08/25/2024
To me, horsemanship is both a science and an art form. When we treat it as one more than the other, we miss something essential.
I am a scientist by nature. I’m analytical and love processes and formulae. Give me a recipe, and I will recreate the dish. But show me a pantry full of ingredients, and I can’t mentally assemble them into a meal.
When I got my first horse, I absolutely floundered. It all seemed so abstract. I didn’t know the rules and I had no system to follow. So when I was introduced to a systematic horsemanship process with set exercises to practice, it made sense to me.
The task was no longer the arbitrary: “Go to the barn and get your horse to love you.” Instead, it became: “Go to the barn and practice these 10 exercises, seeking measurable improvement each day.” Simple.
Over time and through practice, I felt like a real horseman. I could get my horse to back up, go forward, yield front and hind, move sideways, lunge in circles, stand still, disregard scary stimuli— all with rather subtle cueing. I could check my progress against a list and assign myself value based on what I could and could not yet get my horse to do.
Enter the Mustangs…
Once I began working with untouched Mustangs, things changed. I could practice my exercises and check the boxes, but there was always something missing that I couldn’t put my finger on. Their heart wasn’t in it. There was always a bit of a disconnect between our goals.
It took years of learning to diverge from my previously comforting system before I could find the art in gentling Mustangs. There is so much in those early conversations that need flexibility, synchronicity, and flow that is impossible to systematize. There is an energetic component that can feel so subtle for us humans but makes or breaks an authentic interaction for a sensitive Mustang.
My experiences with the wild ones unlocked the artistic side of horsemanship that I was so desperately lacking.
Now I find the art weaving itself into everything I do with horses. Everything becomes a dance. And with dance, you must learn the steps, but you also must learn to feel the rhythm of the music and flow with your partner. It needs both science and art.
Today I find many horsemanship paths that excel at one or the other. Artistic, free-form interactions that leave little room for goals or direction, and highly systematized processes complete with a dozen scientific acronyms all explaining exactly what you’re doing. Both have their place. Both will appeal to apprentices in need. But I find the rare individual who has left room for both the science and the art to be truly beautiful.