So, “horse personalities,” huh? For the longest time, I figured that was just folks being all mushy about their animals. You know, like saying your goldfish has a “quirky” way of swimming. I mean, they’re horses. Big, eat hay, run around. What’s so complicated?
I spent a good chunk of time just, well, being around them. Not training, not anything fancy. Just mucking out stalls, filling water buckets, that sort of thing. And you just watch. You can’t help it. You start picking things up, whether you want to or not.
Then I started actually trying to handle a few different ones. Not just leading ’em from the field to the barn. I mean, really trying to get something done with them. And bam. It hit me like a sack of feed. These animals weren’t all cut from the same cloth, not by a long shot.
There was this one mare, let’s call her Daisy. Sweet as pie most days, she was. But if you tried to rush her, forget it. She’d just plant her feet. Not mean about it, just… stubborn. You had to learn her rhythm. Then there was this gelding, Sparky. Always antsy, always looking for the next thing to spook at or get into. You had to be ten steps ahead of that one, always thinking, always ready.
It’s Not Just “Good” or “Bad”
And it wasn’t just about them being “good” or “bad.” That’s the easy way out, the lazy way to think. I started to see real, distinct patterns. Some were thinkers, proper thinkers. You could almost see the gears turning in their heads when you asked them to do something new. They’d process it, figure it out. Others were all instinct, all go-go-go. With those, you had to channel that energy, not try to fight it. Fighting it was a losing game, every single time.
- One horse I remember, a little fella, was incredibly shy. You had to build up trust, tiny step by tiny step. Took me weeks just to get him comfortable with me putting a saddle blanket near him, let alone on him.
- Another one, a big bay, was a total show-off. Loved an audience. Would practically prance if he knew people were watching. He thrived on attention.
So, what did I do? Well, I didn’t have some fancy manual or go to some expensive clinic. I just started paying attention more. A lot more. I’d watch how they reacted to different things. Loud noises. New people. Other horses. The way you approached them. Everything became a clue.
I tried to adjust my own way of being around them. With Daisy, the stubborn one, I learned to ask, then wait. Give her a moment to think it over. More often than not, she’d come around if you just gave her that space. With Sparky, the antsy one, I had to be super clear, super confident in what I was asking. No hesitation from my end. He’d feed off that, and if I was wishy-washy, he’d be all over the place.
It was a lot of trial and error. Mostly error, if I’m being honest in those early days. Got stepped on a few times. Got clothes ripped. Got plenty frustrated. Yelled a bit, not proud of that, but it happened. But slowly, very slowly, I started to get it. Or at least, get some of it. You start to feel it, more than think it.
It’s funny, you try to explain this stuff to someone who hasn’t been there, who hasn’t spent real time with them, and they just give you that blank stare. Or they’ll say something like, “Oh, so you’re a horse whisperer now?” Nah. Not even close. I just learned to listen a bit better, to observe. And that’s the thing, most people don’t listen, not really. Not to animals, and heck, not to each other half the time either.
Reminds me of this one job I had, years ago, completely unrelated. Office gig, you know the type. Everyone’s throwing around buzzwords like “synergy” and “paradigm shift,” but nobody’s actually talking to each other, not really communicating. Just PowerPoints and meetings about meetings. It felt like the same damn thing. People overcomplicate, or they oversimplify. They don’t just observe and adapt to what’s actually in front of them.
With horses, you can’t really fake it for long. They know. They feel it. If you’re scared, they get jumpy. If you’re faking confidence, they see right through that charade. It’s raw, it’s real. That’s what I really learned to appreciate. There’s no hiding.
So yeah, “horse personalities.” They’re definitely real. Not some fluffy, made-up concept for storybooks. Each one is a unique puzzle. And you just gotta be patient enough, and observant enough, to start figuring out the pieces. It ain’t rocket science, but it sure ain’t simple either. It’s just… life, I guess. Learning to deal with different characters, different ways of being, whether they’ve got two legs or four.
I’m still learning. Every damn day there’s something new. And that’s the best part, really. Always something new to figure out with these animals. Keeps you on your toes, that’s for sure.
