The first taming of the horse

There are still debates about who exactly were the first people to tame (and eventually ride) horses, where that took place and what sort of horses they had. Archaeology has a good chance of providing an answer, sooner or later. What we will never know, in the absence of any written sources, is what prompted the taming of the horse and how it took place. 

Facts can be analysed and understood, but in the case of prehistorical horse training we will only be able to speculate on its possible spiritual and mystical dimensions. 

That there was a spiritual vision of the relationship between the human and animal worlds can be interpreted from sources such as cave paintings. In those cases, the relationship was between the hunters and the hunted. Until a shift occurred. 

How and why? Horses were probably kept as cattle at some point, and the mares milked. Did someone then spontaneously have the idea of climbing on the back of a horse? But by what means did they achieve that? Those of you who know horses will be aware of how difficult it is to force those animals to do anything they do not want. Of course, pain and fear can be used. But would the relationship between men and horses have been so successful if it had been based on this? Doesn’t the answer lie in the natural sympathy some horses seem to have towards human beings? And to the natural empathy some human beings have towards horses? 

Some of these thoughts flit through my mind as I watch the piebald foal, and as he watches me. He has the most striking blue eyes. I talk to him, in a low, soft voice, and he listens. He pricks his ears at some words, maybe because the sounds please him. I go up to him, until I sense he is not comfortable anymore and then I crouch down. He is a pony, and very short. Six months old, still suckling his mother from time to time. One careful step after the other, he comes up to me, still looking at me in the eyes. Slowly, I extend my hand. He touches my fingers with his nose. After a moment, he turns his right eye towards me and walks away. 

The piebald foal is a feral Dartmoor Hill pony. Born in the wild, he has had no contact with men, save from a distance. In the most touristic parts of the moor, the ponies are tame: they are used to being fed treats, apples and cookies and sweets. They have no respect for people. They bite and are only interested in food. 

Here people come too, but not so much tourists as locals, walking their dogs, running... The tors where the blue-eyed foal’s herd dwell are more remote. The mares are wary of humans, whom they associate with being rounded up and separated from their foals. Sometimes, they let you come up quite close, but never close enough to touch them. After a moment, they turn their back on you and walk away. They do not trust people. 

The foals often follow their example, though they are more likely to come up closer, prompted by curiosity. They especially do so when I’m minding my own business. Taking pictures. Sketching. Closer, closer they’ll come, followed by others sometimes: all it takes is one for the rest to feel bolder in turn. 

Yet sometimes, one is different. Sometimes, you meet the eyes of one of the ponies, and those eyes remain on you. You take a step forward and the horse shows no sign of fear. Then the horse comes to you, though he has no reason to. 

I had no food with me, as I talked to the blue-eyed foal. And I had not been near horses that day so I did not smell like one. His mother, the other mares, his half-brother, same age, same upbringing, remained wary of me. The stallion did approach, but to ascertain I was no danger, and he soon turned away. 

I saw the blue eyed foal several times. The first, on the moor at dusk, he came close up to me and let me touch his nose. He was flaring his nostrils a lot, taking in my smell. He did not do that again the other times, and did not always let me touch him. But each time, he recognised me, and each time, he took several steps towards me, his blue eyes fixed on mine, not quite sure what attitude he should exhibit towards me. As a feral horse, his instinct should have been to follow his mother and not let me come near him. 

So why did he instead come towards me? And he was not the only one: last summer, a one year old bay filly, from a neighbouring herd, came up to me as I was sitting down on the grass and began blowing on my face. I blew back into her nostrils, touched her nose. This happened on several different days. Once she was joined by a black filly, who did let me touch her but then took fright and retreated. 

As I crouch down on the damp grass and let the blue eyed foal touch my fingers with his nose, I wonder if we are re-enacting the first taming of the horse. Was it like that? A person fascinated by horses, and a horse who should have been wild but was instead strangely drawn to the humans who hunted his kin, fascinated maybe by words whispered in a soft, soft voice. Was it like that? Looking into each other’s eyes, taking careful steps towards each other. Taking time. Bolder each day. And then? 

I’m certain the relationship between horses and humans would not have been so successful if there had not been a natural sympathy between the two. 

All horsepeople know horses who are especially close to humans. Horses with whom it is so easy to bond. Horses who seek the company of humans. Horses who will forgive anything and everything from their riders. Horses who do not seem like they would thrive wild. Not because of their genetic background, but because of their temperament. 

And there are those whose trust in humans is wavering, even when they have been domesticated from their birth. Those who will not forgive mistakes. Those who do not need humans to thrive. Those who are in their nature “wild.” 

As I look at the blue-eyed foal, I think of my gelding, a former harness racer, former lesson horse, now in his teens. A horse who has never known a life without humans. A horse who does not trust humans, not completely. If he was set free on the moor, he would not choose to come back to a warm stable. He would happily become feral. Why? Was he like he is now from the start or is his behaviour the result of his history? Has abuse broken his trust in human and turned him aggressive, or was he abused because of an inherently “bad” temper? 

Horses are as different from one another as humans are. Their temperaments vary from one individual to another. Some have more affinity with humans than others. Just like some people, regardless of their background, have more affinity with horses than others. Was the domestication of the horse possible because the right person met the right horse at the right moment? This we will never know. But we can imagine. And we can dream.