How to Train a Human

By Punkin & Susan Brown

It’s shaping up to another good morning. The sun’s shining through my stall door, I’ve had my grain, and my hay bag is packed with hay. That’s when I hear crunching footsteps on the gravel path. I stick my head outside to look – my person and someone else. I’ll be working today.

My person comes into my stall, says hello, and rubs the itchy spot on my forehead. 

“This is Punkin,” she tells the other woman. “She’s a blue-eyed Tennessee Walker, whose coloring is called chestnut with white Sabino.”

Punkin being led out of the arena.

In other words, I’m gorgeous. I flick my ears, then snort, letting her familiar smell filter into my nostrils. In the next stall, Ari leans her head out and does the same. 

My person attaches a rope to my halter and, with the new woman beside her, leads me out of the stall, up the path toward the arena. Something moves by the fence, so I pull back. My person doesn’t react, so when she urges me ahead, I keep walking. 

In the arena, my person explains things to the other woman. She comes over and holds her closed hand to my nose. Not bad. I smell her little frisson of fear and hear her quickening heartbeat. I get that fear. That’s the way some people are and that’s the way some horses are, especially if they don’t trust the person at the end of the lead rope. And my job is all about trust – theirs and mine. 

But they keep talking…and there are tufts of new grass beside the fence. Once my person drops the rope, I take a moment to have a good roll in the sand and then trot over for a snack. 

This grass is sweet. Very sweet.

The woman comes over, takes the rope, and nervously pats my neck. Good, but not as good as grass.

When my person gives her instructions, the other woman stands beside me and clucks a little. But I ignore her. I mean…new grass.

Punkin and her new friend.

My person talks a little more, so the woman straightens, looks forward, and says, “Walk-on!” I know what that means – but do I want to bother teaching her to work with me? I snort, look at my person, and then give in. If she wants me to train the woman, I will. My person knows what needs to be done. And we’re a great team.

So, we walk. My head dips and bobs in the rhythm. The woman begins to run. I run too. It’s kind of fun, her trying to work out what to do and me doing it for her when she gets it right.

We trot around the arena, stop, back up, and take an easy turn when she swishes the rope to show me what she wants.

They start talking again. I munch grass until we head up to the barn. The nervous woman’s heartbeat is steady now and my person is saying soft words to me. 

Back in my stall, I pull a mouthful of hay, satisfied. Another good session of training a human. Hay, humans, and work – what horse could ever want more?

Contributing Author: Susan Brown

http://www.susanbrownwrites.com/