One thing I have learned when communicating with animals is the absolute necessity of heart. This may seem an obvious statement to those who are less cerebrally challenged than I but I would like to share the following story which I hope you will agree reveals this simple truth. This story is a demonstration of the tremendous connection that is possible between the human animal and animals.
I share my life with two native ponies and one old horse amongst other animals. Now those of you who have ever had dealings with native ponies or who have ever been responsible for their care will understand that it is a responsibility which weighs heavy upon the heart. Native ponies, by virtue of their evolution, are entirely unsuited to lowland pasture and should rightfully be atop a windswept moor above the natural tree-line. Here they would graze upon rough tussocks of poor grass and would be spared the over-lush pasture necessary for profitable cattle-raising. Unfortunately for me and for most pony owners, my ponies live on rich beef grazing and share their pasture for half of the year with a herd of cattle. In the spring as the fresh rich grass begins to push through and reaches the height of my lower ankles, I begin to feel nervous. This grass which is delightful for all of us at the first greening of spring is, unfortunately for my ponies, very high in sugar. It is exactly this grass which is the cause of the dreaded laminitis. Laminitis makes horses' feet so painful that they will often be seen standing in strange postures or spending more time than normal lying down. This flush of spring grass can make ponies so lame that it sometimes becomes necessary for them to be put down: a terrible fate which befell one of my own ponies. It is for this reason that each spring my ponies have to be contained in the grimly entitled starvation paddock. This paddock is essentially a small area where their grazing is restricted. My ponies do not think much of this. Neither does my old horse who as herd leader is responsible for taking his herd to the best grazing. A canny old beast, he is adept at knocking down the fencing between the starvation paddock and the rest of the lush ten acre field. One fine day at the latter part of spring, his cunning plan had indeed come to a successful conclusion. I awoke to the tortuous sight of ponies gamboling without a care in the world amongst fattening cattle. "Oh Lord!" exclaimed I. "Whatever you do, don't go into that field." responded the man with whom I share my life. "That bull is spiteful." Once a dairy farmer, this man's sage advice could only be ignored at my peril. He, for one, was taking no chances with the large red bull who had claimed the remaining acreage as his rightful territory. What to do? Nothing would persuade those ponies to do my bidding. No laden bucket with juicy carrots, no scent of sweet apple would lure them back in to their small paddock. That night, tired, exhausted and frantic I went to sit outside my house under the stars. I stilled my mind and centred myself, imagining as I did my horse Apollo and the two ponies standing in front of me. I directed my will and the energy of my thought at these three forms and silently voiced as clearly as I could. “IT IS NOT SAFE! THE PONIES’ FEET WILL BECOME EXTREMELY PAINFUL. THE BULL WILL HURT US (HUMANS). I CANNOT COME AND GET YOU. YOU MUST BE STANDING BY THE FENCE IN THE MORNING OR YOU WILL BE ILL. YOU MUST COME HOME....” This chastisement went on for many minutes. Exhausted I went to bed and fell asleep. In the morning I willed a knowing that they would be by the fence waiting patiently for me to arrive. And there they were patiently standing with their hooves hidden by the most beautiful green spring grass! I wanted to whoop and cheer but knew that I had to keep my composure. I pretended that it was all in a day's work. Opening the gate quietly, I stood inviting them back into the paddock. Not one moved. I began the chastisement again. Through my belly I willed the thoughts, "YOU WILL BE ILL. YOUR HOOVES WILL BECOME REALLY PAINFUL." I implored with them to come back in but there was no response. Finally, I changed my intention. Softly, gently and full of the love a mother has for her children, I said, "PLEASE COME HOME." The three of them looked at me with eyes I shall never forget. Charged with the deepest resentment and awash with self-pity their withering looks were shot in my direction as one by one each of them plodded slowly through the gate and back into their tiny paddock of short grass. |
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CategoriesAnimal CommunicationEquine Guided Learning
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