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Horse Whispering for the Average Woman
There are choices in life that substantially alter life’s journey: marriage, children, graduate school are a few of these forks in our path. But one I didn’t expect was riding horses.
“This is not hard,” one trainer told me as I fumbled with the rope and training stick for the thousandth time. “It’s like a dance with your partner.” I can’t dance.
I got on and just held on for the first few years, riding trails in the North Carolina mountains and piedmont, grinning from ear-to-ear. We rode lickety-split, fast and furious; the ride most important. But the road in this life journey kept meandering. I learned more about this live sport vehicle and found the ‘horse’ under me. I learned basic round pen work, ground manners, and horse behavior. I truly thought I knew something. Buzzwords like partnership and leadership were tossed around by national trainers. I added to my ‘expertise’ with reading, videos, and clinics. I thought I knew.
Much later I took riding lessons. There is a basic truth about ‘feel’ in the horse world, a sense of communication between the horse and the person. I didn’t feel a thing. I concentrated on timing; learning and experiencing the difference between positive reinforcement and negative reinforcement (which most get confused); coordinating cues from my leg, seat, and hands. Bits are not for braking; hands and reins are used last, not first. Saddle fit is crucial; bit size and comfort just as much. I maintained unbridled enthusiasm and dogged persistence for learning to do things better. I got discouraged and wanted to quit. My horses told on me.
And then I wrenched my knee!
Often I get off my horse while riding and walk for an hour on the trail, combining my exercise with his. One afternoon, while hiking with my youngest silver dapple gelding, I stepped on a loose rock and twisted painfully to the ground. Nugget looked down at me like, “and what are you doing down there?” But I couldn’t get up, couldn’t put weight on that leg, and I was a mile or two from the parking lot. I sat there waiting for the pain to subside.
There comes a time when you have to reach down and find inner strength. Luckily this situation was not life-threatening, but sitting on a trail, back on a poplar tree, mid-afternoon in early spring, unable to walk out is still daunting. I heard no other riders; it would be dark in two or three hours. Cell phone connection was spotty; it would take hours for the rangers find me.
Nugget’s training was in-progress. I wasn’t sure how he would handle what I was going to ask him to do. I got up, hopped on my good leg, asked him to be still next to a log. I put all my faith into this young gelding and asked for a ‘stand.’ He stood. I held tight to the saddle, put my foot in the stirrup, raised my hurt leg over his back, and heard a loud ‘pop’ of the tendon in my knee. Nugget stood still. “Nugget, we’re going to walk back. Let’s count cadence.” And he stepped off, went carefully through the creek, and walked up the hill. I counted, ‘One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight,” to each step…. slowly. Nugget stayed under me, stayed in my hand. He carried me to the parking lot and up to friends, which was new for Nugget. They helped me off; again, new for Nugget, and helped us get home.
You cannot differentiate between riding and the rest of your life. What it takes to ride and train well is also what it takes to lead the life you most want to lead. It includes humility, patience, compassion, assertiveness, and emotional control. It includes a softness in focus, slowing down and staying centered, being mindful in the moment. It means staying with it until the horse gives to your hand and praise, praise, praise. It means getting up and practicing, taking one step forward and two steps back. It means knowing the horse’s herd culture and communicating with that culture in mind.
Now healed, I have a different instructor, one who is helping me continue forward, filling the holes in my horsemanship, building on what I’d learned with much ‘fine tuning.’ She takes my ‘can’t dance’ and is willing to ‘shampoo, rinse, and repeat” breaking tasks down into smaller steps for both the horse and I as often as it takes us to get it. I can almost feel that ‘feel.’
Copyright 2019, Janet K. Baxter
Baxter, J. (2019). Horse Whispering for the Average Woman, Exploring: Discoveries, Challenges. Adventure, Winston-Salem, NC: Personal Essay Publishing Project.
Horse Whispering for the Average Woman Podcast on the 6-Minute Stories Podcast; 2019.
The Wind Blew
"The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry."
Robert Burns
Nugget’s birth was planned down to the month of arrival. I organized early experiences for him to be handled, haltered, led, and the other necessary barn behaviors of a well-mannered horse. My farrier and I, as a team, made sure Nugget allowed his legs and feet be handled in preparation for later hoof trims. At two-years, and at three-years, I hired a trainer to begin basic training for Nugget to be put under saddle, thereby providing positive experiences for future ground and in-saddle training.
I wanted to do most of Nugget’s training myself. As Melody was also young and needed training, I attended numerous clinics and workshops, finally committing to a few years of weekly lessons to build my ground, in-hand, and riding skills. What I learned with Melody, I would then do with Nugget.
Training for trail riding also required scheduling. As a youngster, Nugget’s rides were kept under an hour to allow for bone and muscle development. As Nugget reached maturity at around six-years, rides were expanded to two and then three hours. Finally, he was able to easily handle over 12 miles at a calm walk without fatigue. I planned to ride Nugget well into my 70’s and trained him to take care of me on the trail. He was my heart-horse; we fit together.
Nugget always had to explore what was on the other side of the fence. As a foal, he managed to fall through the fencing resulting in him being on one side and his frantic mom, Jewel, on the other. Michael had to toddle him to the gate and reunite him with mom. When older, if Michael was in the pasture mending fences or trimming weeds, Nugget would be right behind him breathing on his neck and supervising his every move. With the barn doors closed keeping him inside, Nugget loved to investigate every corner of the hallway, each stall, the stacks of sawdust, and anything set out in the hallway that needed to be cleaned and put away. On one trail ride, after very scary hikers emerged from behind a downed tree, Nugget would stop and check each subsequent downed tree carefully to make sure no more monsters appeared.
Nugget’s love of grazing resulted in fat pockets in all the wrong places. While other horses were under the trees in hot weather, Nugget would remain hoovering up the grass. Use of a dry lot was not successful as he would lean through the fencing to reach any errant blade of grass within reach. So, a grazing muzzle was in order. It took a few days each spring to outsmart Nugget as he would graciously allow the muzzle to be put on, raise his head, twitch his ears back and forth as he was thinking and, while we watched, calmly walk to the nearest fence line, catch the muzzle under the wire, and swiftly pull the muzzle off. It took numerous attempts to find just the right method of an extra strap under his chin connected to the top of the muzzle and a fly mask snugged tight to keep straps covered to prevent him pulling the muzzle off. Finally, after a few daily checks that the muzzle was indeed secure, he would decisively give up for the remainder of that summer.
On April 1st, Michael went to put the horses out on the luscious spring grass. Mike often talked to Nugget telling him of what he planned for the day. He said he always felt that Nugget listened carefully as Mike walked him down the barn hallway. This morning, however, Mike found that Nugget had kicked down the stall wall between his and Melody’s stall, which had never happened before. Mike led Nugget to the pasture, but after letting him loose observed that Nugget was in distress. The mobile veterinarian arrived an hour and half later. Nugget was in severe pain. The vet worked with him over two hours, left for the remainder of the afternoon, and came back at 4:30 to check on him. I asked through my tears ‘why?’ and ‘what happened?’ She replied, “The wind blew. Sometimes things just happen.” ‘But he’ll be just 14 this May,’ I thought. She assured me I had done nothing wrong.
The next morning, I made the trip to the Tryon Equine Hospital with Nugget. There it was determined that he had a possible tumor, which probably wound around his small intestine. A successful surgery was unlikely. It was determined that the best thing for my Nugget was to be euthanized.
Life happens even with the best of plans. I am unmoored.
An Ode to Nugget
Nugget
You blessed us with your beauty
Nugget
You gave us an opportunity
Nugget
You let us see the world
Nugget
With grace you twirled
Nugget
You flew upon us
Nugget
You gave us your trust
Nugget
We didn’t let you down
Nugget
You made us feel proud
Nugget
You always believed in us
Nugget
We also believed in you
Nugget
You had a silver mane
Nugget
When it rains
Nugget
We can still see you
Nugget
Frolicking in a field
Nugget
Living your best days
Nugget
In the yellow haze
Of the sun.
We love you, Nugget
Helena, age 12
Copyright 2025; Janet K. Baxter
There are choices in life that substantially alter life’s journey: marriage, children, graduate school are a few of these forks in our path. But one I didn’t expect was riding horses.
“This is not hard,” one trainer told me as I fumbled with the rope and training stick for the thousandth time. “It’s like a dance with your partner.” I can’t dance.
I got on and just held on for the first few years, riding trails in the North Carolina mountains and piedmont, grinning from ear-to-ear. We rode lickety-split, fast and furious; the ride most important. But the road in this life journey kept meandering. I learned more about this live sport vehicle and found the ‘horse’ under me. I learned basic round pen work, ground manners, and horse behavior. I truly thought I knew something. Buzzwords like partnership and leadership were tossed around by national trainers. I added to my ‘expertise’ with reading, videos, and clinics. I thought I knew.
Much later I took riding lessons. There is a basic truth about ‘feel’ in the horse world, a sense of communication between the horse and the person. I didn’t feel a thing. I concentrated on timing; learning and experiencing the difference between positive reinforcement and negative reinforcement (which most get confused); coordinating cues from my leg, seat, and hands. Bits are not for braking; hands and reins are used last, not first. Saddle fit is crucial; bit size and comfort just as much. I maintained unbridled enthusiasm and dogged persistence for learning to do things better. I got discouraged and wanted to quit. My horses told on me.
And then I wrenched my knee!
Often I get off my horse while riding and walk for an hour on the trail, combining my exercise with his. One afternoon, while hiking with my youngest silver dapple gelding, I stepped on a loose rock and twisted painfully to the ground. Nugget looked down at me like, “and what are you doing down there?” But I couldn’t get up, couldn’t put weight on that leg, and I was a mile or two from the parking lot. I sat there waiting for the pain to subside.
There comes a time when you have to reach down and find inner strength. Luckily this situation was not life-threatening, but sitting on a trail, back on a poplar tree, mid-afternoon in early spring, unable to walk out is still daunting. I heard no other riders; it would be dark in two or three hours. Cell phone connection was spotty; it would take hours for the rangers find me.
Nugget’s training was in-progress. I wasn’t sure how he would handle what I was going to ask him to do. I got up, hopped on my good leg, asked him to be still next to a log. I put all my faith into this young gelding and asked for a ‘stand.’ He stood. I held tight to the saddle, put my foot in the stirrup, raised my hurt leg over his back, and heard a loud ‘pop’ of the tendon in my knee. Nugget stood still. “Nugget, we’re going to walk back. Let’s count cadence.” And he stepped off, went carefully through the creek, and walked up the hill. I counted, ‘One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight,” to each step…. slowly. Nugget stayed under me, stayed in my hand. He carried me to the parking lot and up to friends, which was new for Nugget. They helped me off; again, new for Nugget, and helped us get home.
You cannot differentiate between riding and the rest of your life. What it takes to ride and train well is also what it takes to lead the life you most want to lead. It includes humility, patience, compassion, assertiveness, and emotional control. It includes a softness in focus, slowing down and staying centered, being mindful in the moment. It means staying with it until the horse gives to your hand and praise, praise, praise. It means getting up and practicing, taking one step forward and two steps back. It means knowing the horse’s herd culture and communicating with that culture in mind.
Now healed, I have a different instructor, one who is helping me continue forward, filling the holes in my horsemanship, building on what I’d learned with much ‘fine tuning.’ She takes my ‘can’t dance’ and is willing to ‘shampoo, rinse, and repeat” breaking tasks down into smaller steps for both the horse and I as often as it takes us to get it. I can almost feel that ‘feel.’
Copyright 2019, Janet K. Baxter
Baxter, J. (2019). Horse Whispering for the Average Woman, Exploring: Discoveries, Challenges. Adventure, Winston-Salem, NC: Personal Essay Publishing Project.
Horse Whispering for the Average Woman Podcast on the 6-Minute Stories Podcast; 2019.
The Wind Blew
"The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry."
Robert Burns
Nugget’s birth was planned down to the month of arrival. I organized early experiences for him to be handled, haltered, led, and the other necessary barn behaviors of a well-mannered horse. My farrier and I, as a team, made sure Nugget allowed his legs and feet be handled in preparation for later hoof trims. At two-years, and at three-years, I hired a trainer to begin basic training for Nugget to be put under saddle, thereby providing positive experiences for future ground and in-saddle training.
I wanted to do most of Nugget’s training myself. As Melody was also young and needed training, I attended numerous clinics and workshops, finally committing to a few years of weekly lessons to build my ground, in-hand, and riding skills. What I learned with Melody, I would then do with Nugget.
Training for trail riding also required scheduling. As a youngster, Nugget’s rides were kept under an hour to allow for bone and muscle development. As Nugget reached maturity at around six-years, rides were expanded to two and then three hours. Finally, he was able to easily handle over 12 miles at a calm walk without fatigue. I planned to ride Nugget well into my 70’s and trained him to take care of me on the trail. He was my heart-horse; we fit together.
Nugget always had to explore what was on the other side of the fence. As a foal, he managed to fall through the fencing resulting in him being on one side and his frantic mom, Jewel, on the other. Michael had to toddle him to the gate and reunite him with mom. When older, if Michael was in the pasture mending fences or trimming weeds, Nugget would be right behind him breathing on his neck and supervising his every move. With the barn doors closed keeping him inside, Nugget loved to investigate every corner of the hallway, each stall, the stacks of sawdust, and anything set out in the hallway that needed to be cleaned and put away. On one trail ride, after very scary hikers emerged from behind a downed tree, Nugget would stop and check each subsequent downed tree carefully to make sure no more monsters appeared.
Nugget’s love of grazing resulted in fat pockets in all the wrong places. While other horses were under the trees in hot weather, Nugget would remain hoovering up the grass. Use of a dry lot was not successful as he would lean through the fencing to reach any errant blade of grass within reach. So, a grazing muzzle was in order. It took a few days each spring to outsmart Nugget as he would graciously allow the muzzle to be put on, raise his head, twitch his ears back and forth as he was thinking and, while we watched, calmly walk to the nearest fence line, catch the muzzle under the wire, and swiftly pull the muzzle off. It took numerous attempts to find just the right method of an extra strap under his chin connected to the top of the muzzle and a fly mask snugged tight to keep straps covered to prevent him pulling the muzzle off. Finally, after a few daily checks that the muzzle was indeed secure, he would decisively give up for the remainder of that summer.
On April 1st, Michael went to put the horses out on the luscious spring grass. Mike often talked to Nugget telling him of what he planned for the day. He said he always felt that Nugget listened carefully as Mike walked him down the barn hallway. This morning, however, Mike found that Nugget had kicked down the stall wall between his and Melody’s stall, which had never happened before. Mike led Nugget to the pasture, but after letting him loose observed that Nugget was in distress. The mobile veterinarian arrived an hour and half later. Nugget was in severe pain. The vet worked with him over two hours, left for the remainder of the afternoon, and came back at 4:30 to check on him. I asked through my tears ‘why?’ and ‘what happened?’ She replied, “The wind blew. Sometimes things just happen.” ‘But he’ll be just 14 this May,’ I thought. She assured me I had done nothing wrong.
The next morning, I made the trip to the Tryon Equine Hospital with Nugget. There it was determined that he had a possible tumor, which probably wound around his small intestine. A successful surgery was unlikely. It was determined that the best thing for my Nugget was to be euthanized.
Life happens even with the best of plans. I am unmoored.
An Ode to Nugget
Nugget
You blessed us with your beauty
Nugget
You gave us an opportunity
Nugget
You let us see the world
Nugget
With grace you twirled
Nugget
You flew upon us
Nugget
You gave us your trust
Nugget
We didn’t let you down
Nugget
You made us feel proud
Nugget
You always believed in us
Nugget
We also believed in you
Nugget
You had a silver mane
Nugget
When it rains
Nugget
We can still see you
Nugget
Frolicking in a field
Nugget
Living your best days
Nugget
In the yellow haze
Of the sun.
We love you, Nugget
Helena, age 12
Copyright 2025; Janet K. Baxter