In the field of equine facilitated psychotherapy, there are many variables that can confound the process of attempting to work with horses in healing the ailments that people so often face. And while there are a multitude of resources on exercises to perform, or certifications to obtain, perhaps no one thing is as important as simply knowing the horse you are working with. I share this personal story, as an example.

“He’s a rogue, a runaway. He’d take off with the jocs at the track. No one could stop him, not even Alvarado.” I hung up the phone and wondered what I’d got myself into. Arriving at the barn that day, I pulled my new horse, all 17.2 hands of him out of his stall and proceeded to groom his massive frame. Even incredibly underweight, he was intimidating to say the least. As I curried over his back, he rolled his eye back at me, shaking his head up and down. I lifted the saddle onto his back and he shook more, sidestepping, and attempting to shy away. “Easy buddy, this isn’t the track anymore,” I reassured. But the truth was he had no idea who I was, or what I’d want from him.

I reached for my bridle just as the barn owner came around the corner. “So you’re gonna ride him today?”

“Well I hope to,” I answered, my voice quivering.

She glanced down at the bridle hanging off my arm. “You’re going to use that bit? Are you sure you don’t want the knife edge?”

My mind flipped back to the win photo the farm had sent me, bright red blood coming from the huge chestnut’s mouth a sharp contrast to the smiling faces of the owner, trainer, and jockey. Sure he won the Breeders Cup, one of the nation’s richest races, but at what price?

But he’s also learned something else, to associate pain in his mouth with running hard. When I watched the video of the race, he never looked back, and the more the jockey tried to settle him, the more he ran.

“I can’t put the knife edge in his mouth, he’s already had worse, and that didn’t stop him,” I looked over at my horse, nervously eyeing the barn owner. “I guess I’m just gonna have to trust him.”

“Good luck with that one,” she answered, turning on her heel and marching off.

“What do you think, pal?” I rubbed the small white star between my horse’s eyes. Suddenly he lowered his head to my chest and held it there. “Maybe this won’t be so bad.” I reached up to scratch his neck just as he jerked his head up quickly. “Not sure, eh?” I unbuckled the halter and slid the bridle on, and we walked forward toward the arena.

Securing the saddle and sliding my stirrups down, I led him to the mounting block, just as he shied away. I pulled him close again, and reached up to stroke his neck, “No race today, pal.” This time he nervously eyed the stepstool, but he stood still. I placed my foot in the stirrup and continued stroking his neck. Taking a deep breath, I pushed up and swung my leg over. He tensed a bit, but didn’t move. Not moving my hand from his neck, slowly I squeezed my legs on his sides. He stepped forward nervously, eyes wide and head raised. But he didn’t run. “Good boy.” I eased him forward a bit more. He steps lengthened and he moved with a little more confidence. After circling the arena one time at the walk, I pressed him forward into the trot. I still hadn’t moved my hand from his neck, and as he jumped forward, his head came up again, and his entire frame grew taught. “Easy buddy, no race today.” I ran my hand up and down his neck, as I tried to stay with his bounding trot. We circled around, and slowly he began to relax, lowering his head, and softening his jaw. “Okay, it’s time,” I said as I pressed a little more and asked him to canter. Again, he jumped forward, and tensed. Keeping my hand on his neck, I directed him around in a circle, and again tried to stay with the massive force beneath me. Although we were moving quickly, I didn’t pull on the reins. I was sure if he felt me tense, or pull, it would be all over with. Instead, I lightly guided him around the circle on the inside rein and waited. He’s gonna have to figure this out for himself, I thought to myself.

And after several circles he did. Finally, he came to a trot, and I praised him, stroking his neck again. And then, after a big sigh, he walked. But most importantly, he didn’t run away.

As I slid off his back, and gave him a pat. “Maybe you were just scared.”