If I'd known then what I know now...

Earlier this week, my daughter, Hannah , and I said good-bye to Hannah's thoroughbred gelding, Harley. Old age and various infirmities had finally caught up with him, and it was clearly time. We spent a lot of time reminiscing about the Harley we had known and loved.
Here's one of my most profound memories of him.

Some years ago, when Hannah was in Pony Club, we made arrangements to take a cross-country lesson with the club at the facility of a well-known, high-level eventing trainer. We were all very excited at the prospect--how cool would this be?!

The day before the lesson, we bathed and groomed Harley, and generally prepped him for his outing. He was somewhat agitated, but we attributed it to his picking up on our excitement. The next morning, when I went out to the barn to feed the horses, Harley wouldn't eat, was barely picking at his food, whinnying and very restless. Hannah coaxed him to eat, and we loaded him on the trailer for the long drive.

We arrived at the farm, tacked up, and began the lesson. Harley was tense and not listening to Hannah, which was very unusual for him. He would normally become excited and keyed up, but not distressed, the way he was this particular morning. The lesson was to start in the arena, and we all thought he would settle down once he started to work--maybe it was just the strange place that was unnerving him? The kids started jumping their ponies, and Hannah came off Harley. In good form, she got right back on and the lesson proceeded. She was cantering to a 3 foot vertical, just a single rail, when Harley shied very hard to the left, and Hannah came off again. She landed hard, broke her glasses, and although she really wanted to continue, it was clear that this schooling session was over for her. Someone caught Harley, and I took Hannah into the barn to find some ice for the egg on her head. We decided to ice her head for a while, then load up Harley and go home, to take her to see a doctor at home. Harley was frantic, and absolutely refused to get on the trailer until Hannah came out to load him--at which point he walked on as quietly as an old dog. He was clearly upset and worried about Hannah, and reassured when she appeared to take his lead rope. He was apologizing as clearly as if he had spoken out loud.

On the way home, Hannah and I talked a lot about what could have upset Harley so much. Suddenly, Hannah remembered the video we had been given before Harley came to live with us. It had been taken about ten years before, and showed Harley being ridden in a severe bit, with big spurs, in a dressage lesson, without any regard for the fact that this was a VERY sensitive horse, who never needed spurs. The video had been taken at the same farm where we had gone for our schooling session. This same video showed him at another farm, being rushed at the fences, and generally having a lousy time of it. He was not happy.

It was clear that, before our schooling session there, Harley had known what was coming, and he was completely undone by it. He was fearful, tense, and trying as hard as he could to tell us. And good boy that he was, he tried to be a professional when we got there.

Do I regret that we didn't do a better job of listening to him? Of course. If we had gotten out of our own way, taken a step back, we wouldn't have put either Harley or Hannah through a pretty unpleasant experience. But we were both caught up in the ego aspect of taking a lesson with this famed trainer, and thought Harley would adjust to our needs.

What is my take-home message from this episode? As always: listen to your horse, and to yourself. I mean really listen, on a deep level. Quiet your mind, take some deep breaths, and check in with your horse, and yourself. Get to a still place in your own head, and see what you come up with. Don't edit it--that's really important. Just listen. It's all there, just waiting for you to hear it. And thank you, Harley, for helping us to learn.