Under the Apple Tree

Okay, so let's return to our story...

A couple days after Regal moved into Wynn's he was being turned out in a nice paddock in the middle of the yard with a big apple tree in it. I went out to work with him and, because it was too nice to be inside, decided to groom him in the paddock and lead him around a bit.

I left my brush bucket on the other side of the fence in a bit of shade and went to the gate, halter, lead rope and trusty bag/stick combo in hand. As soon as I rattled the gate Regal took notice and came barreling towards me straight-on. Oh brother.

You know, even the most seasoned horseperson is generally given pause when a thousand pound animal comes rushing towards them. It sort of puts your heart in your throat and sets the pulse racing, as it probably should. I was close enough to the gate that I figured I could bail if I had to so I just waved the stick in front of me and asked Regal to please be careful and respect my space. He slowed to a brisk trot 8 feet ahead of me and then applied enough brakes to come at me at the walk head first and shoving.

I managed to get beside him and, after a brief struggle, get his halter on. Since this was obviously a chain kind of day, I threaded the live end round the rings of his halter while he chewed on whatever part of the leather he could grab onto. This horse is very hard on the furniture. Yeesh.

Once I had him hooked up I led him over to the shady spot where my brushes were. The whole time he was mouthing at me AND the stick. So much for that idea.

I started trying to brush him and he kept up the pressure with his mouth. Picture yourself holding a horse on a lead line, a stick in the same hand to keep some distance while trying to keep his mouth off you and brush him with the other hand simultaneously. I needed six other arms and the ability to keep all those arms out of harms way, i.e eyes sprouting from every pore. Shiva himself would have a hard time getting the job done.

Then there was the constant bumping and shoving with the head or shoulder, followed by shots at me with the front hooves -first on the outside as a warning and then the inside to let me know who among us had been recently gelded.

Finally, I went with my last resort and brought the chain into play. I hate to shank horses with a chain. Hate it, hate it, hate it. I just don't want to operate from that position - dominance by pain and fear is such a hollow victory, if and when it works.

This had, as intuition told me it would, the exact opposite effect it should have had. Now the battle was on and I had a rearing, striking and biting horse to contend with. So much for a quiet grooming session.

There is no point in a 115 lb. woman trying to go toe-to-toe with a horse. Bring all the whips and chains you want, fighting isn't training. I did the sensible thing and got Regal back on the ground and close enough to let him loose.

Once I'd released him I went straight at him with the lead swinging and the bag/stick waving furiously. GET. OUT. OF. MY. SPACE. NOW. And lo, he moved, away and quickly.

The problem now was getting out the gate safely. There was no way I was going to be put up and over that fence. I was going to the gate under my own steam and I was not going to be bullied or threatened, despite the fact that I had a big, obnoxious horse following me too close and too quickly.

The bag/stick and the swinging lead saw me safely out and I didn't pause to catch my breath in the safety of the yard. Suddenly, I had resolve. Intuition /instinct kicked in and I knew what I needed to do. I went straight to my car, grabbed my lunge whip and got right back in that paddock to get some work done.

She who controls the feet, controls the horse. The dominant horse moves the other horses out of any space they so choose, often for no good reason other than that they want to reinforce their dominance. To date, Regal had proven himself most adept at moving me around. Avoid the mouth, avoid the feet, move away, get clear. Well, no flippin' more.

That afternoon in the paddock with the apple tree I positioned myself, bag/stick in one hand and lunge whip in the other, parallel to Regal's body and set about moving him around. With stick at the head and whip driving from behind I approached him and set his feet in motion from a safe distance.

This was neither easy nor smooth. When Regal finally caught on to what I was doing, he turned inwards and moved at me directly and rapidly. Smart little creature that I am, I put myself in a spot where I could run up the apple tree to safety if I really had to -provided, of course, that I could beat a Thoroughbred to the point where I could to climb to safety.

Six to eight good human running strides from that safety we had our showdown. I freely admit to closing my eyes and holding my breath when he came at me. All I could do was wave the bag/stick and the lunge whip in great huge circles and try to create and define the idea of my personal space therein. I honestly did not know that my message would make it across.

Whip and bag cutting through the air loudly and with some authority, I pulled Regal up at the last minute. It was clumsy and ugly, but nobody got hit or hurt. I truly had no idea what would happen in that moment, though I guess I was prepared to run up the tree or get trampled. This was what it took to get the job done and I had to prove to Regal (and myself) that I wasn't going to give up easily.

For the rest of the session, I kept Regal framed between the stick and the lunge whip and moved him around the paddock at will. I didn't let him touch me or come anywhere close. Regal Spacific would have to earn our cuddle time. My space comes first - being an orphan can only go so far and nobody likes a dangerous horse.

Once you've survived and outlived all the expectations associated with being a 'special case' you have to start making life your own. This was my challenge, and I wanted to issue it to Regal as well.

At a certain point, each of us has to own where we came from and what we might have gone through to make progress. We have to become what we are to become who we are. We are all the product of nature and of nurture but, most importantly, we are the product of our willingness to bend and shift and grow as we go along.

If I, the most rigid, nervous and uptight of beings could do this, then surely so could Regal Spacific. Just be who you are boy, and then we can make plans.