I’ve heard it said a horse has an excellent memory. I’ve been amazed by this memory from time to time when I ride a horse that hasn’t been ridden in years but who as a youngster might have had some good training. I apply a familiar cue and the horse responds with easy familiarity, as if they learned the response yesterday.
But because of this excellent memory, early traumas or memory associations can come back to haunt the well broke horse from some seemingly innocuous trigger. This happened to me the other day when I went out to feed our 4 horses.
My typical routine is fill the four hanging grain feeders first then hang them along the rails of the loafing shed from right to left. The horses all know their places now – dominant Hershey always gets first bucket, Dino – who crowds in close to Hershey for protection from the mares and who Hershey amazingly tolerates as if he were his own foal – gets second bucket. Rain gets third bucket and Buttercup, who is above Dino in the pecking order (but below Rain) gets 4th because she’s not willing to drive Dino off his bucket with it being so close to Hershey (who, incidentally, will drive her away with a lot of aggression). Then I scatter hay – some in the big feeder, other flakes placed in strategic spots under the shed. This is my routine – day in and day out. Except for the other day!
I was tired of having Hershey, Rain and Buttercup fling their feeders off the rail in their excitement to get their grain. Lately, as the weather has gotten colder, the bucket “flinging” has become worse. I run back and forth along the rail holding buckets for the horses giving me clues they’re going to start “flinging”. Plus, if I don’t take the buckets down after they’re done, the next day they have been “flung” around the shelter which requires me climbing through rails amongst hungry, crowding horses to retrieve said buckets for the current days feeding! Enough was enough! I went out the other day armed with my drill and some wood screws so I could permanently attach the feeders to the rails.
Thus the routine was changed. I started by feeding hay which confused everyone. Then I started putting up a bucket and drilling in a couple screws. The noise of the drill startled everyone but the moment I’d pause between drilling, Dino, Rain and Buttercup would be right up with me, thrusting their noses in the bucket checking for grain. But Hershey wouldn’t come near me. As I was attaching buckets I noticed a few loose nails on the rails so I went and grabbed my hammer and started pounding them back in. This noise really alarmed Hershey. He began bolting from one end of the shed to the other. I didn’t pay much mind to him figuring he was just agitated with all the clamoring noise I was making. Finally, when I was finished attaching the last bucket – I proceeded to put grain in each and the horses made their way to their designated spots.
And this is where the weirdness started. As is my habit, I went from horse to horse as they ate their grain and reached out to pet them. When I came to Hershey, my big brave horse who walks along highway roads with semi trailers and rattling contraptions roaring by, acted like a wild mustang. He wouldn’t let me touch him. He would bolt away from his grain (a most unusual behavior) as if I were a cougar reaching out to paw him. Snorting, with legs splayed and ears intensely forward, he’d back away, spin and race off to the other end of the shed. A bit perplexed, I made my way into the horse part of the shed and attempted to pet him. What ensued was a blast-from-the-past lesson of first contact with a wild horse! After some cajoling, soft words, quiet movements, downturned eyes and light touches to his shoulder, I was finally able to get the usual Hershey behavior back – almost…there still was a little hesitation.
So, what triggered this; something about the drill, the hammer or the noise? I’ve had Hershey since he was 9 months old. He’s 9 years old now. He’s been everywhere and done just about everything. He’s even been around construction sites – when we were building a barn, or when I’ve pounded in fence posts to section off parts of a pasture. What I do know is that before I got him he had been sold once and repossessed by the original owner. She had told me she had heard Hershey was being abused, thrown, tied down, etc… so had taken him back. I don’t remember being told any more but I do remember a frightened little colt that wouldn’t let people come up to him. It wasn’t too long after I got him that he started enjoying people and acting like a normal, friendly colt. But somewhere back in the recesses of his mind is some dusty old memory that I have no clue about but somehow managed to trigger with my drilling and hammering. I’ll never know what experience he had as a youngster that resurfaced with my actions that day but it did cause me to marvel again at the horse’s mental abilities. And although the horses capacity for forgiveness is great, his memory is long, thus every action we take with him should be done with thoughtfulness towards his mental, as well as physical, well-being.