“This is my favourite time of the day,” said Shannon the next evening. We’d had an especially nice afternoon walking around the perimeter of the property checking the fences, and watching Zen hanging out with the rest of Shannon’s horses – Bravo, Spirit, Dawn, and Pippa – and now we were in the tack shed, sorting out their feed while Shannon told me about the herd hierarchy.
Bravo was their boss, she explained, because he’d earned it. He was fair and considerate and he used the phases of firmness, just as I was learning to do, where he became clearer and stronger, step by step, in his “ask”. If one of the other horses still didn’t do what he told them after he’d been through all the phases, them bam! He’d nip them or push them – whatever it took to make them behave.
Spirit was ambitious and wanted to be the leader, but the others never took any notice of his shenanigans. Dawn and Pippa idolised Bravo, and because Bravo was getting older, he got Dawn to help him keep Spirit in line. Spirit just kept trying to climb on top though, even though it was obvious he was never going to succeed.
“That’s why his old owner gave him to me,” said Shannon. “She didn’t get how strong you need to be with some horses, and how consistent you have to be with them.”
“I like the way Bravo leads,” I said as we took the buckets out to the round yard. “He makes sure everyone in the group has good manners and treats the other horses with respect. He wants it to be a happy group.”
“And what about how well Zen’s doing?” asked Shannon. “He’s just slotted right in.”
I felt proud of the way Zen had made a place for himself so easily, peacefully grazing with the others, ignoring Spirit and letting Bravo or Dawn handle him if he got too mean.
“There’s just one problem,” said Shannon. “He needs to learn how to eat.”
I stared at her, truly shocked. Eating wasn’t something I ever thought Zen would have to learn.
“Feeding the horses should be a relaxing and peaceful ending to our day. After all, there’s nothing nicer than watching dusk fall and listening to the horses munch. It’s a blissful time of day for me.”
“I think it’s going to be my favourite time of day here, too,” I said.
“Maybe not today.” Shannon grimaced. “Watch.”
She opened the gate and the horses walked into the yard, their hooves clopping sedately as they each headed to their usual places and waited calmly. Zen was in such a hurry, though, to get dinner happening that he barged straight through the other horses to his spot.
“Uh uh,” said Shannon, forcing him to walk back around all the other horses. “Zen needs to learn how to behave at feeding time. If he carries on barging around and behaving badly in this way, feeding time will become a frenzy. Worse, if we let him treat the other horses like this, soon he’ll start treating his humans this way, too.”
I remembered on the weekend when I’d stayed in the surf too long, and then we’d had to wait ages for our fish and chips. I’d been starving. If it was anything like that for Zen, I could relate to him wanting to bite someone.
Once Zen was waiting calmly, Shannon took the buckets of feed she’d prepared earlier around to each of the horses – starting with Bravo – putting a bucket down in front of them and inviting them one by one to eat. Zen came last, and when she put his bucket down in front of him I held my breath.
“These horses all know that when their bucket goes down they have to back up and wait for my signal.”
Zen neighed and tossed his head as he waited, and finally – finally! – Shannon looked at him, which is what she did when she was about to wave a horse forward. Instead of waiting for her hand to actually move, though, he jumped the gun and rushed for the bucket.
“Uh uh,” said Shannon, moving in between him and his bucket with lightning speed. They tried again, but this time when Shannon stepped in between him and his bucket, Zen refused to step back. Shannon picked up her stick and began waving it in front of him until he relented and moved slightly. “You need to wait,” she said. She gave him the signal and he rushed it again. “Uh uh,” said Shannon, asking him to move back – ten, no, fifteen steps this time. “I’m asking Zen politely, going through the phases of firmness, to remember his manners. To give me space, and wait for permission to eat,” said Shannon.
Zen didn’t like it. His ears were pinned back and he had his ugly face on. Everything in him was focused on his dinner. But while the others were all happily munching, he was still being forced to wait.
“Couldn’t he have just a little treat?” I asked. Zen deserved food at the end of the day, didn’t he?
Shannon shook her head. “What does Zen need from us, even more than a treat?”
“I don’t know,” I said, mystified.
“He needs to learn that he never needs to fight for his food. He needs to learn that we require him to treat us with respect. If he still can’t get it this time, then dinner will be cancelled.”
I wanted to believe in Zen, but this was something I could see he was finding especially challenging.
Shannon put down the bucket. “Feeding your horse in a consistent way, with none of this naughtiness and chaotic behaviour going on, has a big impact on everything you do with them.”
She gave Zen the signal to come forwards.
You can do it, Zen, I urged him silently. But once again he barged ahead. This time, instead of making Zen back up, Shannon picked up his bucket and took it away. Zen stared at her in disbelief as she turned him out into the yard, so he couldn’t disturb the other horses as they peacefully munched on their dinner.
“So this isn’t the first time?” I was almost as devastated as Zen.
“Nope. Because no one has ever done anything about this behaviour, he has no respect for people with food. It’s your job to teach him, Frankie.”
I swallowed nervously. I just didn’t know if I had it in me to cancel my best friend’s dinner.
Over the next few weeks, as I learned how to rug the horses correctly, and maintain their tack, cleaning and conditioning their saddles and bridles, washing rugs and saddle blankets and grooming brushes, and keeping the tack and feed room clean and tidy, I remembered what Shannon said about them watching us all the time and judging us, and how it was the way we did the little things which made all the difference when it came time to do something big. It made me stronger than I’d thought I could ever be. I managed to insist on Zen having good manners around food, even when what I really wanted to do was give in, and just give him a great big hug. But what Shannon had said about horses needing to be able to trust us made me focus on doing things properly every time. I made sure I was aware of my thoughts and my feelings when I interacted with them, and was careful to always ask for and give them respect.
At the end of the day we’d sit on the verandah, waiting for Mum and Kai to collect me. Shannon told me how she’d saved up for more than ten years so she could quit her job as an air traffic controller, and move here to follow her dream of teaching natural horsemanship. I told her about my old life in the city, and how hard it had been to leave everything I loved. She never said much when I told her about how I was going at school, or how things were going with Dad. But she had a way of making me feel important, and strangely, as I talked about these things, I realised I wasn’t feeling so sad about them anymore. Sure, I still thought about my old friends sometimes, and I still wished Dad would go back to the way he used to be, but I wasn’t thinking about them all the time the way I had been.
One evening, after I’d had an especially amazing afternoon giving all the horses a swim in the dam and then dinner (Zen got to eat this time!), Shannon hugged me when we said goodbye.
“I’m proud of you, Frankie,” she said. “You’re working hard, and really taking in what I’m teaching you. Most importantly, you’re creating a strong connection with the horses. I think you’re going to make a very fine horse girl.”