A mustang story
Mustang Katet
His name is Stoney. He was taken from his home in Nevada and somehow ended up in Georgia. He is a mustang, and he is my friend.
It all began with a friend (human friend) called me and said she knew where I could get a horse…for free. Now, you have to understand something. I have wanted a horse since I knew what a horse was. The funny thing is that I cannot for the life of me remember a time I didn’t know what a horse was. I remember sitting on the floor in a home for children watching Fury. I remember that big, black beautiful horse rearing up, pawing the air, and although I was only five years old, I was enthralled.
Soon after, and in my first foster home, I remember watching for the right time to run to the back gate by the alley, and there I would wait to hear that clop, clop, clop sound that has always brought me comfort. After a bit, straining to see, there she would be, pulling a garbage wagon. I never knew if the man with the horse-drawn wagon was hired by the city of Detroit or not, but one day, to my great dismay, I ran to the gate to find a truck had taken my beloved horse’s place.
But I did not give up. My dream of owning my own horse lived on. I would pretend to be riding the range on the horses that used to sit in front of the old five and dime stores. The rides, however, never lasted long enough, nor did I get to ride often enough.
The closest I ever came to having my own horse was when, at the age of 14, a small Shetland stallion pony was given to me. My foster parents sold their other ponies and kept Bubbles--- probably because he was a runt. No matter: I learned a lot from Bubbles. We would go into the woods and find apple trees and eat to our hearts’ content. He was kind-hearted, gentle, and loved to pretend he was going to nip me. I outgrew him, although I still loved him. I outgrew my home too, and left to go to another home. I was never to see him again.
Now, here I was, listening to my friend, telling me I had an opportunity of a life time. I was elated, but hesitant. I didn’t know where in the world I would keep him. I live on a half acre of land---surely not enough for a horse! She had that problem solved, too. The horse was living at a boarding stable. Could this get any better?
I think there are two kinds of anxiety: the one where you are scared something bad is going to happen. Then, there is the kind where something is so good, you are scared that it won’t happen, and all your jubilation will be dashed against a concrete wall. It is the waiting that will kill you, and I had waited so long. I think I waited almost my whole fifty years for this moment, and I knew it could be gone in an instant.
By the time I realized he was mine, the time for excitement of a new prospect and a fantastic surprise celebration was past. But that was okay. Stoney belonged to me. That meant he couldn’t be sold or taken away. No longer would anyone tell me that I wasn’t needed around the stable and the horses, and I could go home. Now I could buy things for him (us, actually---a saddle isn’t just for the horse). I could see him any time I wanted---in the dead of night if it so pleased him and me. Ahhh, this was wonderful!
I went into the pasture and walked up to him, and he stepped back. It seemed he wasn’t sure if he liked humans or not. He didn’t run, fling his head or stomp his foot. He just backed up and stood there. So, I backed up. He came forward. I waited. Another step. Another. I lifted my hand and he backed up again. I was told that he wouldn’t come out the gate, and yet here he was, not even allowing me to touch him.
As I was soon to find out, this is Stoney. He comes to you on his own terms. Kindness and patience would win out, but not bribery. He loves treats, but only if they are a gift or reward. He loves praise, but gets miffed if he feels he hasn’t earned it.
Typical mustang? Well, in a sense there is no such thing---yet again there is. But, at least to me and to others that know him, he is unique. He can be stubborn, (and that is where he got his name) but only to a point---the point of which how patient the trainer is. He is built like a brick house; some think he has a bit of the draft horse or another stout breed. He isn’t but about 14 hands high, which is to say he is about 4 feet at the shoulders. When I got him, he was a sorrel---reddish brown all over (with three white stockings and a nicked blaze on his face). This year, he turned into a liver chestnut---a very dark brown.
Step by step we worked together, trying to learn each other’s language, movement, and personalities. When he turned, I jumped. When I dropped something, he jumped. I promised I would never hurt him, and he promised he would never hurt me. There were days neither one was sure of the other, but now I don’t get scared when he is startled, and he trusts me enough that we can sometimes play games.
One of our games is that I try to pretend I can outrun him. He thinks that is funny. Sometimes we play dodge; I try to run around him, and he blocks me. I believe he would make a great cow pony. Maybe I can enter him into the Augusta Futurity…if I can ever get him into a trailer!
I hadn’t realized how much I had left the world of horses. I had almost stopped reading, learning and thinking about them. Stoney reopened the door for me. Because I wanted to enhance my training abilities, I sought out trainers that were my kindred spirits, so to speak: Pat Parelli, John Lyons, and especially Mark Rashid.
I learned my instincts were right, even from the time I had trained Bubbles: gentleness, communication, and compassion coupled with knowledge is the right path to effective understanding, and thus, training. Training in this sense is a lot like a friendship because I am not the only one training; I am also being trained.
We have only been together for about a year and a half. However, during that time our relationship has really grown. He doesn’t jump because of anything I do, and he comes to me instead of backing up. Sometimes, he just listens to the humans talk, just hanging out.
What is fantastic is the effect he has had on my husband; in fact, so much so that Ed now has his own horse (a large appaloosa)! But the best part of that is the change that has come over Ed. He is kinder, more patient, and is learning not to use “no!” as a training tool.
I realize that our journey has just begun, and to continue to build on this foundation I still have a lot to learn. But, with the help of God, we will be together until He calls one us home---and I know one will wait for the other.