Thread: The Burden of Beauty

When I first started to ride in the early 1970s, horses were expected to be bay or perhaps chestnut with only a few dark bays (blacks) and greys to be found out on the fringe. A rider would never meet with hounds mounted on a ‘coloured’ horse. Being an owner of a very pretty palomino I could not understand this attitude. However of late I have started to think that for a horse to be pretty is a burden which the horse has to carry throughout its life. I even wonder if that is why in the olden days horses were expected to be bays, the matter of colour being unimportant.
My dapple grey Irish Draught mare, Cher, looks spectacular when she is poshed up. Her jet black mane maybe a little short and a her predominantly blond tail is, especially by Andalucian standards, slightly sparse. She has very little feather at her feet but what hair she does have is jet black. Nevertheless, wherever she goes, it is her looks which attract attention. A five foot nine inch height rider looks very much in proportion with Cher’s modest 15h0 hands to the wither and it is only when she stands alongside a 16h3 giant that Cher appears to be small – almost pony sized.

Invariably, the onlooker first notices the colour of her coat and then her height. No one seems to notice the size of her butt, nor the broadness of her back, nor the depth of her barrel of a chest, nor the gap between her front legs. Cher is a powerful horse with foal bearing hips, that is for sure. Whenever she walks or trots, her nature given impulsion becomes apparent especially now that she adopts a rounded outline with her head in the ramener position. (That’s nose down to the uneducated).

At shows occasionally I hear expressions like: ‘what a beautiful horse’. I look around and consider the speaker. Unless they are wearing the riding apparel of an expert dressage rider, I know that they would have difficulty in riding my horse. At show time she is like a cat on a hot tin roof and it is as much as her regular rider, The Countess, can do to stop her misbehaving, especially if her ‘season’ is beckoning and there is a fancy gelding near by. Stallions have to be given a wide berth at all times. My Cher would show them a good time, that is for sure.

Regularly I have to stop and ask myself if it is time for me to find her a new home and in my mind I begin to form the words of the advertisement. I know that should any prospective viewer come to look at her they will be thinking: “what a lovely horse”. But the worry is that they will not look closely enough to see that this horse is ‘sharp’ and, I mean, ‘razor blade sharp’. The slightest touch and this horse will notice and respond. There is to be no slouching by the rider when in the saddle and no temporary lapse of concentration. The rider must sit upright, balanced but relaxed, at all times. The reins must be held so that there is a light and delicate contact through the bit with the jaw. The only clue the rider has to the next movement by the horse is the position of the ears, the tension or lack of it on the bit and the sensations which come up to the rider through the saddle and into the thighs. At any milli-second, whilst in the arena or out on the lanes, Cher can come off all four feet and skip a yard to the side and that is before even the most experienced and sensitive of riders has recognised that a shy is imminent. The move is too fast for the cognitive side of the brain of a human. The rider is reliant utterly on the reflexes initiated by the silent brain to keep him or her in the saddle. The inexpert rider will invariably come off.

At such times Cher expected the rider to stay in place, to counter the shy and to give a stroke on the mane together with some kind words of comfort. Whereas for the rider to fall, invokes a snooty look from Cher, who suddenly realizes that her rider is incompetent and not deserving of the privilege of sitting on her back. I can sense Cher thinking to herself that the rider is supposed to be a competent leader and leaders do not lead by falling to the ground.

Now, this undoubted scenario is completely hidden by Cher’s kind demeanour. Whilst being introduced to a strange human, she can be so, so sweet. Of course what she is doing is sniffing the stranger to see if the rider is carrying treat biscuits or maybe a mint or two. She will allow a stroke of the fore head. She will even tolerate a brush of the lips on her nose but, make no mistake, all she is doing is building up a profile of the stranger who may decide to mount her. She will be listening to the voice, she will be smelling the breath, she will be sensing the pheromones. She is feeling the hands and judging the touch. She will be watching the body language for any hint of nervousness. And were the stranger to even think of mounting her, she will be recording the grip of the hands on the reins, the spring of the knees off the stirrup irons and the lowering of the butt onto the saddle. She will have the measure of the rider before even the he or she has taken up the reins and brought the heels alongside her flanks. The stranger should beware of the moment of vulnerability when he or she lifts up the saddle flap and reaches down to tighten the girth. The adjustment will invariably be necessary because Cher always, repeats always, inflates her stomach at the time of the first fitting of the saddle so as to make necessary the final girth adjustment. One never ever carries a whip with this horse. Even the mere sight of it will cause a strop. And be oh so careful when asking the horse to walk on. Be very gentle with the pressure of the heel; too hard and you have made an enemy, too soft and you are a weak rider.

The unsuspecting rider will no doubt still be thinking: “what a pretty horse”.

I know her through and through. She is sensitive, intelligent, skilful, unpredictable, moody, alert, cunning, crafty, devious, dominant, wilful, demanding. And it is all hidden behind a disarmingly placid demeanour and that silky black, grey and white coat.

Oh ,yes, she has the measure of me. I am not deceived. I am no cuckold. I am there to pay the bills, to bring the treats, to offer up the pears and to stand in her corner to defend her against The Countess, Cher’s taskmaster. I am Cher’s and she owns me. She is her own mare. I know my place.

Yet as I write this article I am well aware that the horse which in the past gave me the most enjoyable riding experiences of my riding career was a plain bay gelding: a Welsh/ Hannoverian cross. No one would have picked him out from the herd. Anyway he did not like strangers. He always adopted a low profile. Will was remarkable for his sure footedness and rideability and not his sprauncy looks.

My Dad used to say to me : “Son, beware a pretty face dressed in finery”. He never thought to warn me about alpha mares.
And that is the trap which many horse fanciers fall into. A horse is a performance creature, it is what it does that counts, not what it looks like.
Cher is in her own way rewarding to the human because of what she can achieve in the dressage arena and not because of what she looks like.

The problem for most riders is that they have to be aware that they may not be clever enough to handle her. Their skills must match hers. And that is the curse Cher has to bear, which is exactly why she is what she is: Prima Donna, Carnival Queen, Ballet Diva, Snow Princess, Belle of the Ball, Princess Dianne. Top of the Pops, Fancy Pants, etc etc etc.

(Dad did tell me about these honey traps).

I dunno. I see the local cattlemen working on horseback and think, a horse is a horse is a horse.

Ah, but some of them are prettier than others - and a guy working all day out in the bush must have something to come home to.

There we are. I sit down and over the course of an hour or so I compose a sensitive, intuitive, emotive piece about a man and his faithful steed. The article is elsewhere posted on an international horse forum read by numerous ladies of all ages, each of who have one thing in common - a love of horses. The article is received with applause. Message fly across the internet, saying how appreciative the ladies are of this little gem of composition. In addition almost two hundred viewers read the article in less than twenty fours hours.

So, I decide I will try it out with my mates on the Writing Forum - who aren’t exactly known for their appreciation of horses but who nevertheless might occasionally, from time to time, experience a tug at the heart strings and tear ducts. I wait for the plaudits - in vain.

What do I get in response? - nothing, merely some post about the horses in a Aussie stock yard all looking alike.



What more can I say? If I seek a tear or two of compassion, then I’d better stick with the horsey ladies. They’ve got heart. emotion, sensitivity, feeling, tenderness, understanding.

All I seek is a kind word or two, or three or more, of appreciation and encouragement. Is that too much to crave of my peers?

I feel like I am flogging a dead horse.

There is a way to draw in readers of disparate backgrounds and fascinate them with a look into a strange, wondrous world, with its own jargon, visuals, sounds, and smells. But I don't think what you wrote did the trick.

I'm glad that the ladies who are of your world appreciated your article; however, because of the way it was written, that doesn't automatically mean that those of us on the outside will enjoy it.

Read some Hermann Hesse and contemplate how a guy who was born in Germany in the late 1800s could captivate an inner-city black kid in the 1970s.

… And stop craving. It's very unbecoming, LOL. By all means, keep writing—and take the chip (and crying towel) off your shoulder.

Oh OX, I think I am going to need rescuing.

Hello Divus,
I have read the famous book by Monty Roberts and I felt the love of horses. Strangely, and I don't know why, I don't feel the same when reading your piece. Come to think of it, I think I know why : your piece sounds a little too much like a "instruction manual" to Cher. And I think this is why your rider friends like it.
(I am new to the world of writing so feel free to bin my comments, no offence will be taken)
My best,
Cricri

CriCri
Monty is regarded as being one of the founders of modern Natural Horsemanship - even if his background was based on the old strap them and flog em days.
He is preaching to the unconverted.

I am empathising with the converted and picking up on their emotions.

Horses squeeze emotion out of humans like a mangle squeezes water out of a wet towel.

Maybe it's your style of writing, but I don't sense any real emotion in your piece. Sometimes we think we've achieved something when we really haven't, and then blame the reader. I'd say, try again—the piece is descriptive but also very passive.

Divus - I read your piece when you first put it up and started to comment, then decided not to. Now others have broken the ice, so I don't feel so bad about how I reacted to your very well written article.

In my life I've ridden three horses. I fell off two of them. I know and love motor cars the way you know and love horses, and were I to write an article about my old e-type Jag, the reaction from the majority here would no doubt be the same as the reaction has been to your piece. Those who are motoring aficionados would enjoy my tales of taming that temperamental, touchy, delightful, wonderful beast. Those without such an interest, those for whom a motor car is a mode of transport, would fail to understand.

There may be only a handful here who can appreciate the technical knowledge you have of horses and the appreciation you have for horses. That the article is well written and the information accurate is beyond question as shown by the reaction of other horse lovers.

Likewise, well written articles, leaning toward the technical, about cars like my e-type always attract readers in 'Sports Car Digest', while here the reaction would be yawns.

When I was a youngster, from around eight up to perhaps ten, one of my favourite writers was Albert Payson Terhune. He bred and raised collies, and trained them for the show ring. His stories had enough technical information about dogs to provide a sense of realism, but the technical side was overlaid by an emphasis on human-animal relations. As you read his stories you begin to care about the characters, both dogs and people.

I remember one of your early pieces here that dealt with another horse. I don't remember the name of the horse, but I remember how you made your friendship with the horse come alive in what you wrote. 'The Burden of Beauty' is a superb piece of writing, but for a person who knows about horses only that horse manure is splendid in the worm bed, but must be allowed to cool down for at least a fortnight before use, the style, the language used, leaves me feeling left out.

May I suggest that you write in this present style for those who, like you, know the difference between a bay and a black, and also try your hand at writing for a wider audience. When you say, 'A five foot nine inch height rider looks very much in proportion with Cher’s modest 15h0 hands to the wither and it is only when she stands alongside a 16h3 giant that Cher appears to be small – almost pony sized' I don't understand. I get the general idea that the horse is not a really big horse, but I have no idea what he numbers mean. If you were to say she's a middle size horse for an average size person, that's all I need to know.

Your writing is excellent. It's we, lacking proper knowledge, who are lacking.

Garza, thank you for your sympathetic critique.

I deliberately posted this article on the writing forum in order to get a reaction to it from the non horsey fraternity. I now accept that the style I am employing is not going to work with the general public. This suggests that I have to be more circumspect about where I post similar articles.
Not long ago I wrote about scuba diving in the 1970s and was judged by readers as though the events were fictional.

After my first private review of what I have posted to this thread I instantly knew from previous experience that the article would attract positive comment from the female private horse owners and on that forum it did. However those readers had been conditioned to the style by following my earlier writings.

As you know I have written on several different topics in the hope of finding another genre to occupy my mind. It seems I have to keep looking for topics but I am beginning to suspect that there is also a generation gap for me to surmount. The subject matter is but one hurdle. Taste and attitudes change with age. Modern 'jargon' is certainly to be another problem for me to cope with.

I know I have found one audience in the horse world but there is work for me to find other audiences. I think I shall devote some time delving back into social history.

Dv