It was just getting dark and we have rain coming in fits and starts along with some cooler weather this evening. The horses were all ready to come into stalls for hay and shelter, so I got hay served, let them in, did some mucking of paddocks before the rain returned, and then opened up Keil Bay and Cody's back doors.
I went into the arena with the lunge whip and opened the gate from the paddock hoping they would join me. Cody had gone into Keil's stall and Keil turned to watch me from his stall door while Cody cleaned up the rest of Keil's hay.
Keil Bay wasn't yet sure he was answering my invitation, so I walked around from dressage marker to dressage marker, tapping the lunge whip handle on the markers, tap tap tap, and he couldn't resist. He walked in and joined me. Then of course Cody had to come in too.
Cody and Keil Bay walked off side by side as I swept the whip across the footing and raised my left arm. They immediately got in sync and were walking in nice long strides. We did a number of circuits of the arena in a figure 8 pattern at the walk and then they decided to trot. We played back and forth a bit and then they got in sync with ME. I walked, they walked. I trotted, they trotted. I cantered, they did.
I love the sound of their hooves on the very slightly wet footing in the arena, and the shared energy. The pony was watching out his stall door. Salina was watching from the other side of the barn. The donkeys came out to see what was going on.
Of course at some point Keil and Cody worked themselves up into a higher energy level and they galloped and bucked and snorted and went a little wild while I watched. As they got bigger and faster, I took myself out of the path of that much energy and as soon as I stepped to the side, Keil Bay brought himself down and walked up to me, as if he was trying to include me again.
Cody stopped too, and the three of us walked around together for a few minutes before I opened the gate and stood there. Keil came over and stood with me for a bit before heading back to his stall. Cody waited and then did the same.
This is something we've often done on rainy evenings, a ritual that got started when we first moved to November Hill, and I love that it happens so easily and with nothing more than me opening the gate and inviting them in. Taking turns giving the cues and leading and following.
billie hinton’s camera-obscura:
life and lessons on November Hill Farm
10 comments:
Keil Bay - ever the gentleman. Thanks for sharing your magical evening billie. :)
You are most welcome!
As ever another magical night with Cody and Keil. How wonderful that they answered your invitation and you all got to play together.
i love the image of your impromptu evening rain dance ritual :-) so much fun!
A, we have had a number of these kinds of night-time arena adventures over the years and every time they come in and we create a new one I am so in awe of them.
j, I have this image in my head from the way it looked and felt to be very close to their hindquarters in the dark, copper and bay, muscles rippling as they moved forward in front of me, sometimes toward the arena light, and sometimes toward the dark wooded end of the arena. They were side by side and although it started with me asking them to move forward, it ended up feeling like their energy was pulling ME forward. I can't say I've ever experienced anything quite like being in the midst of horses moving in the night.
i think i understand something of what you mean. when the horses used to live out i would go out to check on them in the evenings and sometimes i'd be out in the middle of the herd, in the moonlight or in the mist, and there is just something strange that happens when you are immersed like that in horses... they have a way of absorbing you; you fit like one of their puzzle pieces; you move with them. i can't quite explain it, but i've felt it.
Exactly - very well put. I have often thought of it as being taken into the "herd mind" - but that doesn't quite capture the absolute physicality of the experience. It's visceral.
That's fab. A great image of real togetherness. You can't earn that, or train it, it is gifted and wonderful.
Thanks, Maire, it was a gift, truly.
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