The wild ones

 

When a horse exhibits aggressive behaviour and bad temper, the main advice will be to check them for pain, be it ulcers, arthritis or others… Sometimes, the conclusion will be that this bad behaviour is learnt and the result of traumatic experiences at the hands of humans. There are even cases when highly aggressive horses have been discovered to have brain damage or hormonal unbalance. And it is true that pain often explains a lot of things. 

Yet though labelling some horses as “naughty” is one extreme, blaming everything on pain is, in my opinion, another. Considering that human interaction or bodily pain is the explanation for every equine “deviant” behaviour negates their individuality. Like humans, some horses are sweet and gentle and others have less appealing personalities, by the standards we set. 

I have three horses. Of those three, two have an almost disturbing savage streak to their character. In the case of my 16 years old French trotter, it would be easy to blame it on the abuse he suffered from in his past, as well as on the mild pain he is in due to arthritis. And this certainly explains part of his bouts of anger and resource-guarding. Yet I believe there’s not just that. He is an independent, strong-minded, moody horse. It is his personality. What he has gone through has heightened some of those traits. But I’m certain that they are part of what he is as an individual. 

The filly I have recently adopted has a very similar temperament. She is saucy, aggressive and short-tempered. If she’s not pleased about something, be it someone trying to touch her, her brother eating her share of hay, her food not being brought quickly enough, she’ll make faces, kick, fight. She may be diminutive in terms of size, but she certainly makes up for this in terms of character. Is she in pain? No. Was she mistreated? No. Is it her hormones? I do not believe so. It is too easy to blame a mare’s mood-swings on hormones. 

Her behaviour could be explained by the fact that, up to a few weeks ago, she was feral. So it is normal that she should behave like a wild horse. Except that her brother, brought up in exactly the same conditions (they have been together since birth) is one of the sweetest ponies I’ve met, though he still is afraid of humans. He never puts his ears back. He doesn’t threaten to kick. He actually had a more traumatic time than his sister since he has been castrated, which must not have been the most pleasant experience for him. Still, he holds not grudge. He is simply nice. He’s one of those horses who, whatever they go through, remain gentle and willing to trust and please the humans and other equines around them. 

I find those differences in character very interesting. They match what I had already noticed when taking lessons at a riding school. Some horses were sweet and patient, forgiving of their rider’s mistakes and thriving on the attention that was given to them in the shape of carrots and cuddles. Others were not as kind. They were labelled as “difficult.” Sometimes, that was explained by internal pain (ulcers, kissing spine…) and sometimes I think it was just their individual character. 

Horses are not always nice and gentle creatures. While watching how the feral ponies on Dartmoor behaved, I was struck by the violence of some of their interactions. Survival guided their actions, and it was not always pretty. There was also a clear distinction between some very aggressive and determined individuals and others who submitted to just keep the peace. There was a similar dynamic at play between my filly and her brother. I saw her once violently attacking him, simply to get at the hay (they had plenty, at different corners of their enclosure, so limited resources were not an excuse). He did not retaliate. And I came to the disturbing conclusion that if she had to kill him to survive (in case of a food shortage for instance), she would. 

What I find very interesting as I take care of my horses and at the same time do my research on medieval equines, is that the “wild” ones have always strangely attracted humans. That attraction lives on today: think of all the books and films about someone taming an untameable wild horse. Complicated horses represent a challenge. We have a grudging admiration for their individuality and strength of character. Their trust is not easily granted and when it is, our ego is soothed by the thought that we are their person. That we are the one and only. Because, do we want a horse who will be nice to everyone without distinction? Or do we want to be “chosen”? 

I’m no exception. I find the idea of being “chosen” attractive, even if it is partly a fantasy. But I also realise how restful it is to deal with a sweet-tempered pony. I’ve been drawn to my filly, Topaze, ever since she was a foal. And, as I watched her on the moor, I started to daydream about taming her. I did not spare a glance for Diamant who was already shy and quiet, compared to his flamboyant, expressive sister. Yet now that I am handling both of them, I’m appreciating his gentleness more than I expected to. I do not need to be wary when I’m near him. I can just enjoy interacting with a friendly little horse. 

Am I still more drawn to the wilder ones? Maybe… Because of the challenge, because of the individuality. Probably also because there is a human tendency to try to see ourselves in our horses. And don’t we all want to see ourselves as a strong-minded, determined individual? Don’t we all, in a way, want to reflect and make our own the wild horse’s independence of spirit? Part of it is illusion, part of it is fantasy. And I find echoes of that in my medieval sources.