I was lucky to have a Welsh Mountain pony when I was young. His name was Cloughan, which means “stepping stone” in Gaelic. He was a white pony with gray dapples that eventually became all white as he aged. He had a long gray mane and tail and a very round belly. He was a confident and content pet and companion. I used to spend a great amount of my time with him. I rode him everywhere around my family’s farm in Vermont. Sometimes we would take off down the dirt roads near my house exploring together for the better part of a day. I was six or seven and it wasn’t very clear who was really in charge sometimes. My legs barely reached to the end of the saddle, and sometimes when the grass was long and green Cloughan could not resist stopping and dropping his head and grabbing a bite. This would sometimes unseat me and I would land in the grass in front of his happily gobbling muzzle. My Dad made for me a little strap that attached between his ears on the bridle and then ran to the saddle so he could no longer reach the grass.
I consider that we were great friends. I used to trust him to no end. I would stand on his back. I would ride him without tack in the pasture, letting him gallop around and play with the other horses while I sat on him. I would jump him bareback. I would jump him over things that his whole head and ears would seemingly disappear behind. I never felt that he would not make it or not try and he always did. He taught me as a child that confidence and trust were key when working with animals. I have always thought that if you believe in the magic of the horse, the horse will perform magic. A sound philosophy, which I try to abide by to this day. In truth, fear and doubt are sensed by most animals as is confidence. Horses and ponies respond well to confidence and trust.
One time I was out riding Cloughan on a snowy road without my parents’ knowledge or permission. A huge dump truck came up behind us. It was flying down the icy road. There were high snow banks and seemingly nowhere to go to be safe from the fast approaching truck. I was scared and did not know what I should do to save us. At the last moment, as the dump truck came roaring up beside us, Cloughan levitated himself straight up into a three and a half foot snowbank. We were safe thanks to him. It took a little while to wiggle Cloughan back out of the snowbank. We made it home safely. From that close call, I had learned an important lesson about becoming more responsible for both our wellbeing.
Spending so much of my time with Cloughan taught me that there is a silent language, a shared language, of feelings, expression, and posture that one can have with animals. A language that does not need words, one that is silent but understood. A raw language that goes straight to the power of shared emotions and feelings.
For more on awareness and present moment read The Importance of Seeing Deeply and Being Grounded When Working With Horses.
