The Way of Winter

Ravenseyrie is a landscape of variable beauty, always changing moods, ever shifting its aesthetic offerings, and often times demanding much of those who have chosen to live in such a wilderness.

Situated roughly 450 feet above Lake Huron's North Channel on the East Bluff of Gore Bay on Manitoulin Island, Ravenseyrie's most frequent elemental spirit is the Wind. Rare is the day when some breeze isn't sweeping across the bluff. In the warm months, such a breeze is easily embraced and even the sustained gusty winds that sometimes linger for days, polishing the tops of the supple prairie grasses is given a nod of appreciation. But come late autumn and winter this same, predominant elemental can present no trivial danger to us intrepid inhabitants.

This December finds Kevin and me seasoned and primed for our fifth winter at Ravenseyrie. Most everything we expected to have ready before our first snowstorm has been neatly tended to. Even so, every year, the first blizzard tests our fortitude in ways that we cannot forsee. This year, it was the 9th of December that Mother Nature popped her cork and gave us our first taste of the full-bodied harshness of winter's brew--and, because Altamiro now insists on keeping his family band separate from the rest of the equine inhabitants of Ravenseyrie this first blizzard served as a catalyst for a rather harrowing experience that particular morning as Kevin and I attempted to get hay out to the horses. (Better get yourself a cup of coffee or a good tall stout, this is a long narrative!)

Kevin gets ready to take his load of hay out to the forest on a cold and gusty day, but thankfully no snowstorm this time!

Probably, before I take readers on our journey into feeding horses during a blizzard, it may be helpful to provide background into the setting we find ourselves in this time of year. I have already mentioned the nearly ever-present wind that our bluff receives. I should relay also, for those who are new to the blog, that there are no run-in-sheds or barns or man-made livestock shelters here at Ravenseyrie. The horses and mules take their shelter during inclement weather in a variety of woodland copses and thick forest. All well and good, these--and likely healthier than any barn could hope to be...the difficulty is not for the horses, rather it is for the humans who want to get food out to where they are.

I'm just now leaving the yard with my load of hay, while Kevin is well on his way ahead of me as the horses finish up their breakfast oats. The destination is the north woods. Kevin will leave his load well to the right of the lone Zen Elm tree and I will leave mine on the left.

Living with (and being born in) the wind, our horses are not made agitated or flighty by the raucous gales and persistently stiff breezes that frequent Ravenseyrie, however, when these same winds occur during heavy rain or snow or during excruciatingly bitter temperatures, the horses and mules do not cross the open grasslands to wait by the house for the feed we provide in winter, and so we bring the feed out to their sheltered woodland cathedrals.

Most days, when there is no winter wind, we are able to feed the horses near the house, and even with Altamiro's "split herd policy" in force, we manage handily by feeding the family band on the west side of the yard and Mistral's group off to the east side. Feeding chores are a snap on such days. On the days when the wind is too brusque to feed in the open, we must work a little harder to assure that the horses are able to dine in relative comfort.

On gentle winter days, Mistral's group takes their meals on the east side of the house.

Altamiro's family band takes their meals on the west side of the house/yard.

We have discovered three favorite windbreak "zones" that the horses generally retreat to during inclement weather in wintertime, two of which are north of the house and the other is to the west.

This year, we began feeding breakfast hay on the first of December after we received a light dusting of snow, but by December third we were committed to morning and late day hay feedings some of which we took to the windbreak zones because winds were cold and strong enough to blow they hay away if we fed in our near-the-house locations. Even with Altamiro's "split herd policy" strictly enforced, we managed to keep everyone happy by arranging Altamiro's group on the lee side of the first copse of trees to the north, and placed Mistral's group in a slight clearing in the forest-proper just to the northeast of Altamiro's spot.

On the day of this year's first island blizzard, the horses of course did not come up for oats and hay near the house, so Kevin loaded up our toboggans, even heavier than usual, and the two of us tightened our scarves bid each other farewell and boldly strode out into the swirling snow towards the northerly wooded windbreaks. As we got halfway to the tree line, Kevin veered off to the northeast and I continued on due north, each of us expecting to find the two herds in their respective locales waiting for us.

It wasn't long before the blowing snow hid Kevin from me. I couldn't see my destination, but along the way, I could discern necessary familiar shapes of shrubs and trees letting me know I was still basically on track. When I reached the natural sheltered area, I was dismayed that Altamiro and his family were not waiting there for me, but I quickly determined that because it was a northeast wind, they may have gone over to the alternate windbreak around the bend in the westerly tree line. I wiped the moisture from my cold nose, shook the snow from the brim of my hat and set off to the westerly woods and even found some tracks which seemed to confirm my sense that this is where Altamiro and his family were waiting for me.

On windless days, the horses can eat out in the open, not far from the house.

When I got to the windbreak spot, after much trudging across the open area, with snow and wind pummeling me all the while, there was no hungry group of horses waiting there either! I followed some tracks deeper around the bend of the woods continuing to intuit that I would find the horses very soon, even though the tracks began to look rather old. In windblown conditions, it is hard for me to determine how fresh the tracks are because often times they are partially already filled in with blown snow. In the end, it would seem my intuition was befuddled by the chaos of the elements and wishful thinking.

Our kitchen table, looking to the north east

By now, my legs and arms are feeling rather rubbery, but I set out again off into the open, charting a diagonal trajectory back towards where I imagine Kevin probably has fed Mistral's group. Part way across the open grassland, during a extremely brief lull between gale driven snow, I imagine that I am seeing snow-clad dark forms moving on the landscape. I stop and lean forward, squinting through the flying snow and listen through the roaring wind, trying to sense if what I am seeing is actually nothing more than distant shrubs swaying with the gusts, or if it is horses on the move. It's Altamrio's group! We meet in the middle and they follow me to the nearest windbreak where I quickly lay out piles of hay for them. They are all completely adorned with snow, even the faces of the foals are wearing white masks, but they seem to ignore all that and gratefully bury their muzzles deep into the welcomed mounds of dried summer. This is the first big winter storm for Encantara, Silvestre and Segura, who look small surrounded by so much whiteness--small, but extremely robust and absolutely at ease with the events of the moment.

Our kitchen table, looking toward the northwest

Quicker now, I head back in the direction which will bring me to open area and though I cannot see the house, I put myself on course to where I know it must be. I'm imagining Kevin has all this while been back in the kitchen sipping coffee by the wood stove and wondering what is taking me so long. As I round the bend of the arm of the woodland copse, I nearly run into Mistral and Zeus. Each of us are surprised and startled, and in moments I am surrounded by the rest of Mistral's group, who are mightily disappointed to see that my toboggan has not one speck of hay left in it. "Oh! No! Where's Kevin?", I exclaim to them. They shake the snow from their heads and follow my tracks soon discovering that Altamiro and his gang are eating hay and rush over to join them.

I decide to keep heading back to the house. I'll reload my toboggan, bring hay out for Mistral's group and then look for Kevin. With my toboggan freshly loaded and halfway back out to the section of the woods where I had left the horses, I meet up with Kevin, who still has his first load of hay. Through the roaring wind and swirling snow, I tell him to follow me and off we go with our hay once again. When we get to the windbreak zone we are dismayed to see that Altamiro has taken his harem and left! (Damn this split-herd policy of Altamiro's) Kevin instructs me to lay out my hay for Mistral's group while he follows the tracks where it appears Altamiro has gone. Expecting that the family band is only a little ways off, tucked into another windbreak, I tell Kevin I will wait here for him and we'll go back to the house together. He agrees and I watch him head off to the northwest, keeping to the edge of the woods, dragging his load of hay.

I see him go in and out of different extensions of the forest, each time expecting him to emerge with an empty toboggan and come back to me. Instead, each time he emerges, he still has a full load and he still keeps trudging to the northwest, until the wind and the snow shroud him from view. I wait and watch the swirling snow, trying to see what might be occurring out there. I can see nothing but white and hear nothing but the wailing, roaring, moaning, rushing noise of the wind. I walk in circles, trying to stay warm, always coming back to Mistral's group, keeping a good sense of where I am in connection to where they are. During one of my circular walks, I spot Altamiro and his group nestled in a copse of trees just to the southwest of where we are! I walk way out into the open in the general direction of where I had last seen Kevin and I jump up and down, flail my arms and try to make myself visible and try to see if I can spot Kevin out there. I'm jumping up and down and pointing to where Altamiro's group is, imagining maybe Kevin can see me even though I cannot see him. The snow swirls on gale winds and I feel suddenly very alone. Where is Kevin? How far away was he going? Even if he went all the way to the far northwest property line, shouldn't he have been back by now? I continue to wait, and walk circles and keep aware of where Altamiro is and peer into the white distance expecting to see Kevin emerge at any moment.

I have grown quite cold, and I begin to imagine all manner of awful possibilities and begin to worry what I should do about this situation. It feels like a lot of time has passed and I decide to go back to the house, put more wood on the fire, warm up a bit, reload my toboggan and then come back out to look for Kevin and feed Altamiro's group the hay. On the walk back, without knowing if returning to the house is the right decision to have made, some truly horrific scenes play in my mind as I think of what tragedy has befallen Kevin. During that time completely dark and hopeless thoughts overtook my usual optimism and I contemplated what on earth I would do if Kevin were laying injured or dead out there in the wilderness...how would I find him? What could I do when I did find him? If he is dead, what will become of me? How could I possibly carry on without him? Where is Kevin? Where is Kevin? Where is Keivn?

I make it back to the yard. One of the tarps Kevin has covering things there has been torn loose and the wind is trying to steal it completely. I stop and re-secure the fastenings and before going into the house, I scan the open fields one last time hoping to see Kevin. And I do! There he is, emerging from the west, his toboggan empty...he must have found Altamiro's group! I run out to meet him. I hug him tightly while simultaneously admonishing him for having gone so far away for so long. "Never, never, never again do such a thing!", I scream to him in the wind. Poor, weary, cold man--with crusted snow and ice covering his eyebrows, mustache and beard, the last thing he needs is to be scolded by his wife--yet my frustration and relief must be expressed in this way, for I was truly frightened by this episode. "This type of weather is not to be trifled with!" "We cannot do something so foolish ever again!" "We could die out there...you could have died out there, Kevin!"

We got back to the house, we restarted the fire from the remaining coals and noted that we had been trudging out in the blizzard with toboggans of hay for over three and a half hours! As we each begin sharing each other's experiences, Kevin reveals to me that at one point, he was so utterly exhausted from pulling that toboggan through the snow that he just had to sit down for awhile. He says he can imagine how people become fatigued and cold and give themselves over to just sitting still and falling into a sort of sleep until they freeze to death. He only allowed himself to sit there long enough to regain a little strength and then he made himself go back to searching for Altamiro's group, which he eventually found. He never felt completely lost, though a few times a little disoriented, mainly because of the fatigue and the chaos of the storm. Thankfully both Kevin and I are intimately familiar with the landscape here and so despite the white out conditions, what tree and rock forms we could discern were apt indicators of where we were in relation to the lay of the land.

Our trusty Jøtul F 602 has us soon warmed up again (see Kevin in his study on the computer?)

Our mistake, when we didn't find the horses in the usual windbreaks was to take it upon ourselves to go searching for them in blizzard conditions. We've decided that in the future, whether the horses are in the usual windbreak zones or not, we will leave their hay there, in two different spots for each herd and just allow them to find it on their own terms.

There are some other options we have for feeding arrangements in winter which we discussed as we returned to our senses after the morning's ordeal. Keeping in mind that we are working with 800lb. round bales of hay, here are some of the options we reviewed:

--strategically place the hay bales out in different windbreaks prior to the onset of winter, keeping them well covered with tarps and opening them up to the horses as needed.

--until the snow gets too deep, use the tractor to bring hay out to the windbreak areas for both morning and late day feedings.

--once the snow is too deep for a tractor, buy a snowmobile and use it to haul our toboggans of hay out to the windbreak areas.

--build a windbreak shelter up closer to the house

--some day we will have a barn built...be sure to structure it so that it provides a means of a two separate windbreaks for feedings that can support Altamiro's split herd policy.


For now, we have decided to stay with our usual manner of manually delivering hay for the horses to the usual distant windbreaks when the wind necessitates it. Why do we do it this way? Why not get a snowmobile and make it easier on ourselves? Both Kevin and I feel that to use the body as much as we can to accomplish the various chores that need doing is not only better for the environment, but better for us physically as well. We don't want an easy life, we want a fulfilling, healthy, wilderness-inspired robust life with a good balance of aesthetic beauty and hard work which benefits us body, mind and spirit. And we want to experience this environment in all its moods which assists us in appreciating what it is like for the horses to live in such a rugged setting.

So its a choice we have willingly made, to experience winter in this manner. It feels like a rich life to me...exhausting and sometimes frightening, but exquisitely alive! If Kevin and I learn from our mistakes, and be sure to respect nature in all her moods, we will continue to be part of all that is so exquisitely alive here for many, many years to come.

Unearthly Moods, Mute Allegories, Hidden Myths

The powerfully imaginative artist/illustrator, N.C. Wyeth had this to say about the depth of feeling he had for the natural world:

The universe towers in my mind a great overpowering mystery. The significance of the tinest speck of bark on the pine tree assumes the proportions of the infinite sky. My brain almost bursts with the effort to really appreciate the meaning of life.

In our case we will be enchanted by the bark of an Eastern White Cedar tree at Ravenseyrie

Andrew Wyeth, son of N.C. was equally passionate about expressing the emotion of nature, attempting to relay something "more" than a literal view of what he was seeing and feeling. About Andrew Wyeth's work, biographer Richard Meryman writes:

Even the surface realism of Wyeth's work is part of the secrecy, a form of concealment creating drama. In all areas of his life his interest is in atmospheres and tones, not the accuracy of facts. His real subjects are the secrets that only he has sensed and plumbed, personal meanings within metaphors and unearthly moods--mute allegories--hidden myths.

James Wyeth, son of Andrew, grandson of N.C. is equally gifted as a painter and reveals through his art the "larger than life" drama that vibrates behind even the simplest things. James H. Duff has written of James Wyeth's work:

Among his animal images, Portrait of Pig is certainly the best known. It may well stand as an emblem of the others. This is surely the archetypal sow, shown in great detail, nearly life size, and in her element. but at the same time, this is an individual, a careful portrait based on as much study as any of the artist's human portraits. "I get as involved with a sheep as I do a president of the United States," he says. The pride often visible in the people he paints is also a strong feature in his animals. And in them we see as much character, as much personality, perhaps, as it is possible to see in any animal that must be frozen in two dimensions and in time.

You might have guessed by now that to provide these brief glimpses into the motivating principles behind three generations of Wyeth art is intended to call your attention to the landscape and inhabitants of Ravenseyrie and punctuate the mythical aspects inhaled and exhaled by every element presiding in this place and time. Like these intense men, whose artistic outpouring was fueled by an appreciation for nature and its "great overpowering mystery", I find myself urged (sometimes feverishly so) to show, through my own art and writing that the universe is intelligently alive--with each aspect of its expression worthy of our attention, our reverence and our exaltations of thanksgiving.

Ciente (more ears for Eva)

It may be one of the great tragedies of the modern world that too few humans embrace "unearthly moods" and instead make every effort to insulate themselves from atmospheric vicissitudes. Likewise we have been culturally shaped to discount the wealth of information of "mute allegories" resonating among horses, trees and rocks, etc. And though we enjoy epic cinematic tales like Star Wars or Lord of the Rings, in our everyday habits we support the supercilious marginalization (or outright suppression) of the "hidden myths" present in the seemingly mundane aspects of nature.


When you live in the wilderness, when you dance out in a gale wind, when you engage in dialogues with primitive horses, when the slant of light in a darkened forest beckons like a crooked finger--all synthetic, "virtual" living falls away and you come to realize that parts of yourself embody the wind, the forest, the shapeliness of horses, and it all has mystical, mythical meaning.

Zorita and Segura

For myself, then, the images of long necked, convex headed, dark-faced striped horses, first chronicled in Paleolithic art, commented upon in medieval hunting texts and pictured in the work of d'Andrade swing like a pendulum from then to now, demonstrating that Altamiro and his family band here at Ravenseyrie, like living fossils, tell us that the wild zebro, the ancestral tarpan variant continues to survive. Along with their obvious primeval morphology, a definite intellectual capacity--expressed with rich directness-of-being and enhanced by their veritable rusticity--extends to me an invitation to experience a "time before time".


In his book, The Secret Teachings of Plants/The Intelligence of the Heart in the Direct Perception of Nature, Stephen Harrod Buhner writes:

You may find, as you walk on a certain piece of land, that a mood comes over you that you cannot escape. This may come not only from the living organisms of the place, the self-organized ecosystem itself, but also from something that happened there, some history of Man. For the historical events that have occurred before us remain in the land, interwoven with the soil, set in stone. And, if your heart-field is open, they will come into you as you walk.

As readers of this journal are by now well aware, peculiar flights of fancy are a way of life for me. While I do not think that that the quintessential Ebhardt Form III ancestral equine galloped over the very bluff that Altamiro and his family band now do and extended their friendship and willing service to ancient island dwellers leaving a memory infused in the landscape, I do find that the present convergence of these horses, this particular wilderness place and Kevin and myself has stimulated some curious thoughts and sensations. A concept posed in an earlier journal entry wondered, is it possible that these types of horses partnered with humans in ways that were mutually beneficial--a sort of "domestication" story that reads differently than the "capture, subdue and enslave" methods repeatedly published in books? The way Altamiro's herd has determined, of their own choosing, that they desire to engage with me in mutual learning experiences, completely at liberty in the big wide open sets one's mind to imagining some ancient men and women experienced the same thing and built meaningful relationships with wild horses that did not include eating them or coercing them into service by force.

Belina

By now I had hoped to have written an in depth essay demonstrating why I feel (as did d'Andrade, as do many others) that the Sorraia horse is not a domestic breed, but a remnant of an ancestral form of horse, however my research is still prompted to turn over obscure stones and I am a-ways off from feeling satisfied enough to put my layman's assumptions out there among the assumptions of published scholars. And here I've gone even further out on the fringe exploring convoluted notions of the possibility that ancient humans and horses could have come together within the context of friendship and mutuality!

I must blame (thank!) the "unearthly moods", "mute allegories" and "hidden myths" for such crazy-minded suppositions. Again, I will quote from Buhner's book:

The Greeks had a word for the heart's ability to perceive meaning from the world: 'aisthesis'. "In Aristotelian psychology," James Hillman notes, "the organ of aisthesis is the heart; passages from all the sense organs run to it; there the soul is 'set on fire.' Its thought is innately aesthetic and sensately linked with the world."

Aisthesis denotes the moment in which a flow of life force, imbued with communications, moves from one living organism to another. The word literally means "to breathe in." It is a taking in of the world, a taking in of soulful communications that arise from the living phenomena in that world...[ ]...this basic experience--this aisthesis--has been at the root of human relationship with the world since our evolutionary expression out of the Earth. We are built to experience it, to be aware that each thing possesses a unique identity, its own particular 'eachness'. We are made for the nature of each thing to pass into us through our hearts, which think about it, store memories about it, and engage in dialogue with it.

I can continue to give myself over to exploring the sensations and ideas that the wilderness landscape and primitive horses have strummed in to me via that great organ of perception--the heart, or I can quit these flights of fancy and plop myself down in a chair by the radio and listen to what new course of action the United States and Canada intends to take over in Afghanistan while being reminded that Christmas shopping is good for the economy.

Close your eyes...where do you suppose you will find me?

When I close my eyes, do you know what I see?--I see You, joining me out on the fringe, feeling your way in new territory as the hidden myth present in your own horses begins to reveal itself.

Like N.C. Wyeth said, "My brain almost bursts with the effort to really appreciate the meaning of life."

The Primal Connection - Bella and the Rock

The Sorraia Mustang mare Bella (ctr.), down at the beach with her herd mates during the summer of 2008

Each day is a new beginning and while modern humans may take for granted that when they emerge from warm, dream-spent bed covers, place their feet upon the floor and stand up to begin their daily routines their world will be a reliably familiar one, I think that those who live more closely tied to the rhythms of nature take nothing for granted.

My observations, following the lives of the horses living here at the Ravenseyrie Sorraia Mustang Preserve, is that they engage in a perpetual assessment of things, moment to moment, with every perceptive sense taking in visible and invisible fluctuations in their environment and between their herd mates. Theirs is a river-realm of continuously flowing streams of information which they are constantly adjusting to. (Actually we are part of the same river, but have compartmentalized ourselves to the point we are virtually oblivious to the subtle, yet rich, dialogues occurring everywhere in the universe.)

Domestically bred and traditionally housed horses require absolute reliability of routine and often are prone to anxiety if the protocol they are accustomed to is not followed. Stabled and paddocked horses expect consistency and regimented orderliness and have stunted, muted capacities for subtle sensory assessments, having put their trust in their caretaker's ability to assure their reliably familiar world will be the same today as it is tomorrow.

Part of this reliably familiar world is the almost absent-minded acceptance horses demonstrate for the type of handling they receive from their human caretakers. This type of handling assumes a certain ownership over the horse's body and mind, manifesting itself in a human who strides into the barn, opens the stall door, captures the head of the horse in a halter, brings the horse out into the aisle and systematically takes over parts of the horse's body for grooming, hoof maintenance, veterinary procedures, tacking up, etc. It is expected that the horse stands calmly in compliance as the human goes about these activities upon the horse's body in an equally absent-minded way. Most often, these activities the human imposes upon the horse are a means to an end, an end that typically involves some kind of "use" the human will be putting the horse to. Horse and human are aware of each other, but their feeling and appreciation of each other's core essences is as weak as an over-used tea bag.

Many variations of this domestically kept horse/human scenario are played out every day, sometimes with gruff roughness from each of them, other times a real bond of togetherness prevails, yet typically there is always an assumed right that the human feels she possesses when engaged in horse handling.

Bella (Bella means "beautiful" in Spanish)

Among the equines here at Ravenseyrie, especially when entering the Sorraia group, one simply cannot get away with any sort of assumed rights over the horses, or expect that what a horse freely gave me on one day will be offered again the next. Like them, each time I am out mingling with the environment and come into the territory where they are, I have to carefully assess the subtle fluctuations of the present moment to determine what possibilities of interaction are present. How do I go about this assessment?

Before I share how I approach the horses, I'd like to highlight the importance other authors have placed on the proper introductions that ought to be undertaken in order to assure that human and horse are truly and fully accepting of each other and ready to share time together.

In his book, What Horses Reveal, Klaus Ferdinand Hempfling describes the approach to a horse as the "First Encounter" which is based on recognizing the character of the horse and how he experiences and reacts to the world around him. He describes the horse as a house that requires the right key before entrance is granted. Our understanding of our own nature and complete harmony with the nature of the horse coupled with careful body language and movement determines whether or not the horse is willing to let us inside. Hempfling relays that no matter how many times we come and go from this house, we must always gain entrance in the same or similar manner...no barging in as if we have ownership. Here are some of the things Mr. Hempfling has to share regarding the First Encounter from pages 134 and 138 of his book:

'Immediate communication' is a very important concept for us. It is the alpha and omega of the first encounter. For, if you do not have a 'key' to the 'house', i.e. you cannot immediately communicate with the horse, then, to stay with our analogy, you are an intruder breaking in, particularly if you are forcibly entering the house, and as a rule, anyone who enters forcibly violates and steals.

The moment of the first encounter is a moment of the most concentrated patience, because, with great humility, we are serving another creature's needs.

It is consciousness of self, you must be aware of your every expression and particularly their effects on the horse. It is an expression that reflects the deepest peace, sincerity and heartfelt cordiality, no mere superficial 'friendliness'.

I make clear to the horse by the manner of my approach that I never want anything from him. Nothing happens without his invitation. I am never permitted to overstep my boundaries; at most I can defend my boundaries for my immediate protection.

This approach is continually renewed from second to second. Nothing is rigidly determined in advance: everything is dependent upon the communication and reactions of the moment.

Bella and Animado in the autumn of 2008

Carolyn Resnick describes the best means of establishing a relationship with a horse as being a magnetic heart connection. Carolyn believes anyone can achieve this type of connection but first they need to "understand how important it is to interact with their horse in this simple way - sharing time and space everyday like horses do with each other, moving a horse around, letting him move you around, easy and gentle like, with lots of pauses in between." Like Klaus, Carolyn does not take for granted that the horse's acceptance of her is the same every time she approaches him and realizes that she can only enter the house if the key is working. In her book, Naked Liberty, Carolyn relays:

I work with a horse in two stages every day. First, I spend time with the horse in the moment in passive time. When I get the feeling that he has connected to me in friendship and is focused on me, I begin with my daily program, whether it is riding him or traditional training. Sometimes the passive time I spend is as short as a quick hello from my horse. If he comes up to me, gives me a sniff and places his head in the halter, he is ready to go. (Putting on a halter is a critical time. If the horse objects to being haltered, it will negatively affect the interactions you have with him thereafter.)

Bella (far right) during the summer of 2008

Imke Spilker as well has some wonderful things to say about how she prefers to approach horses. We'll quote from her book, Empowered Horses:

"Hey, you!"
I want to reduce the distance between us, but it would be disrespectful to push my way into the horse's personal space and touch him, without first asking permission. Think of the same situation in human terms: if I want to convince a person I don't know about my finer qualities and meet him in a spirit of friendship, I'll wait for his invitation, or offer one myself. People that do not abide by this rule of politeness can seem aggressive, even when they don't intend to be. So, when we respect a horse's personal space we convey the message, "I come as a friend."
Nurturing the relationship according to the horse's rules and in the horse's rhythm, I try, despite all our differences, to show my affection, to offer myself to the horse as a friend, as a companion. pg.10

Reflecting, observing, sensing--those are the tasks for human beings. A person who begins to see the world through the eyes of his horse becomes that horse's kindred spirit. And suddenly, completely new forms of communication are possible. Now external signals are of lesser importance. We understand each other directly, instantaneously, because the sharing of feelings creates an interface, and entranceway into the other's world.

Togetherness is the foundation from which everything else proceeds. Togetherness--not hierarchy--puts us on the same level. Togetherness is the prerequisite for influencing each other from within the depths of our being. And that relates to feelings and movement--horse and person on one wavelength in a dialog of movement. As with musicians, in the beginning there is a search for the common key and rhythm; before they begin to play a piece, musicians attune to one another. Togetherness and sharing openly are the first and oldest form of understanding. This is the archetype of every meaningful communication. Being together in harmony means shared feelings with one another. I share yours--I share mine. pg. 28-29

The communication between a person and a horse occurs on a much deeper, more direct level. It eludes a formal observer.

The melody is an inner one and that is where we both hear it. The way I move my hands is just a visible accompaniment to my mental images.

The horse perceives the whole of a human being and only when we are congruent as a whole, will a horse understand and trust us.

Although I have no physical hold on the horse, he picks up on the inner language of my thoughts and desires, and orients himself to them. When there is great emotional unity human beings, too, can pick up on each other's inner images. Suddenly, we "just know" what the other is thinking in the very moment he thinks it, sometimes without even seeing him. We all once lived in a world without words, and as children, we could think and communicate using inner images. It was only much later that we began to orient ourselves to words. You too can understand this inner language if you build a feeling-based connection to horses." pg. 98-99

So now, dear readers, you have a pretty good base of remarkable insights from these authors to assist in understanding a series of photos I'm going to share from an interaction I had with Bella last week.

Bella is a registered Spanish Mustang mare, possessing several phenotypical characteristics of the atavistic Sorraia horses. She is a captive bred range born mare (from Caballos de Destino in South Dakota) who came to Ravenseyrie as a relatively un-handled yearling. She gave birth to the half-Sorraia studcolt, Animado, when she was four years old. She is now five and expecting her second foal next March. She has never had any "official" training, but using an approach to establishing a relationship with her similar to the ones described by the above authors has enabled me to gain her acceptance of being haltered and led as well as having her hooves occasionally attended to. (Haltering and leading are things I rarely do--here there is little need for this.) Within the hierarchy of the herd, Bella is the dominant mare. She is very noble and has always seemed mentally older than her age. She has a sweet, yet very demanding personality, is slow to anger, but swift to violent retribution without regrets. She likes interacting with me but I always feel that I let her down, i.e. there is often something more she wants me to understand about her that so far I have failed to recognize--something that feels like she wants us to do when we are together...

Bella often nickers during our interactions, using the low murmur voice typically reserved for foals...she makes this low murmuring nicker when I have found the precise itchy spot, or when I am handling her front legs and she wants me to give her a shoulder lift (an equine bodywork movement) or after we have come to an understanding about something new we might be learning together. She will also paw with a foreleg if I am not paying good attention or not "getting" something she is trying to put across to me.

Okay, let's look at the photo sequence, keeping in mind that it is me taking the photos, so it was not possible to take photos of everything that we did together.

I'm hiking out to the west, where the family band is hanging out. The others are grazing, but from what I can tell, Bella is enjoying a standing nap. She senses my approach from quite a distance and maintains a focus on me, matching my focus on her.

The closer I come to Bella I can already feel that even though she hasn't altered her slack-hipped stance she will be coming up to engage with me. She doesn't always come forward to interact with me, sometimes she remains sleeping or continues grazing, ignoring my presence...likewise, I don't always go out with the intention of connecting with and interacting with her. But in my core being I knew that she was receptive to me this day, and in her core being she knew that I was willing to interact with her.

I stopped short of walking straight up to her (about ten feet away) and took up a position with my body aslant to hers, my heart filled with genuine admiration for who she is. Though still slightly dozy, within just a few seconds she came over to me. The key fit the house and she let me in.

Bella wanted to be itched and massaged. I willingly obliged. Noticing a burr was snagged in the inner part of her mane, I stopped itching to pull the prickly seed case out. She was not pleased that I had interrupted what was probably just the high point of a particularly good itch to do something so mundane as remove a burr. She let me know right away that she would rather I continue to itch and leave off the grooming for the moment. Sometimes, Bella can be pushy and more than asking for itches she demands them. Her manner of demanding is to step almost on my foot while simultaneously pushing her body, shoulder-first in a bullish bumping kind of way. It's a remarkably precise and deliberate action, rich with communicative expression. My response to this is to step away, giving her nothing to push upon, rather than attempting to correct her breech of gentility by forcing her to back out of my space (which is the traditionalists approach to teaching a horse to stay out of the human's space.)

At the same time, of course, I realize that I had disrupted a perfectly lovely itch session by shifting my focus to grooming so abruptly, even so, I did not right away go back to resuming our itch session, rather I asked Bella to make a half circle to the left allowing us to both reposition ourselves to begin again...our mutual transgressions now forgotten by this simple new channeling of our togetherness, our primal connection restored to its former harmony.

After I had given full attention to every spot that Bella wanted either itched or massaged, I then asked if I could get the tangle out of her mane and she was perfectly accepting.

"Would you like to play a bit with circles and turns around the haunches?", I inquired. "Oh yes!" was her response. How do I know this? I stepped three feet away from her, positioned myself just behind her center, slightly towards her rear, with my body facing forward and angled left, then I opened my arm and gracefully invited her to circle left while I myself did the same thing. That was my question put forth and her following my offer precisely was her definitive "yes".

After a couple of circles to the left and also to the right, then turns around the haunches both left and right, then a little steps of the hindquarters around the shoulders and some backing to the hand, I was going to end our session. But I could see that Bella still wanted to do something and since we'd pretty much run through our repertoire, I decided to see if she would trot along with me a few steps...something we've never tried. I did my best perky-horse trot hoping to entice her to accompany me--she looked quite interested in a bemused sort of way, but she remained stationary.

Spotting a rock nearby, I thought to suggest we should try an old game we used to do when she was a yearling, which was to lift a foreleg and rest it on a rock (a basic prelude to learning Spanish walk), something she became pretty good at, but as our herd increased and the foals started coming, I sort of left off thoughts of training for haute école movements.

So, I went over to the rock, noticed that it was nice and flat, almost like a pedestal, and I thought maybe Bella would like to try standing up on it with both front feet. Like the companion trotting idea, standing her front feet on a pedestal is something we've never done before. I invited her with my mind and a gesture of my hand, to come and stand up on the rock. Without hesitation, she did! And while I stroked her appreciatively, she gave her low murmuring nicker. I asked her if she'd stay up there long enough for me to take a photo and she obliged me. I took a few photos, but when I went to back up a bit further to get her full body in the frame, my camera batteries went dead (such timing!).
Bella remained up on the rock, so I gave her more caresses while she was up there and then asked her to step down, which she did. We exchanged several more mutual admiration gestures and then I continued on with my hike, feeling really good about our encounter. I hope she returned to her herd mates feeling really good about our encounter, too.

My reason for sharing these experiences is not to display my laughable "prowess" as a horse trainer...(I would actually flunk Carolyn Resnick's "quick quiz"designed to evaluate one's relationship with her horses and her leadership skills). I'm putting these things into the Journal of Ravenseyrie to provide readers with examples of how this unconventional approach to horse/human relationship manifests itself here at Ravenseyrie. The things the horses and I are exploring are not things that one brags about or gives achievement ribbons for--these are intimacies I am sharing, which are not aimed at creating a "using" horse for a human's equestrian pursuits, but are meant to heighten our appreciation for each other, facilitate greater understanding and explore new avenues of fun learning. I have no idea where it is leading, but I'm absolutely fascinated with this primal connection and want to only engage with my horses when the connection is mutually pure. This will require continual reassessment within myself and how I fit into things, and I am thankful for ground-breaking horsemen and women who have inspired me to take a journey down a river like this!

Touching Encantara

Living with a family of atavistic horses in a wilderness setting provides me with amazing opportunities to experience a variety of non-traditional interactions. The wide open landscape here at the Ravenseyrie Sorraia Mustang Preserve, while an excellent environment for the development of natural herd dynamics, poses challenges, however, for human/horse relationships.

Because I do not separate the horses or keep them in small paddocks, my capacity to influence interactions with these semi-wild equines rests entirely with them. Ravenseyrie is under equine rulership. These horses hold the power--they determine whether or not I am allowed to groom them, play with them, train them, doctor them, etc.

I could change this, have thought about changing this, still may change this--stack the deck of cards a little more in my favor, if you will--by imposing restrictions, from time to time on the autonomy these horses experience. Rational, pragmatic voices certainly suggest I should...after all horses ought to be under our control, if only to allow us to provide them better care and training, all designed with their best interests in mind, or so the thinking goes. I can appreciate the merit of this--but, something strangely inexplicable holds me back from actually doing it myself (at least in the usual way things are done). Reasonable, sensible voices may be quite right in telling me if I am not willing to assert control over horses--for their own best interests--I have no business being with horses. I wouldn't dare argue with rational thinkers...

...but over the course of the next several journal entries, I will offer some examples of the purity of interactions which have emerged, providing a little insight into why I am reluctant to break this primal connection by introducing too many man-made restrictions on these horses just to make it possible for me to have more human-centered, traditional interactions . Perhaps there is something here that the universe itself desires me (us) to learn?

My most recent example involves Encantara. You might recall Encantara was Altamiro's firstborn for the year. Belina delivered this exquisite "zebro" filly on a chilly spring day in early May. Mother's Day to be exact.
Belina is an exceptionally protective mare, and would not allow any one except Altamiro to be within touching distance on the first day. She was the same way when her first filly, Fada, was born. This cautious reserve of Belina's is something her foals immediately took into their behavioral development. With Fada, it took four days before she reached out a tentative muzzle to touch me with and allowed me to touch her back.

To touch Encantara took a bit longer. Days went by, weeks passed. Spring became summer, Encantara lost her foal coat, engaged in long mutual grooming sessions with her herd mates, rubbed on trees, mingled confidently with every element of her environment--all the while curious enough to come near me, but not yet ready to bring herself to touch me or allow me to touch her. And oh!, how I longed to touch her!
I began to wonder if the price to pay for her striking primitive markings and ancestral morphology was a concomitant avoidance of anything that wasn't wild like her. It didn't seem to matter that her mother would come to me for itches, caresses and grooming, or that her younger brother, Silvestre would engage with me not just for itches, but mini-schooling sessions where he tested out the feeling of a makeshift leather halter and wore proudly my woolen shawl. Encantara wanted none of this...but I could see her eyes following me, always, and I had hope that one day she would willingly come to physically interact with me.


Weeks stretched themselves into months. Vegetation began dying back, biting-cold winds swept all the leaves from the trees and Encantara exchanged her summer sleekness for a thickly layered winter coat. She is now six months old.

Now that the grass isn't as delectable, Altamiro and his family band have discovered that if they come around near the house later in the day, us humans will hand feed compressed alfalfa cubes. Encantara quickly developed an appreciation for this nutritious treat and decided it was okay to take a thin sliver of these "cookies" from a human hand. After a week, she allowed me to softly cup her chin as she munched on her cookie. One day, I reached out to stroke her cheek and she moved away in alarm. But I tried it again the next day, and this time my touch on her cheek was accepted. And one day, I trailed from her cheek and laid my hand against her neck. She did not leave and I felt a little closer to heaven!

And so it began that when I would hike out the far fields, Encantara would walk right up to me, perhaps thinking I might have some of those alfalfa cookies. I don't carry cookies with me, and she soon discovered this, but began to poke around to make certain, nuzzling my basket of brushes, my pockets and my camera bag, my hat, the toe of my boot, the hem of my skirt. She found no cookies, but all that exploration seemed to really relax her and she allowed me to cup her chin and lay my hand on her neck briefly before shrinking away from my presence.

On Sunday, November the 8th, I was out among the family band, pulling burrs from Altamiro's tail, and also the mares'. Encantara was grazing, but keeping an eye on me. When I was mostly done with the others, I noticed she had now taken up a dozing position, I walked nearby her and stopped. She came right over and sniffed to see if I had any treats. Not finding any food reward on my person, she began once again to nuzzle my basket of brushes and camera bag while I gave her a little itch on the neck. Then I tentatively and carefully worked my way down to her chest. I was thrilled that not only did she not shrink away from this action, but she soon realized how good it felt to be itched there! A mental connection was made, and I could actually see it in her facial expression, like a sort of new sparkle in her eye and a softening of her nostrils.

For the first time, I was able to run my fingers over those zebra stripes on her lovely neck--the feeling was absolutely sublime. Let others brag on about how they have shaken the hand of royalty, or kissed the Pope's ring--those mean nothing to me and pale in comparison to touching the Enchantress herself, Encantara!

The next day, I was most interested to see how things would go...would Encantara seek me out again? Would she remember our connection and desire more touching, engage in more explorations of each other? I wondered even if perhaps Encantara might be asking these very same questions, hoping and wondering if I would come out and see her.

When I found the family band, Encantara was the first to come to me! Notice how soft her expression, how hopeful and trusting her body posture is as she approaches me in this photo. And as I caress her with my voice and hold the camera in one hand I am able to take a photo of my touching her with the other hand. The effort was noisy, clumsy, peculiar...but she stayed with me, no longer distrustful, no longer suspicious...A friendship was born!


It was my day off, and so I was able to hang out for several hours among the family band, grooming, composing paintings and poetry of them in my head and otherwise "dawdling" away a fine morning. Throughout this time, Encantara would go off with the others to graze, but frequently came back to spend time with me. Like new lovers, we couldn't seem to get enough of each other! What a high I was on...did she feel the same way, too?

No doubt if I had placed Encantara and Belina in a smaller paddock or a box stall I would have been able to establish a physical connection with this ultra-shy filly in far less time than six months. Taking away a horse's option of leaving our presence if they are uncomfortable, gently cornering them, desensitizing them to our touch, etc. has been the way many horses come to accept the ministrations of humans. While imposing ourselves upon horses like that sometimes intensifies their distrust of humans, most of the time they "give in" and in doing so (if among kind people) find that there are some pleasures to be had by allowing us to touch them. I do not consider this means of gaining a foal's trust and acceptance inappropriate, and if done empathetically its an excellent way to help a young horse learn to accept so many things in the world humans have designed. For myself, even though it is much more challenging (and certain potentials are vastly limited) this wilderness approach is presently the only acceptable way of developing relationships with our horses here at Ravenseyrie.

As mentioned earlier, I'm planning to devote a string of journal entries to experiences I've had that have arisen within this wilderness setting where the horses rule the land and I am a guest in their territory. What I am discovering is that there is some kind of primal connection between us that at times makes the step by step training methods seem utterly unnecessary. What I am calling the "primal connection", Imke Spilker refers to as the "inner language". Carolyn Resnick has named it the "magnetic heart connection". Other terms attempting to describe this phenomenon are, "heart entrainment", "resonance", "gnosis", "universal logos", etc.

To close today's entry, I'll share another recent experience with Encatara which demonstrates this peculiar, magnificent, cross-species understanding that stands apart from the means of communication that must first be trained into each of us. This experience had no training, it simply emerged, effortlessly with complete, mutual understanding.

During a recent visit with Encantara, just a few days after our big "breakthrough" in physical touching, Silvestre joined our group of two and in no time it all the "three's a crowd" expression became obvious as I simply could not keep focused attention on two inquisitive foals, each pressing their rumps into me for itches. I cooed them my apologies and turned to leave. Of course they followed and I had to shoo them back to their mothers.

When I was about seventy feet away, I turned back for one last look at these beautiful semi-wild Sorraia horses. Encantara had positioned herself next to a Cedar tree and was rubbing her rump against it, all the while looking intently at me. I mentally "threw out" the idea to her that if she wanted to come over to me I would definitely itch her bum for her and do a far better job than the tree could. Then I motioned with my hand for her to come.

She immediately left the tree, walked by all the others and came and stood in perfect position to receive the promised rump itch.

Such is the potency of the "inner language" and the untainted quality of the primal connection.

A Brief Comparison of Spilker and Hempfling

June, one of the reader's of the Journal of Ravenseyrie, has been immersing herself in learning a new way of interacting with horses. Like many of us, June has found herself marvelously impacted by the work of Imke Spilker as presented in her book EMPOWERED HORSES. The teachings of Klaus Ferdinand Hempfling are also providing June with much to think about and prompting her to explore different means of "coming together" with her own horses.

In a few recent comments to other Journal of Ravenseyrie entries, June has recognized that the concept of "dominance" in the horse/human relationship brings up some differences between the way Imke Spilker relates with horses and the way Mr. Hempfling does.
Within Imke Spilker's work, the notion of dominance is not addressed in the manner which it is in Mr. Hempfling's work perhaps because Imke Spilker's approach is not based on domination but on shared leadership. In Imke's world there is no fixed individual in control, rather horse and human cede control back and forth to suit the quality of the moment.
Imke writes,

We will stop when our horse says: "No!" We will let it all go, try another way, or do something else. We will not force our horse to do it our way. Rather, we will find the path our horse wants to travel and walk it with him. We ask him for his permission, we discuss things, and above all we listen. "Okay, Toppur. Pardon me. I did not mean it like that." We reflect on the matter once more--pause--and then I make a renewed attempt. Now Toppur does what I request!

In this aspect it may be that Ms. Spilker's interactions with horses favor feminine qualities as a means of motivating a horse to become master of himself on the road to self-actualization. The role of the human is built on deference to the horse, and it becomes the job of the human to identify what motivates the horse and initiate ways which assist the horse in developing his own awareness of his inherent potential. Horse and human work as a team, as friends on a common goal, a goal that the horse comes to choose for himself and we join them as a supportive mentor, offering suggestions, ideas and creative advice rather than demands, corrections and punishments. In Imke Spilker's work the cultivation of non-linear perception also leads to identifying, nurturing and trusting our instincts and intuitive powers which then makes it possible to completely harmonize with our horses in a mutual understanding that transcends our apparent species differentia.
Klaus Ferdinand Hempfling's work is extraordinary, beautiful and inspiring and I find little about it that makes me uncomfortable. My feeling is that Mr. Hempfling's work is much more influenced by masculine traits. In his book, What Horses Reveal, Mr. Hempfling relays how strongly he identifies with his forefathers "the Celts, the Vikings, the Teutons, the Goths and the Cimbrians", so it does not surprise me the emphasis he places on the concept of dominance in his work, but he isn't dominating via violent force as was the way of his forefathers. The way Mr. Hempfling goes about demonstrating his dominance over his horse is more a reflection of his own domination of his inner self (so that he isn't acting out of fear, anger, or a desire to be powerful himself) demonstrating to the horse that he is a competent leader--he just confidently and deftly uses his intent and body language to stimulate the horse to move. (This is much like Carolyn Resnick's third "ritual" Taking Territory) Mr. Hempfling also feels horses and humans are part of an ongoing mythological process of learning to control our darker sides, and it is in this juxtaposition that he looks upon horse/human interactions. My impression is that his means of training are flexible but yet exist more in a linear, human directed path which is much more serious, keenly structured, less play oriented and maybe a little limiting by the devotion to patriarchal notions of chivalry.
Both Imke Spilker and Klaus Ferdinand Hempfling discuss the importance of recognizing we humans are a part of nature, just as the horses are, and we need to be inwardly and outwardly authentic in our beingness...they each do this differently based on the way they view their heritage as humans.

It's no secret that of the two influences, I feel a greater kinship with Imke than with Klaus, mostly because of the things she says about egalitarianism between horse and human, shared leadership and the "inner language" that we can become part of. These are things that I have been pursuing with my horses and I've felt immense gratification with the way they respond. I also recognize that the very notion of sharing leadership boggles the minds of those still bound by the dynamics of traditional horsemanship.

For some reason, it seems many people are under the impression that to indulge a horse's preferences sometimes over our own, means that we have forfeited our own right to say "no" and our own right to experience "respect" which automatically leads to the horse taking over, running us over and abusing our good nature in a thousand bullish ways. Here we have a topic to discuss in a future journal entry, with personal examples to share.
Thank you June for providing questions that provoked me to briefly compare Klaus Ferdinand Hempling's work with Imke Spilker's on the subject of dominance. Overall, I don't think the two are necessarily far apart on things. I will quote a segment of Hempfling's book What Horses Reveal to illustrate:

Does the horse walk behind me or do I walk ahead of the horse?

This is the simple question. What would you make of the following very unusual thought. What if I do not bring the horse onto my path and lead him, but, rather, I simply put myself on the horse's path and walk two metres ahead of him? Am I leading the horse? Or, am I simply walking his path a few steps in front of him?
Again and again during my encounters with unfamiliar horses, I let them follow my hand as though they are being hypnotized. The pictures show that. But what if, in fact, I am actually following the head of the horse, only I am a second in advance of the horse's movement? That seems totally absurd, but that is, in a specific, exaggerated way, exactly what happens. I put myself in a world at one with the horses, as the shepherd is at one with the sheep. In my case there is a comparable interplay: leading and being led blend into a shared experience. I lead the horse, the horse leads me, and we are both led in that place and time. Only in that way can what seems to be impossible occur. We are simply on a shared path. We each reveal ourselves. --Klaus Ferdinand Hempfling