched the surface.
That day Erica decided to use Paddy in my session, she asked me to bring him down to the arena. I could feel the tension, some from me some from him, not sure who was the more wound up. I related strongly to the feeling of being fearful, yet responsible should something go wrong. It was a big part of my life. I could see some of that in him. I just kept reassuring him as I would want to be reassured. I remember being in charge and responsible for others yet scared as a kid, forced to be an adult way before my time. Was I projecting on Paddy, maybe?
We got to the arena and I was instructed to walk him around; he was so responsive he was a delight. He was starting to unwind some, I was too. At one point we were rewarded when, Paddy laid down and rolled in the dirt. I could see the joy in him, and the question in his eyes at the same time as to whether it was ok to do it. I recognized that feeling.
In our next session Paddy was a delight to work with again. When I did the Friendship walk with Paddy, I felt the most at ease that I had ever experienced. I could feel an intimacy that is reserved for few come forth. It truly was a gift to experience. I had to laugh; Paddy did not want to leave the arena when the session was over. Admittedly I did not either. I could feel something in my heart give that day. Erica kept reminding me he does not like to be touched, yet all I wanted to do was hug him. I mostly refrained, but I was concerned for his comfort and would wipe the flies from his eyes in our walk.
When we returned to the paddock after our session I asked if there was a fly mask for Paddy, Erica began taking one from another horse and putting it on Paddy. I could see a grin ear to ear on Erica as Paddy allowed her to put the Fly mask with no apprehension at all. He was sandwiched in between two other horses, with Erica trying to get the mask on him, and he was as calm and well-mannered as could be.
He was happy, there was a spark in his eye that had been missing. I recognized it in myself. Occasionally we all need the light of another, be it human or horse to light that light. Paddy is a remarkable horse who is on the mend. I am on the mend too and I have a higher power and the insight of Erica and the heart of a horse called Paddy to thank for that.
