Spookin’

Old, young, seasoned or inexperienced, it seems that most horses can find something to spook at, and it’s usually something that makes us humans roll our eyes.

Horses spook. 

Even the most uneducated of horse people know this. Horses spook. They shy. They whirl, snort, startle and skepticize about the silliest things. It happens at some time during my day about every day. I ride it… or I try to ride it. I attempt to see it coming, and I usually can. Sometimes I ride horses so spooky that they make me spooky — I get to looking around in the forest, concerned about whatever might come out from behind, under or out of the brush and possibly jar my colt’s piece of mind and the ligaments in my back. 

Usually, it’s something unworthy of being afraid of. The plastic bag. The calf lying by its mother. The kid with the scooter. The judges stand while we are running our reining pattern (really?!). I had a horse I raised that was big, strong, beautiful and unflappable. Until he saw sheep, and then he would just lose his mind. How silly, I thought to myself, as he ducked and dived at the smell of them up the canyon. He is so large, and they are so small. He’s so ridiculous. They don’t bite. What’s to be scared of? 

Spooking is a big part of life around our outfit. We ride a lot of young horses, and they often encounter things for the first time with us astride. We tend to lean into the situations rather than avoid them. We would like to make the horse a more educated, confident and seasoned animal for the next guy, if possible. But occasionally, it’s just ridiculous, these things that they’re scared of day in and day out. 

Sometimes I can understand it. Just the other day, I rode by a smoking burn pile at the neighbors’ that included the charred remains of what I believe was an old Holstein on it, and my green colt spooked. Truth be told, it spooked me, too. I felt like it was warranted. 

Oftentimes, I do feel it’s rather unreasonable. It’s a tarp, it’s a banner, it’s a pony, it’s a trash can. If a panel falls over, I promise that it’s the same panel we’ve been by a million times before, just positioned differently. I’ve mentioned before that I’m not partial to something titled “bombproof,” as I appreciate a horse with a stitch or more of self-preservation, but obsessing about a llama that’s a half a pasture away seems excessive. 

Inexperience on the horse’s part can be a big part of spookiness, but sometimes, it’s a personality thing. Sometimes horses seem like they are just scared of getting scared. Some horses can’t be rattled. Some are sensible about it, and some make terrifying mountains out of tiny molehills. 

Anyway, we must all be about half crazy because we climb back in our saddles time and again. We are willing to forgive the nonsensical and happy to work with the half-terrified. Shoot, just the other day, I had a feral large Welsh pony (“Bonanza,” his name) in my breaking pen trying to strike at me as I patiently worked the halter over his nose for the first time. I stepped back to give us both a breath after accomplishing said feat. Doing so, I tangled up in a corner cobweb that housed a Texas-sized banana spider. I panicked. I leapt forward, swatted, prayed, trembled and whirled until I was sure he wasn’t there anymore. Bonanza just stood there and watched me, wide-eyed. 

Looking back now, I can’t help but wonder if he was thinking, “She is so large, and it is so small. She’s so ridiculous. It doesn’t bite. What’s there to be scared of?”