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THE HORSE, AS COMRADE
AND FRIEND

THE

HORSE, AS COMRADE
AND FRIEND

FESTINA LENTE"

BY

EVERARD R. CALTHROP, m.inst.c.e., m.i.mech.e.

Chevalier oj the Order oj St. Maurice and St. Lazarus.

Member of Council ej the National Pony Society, and

of the Arab Horse Society.

G. p. PUTNAM'S SONS

NEW YORK

1921

Printed in Great Britain by
Miller, Son & Company, Fakenham and London.

Rohan in 1901, aged 10, with Keith, Iris and Betty up

Rohan in 1914, aged 23, with Betty up, and Sam

[To hack frontispiece

T^W^^Iwyf^:- "^•^i

£ a

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To
The Dear Memory of

ROHAN

My old Arab Stallion

One of the Noblest Horses God ever made

AND

My Best and Truest Comrade and Friend

CONTENTS
Foreword

Chap.

I. Basic Principles of Handling
AND Training

II. Bringing the Wild Horse up
FROM Pasture

III. The First Handling

IV. The Second Handling
V. Training to Saddle

VI. Handling in the Stable

VII. Training for Riding

VIII. Training for Riding {Con.)

IX. Training for Riding {Con.)

X. Training for Riding {Con.)

XI. Training for Jumping .

XII. Training for Driving .

XIII. The Most Wonderful Thing

in the World

XIV. Two Mysteries
Afterword .

11

17

23

39

61

71

89

101

111

125

143

159

179
217
239

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Rohan, aged 10 and 23 - - - - Pre- Frontispiece

Rohan, from the Water Colour Portrait by the Author Frontispiece

, , To face page

Rohan and Marpegorby, 1916 ; and Rohan in 1906 - 14

Rohan in 1906 ; with some of his descendants in 1912 ;

and with one of his sons 15

Father on Father, and Son on Son ; Playmates in

the Paddock - - - 36

Playing at " Wild Injuns " ; Betty on Kitty VIII.,

AND Iris on Rohan 37

Legstkap and its Application, Figs. I. and II. - - 46

How TO Handle a Foal 52 and 53

Marzouk in 1906 - - 64

FiTz, a battle-scarred hero, who served through the

Palestine and Senussi Campaigns - - - - 65
Paris Omnibus, with team of three Percheron stallions;
and six Percheron stallions pulling 20 tons up a

heavy gradient 80

Heavy Draught Percheron Stallions in Paris - - 81

Gladys Calthbop and Skewbald Filly - - 92

Marladi and Swan ; Rohan's Last Gift and the two

Romarsandos -------- 93

Marpegorby and Musket at Play - - 104 and 105

Ro-Akbar's Antics -------- 120

Rotunda I. and Rotunda II. ; sisters who could not

be parted - - - ■ . . . . . 121

Marsanda as a Chestnut Filly and a Grey Mare - 136

Marsanda's Chestnut Filly Foal, and Rohan s Last

Gift, with training headstalls 137

Jumping an Invisible Fence 150

Is this a Unique Occurrence? 151

Teaching Rosanda II. to jump in hand - - - 152

RosANDA II. (13 h. 3 in.) jumping 6 ft. and 6 ft. 3 in. - 153

Rotund and the Boy Scouts 192

The Zebra Striping of Foals 193

The Birth of a Foal - - - - 200, 201 and 212

Rotund II. and Lynton, with Sam Up - - - 213
The Water where Windermere Died ; Mafia and her

filly foal, Marmafia 238

The Black "Guardian Angel" Parachute - - 239

LOWTHER,

Penrith,
5th November, 1917.

Dear Mr. Calthrop,

I have read your book, which I now
return, and deeply regret that I have taken so
long to do it, but I have been so very busy.
I have now read every word of it, and entirely
agree -with practically all that you have said.
Also I entirely agree with your views.

As regards what I might term " instantaneous
breaking " : to anybody who reaUy under-
stands animals, like yourself, it is perfectly
obvious and I quite agree with all you say.
I knew Sample and Galvayne and all those
breaking men very well. Sample was really
by far the best of them ; Galvayne was merely
an imitation, and a moderate one, of Sample.

I hope that you will succeed with your
publication, for it is certainly deserving of
every success, as it is full of merit, and the
principles and everything on which you found
your system is, in my humble and probably
valueless opinion, perfectly right.

I am perfectly certain that no real cure
can be made with a savage animal, except of a
temporary character, in which the owner or
user of the horse has not made and given the

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

animal that he is breaking absolute and com-
plete confidence and justice. Horses and dogs
are like children and at times want correct-
ing, but correcting an animal that makes a
mistake when it knows it is wrong is a totally
different thing from abusing and knocking an
animal about, such as one often sees.

I have seen some of the much-advertised
methods of breaking the mldest of remounts.
It is true that they are broken, to an extent,
but it is their spirit that is broken not their
nature or tempers altered and calmed. But
the result is, I suppose, satisfactory to the
breaker, but it can only be — and is — tem-
porary. However, you go into such detail
and so very admirably that it would be im-
pertinent to make remarks on what evidently
you understand better than I do.

Thanking you for having allowed me to see
the book before it is published, and again
wishing it every possible success.

Believe me.

Yours truly,
f signed) Lonsdale.

FOREWORD

I COME of a family, who for some hundreds
of years have been notable for an exceed-
ing love of their horses, and for their
somewhat remarkable influence over them.
No records remain as to the exact nature of
the methods of horsecraft employed by my
forebears, but my own success in my younger
days in handling and taming all sorts of diffi-
cult, tricky and vicious horses — sometimes
quite unapproachable by other men — and of
inducing them to lead subsequently virtuous
and blameless lives, makes me believe that my
powers are hereditary, and that, therefore,
my ancestors have probably worked much on
the same lines as I have myself. Owing to
age and growing infirmities, I am no longer
able to handle, tame and ride wild horses as I
once could ; but my love for all horses remains
as strong as ever, and, thank God, so does
their love for me. The horse that is your friend
never lets you know that he thinks you old.

By a coincidence, I recently received almost
together several letters from Yorkshire and
Essex, in which I was asked to give advice
as to the best methods of breaking horses

Foreword

three and four years' old, which, on account
of the war, and the scarcity of men, had received
no kind of handUng and were extremely wUd.*
It has occurred to me that this may be the case
with young horses in many parts of the
country, and that, therefore, it might be of
use to many owners, and save horses much
mistreatment at the hands of incompetent
grooms, if I could put in writing, in a way
to be generally understood, the principles of
my own methods of training. I have seen so
much mishandling and brutal treatment of
horses, by men who do not understand them,
that I should be glad if anjrthing I could write
might perchance save a few horses from such
wrong-doing. My two sons being in the Army,
helping to tame the Huns, and my first grand-
sons having only just arrived on this planet,
it is unlikely that I shall have the privilege
of imparting my methods to these youngsters
by personal instruction ; and it has, therefore,
been an additional inducement to write this
little book, in order to hand down such special
knowledge of horsecraft, as I possess, to my
own descendants.

I have been in many parts of the world
and have seen and studied many methods of
breaking, training, and taming horses, includ-
ing those of quite celebrated tamers, such as
Captain Hayes, Galvayne, Professor Smith,

*This Foreword was written in 1917.
2

Foreword

and many others of lesser note. In the cases
of all of them the spectacular subjugation of
horses in a few minutes was the leading motif —
with an eye to gate money. In a number of
instances I have taken the trouble to follow
up the results of these Hghtning cures, and
have found, in some cases, that after a few
days the horse had become much worse than
he was before. I was present when a pro-
fessional tamer came out to a British Depend-
ency with a great flourish of trumpets, and
collected all the hard subjects in a certain
city for demonstration of the value of his
treatment. These included some artillery
horses, with bad characters for stubbornness
and evil temper. They came upon the ground,
giving all sorts of trouble, with half a dozen
men hanging on to each. His system con-
sisted of strapping them up, pulling them
down by main force, beating drums and
kerosene tins over their heads, firing off guns
and the like. When they were stood up again,
they were trembling and completely dazed,
and one man could, without difficulty, lead
each about in a sort of dull, mechanical manner.
This result was claimed as a great triumph for
the system, but ten days later one of the artillery
horses killed his groom, and the others
developed such appalling ferocity that within
a month all were shot. Other rogue horses
in the same city, treated in the same way,

3

Foreword

were found subsequently to be much the worse
for it, and several had to be destroyed. The
same sequelae followed demonstrations in
other large cities, and, when this became
generally known, the tour of instruction came
to an end.

Another lightning tamer, whose demon-
strations a good many years ago I often attended,
certainly had the art of bringing the most
refractory and impossible animal under com-
plete control within a very few minutes. He
had perfect command of his temper, indomit-
able pluck, always spoke to his horses cheerily
and kindly, though firmly ; and had an illimit-
able stock of raillery and cajolery, which seemed
to be appreciated by even the most ferocious
of Ms exhibits. He was never cruel to his
pupils, and, although at first afraid of an
ingenious shock treatment, which was his
speciality, they ended by obviously enjoying
it thoroughly. In conversation he frankly
admitted to me that the sudden quelHng of a
horse had Httle permanent effect ; but it was
necessary for the attraction and entertainment
of his pubUc. For the permanent obliteration
of bad habits, he agreed that a long and gradual
course was necessary ; but that would not fill
a big hall and bring in gate money. I followed
up a number of cases of horses treated only
once or twice at his most interesting show,
and although this extremelj^ able expert had

Foreword

most effectually overcome their tricks in the
arena, I learnt from several of the owners,
whose names and addresses he always an-
nounced, that, as I had expected, the effect
was only temporary and they could perceive
no permanent improvement. They had ex-
pected a permanent cure, without further
trouble to themselves, and were disappointed.
But in none of these cases did I hear of any
bad effect being produced. The tamer was
always wiUing to advise owners, who sent their
animals to his exhibition, exactly how to
treat them afterwards, and in the case of the
few who had taken the trouble to follow his
instructions closely, they spoke highly of the
prehminary treatment in the arena as being
the start of better behaviour, which they had
been able, by following the tamer's directions,
to make permanent.

There is no doubt that show-taming, unless
followed by better and more intelligent treat-
ment of the horses by their attendants, is of
little service. In this book I endeavour to
impress upon the reader that the best way to
train a horse is by a multiplicity of little steps,
each of which is well within the brain capacity
of the horse to thoroughly understand ; and to
win his confidence and affection to such an
extent that, of his own volition, he will do
the things you want him to do. Everything is
difficult if the horse is in antagonism ; if he

Foreword

willingly co-operates with you, everything, no
matter how difficult, is made quite easy of
accompHshment. " It's the way he has wid
them " was said of a sunny-hearted Irish
horse-breaker of my acquaintance, whose
horses loved him and did anything he wanted
of them. Try the sunny -hearted way — it's
the right one.

The system of slow and gradual training, as
described in this book, is set out at length to
enable any man or woman, without expert
knowledge, to undertake the training of horses
for their own use, or for sale. For their per-
sonal service they would be anxious, no doubt,
to make them the most perfect companions
possible, and would be wilHng to devote con-
siderable time to secure the very best results.
To those who have sufficient leisure, I advise
the very gradual training I have described
as being well worth while ; for a horse so trained
can be ridden or driven by anybody, and
becomes the most perfect companion and
comrade conceivable. But it is not possible
for everyone, particularly those in charge of
large horse-runs and ranches who have to
handle very large numbers of horses, to expend
so much time on individual animals; and it
may be well for it to be known that the system
can be very much speeded up, the more so,
if the training is confined just to essentials.
The following are instances. At Secunderabad,

Foreword

India, I broke into harness in a single day,
and so thoroughly as to give no trouble after-
wards, a well-knoAVTi and very high-spirited
racing pony (Mail-Train) for a friend. At
Castle Connell, Ireland, at the end of a holiday,
I came across a well-known three-year-old
entire thoroughbred (Pat Macuncas), with
whose make and shape and jumping avidity
I was particularly taken, but who was very
wild. My first view of him was, when, startled
by my dogcart, he promptly took a five feet
stone wall to join some other youngsters in
the next enclosure, although there was an open
gateway less than a hundred yards away.
His owner, an old farmer, had been over-
powered by him and had never taken him out
of his pasture, or handled him in any way,
since he was a yearling, so I had to buy him as
he stood and train him as quickly as I could.
It took me a day to catch him ; I made him
lie down at my word on the second day ; rode
him on the third and fourth days ; and on the
fifth day rode him through Limerick, and
boxed and shipped him to England. It was a
very siu-prising experience for this horse
brought straight from his pasture, and it was
curious to see how he relied upon me for
encouragement and guidance. With the aid of
a lump or two of sugar, with the virtue of
which I had made him acquainted, he followed
me into the railway horse-box and on board

7

Foreword

the steamer at Cork, without fear, and entirely
of his own accord. On landing him at Liver-
pool, I rode him through the dense traffic of
the streets and on to Freshfield, without
any untoward incidents. He subsequently
developed great affection for me. In really
expert hands, any unhandled horse can be
broken to saddle on this system — and so that
the horse at once regards the rider as his
friend and protector, and not as his enemy — in
three or four days. But he still requires a
good rider, and is not yet anybody's horse.
That can only come with time, and further
careful training of the same sympathetic kind.

On horse ranches in the United States, and
in Mexico, I have seen " the boys " round up a
mob of the wildest ponies imaginable, and
after they have corralled them, pick out any I
liked to choose ; and, without any kind of
preparation, lasso, throw, and saddle them
and thus commence their education without
further ado. It's the most magnificent feat
of equitation to be seen in the wide world —
but it's a fight — a thrilling contest of human
and equine brains and endurance. The man
wins, but he leaves the horse his e^iemy. I
have ridden such ponies, long after the contest
and when they are considered broken, but the
embittered effect remains. Any stranger to
them is a potential enemy. It has been long
before such a pony has given me his complete

Foreword

confidence, and has treated me as his honoured
friend; but with pains I have accomplished it,
and it was worth while in the reward of his
ultimate great affection.

By contrast, take the case of the Arab horse,
who for thousands of generations has been
brought up in the tent as a member of the
family. If the tent isn't big enough for the
family and the mare and her foal, it isn't the
mare and the foal who have to go and sit out-
side. The relationship has been as intimate
as that of an Englishman and his dog, for so
many thousands of generations, that the brain
development of the Arab horse, and his in-
telligence, is nearly on a par with that of an
English dog. I have seen many thousands
of Arab horses imported from Arabia into
Bombay, and, for some years, saw probably
every one that arrived each season. And the
characteristic of every one (with the most
trifling exception, due to the very rare cases
of ill-treatment) was the most perfect comrade-
ship with man, pleasure at being taken notice
of, and ready willingness to do everything
that was wanted of him. I was made welcome
in all the Arab stables, and made many dear
friends amongst the horses. The Arab dealer
is a gentleman, and he teaches his horse to be
even a better gentleman than himself — sans
peur et sans reproche. For me the Arab horse,
every time. There is no horse like him.

9

Foreword

I hope this book may find its way into the
hands of many of " the boys," who have done
" their bit " so worthily and well, and who
care for horses. Many have had great and
unusual experiences mth horses drawn from
every quarter of the globe and taken to all
the fighting fronts. If they should appreciate
what I have written, and, if they can spare the
time and would care to write and tell me
of their own experiences with horses — and
amongst " the boys " are those from the Great
Dominions and Colonies, from the States,
from Mexico, from India, from every country,
and from the Isles of all the Seas — I can tell
them that in no way could thej'' give me
greater pleasure than by doing so. I wiU
acknowledge with pleasure every communi-
cation to which an address is attached. Many
of them can teU tales of horses, ponies, mules,
asses, camels and other riding, draught and
pack cattle in the various theatres of the war.
For this reason, I append my private address,
in the hope that some of the boys may be
prompted to accord me, what I should value
and regard as a great privilege ; for such stories
would add so immensely to the information
which is coming in from where great deeds are
being done, and it is all so well worth gathering in.

Goldings Evebard R. Calthrop.

Loughton, Essex.

5th May, 1917.

10

BASIC PRINCIPLES OF HANDLING
AND TRAINING

CHAPTER I

BASIC PRINCIPLES OF HANDLING
AND TRAINING

THE horses and ponies which come into
the hands of the trainer are of all
sorts, ages, heights, shapes and sizes, and
their temperaments and intelligence and
manners are of every possible diversity ; as
are also their previous experiences of handling
— good, bad, and indifferent — on the part of
man. This book has been written, so that any
intelligent person — man or woman — with no
previous knowledge of the methods of educat-
ing a horse, or of training and taming bad
horses, can undertake to train their own young
stock, or to improve the manners of badly
broken animals, with the certainty of success.

As stated in the Foreword, there are many
animals in this country two or three years old,
which, through the departure of men to the
Front, have never been handled at all, and
therefore the typical case has been taken of
how to break in a particularly wild and

13

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

nervous unhandled three- year-old horse, and the
problem is dealt with accordingly. It is
appHcable to stallions, mares and geldings of
every sort and of all ages. If there is any
redmidancy of explanation, it is hoped that, as
the book is primarily written for persons without
much knowledge of horses, it may be forgiven.

What has first to be done is to attract the
horse's confidence, and then his affection.
Ponies, horses and cattle, and, in fact, all
animals handled continuously from birth,
acquire this confidence so completely in the
man who loves them and understands their
natures as from within, that nothing that he
can do will either disturb or frighten them.
Their affection for him is so strong that even
the infliction of severe pain, as in necessary
surgical operations, is borne quite patiently,
the animals understanding that from him —
the master — ^it is done for their good. To be
able to secure the whole-souled affection of the
noblest animal created — the horse — is a gift and
privilege, of which only those on whom it is con-
ferred can fully appreciate its priceless beauty.

To one who has this intimate knowledge of
the nature of the horse, there is no exercise of
his powers more thrilling in interest than in the
case of an animal that has grown to adult
age unhandled and without knowledge of man.
In this country the opportunities of finding

11

Rohan and Marpegorby, 1916

Rohan in 1906

[I'o face page lir

Rohan, in 1906

Rohan and some of his descendants, 1912

Rohan and one of his sons, 1912

[To face page 15

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

such an animal, other than hill ponies, are
rare, so that, when they do occur, they should
be cherished and made the most of, as an
enormous amount of pleasure can be got from
observation of the hereditary defences of the
horse, which, in such an example, are quite
extensively developed.

The horse is a highly courageous animal,
but, throughout the ages, his chief defence
against danger has been his extreme vigilance
and ability to escape from trouble, instantly,
and at great speed. The nervousness of
highly-strung horses is an endowment of nature,
which in past times has preserved their remote
ancestors and the species ; so that the line
to be taken with an unbroken adult animal,
full of every kind of apprehension of harm
from man, is such complete disarmament of
suspicion, that it is never given the opportunity
to develop into active antagonism.

The younger the animal is, the easier and
more quickly it can be trained into confidence
and affection. Remember that a wholly
unbroken adult is much less amenable, for it
has an already acquired stock of experience,
on which it acts, if scared, with unhesitating
impulse. It was promptness of decision and
action, as well as speed, which saved its remote
ancestors from becoming wolf or lion meat.
In approaching this work of breaking in, it is
most necessary to take into full account the

15

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

instincts working in the horse's mind ; for
there is only one way to perfect success in the
handhng of a wild and nervous unbroken, fully-
grown horse or mare. Wrongly handled, the
animal is spoilt for life. Rightly handled,
the subjection and cure of its nervousness and
wildness can be made quite permanent.

The nature of the horse, as unbroken, is to
suspect and counter every act of a man ap-
proaching it, whom it regards as a potential
enemy. If there are a number of men direct-
ing their attention to him and they run, swing
their arms about, and shout when approaching
him, any doubt upon this point vanishes, and
the horse becomes quite certain that they mean
harm to him, and that in prompt escape lies his
only safety. Realise that this means destruction
of all confidence at the very commencement of
your entering into relations with him.

An advance to an unbroken horse must
always be oblique and indirect, in absolute
silence, dead slow, and without any movement
of hands and arms. Unless the ordinary
groom or helper is drilled into this dead quiet
and dead slow procedure, he will spoil every-
thing at the start. The quickest way of getting
on to good terms with the horse is to do every-
thing so quietly and dead slow, that, not only
is he not scared, but so that he hardly pays
any attention to what you are doing.

16

BRINGING THE WILD HORSE UP
FROM PASTURE

CHAPTER II

BRINGING THE WILD HORSE UP
FROM PASTURE

THE first problem is to get the un-
handled horse from the field to the
stable, without the least excitement. Tie
up all dogs. If he is very wild and nervous,
put a very old and quiet animal, that will in
no circumstances kick, into the same field for
several days to make friends with him. When
you see that they are constantly feeding to-
gether, shoulder to shoulder, the old horse
can be used as a lead. If possible avoid taking
the unhandled horse by road, for a motor, a
load of straw, or a flock of sheep might cause
much difficulty.

But perhaps you have to bring up the wild
horse from his pasture without the aid of
another animal. Then adopt this procedure.
Tie up all dogs. It is essential that he should
not be scared, so drill your helpers beforehand
into the prime necessity of absolute silence
and slow movement. It is best that the
horse should be in a field adjoining the straw

19

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

yard, or stable, so that the operation should
be limited to the actual corraUng. If he has
to be taken through a succession of fields to
the last next the straw yard, have all the gates
propped open. Take your men by a round-
about way to the far side of the horse without
attracting his attention, and then, in extended
order, begin your drive, which must be executed
in dead slow time. You and your men should
not walk in a straight line to the horse, but
obhquely, backwards and forwards. By and
by he will look up from his feeding and will
move away, and start feeding again in another
place nearer the gate. As the men come on,
he will move further away still nearer the
gate, and will begin to reaUse that there is
pressure. This will put him on the alert for
danger, and he will stop feeding to watch
events. It is essential that he should be
induced to move away, which he will do
quietly if he is not excited. The oblique
movement of the men wiU make him beUeve
that they are not after him, more especially
if they are instructed not to look at him, but
to appear as if they were interested in looking
for something in the grass — half-crowns per-
haps. He wont Uke their presence and will
continue to move away, and in course of time
will discover the open gate and walk through
it.

If the men had been walking direct on him,

20

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

shouting and waving their arms, his whole
attention would have been so centred on them
that he would not have seen the open gate
behind him, and, in his scared condition, he
would have determined instantly that the
only way of escape was to bolt, through the
widest gap in the advancing line of enemies,
into the more open space beyond them. Con-
vinced that he was in danger of his life, he
would continue to race round the field, and it
would take him at least a fortnight to get
over the experience, and he would retain the
impression that all men were his enemies.

But the silent pressure, slow and obhque
advance, leaves no such impression on the
mind of a wild unhandled horse. He has been
inconvenienced, but that is all. When you
have got him into the next field the day's work
is done, because any horse put into a new
pasture will gallop all round it lq excited
exploration before he quietens down to feed.
If of his own accord he goes through the next
gate, well and good, but don't try to force
him. Your ultimate object is the speediest
breaking of the animal, and by proceeding
slowly at the beginning you are in reahty
making the quickest advance. You want to
get him into the straw- yard, or stable, with the
least disturbance to his equanimity. If he is
terrified by the procedure, you will find him
in such a condition of antagonism that it will

c 21

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

take many days, if not weeks, to overcome his
repulsion to a man. It is speaking, of course,
of a wild and most nervous horse that has never
been handled, and one that can be permanently
spoilt if brute force is used. Such a one can
only be trained to lose his nervousness and
wildness by methods, which so attract him
to you that he will do anything, which you can
make him understand you want done, from
pure affection and love of you. He will have
got used to the new field in twenty-four hours, so
use the same method to get him into the next.
He was not scared the first day, and on the
second day he will be easy to manoeuvre into
the next field. If it takes a week to get him
up to the straw-yard quite unscared, the time
will have been well spent.

22

THE FIRST HANDLING

CHAPTER III
THE FIRST HANDLING

THE best thing is to get him with the
old horse into a straw-yard, and for a
day leave them together and take no notice
of them, except to bring them a httle hay,
not too much, because you want both to be
hungry on the day of the first encounter.
The wild animal will have much to distract
his attention, and, if left quietly alone, will
go round snorting and smelhng everything.
The placid demeanour of the old horse will do
much to give him confidence ; and in twenty-
four hours he will have so assimilated the
novelty of his surroundings, that if you enter
the yard he will be prepared to attend to you
and nothing else. This first seance with the
wild horse you must carry out by yourself,
and no one must be allowed to approach the
yard. His attention must be concentrated on
you alone, to the exclusion of every other
excitement. Tie up all dogs. Enter with as
little noise as possible and quite slowly. Bring
an armful of fresh hay with you ; sit down

25

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

somewhere in the open, put the hay in front
of you, and await developments.

All the time keep perfectly still and don't
move a hand or a muscle. The old horse will
come up to feed and the wild one will follow,
but will keep at a distance, wistfully eyeing
the hay, but not daring to come so close to
you as to reach it. Just sit there quite motion-
less, without making the least sound or move-
ment, and you will have a most amusing time.
With many snorts and strong breathings the
wild one will come up, hesitate and break
away over and over again, but piqued by the
munching of the old horse and the smell of
the hay he will always come back. His object
is the hay, but his eye is on you all the while
and the snorts are tests of the situation. Keep
dead still, for you are now breaking the horse
faster than you know. He is making up his
mind about you, and you can tell how he is get-
ting on from the character of his snorts. He
will break away and come back again a dozen
times or more, every now and then shortening his
distance as a try on. All his attention is now
on you, and on one of his returns try the effect
upon him of a cheerful chirrup, not too loud
to scare. Probably he will jump back with a
snort, but if he likes the sound of it he wont
be long away. Placate him by pushing the
hay, on one of his absences, so that he finds
it a little nearer to him on his return. Have

26

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

patience and play this game to the end, when, if
he is hungry, he will the quicker snatch his first
wisp of hay and make off with it. Wild horse
as he is, you have estabhshed confidential
relations with him, for he has found out that,
under certain circumstances, you are not much
to be feared. Keep dead quiet and he will
soon be back for another wisp, which he will
again carry off ; and so on, with less nervous-
ness and more confidence every time, until,
still keeping a watchful eye on you all the
time, he concludes that it is not necessary to
carry it off and starts munching in earnest.
Just sit there and talk to him. After a while
move your hands and arms, just a Kttle, and
very slowly. He will have his eye on them ;
but, at the very first quick movement, he will
be off in panic, and all the snorting business
will have to be gone through again ; with the
added difficulty that a great suspicion has
arisen in his mind that you are not altogether
what he took you to be. On the other hand,
if you play your part with great adroitness
and tact, disarming his every apprehension,
you may be rewarded with an actual nibble
at a wisp in your hand, extended so slowly
that he almost thinks it grew like that. The
horse is a beast of splendid courage, and
remember that, in this first great interview,
this wild thing, in any advance he makes to
familiarity, is doing violence to all his hereditary

27

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

instincts to get away. If you get him,
with a snort, to smell and touch your hand,
it is triumph indeed. The presence of the
old horse helps matters by his example of
confidence, and shortens the time of attraction ;
but, with patience and the utmost care, the
wild horse, even if alone, can eventually be
induced to come up to you and give you that
touch on the fingers, which means the begin-
ning of his friendship.

After the first touch of his nose on your
fmgers, the wild horse will want to touch them
again. Keep your hand perfectly still ; and
the second time there will not only be a touch,
but a smell as well. It is his way of taking
stock of you, and, if the smell is satisfactory,
you are a made man as far as he is concerned.
If you are sitting or l3ring on the ground, a
horse will come up to you so much more readily
than if you are standing up. To a foal, a man
lying down is perfectly irresistible. Keep
dead quiet, and by devious ways the foal will
come up, and, after a httle hesitation, you
will feel somewhere just the tip of a wee soft
nose. Then somewhere else another touch,
and another, and if your savour is good, there
follows a downright good smelling all over.
Then that foal is yours ; and you can do any-
thing you hke with him, provided you make
no sound and all your movements are dead
slow. So with the wild horse, the first nervous

28

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

siiiff will assuredly be followed by another and
no doubt a snort. The great art is to keep
most perfectly still. The next touch will be
a little bolder, with quite a good smell of your
hand. After two or three smells, very slowly
put your arm down by your side. You have
got a friend now, and the friend's nose will be
stretched out hesitatingly, as one who does
not quite know how the polite attention will be
received, just to touch your sleeve about the
elbow. Encourage all his enquiries, and let him
smell you wherever he likes — ^he won't hurt you.

Then, on one of his absences, slowly stand
up. This is a new phase to the wild horse, at
which he is a little alarmed, and all that you
did sitting down will have to be done over
again. It is curious how quickly a horse gets
confidence if all goes right, so the repetition,
standing, wdll take much less time, and at the
end you will find yourself able to take little
hberties with him, such as stroking his nose ;
first, with a wisp of hay, which he will try to
eat, and then, with your fingers. None of
this time is being wasted. These things are
not trivialities. You are awaking in the horse
an interest in yourself personally, and confi-
dence that all these strange things you are
doing are meant friendly, and that in no case
will he be hurt.

Then for a while pay him no attention at all.
Put a headstall on the old horse, tie him up

29

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

so that he cannot move away, pat him. stroke
him and handle him all over fore and aft.
Give him some hay and generally make a great
fuss of him. The wild horse will move ofi a
little way to regard this new thing. He will
take full stock of it. He will see this strange
biped taking all sorts of liberties with the old
horse, and that, so far from the old horse
objecting to anjrthing that is being done to
him, he loves it. Stroke the old horse's face,
his eyes, pull his ears, scratch him under the
mane, lift his legs, go all round him, scratch
his back, and, when you have done, lean your
back against the old horse, pick up a piece
of hay, face the wild one, and hold it out to
him. He is still hungry, and, ten to one,
after a little hesitation, he will come up to you
and take it. When it is done, very very slowly
stoop down and pick up some more, and, as
slowly rise up. As you stoop down the wild
horse will start a little and draw back ; for
this is another strange thing, and he does not
know what to make of it. Wait a Uttle, and
hold the hay out again, and once more he will
come up hesitatingly and take it.

Repeat this quite a number of times and you
will see the confidence of the wild horse grow
every time. This may well end your first
lesson, and, as you go, lead the old horse with
you up to the gate and made a little more fuss
with him, before you loose him and go out.

30

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

This also will give the wild horse something
more to think about. Let no one else go to
the straw-yard, or much that you have done
will be undone.

The next day, tie up all dogs, and do the
same thing. Tie up the old horse and sit down
with the hay at your feet. Hand up a little
to the old nag and the wild one, quite hungry,
will not be long before he comes to you for
some. Go through the same programme,
which will take much less time, but do not
forget to make all your movements just as
slow. Now make another advance. Bring a
flexible cutting whip with you, and, as you present
the hay to the wild horse, hold the whip in the
same hand, so that the knob is masked by,
but projects just a little beyond the hay. He
won't take any notice of it, and will go for the
hay. As he pulls at the hay let the knob
end just touch the side of his face. He may
draw back a little, but he will again come for
the hay, so let it touch him again. He will
soon get used to it, and you can push the knob
end out a little further, to touch his cheek.
It will annoy him a little at first, but he will
soon get used to it and won't bother so long
as he gets the hay. Gradually push the knob
out further so that you touch him gently on
the side of the neck. He doesn't like it very
much, but resigns himself to the annoyance
on account of the hay, and in a little while

31

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

you will be able to rub him on the neck quite
hard. Go through it all again two or three
times, so that he is quite used to seeing the whip
and being rubbed by it on the face, cheek and
neck. Do it on the other side, progressing
just as gradually. Now take the hay in one
hand and the whip in the other, and, slowly
and gently, go through the process with the
whip in full sight, every movement being dead
slow. Turn the whip round so that you present
the flexible end to him, repeating the process,
first with one hand and then with the other.
By this time he will have ceased to make any
objection to being rubbed by the whip, and you
can gradually extend the range of operations
to his shoulders, wither, and chest. Then
while you do this begin to talk to him cheerily
and watch his eyes and the play of his ears.
With experience, if you watch both, you can
almost tell what a horse is thinking of.

Next day, after tieing up all the dogs, in a
sort of House-that-Jack-Built progression go
through the whole thing again, from the very
beginning. The horse's strongest point is his
memory, and he will know quite well what is
coming and will raise little if any objection.
In fact, by this time, his confidence in you
will have so increased that you can go to
work more boldly with the whip-rubbing part.
He will have got to like it, and, by holding
the hay a bit back, he will come much closer

32

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

to you ; so that you can rub his back and
flanks with the whip and occasionally touch
his neck with your fingers. The finger touches
at first should be as light as possible, and
infrequent. It is a great concession on the
part of the wild horse to allow you to touch
him at all, and you must give him time to think
about it and consider whether any outrage is
intended, or not. With the first light touches,
he won't be sure whether anything was in-
tended or not, but, as they go on without
hurting him in any way, he will conclude that
he has no reason to object.

Now any horse, when he comes up from
grass, has a more or less itchy skin, and the
skin of a wild horse, who has always from
a foal been in the open, will be more so. From
the light touches proceed to Ught rubs, and
watch his eyes and ears. As long as his ears
are forward, all is well. Half-way down the
neck is the best place to begin to rub with
more pressure. If he likes it he will keep his
ears forward ; if he is not sure, one ear will be
forward and the other a bit back ; if he doesn't
like it, both ears will be momentarily brought
back, with just a gleam of white in the eye.
But he has suffered many things at your hands,
which at first he hardly approved but turned
out better than he expected, so that, even on
this mighty question of the actual touch of the
biped, he is inclined to risk consent, and

33

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

eventually does do so. Imperceptibly turn
the rubbing into the gentlest scratching. It
may be a great coup — the greatest coup. If
he stops eating hay to rub his neck against
your nails, you have got him body and soul.
You have only got to extend the area of the
operation judiciously, mch by inch, across the
shoulders keeping weU below the wither, then
upwards to the middle of his back, to have
him in a state of perfect ecstasy. He wiU
utterly surrender to you, forgetful of every
other consideration, if only he can enjoy that
perfectly entrancing scratching of his back.
Begin it gently with the one hand, and as he
reaUses that this particular place that he has never
been able to get at himself, is actually going
to be scratched for him, as he had never
dreamed in his Hfe to get it titillated, he will
bend down and give you his whole-souled
co-operation for just as long as you like to con-
tinue the contract. Get both hands on to the
job, and the harder you scratch the more
he will love it.

The back scratch has an extraordinary effect
upon him. He will turn his head slowly to
one side, and then to the other. He wiU draw
down his head and his neck pulHng them back,
with all the muscles taut, until he looks hke a
Greek horse on the frieze of the Parthenon.
He will stretch his nose out and curl up his
lip, as though he were trjdng to ape an ele-

34

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

phant's trunk. He will waggle his ears about
and close his eyes ; open his mouth, and stretch
out his tongue ; stand on one leg, and then on
another ; stamp with them ; go down on his
knees in a paroxysm of ecstasy, get up again,
and even he down. Stop, even for a moment,
and he will look round to enquire why all this
joy has come to an end ; will jog you with his
nose, and present his back for renewed attention.

Then with one hand, still titillating his
back, with the other scratch his mane, the
whole of his neck, his chest, his flanks, his
girth, and especially his forelegs as far as you
can reach, lifting them at the knee if he will
allow you. He will want you to do it all
again, and this time, facing his shoulder, get
your hands on either side of his neck, scratch
it all over ; then get to his shoulders and up to
the wither. Then press your weight against
his chest and shoulders, as your hands pass
over the wither on to his back. He won't
object, and will most probably return the
pressure to help you to get your fingers further
along his back.

Walk slowly away and he will come after
you. Let him come up to you, and scratch
him a httle again, and go on. He will follow
you, so stop and give him some more. Bring
him right up to the gate, give him a last scratch
on the back and vanish. There will be a wild
horse with his head over the gate, looking to

35

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

see where that perfectly beautiful man has
gone.

It is enough to know the scheme and princi-
ples of this first handling. It can be varied,
in respect of its details, to suit the peculiarities
of every kind of horse. It is applicable to
every horse of every age — staUions, geldings,
mares, foals and fiiUies. The younger they
are, the more quickly they respond to its
influence. Its great merit is that the animal
is at full liberty, and under no kind of con-
straint.

The horse responds because he wants to
respond. There is no coercion. The most
savage stallion, brutalised and terrorised by
the most ignorant of grooms, whose only
method of handling him has been with a
pitchfork, will respond to it in time, as soon as
he learns that you are of a different order to
the cruel beast who has had charge of him.
Confidence comes first, and affection foUows.

Of all the animals on earth none has been
created of such nobihty of character, not even
man, for there is nothing mean about the
horse — and there are many mean men. Watch
the poorest of half-starved beasts in the London
streets, ribs showing through scars ; look at the
expression of his eyes and the curves of his
mouth as he struggles with a load infinitely

36

Rohan and Romford, 1906
Father on Father, and Son on Son

Playmates in the Paddock, 1906

[To face page 36

Playing at "Wild Injuns," 1906

Betty on Kitty VIM. Iris on Rohan, 1906

[To face page 37

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

too heavy for him ; think of the bodily weakness
braced up in that poor small body by a most
magnificent courage ; striving to pull and to
keep on pulhng — till he falls. The curves and
play of the muscles of the mouth of a horse,
pulling his best, tell of the courage and great
soul that is in him. Wounded, in pain, suffer-
ing hunger and thirst, waiting for the end,
there can be no more pathetic picture of hard-
ships borne unflinchingly with patience and
perfect dignity. All horses are fit for heaven ;
but only a few men.

Few can get close enough to the mind and
soul of a horse to appreciate to the full how
noble and beautiful is his character. To
possess the whole-souled affection and love of
a horse, and many are capable of the greatest
affection, is an exquisitely perfect experience.
To have the power of attracting such affection,
and to know how to reciprocate it, is privilege
and pleasure beyond all price.

87

THE SECOND HANDLING

CHAPTER IV
THE SECOND HANDLING

THE scheme of the first handling has
been the voluntary attraction of the
horse, when at full liberty, to the trainer.
At its end the old horse can be removed from
the straw-yard. There is no longer any advan-
tage in his presence; as the wild horse, who
to you is no longer wild, has now no fear of you
and will welcome your coming. He will of his
own accord come right up to you at the gate,
and, in a day or two, will salute your arrival
with a delighted neigh.

The scheme of the second handling is the
very gradual coercion of the horse, until you
have full control of his movements. Like the
first handhng, it must be done so slowly and
gradually that he does not reahse that he is
being coerced or controlled. You must so
manoeuvre things that he does voluntarily
what you want him to do. When a horse
gets really fond of you it is a pleasure to him
to do for you whatever you can make him
understand you want him to do. Some horses

41

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

— Arabs for instance — ^have much greater in-
telligence than others, and can grasp quicker
what you want done ; but in every case, in
order that you should the more clearly convey
to the wiUing mind of the horse what you want
him to do, the steps of advance should always
be very small. It is the splendid memory of
the horse which is your greatest help in train-
ing him, for he will never forget anything you
teach him. He will remember all the little
steps of advance of a most complex course,
up to the apex of some really wonderful circus
achievement. Once the horse really loves you,
he wiU do for you wiUingly, and take a pride
in doing it, no matter how difficult, anything
of which he is anatomically capable. That
is the sole Umitation. Provided you can plot
out a scheme in httle steps, going continuously
right up to the most sensational spectacle
that could possibly be thought out for him,
he will do it, if anatomically he is capable of
doing it.

He will do all this out of pure love of you,
but it is a great help and saving of time if you
can give him a Httle reward for his efforts to
please ; and he will love you all the more and
attend to you all the more intelHgently if you
do so. Keep an old coat with a sugar pocket
in it, and don't be afraid to put your hand in
it. Talk to him exactly as if you were trying
to teach a young child. You will be astonished,

42

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

if you constantly use the same words for the
same action, how quickly he will understand
what you say to him. Keep a cheery voice for
him all the time, for he will love your voice
and attend to it right promptly. Watch his
ears ; the play he makes with them, when he
is trying to understand you, is a treat to see.
It is the inflections of your voice which he
follows the most readily. A rough word
spoken to him will send up his heart beats
twenty a minute. Don't do it. At the most
use a tone of surprise or remonstrance. It is
quite enough.

The above is by way of preliminary. The
old horse has gone, and you have your disciple
to yourself for the first time. Tie up all dogs,
then go through all the previous performances
again right up to the scratching, to which he
will surrender himself still more freely. Stand
at his shoulder and scratch gradually along
his mane up to his ears. Try to scratch be-
tween them and down to his forelock. He
may not like it at first, but persevere. Go up
again to the forelock and scratch very gently
at the root of the ears. First time, he will
shake his head and move away. This was
just a bit too much. Don't move after him,
but stand where you were. He wiU come back
to you. Keep steady and do nothing. This
is disappointing. He will shake his head once
or twice, and out will come that soft nose for a

43

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

smell. Still do nothing. This is strange, and
the nose will be rubbed against you to wake
you up. Wake up, step to the shoulder, and
do a httle pacifying back scratching, carry it
along the neck and up to the forelock and ear
again. You have got to have that ear and
both of them. Persevere, you will get them both.

Use judgment in these matters. Don't risk
real annoyance. Go back to something else.
You will get your way in time, and the sooner
for not worrying him. Don't let any seance
be too long. Walk away from the horse and
sit down. He will go and munch a bit of hay.
Leave him to it for a while. Don't let there
be too much hay, and when he has finished it
he will move about and eventually come up
for some more conversation with you.

Have a little surprise for him. Although
he has been a wild horse at grass all his life,
he has had a bit of chop with oats, brought
to the field manger in winter time, and knows
what oats are. Have a few in a basket. My
hat, he says, this fellow who scratches my
back actually has OATS ! You will rise in his
estimation one thousandfold on the spot.

So you are a Scratcher and Master of Oats !
And, from such a man, much can be endured.
You haven't got to the sugar stage yet, so for
a while keep oats in the sugar pocket. Scratch
the back ; go down to the chest ; go on to the
forearm ; scratch the knee, rub the cannon

41

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

bone ; go down to the pastern. First two or
three times when you get to the pastern, he
will lift up his foot and make a sweep in the
air. It will amuse him, and, when you get
to the knee next time, he will make a sweep at
once. Put your hand in your pocket and
bring some oats out. He will go for them
a Uttle roughly, waste most, but will get some
and vote you a very decent fellow ; so that,
when you go for the knee again and he lifts
it up, he will allow you to hold it up and shake
it. He will respond with the sweep, so slip
your hand down to the pastern and hold his
leg out as straight as you can. Do it two or
three times, and he will be quite interested
in the new game and let you do it freely. Next
time, run the left hand down to the pastern,
and, when you lift the near leg up, rest it on
your own knee, and, with the right hand,
scratch his knee and the forearm, topside and
bottom, and inside and outside. He will Uke
it, and in a little time you can take liberties
with his leg, bending his knee and bringing the
foot up to the elbow, and shaking it there.
Besides his neck and ears, you are now master
of his near fore leg ; and, if, each time you
play this game, it ends with half a mouthful
of oats, he is ready to take his part in it just as
often as you like.

The leg lifting game is, however, but the
preliminary to by far the most important

45

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

adventure in the training course you are carry-
ing out. You have grown to be his delightful
companion and playfellow, and he is not a bit
afraid of you ; but you are going to demonstrate
to him (by illusion) that you are by far the
stronger animal physically, and that, although
you are so strong that you have been able to
down him with ease, you have not hurt
him the least bit, and, so far from doing
so, have petted and comforted him in the mis-
fortune which has so surprisingly overtaken him.

16

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

In preparation for this exploit you have
provided yourself with the strap of the dimen-
sions shown in Fig. 1 of this sketch.

In Fig. 2 its appUcation is shown to the near
foreleg, which it tightly holds up, so that the
horse is on three legs. Nothing that he can
do can displace it. To use it, have the buckle
outside ; sHp the tail piece through the legs ;
bring it round the near pastern ; pass it through
the ring, and tighten on the pastern, holding
the tailpiece in the left hand. Lift the foot
up to the elbow with the right hand, at the
same time puUing the strap up taut with the
left hand on the inside of the forearm. Throw
the tail piece over the top of the forearm as near
the chest as possible, the foot being kept up by
the pull on the strap, and with the right hand
pass the strap through the buckle and tighten
up to the nearest hole. It must be fairly
tight when the foot is released.*

*In an enclosure where no harm can befall him, it is much
better that the horse should be thrown, or rather throw him-
self, as described here, with a single legstrap on the near fore-
leg. The psychological effect upon the unbroken horse is
better ; but when it is desired to throw a broken horse in the
open field with bridle or training halter upon him, then, after
strapping up the near foreleg to put him on three legs, pass
the buckle end of a long strap over the pastern of the off
foreleg, draw it tight, so that it cannot slip off the pastern,
and pass it over the horse's back, so that you hold it in your
right hand while you hold the bridle in your left, facing the
horse's shoulder. If you are young and active, you can
bring the biggest horse down in about twenty minutes, leaving

47

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

Try slipping the legstrap on the old horse
first, not on the disciple. There is a knack in
putting it on, and, with practice, it can be done
so swiftly that the horse has no time to resist.

Pat him and stand aside. He won't know
at all what to make of it. He will probably
put his nose down and touch his knee, to try
and understand what has happened. Then he
will throw his head up, and strike out with
the bound foreleg, a dozen times. No good.
He will make a step forward with the free fore-

the impression upon him that, as an animal, you are physic-
ally so much stronger than he is that it is useless for him to
resist you. The good impression is formed b/ the massage
and petting which you give him when he is lying exhausted
and helpless on the ground. The action is commenced by a
rearward pull on the bridle, which will cause the horse to
lift the oflE fore foot from the ground. At that instant you
pull up the strap fastened on the pastern on the off foreleg
and hold it tightly in your right hand, so that he cannot
straighten the off foreleg. He then comes down on both
knees (on which you have put knee-caps) and the fight begins.
He wlU rear and come down again on his knees, and will con-
tinue this until, steaming with perspiration, he becomes so
completely exhausted that he can rear no more ; and you
pull him over on his side. Then carry on, as related in this
chapter. This handling of a horse and the subsequent pet-
ting has the very remarkable effect, upon even the most vicious
horse, of imbuing him with a strong personal affection for
youi'self, and when you allow him to get up, he will not leave
you, but will follow you anywhere, just like a dog. Although
the author has thrown many hundreds of horses in this
manner, and the fights put up by some have been phenomenal,
he has never known a horse to be strained or receive any other
injury, nor has he injured himself. Begin with a small pony,
who will most efficiently teach you all the points of the game.

48

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

leg, and again strike out with the bound leg.
Still no good. He will snort and get a bit
excited and hop forward haK a dozen times,
stop, and strike out with the bound leg for all
he is worth. Still no good. He may rear
four or five times and swing round on his hind
legs, come down and strike out again. He
will begin to sweat and steam, and the more
he rears and strikes out the better, for he is fat
and is taking it out of himself. Keep quite
still and don't move about. All the while
he will keep an eye on you, connecting you in
some way with his predicament, not resentfully,
but not understanding how you have put this
spell upon him. Up he will rear again and
swing away from you, then hop half way
round the yard, the heavy going helping to
take more out of him. He mil come to a
stand, draw himself up and look at you. About
now begin to speak to him with a tone in your
voice of commiseration. Move a step or two
towards him, speaking very kindly. Quite
likely he will come up to you and rub his head
against your shoulder. Pat him, for he is in
trouble, and he wall appreciate your sympathy.
Then move back again. He will shake the
bound leg again and bite perhaps at the upheld
knee, for the unbalanced weight is tiring the
muscles of his chest and shoulders. Once
more he will brace himself up to the effort of
fighting his bonds, striking out with perhaps

49

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

more energy than before. By this time he
will be drenched with sweat and steaming in
clouds, while here and there on his body are
flecks of white foam. He is getting deadly
tired, and the pains of fatigue in his muscles
are increasing. As he hops round the yard
there is a tendency, now and then, to drop the
bound leg, so you may be sure it won't be long
before he gives in. Keep on talking to him,
and follow him round on the inside of his
circle just a yard or two away, and stop when
he stops. He will turn his head round and
look at you. Give him a gentle rub on the
nose and a pat or two on the neck, and, in
response, he will give a feeble wag or two of the
leg. Now incite him to go on, and, if he
hesitates, give him a Uttle tap behind with the
whip. He won't go far. Pat him on the neck
and start him again with quite a gentle tap.
He may make a last attempt to rear, but it
wiU be too much for him, and, when he comes
down, he will do so on both knees, and with
his nose on the ground to help to steady him.
There, quite likely, he may stop for a quarter
of a minute or longer. Talk to him, but don't
go too near him, as the relief from the strain
on his muscles may encourage him to get up
again, and, if so, he will almost certainly swing
round and attempt another high rear. But
it will be his last effort, and when he comes
down it will be on his knees, and he will roll

50

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

right over on his side, in a state of entire ex-
haustion and collapse, and covered with foam.
He will shut his eyes and lie motionless, Hke a
dead thing.

The fight may last from half an hour to an
hour, according to the condition and dis-
position of the horse. The more the horse
fights and wearies himself, the quicker it will
be over ; and the more good it will do to him,
for the effect will be the more decisive. Nearly
all horses fight well, and sometimes you will
get a magnificent display from a hero who
won't give in. Somewhat rarely, you will
come across an equine Conscientious Objector
who ^^dll show very little fight, and will be
content to hop about on three legs for quite a
long time, and even occupy himself in looking
out for wisps of hay, but they all do he down
sooner or later and become amenable to the
treatment now to be described. No instances
are known of horses injuring themselves in this
form of subjugation. The horse is not fright-
ened at any time from start to finish, for he is
free to do what he likes. It is not at all the
same thing as throwing a horse forcibly, with
half a dozen men strugghng with ropes and
shouting around him, to his mortal terror.
In the system set out in these notes, brutality
and terrorising is ruled out of court —
absolutely. It is not only morally wrong to
terrorise an animal so highly organised as the

51

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

horse, but it is an act of sheer idiotcy, if the
ruffian, who perpetrates it, desires the horse
afterwards to become his wilhng servant.

It is somewhat remarkable that, although
the horse undoubtedly always connects you
with his fight and believes that it is your power
and strength which vanquishes him, he never
shows the shghtest trace of resentment, and
will always freely offer his leg to be strapped
up on the subsequent occasions. He is a
generous-hearted beast.

When you have the horse lying down so
exhausted that he is lost to the world, then
arrives your great opportunity. Approach
him so that he can see you when you speak to
him. Kneel down slowly at his head, and say
to him all the kind and endearing things you
can think of. Rub his forehead and pass the
flat of your hand over his eyes, rub his nose,
his cheeks, and, if you have had previously
any difficulty with them, especially his ears.
Open his lips and play with them. Put your
hand through the bars of his mouth and touch
and handle his tongue. Nothing whatever
that you do to him will he resent. Massage
his head all over, talking to him all the while,
and when you have finished with his head rise
up very slowly and pass round to his back,
kneeling down again behind his mane. From
this new position massage his head once more,
still talking to him. Then take the neck,

52

c ^

E <D

OH

St

HOW TO HANDLE A FOAL

1. Lifting him to his hind legs

2. Teaching him confidence

3. A lump of sugar as reward

[To face page 53

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

massaging it all along from the head to the
shoulder, continuing your conversation at
intervals. Move now to the wither and massage
that, then all along and around his body,
beginning at his spine and gradually working
over his flanks to his stomach. Every now
and then go back to his head, and run your
hands over his ears, eyes, and nose, with a
few more words. Work lightly along the neck
and back to where you left off before. Pat
him all along, and increase the strength of the
pats until they are almost spanks. There is
not a single square inch of his body that you
must leave untouched. Pass your hands
between his forelegs along his stomach to his
sheath and between his thighs. Massage his
rump and his tail. Move it about and handle
it well. Go back and handle his gullet and
throat. You will find he is still keeping his
eyes shut, in supreme enjoyment of what you
are doing to him. He has experienced the
weight of your body, when you were leaning
over to massage his chest and stomach. Leave
off work for a bit and very gently sit on his
shoulder, keeping your hands playing about
his neck and mane, and speaking to him.
Get up and go round his head once more, play-
ing with his face, run do^vn the neck to the
shoulders and chest ; and now begin to handle
his forelegs, rubbing them up and down, pinch-
ing the tendons, and finishing with his feet.

E 53

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

Leave the strap on the near foreleg alone.
When the forelegs are finished go behind him
again to his rump, and work along his buttocks,
stifles, and thighs, inside and out, and down
to his hocks, legs and feet. The whole process
takes from twenty to twenty- five minutes.

Go back and sit on his shoulder, watch
events, and give him an occasional pat. He
will have opened his eyes when you sat down
on him and closed them again. Keep quiet,
and he will gradually realise that the massage
performance is over, and with it his great
fatigue has passed away. But he is feeling
so comfortable, and he likes your little at-
tentions so much, that he is not especially
keen to get up. When he is nearly ready, he
will open his eyes wide and perhaps shift his
head a httle to try and get a squint at you.
Get up slowly, keeping a hand on his withers,
and he will probably roll up on to a level keel.
Move a step forward, talk to him and play with
his mane and neck, and he will probably be
content to remain like that for a minute or
two before attempting to rise.

The near leg is still strapped up, and, as
soon as he puts out the off fore in the attempt
to get up, stand aside and let him do so. Now
he will do one of two things ; and you can
never be quite sure which. He will either
make three of four attempts to get up, and,
finding his near leg still bound, will give it up

54

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

and throw himself on his side again, or he will
succeed in getting up and, feeUng refreshed,
will have a bit more fight. But the second
fight won't last long, and, remembering how
pleasant it was when he was down, he soon
subsides.

In either case, do a bit of massage again
especially of the head and ears, which will
please him, and take this opportunity to
halter him, which you can easily do, for, by
bunching the halter and rubbing his head
and ears with it to get him accustomed to its
feel and smell, he will think it is part of the
massage process. Keep on rubbing his face
while you slip it on, and he won't know any-
thing about it.

Encourage the horse to get on a level keel
again and sit on his back, and, while there,
get a little tension on the halter rope, which
should He on the off side of his neck. Now
for the oats again ! Lean over as you sit and
give him a smell of the oats with your right
hand, and pull on the halter rope with the
left. Ordinarily he might resist the pull ; but
the smell of the oats brings his head round
sharp, and you must hold him with bent neck,
with the left hand, while he eats them out of
your right hand, and asks for more. Give him
some more, keeping his neck well bent with
the halter. After he has finished the oats,
move back from him and, using both hands,

55

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

pull hard, but not jerkUy, on the halter. With
his bent neck you have an enormous leverage
on him, and, even if he is the biggest Shire
Stallion in Great Britain, he has got to roll
over on his side again. Do this several times.
Get him up on to the level keel, sit on his
back and play with him a bit, and then with a
strong pull bring him down on his side again.
The oftener you repeat this, the more the
horse wiU reaUse his utter inability to resist.
From the first he has had a dim idea that it
was you who were holding his leg up so that he
could not get it free, and, now that you pull
him over hke this, no further evidence is
necessary, and he is quite certain of it. He
is convinced that you are an animal so enor-
mously stronger than he is, that it is quite hope-
less to attempt to resist you ; and besides, why
should he resist you, when you have proved
so conclusively to him that, no matter what
strange things you do to him, he will not only
not he hurt, but wiU derive great pleasure
from aU your various handlings ?

You have now estabhshed the following
position in your horse's mind : —

(a.) You are an amusing and dehghtful

companion, whom it is a pleasure to

be with.
(6.) You know about and produce hay, when

he is hungry ; water, when he is

thirsty ; but, above everything else,

56

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

you smell of OATS, carry OATS, and

actually give OATS with your hand !

(c.) You are enormously stronger than he

is. Nevertheless not only do you not

hurt him, but you give him all sorts

of strange pleasures he has never

known before.

{d.) It is safe and pleasant to trust any

part of his body to be handled by you.

(e.) It is safe, and not unpleasant, to allow

you to lean, lie and sit upon his body.
(/.) Wlien a strange puU from you comes
upon the head, it has to be obeyed
and followed because it must. Any-
way, why any resistance, when noth-
ing to hurt follows ?
A dog looks upon a man as a God immeasur-
ably above him, and fawns upon him. A
horse, in the most perfect and intimate
relationship with a man, regards him as his
equal, his honoured comrade, to whom it is
his delight to give precedence and to serve,
but socially his equal and no more. It is just
his most beautiful sense of equality and
comradeship, which, when a man has the wit
or gift fully to perceive and understand it,
makes the horse such a priceless companion
and friend. To win the real active love of a
horse is a wonderful experience, something to
remember and be thankful for, for aU one's life.
It is so pure and unselfish. He will do any-

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

thing for you, which you can make him under-
stand you want done. He will protect j'^ou,
and savage anything that tries to attack you.
Love illumines his intelligence, and the stories
of the horse picking his wounded master up
by his clothing, and carrjdng him off the battle-
field to safety, are true.

You have got your horse pulled over on his
side. He is not the least bit afraid of you,
and you can take any kind of hberty with him.
If you are young and lusty you can now make
a gi^eat coup, which will save a whole heap of
time. Carry the halter rope round the neck,
and tie the loose end to the other side of the
halter nose band, to make a bridle and rein.*
Undo the strap on the near foreleg, straighten
out the leg and massage it thoroughly, which
will be a great rehef to the horse. Go behind
him, get on his body and encourage him to
roll up on a level keel. Put your arms round
his neck, play with him and encourage him to
rise. He will do so, but continue to talk to
him and to make play with your hands, to
give him time to make up his mind about this
strange thing on his back. Never let active
trouble with a horse have a chance of arising.
If there is the least risk of it you can always
tell, and " right there " do something that
favourably distracts the horse's thoughts into

♦The author has developed a halter especially designed
for horse-taming and training operations.

58

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

another channel. It is so much easier to
avoid than to overcome trouble. Fetch out a
handful of oats, hold it out to him in the right
hand and pull his head round to it by the halter-
bridle. He recognises that the weight on his
back is the Master of Oats, and all risk of
trouble is at an end. Pat him and make a
great fuss with him, and work about a bit on
his back for a little ; then ask him to move
on. Lo ! you are riding the wild horse and
the odd thing is that he makes not the faintest
objection ! Take him all round the straw-yard,
backwards and forwards, stop him, move him
on again until he responds promptly to every
direction and indication of your will. Then
sUp down slowly from his back, pet him some
more, and administer just a trifle of oats.
Move off, and he will follow you. Wherever
you go he will follow, with his nose a little in
advance of your elbow, and, when you stop
he will stop, and most probably rub his nose
or neck against you. As the quickest means
of promoting confidence, affection, and smart
response to your desires, the thromng of the
horse and the massage which follows, exactly
as in the methods described, cannot be even
approached by any other system of treatment.

Untie the halter rope, and move off again
with it in your hand. He will follow as before,
close up to you, without any pull on the rope,
just because he Hkes to be near you. But

59

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

you want to teach him the pull, and to attend
to it. Move off at right angles to his course ;
because, in so doing, you exert the maximum
of leverage on his neck. He will come round
and in three or four minutes he will have learned
that he is to follow the pull wherever it leads
and will assist in this new game with all good
will and pleasure. When you bid him adieu at
the gate, he will crj?- out in distress because he
cannot follow.

Repeat the whole process on three orf our days.
The second day there may be a bit of a fight,
and on the third still less. On the fourth
day he will probably he down within half a
minute of the strap being put on. Now say
" lie down " to him each time in a voice of
authority, and, in a week, he will do so, by
giving him the word and lifting up his near
foot. In eight or ten days, say the word and
tap the near leg with the whip, and you will
find it sufficient. In a fortnight, he will lie
down to the word of command alone.

The First and Second Handlings should be
carried out by yourself alone, for it is of para-
mount importance that the horse should give
you his undivided attention all the time. If
you wish any spectators of your prowess, they
must be concealed from the horse and keep
perfectly quiet. Peepholes or a lattice meet
the case ; but above all tie up that infernal dog.

60

TEAINING TO SADDLE

CHAPTER V
TRAINING TO SADDLE

IF you have effected the coup suggested
at the end of the last chapter, and
backed your horse as he rose at the end
of the massage seance, you will have very
little trouble in training him to saddle. But
for various good reasons you may have pre-
ferred not to attempt this, although, as a
matter of fact, it is attended with very little
risk, either as to the unsettling of the horse,
or of damage to yourself. If you elect not
to try it — proceed with the haltering of the
horse as first directed, but leave the end of the
halter rope loose and throw it on his neck.
Instead of riding him round the straw-yard,
let him follow you quite loose, which he will
do, and stop, when you stop. Then take the
end of the halter, keeping it slack, and let him
follow you again without any pull. Make the
first puU at right angles to his centre line and
proceed as before.

Repeat the programme for the next three
or four days, and, when he is thoroughly used

63

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

to the haltering and takes no notice of t, bring
in a bridle and single reins, with a big snaffle
bit. You have already handled his mouth,
hps and tongue a lot, so you will have little
trouble. Let him see the bridle and reins,
which you should bundle up, and let him smell
them all he wants. Rub his neck and head
with the bundle while he is l3dng on his side,
and he will think it is some new variation of
the massaging process and will remain quite
unconcerned. Let him get up on the even keel.
Get the bit warm in your hand, or by pressing^
it on his neck to get the chill off, and, while
you are playing with his mouth, just slip it in
and go on massaging. He may not like it
and may resist a little; if so, remember the
oats, and he mil forget all about the bit in his
eagerness to get at the oats. While he is
munching and thinking only of the oats, get
the bridle gently over his ears and on his head,
and buckle the throat-lash. The bit will bother
him a little at first ; but give him a few more
oats and go on massaging, and by and by
he will get quite used to this new disagreeable,
and forget all about it.

With the bridle now on, pull him gently
but forcibly from the even keel position on to
his side, remembering to first bend his neck
to get the leverage, which, whether he likes
it or not, will make him come. He had got
used to the halter puU and responded cheer-
ed

Two photographs of Marzouk in 1906

[To face page 64

k

Hugh Calthrop on Fitz, 1919

Fitz, a battle-scarred hero, who served through the Palestine
and Senussi Campaigns

[To face page 65

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

fully and without hesitation ; but on this
occasion you must be prepared to have to use
rather more force, because the bit may hurt
him a little and he may resist. Slack the pull
the moment he is down, go to his head and
make a fuss of him. He will forget all about
the casual nip of the bit.

Let him get right up, ana leave the rein
loose on his neck. He will give renewed
attention to the bit, which he champs and
doesn't like. A few more oats, and stroke
his nose and pat his neck. Gently bring the
rein past his ears and over his head, and put
it back again on his neck. Do this several
times, until he takes no notice of it. Then
with the rein quite slack, move ahead and
he will follow you. Go through the same
manoeuvres as with the halter, until he is in
all circumstances perfectly accustomed to the
bridle and bit.*

Now to prepare him for the saddle. Get a
rug circingle, show it to him and let him smeU
it all he wants. Bundle it and let him smell
it again. Rub his head with it, then along his
neck on to his back. Talk to him all the
while. Run your arms through the rein, until

* A course of the use of tlie Cavasson bit for mouthing, to
harden the mouth and gums, can be interposed here for those
who prefer this system ; but the author has broken so many
horses and ponies to the bit in the simple manner described,
giving them quite perfect mouths, that the Cavasson bit
course is not essential.

65

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

you get the least pull on his mouth with your
elbow, and can hold the bundled circingle with
your left hand. With your right, lower the
strap end of circingle slowly down his oS side,
taking care that it doesn't flap about. Lower
until the whole length is on the off side, depend-
ing from the buckle end held in the left hand.
Scratch him on the back with the right hand,
then slowly, backwards and forwards, going
lower along his near side down to his stomach.
Keep on rubbing with your wrist, while you
stretch your right hand under the stomach
to lay hold of the circingle, and, when you have
got it, continue the rubbing with your knuckles
until, on the near side, you have raised the
strap end up to the buckle held in the left
hand. Buckle it gently without any squeezing
and take him for a walk round the yard. Bring
him to a stand and tighten the straps a little,^
and go for another walk. Repeat this until
you have got the circingle well tightened up.

Get a stout sack, sew up the mouth end and
make a small opening in the middle of one side.
Place the sack lengthways across his back,
so that the opening lies uppermost just above
his spine. Tie the sack to the top of the cir-
cingle so it cannot shp ofi. Through the
central opening put a stone weight of potatoes,
half on each side. Take the horse by the
bridle and walk and trot him round the yard.
Put in another stone of potatoes, half on each

66

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

side, and take him round. Gradually increase
the weight until you have four or five stone of
potatoes on each side. You have thus nearly
the weight of a man on his back. He will
make no objection. Make him lie down, un-
buckle the circingle and pull the load off his
back.

Next day bring a saddle in, with girths,
stirrup leathers, and irons. Show them to the
horse and let him smell them all he wants.
Rub the saddle along his neck, raise it at the
wither and lower it on to his back. He will
remember the sack and potatoes and make no
objection. Gradually tighten the girths in the
same manner as with the circingle. Put the
sack over the saddle, and, as before, fill up
gradually with potatoes. Manoeuvre him in
ever J way about the yard ; make him lie down
and get up again with the load. Do this two
or three times.

Next day follow the same programme with
the saddle and sack ; but, on the second time
of lying down, get rid of the load and take its
place yourself. He will get up with you on
his back, and make little or no fuss about
doing so. Talk to him and play with his neck
and head before moving him on. Then ride
him slowly at walking pace all round the yard
with stops, and, when quite used to it, quicken
his pace and ultimately let him trot. It will
be heavy going in the straw-yard, but it is

67

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

well to give him his first experience there,
preparatory to work outside, because it is
so easy to stop him, and it is most important
to teach him to slow down, or to stop dead,
at your direction.

Do not be in a hurry to mount by the stir-
rup. Dismount by it several times first, so
that he becomes accustomed to the lop-sided
weight. As you lead him about the yard on
foot, stop and put all the weight you can on
the near stirrup by your hand. Do this a
number of times. Put a box near a corner of
the vard, so that by standing on it you get a
lift. "^

The horse's head should face the corner,
so that he can't go forward. Stand on the
box and try your foot in the stirrup several
times, putting more and more weight on it.
With your foot in the stirrup, lean over the
saddle and put weight on it. Do it several
times, and, when he stands perfectly quiet,
take the opportunity to put your leg across
and seat yourself. Sit there and play with
him. Don't move awa}^ Get oS on to the
box and seat yourself again. Do it a number
of times. You are teaching him to under-
stand that this kind of exercise is to be per-
formed on his back while he stands quite still.
Mount in this way for two or three days before
attempting to mount him from the ground. It
is a very important lesson and should be

68

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

thoroughly taught. Back him out from the
corner quite gently, using the word " Back,"
and let part of the day's work be the teaching
of him to back in the open.

69

HANDLING IN THE STABLE

CHAPTER VI
HANDLING IN THE STABLE

IN the straw-yard you have taught your
horse to lead perfectly, and it is his
own desire to follow you. Take him
out of the straw-yard with his halter and
practise him at leading outside, taking care
that you select a place where there are no
other horses or other excitements to distract
his attention from you, and, above all, see
that the infernal dog has been double chained.
When you get outside give him just a taste
of the oats, to remind him that you carry them.
Coming out of the yard for the first time he
will be inclined to play up a little, so you have
to be watchful. You have less control over
him on a loose lead, than you would have in
the saddle, and it is most important that in
this first outing he should not break away from
you. It is in any case desirable that the
enclosure should be a small one, so that, in
the event of his accidentally snatching the
halter from your hand, he is not free to get
away for a gaUop.

73

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

Whatever you do, do not risk a trial of
personal strength — ^tug of war wise — ^in which,
if he gets the better of you, the illusion that
you are the stronger animal may be weakened.
If you are in any danger of being pulled into
too fast a run at the end of a tight rope with
the necessity of letting go to save yourself,
always let the rope go when it is slack, so that
he understands you have let it go of your own
volition. The moment you drop the rope,
stand still, and do not attempt to follow him,
not a step. Just stand there perfectly motion-
less and you will find he will come up to you.
It may take a minute, two, three or four ;
but he will come up to you. Keep your hands
in your pockets, and simply stand there talking
to him. Don't attempt to grab him. Let him
go away again if he likes, he is sure to come
back. It is he who is to be made impatient.
Keep dead quiet. He will take a sniff of you
and eventually rub his nose against your
sleeve. With the slowest possible movement,
withdraw one hand from your pocket and see
that there are some oats in it. The victory
is won.

Then slowly move on a pace or two. He
will follow. Then on again. He will be there.
Just a few more oats, and with the same hand
gently scratch his neck and get on to that
pet place on his back. Who is thinking of
halters now ? Keep on scratching, and, with

74

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

the other hand, just lay hold of it, keeping it
quite slack.

The cold-blooded result is that your horse
has come back and handed you his halter
himself. Isn't it the best way ? Do it quite
a number of times, and then you will find
you have taught your horse that when he is
loose, or has broken away, the right, proper
and often remunerative thing is to come back
to you. It ends in an added confidence in you
as his master.

Compare this effect upon the horse's mind
with that produced by an excited groom hang-
ing on to a halter and pulled up and down
the yard until he falls, or is forced to give way ;
the chasing of the scared horse by the groom
and a couple of stable boys, into a corner, in the
endeavour to secure him ; his escape and more
chasing, until he is finally grabbed amongst
curses and hung on to by brute force. This
is what you must often expect if you leave your
horse's training to others.

Now your " wild " horse has never yet been
in a stable, at least not since he was a foal.
So continue your leading lesson until you
arrive outside of his new quarters, of which he
will be suspicious before ever he enters them.
Before he gets to the stable, send someone in
to chase out the sparrows, or they will swish
out in a concentrated covey just as he gets
to the door.

75

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

Whenever there is any expectation of any
sort of difficulty or trouble, always do the
oblique thing. It is so much quicker in the
end. Now what you want him to do is to
come out of the light into a dark doorway, on
to dimly seen clattering bricks, into what
appears to him impenetrable gloom, peopled
to a certainty with every kind of equine bogey
and hobgoblin.

The usual groom's unthinking way would
be to hang on to halter, speak soothingly to
him, and get the boys to try to drive him in
with shouts and a whijo behind. Naturally
there would be trouble of the severest kind.
The horse, until a few days ago, was unhandled
and wild ; and, the moment he felt coercion,
every hereditary instinct of fear would in-
stantly blaze up, and he would concentrate
every effort of which he was capable to get
away from that terrible place. Even if, by
brute force, he was got in, and nothing more
happened to him, the shock to his nerves
would be great, and half the good of your
previous training would be dissipated right
there. He would be nervous for hours after-
wards, and the disastrous effects would be
visible in an immediate alteration in his demean-
our to you, not only when you followed him
into the stable, but again when you got him
outside. Even if you were not present and
were miles away, you can always tell when a

76

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

groom's outrage has been perpetrated upon a
horse of yoiu* own handling.

There is only one way in which your disciple
should go into that terrifying place, and that
is of his own accord. And it is perfectly easy
if you make the approach oblique. Take him
past the door, which should be open, several
times without any apparent intention of your
asking him to go inside, and bring him to a
stand some way off it. Do it again and bring
him to a stand nearer the door. Pet and
scratch him. Next time take him up to the
door, as if you had come to a stand there
accidentally. Pet and scratch again. While
you are doing this he will turn his head round
to look inside, and will snort disapproval.
Take no notice, but go on scratching and let
him look inside and snort all he wants. Go
yourself into the portal and give him just a
few oats. Instantly his attention forsakes the
hobgobUns for something much more tangible
and worth while. Pet and pat him again,
which will bore him a little when oats are
about, and he will worry you for more oats.
Move back into the doorway just a few inches,
and he will follow up. As he does so, retreat
a Uttle further with oats in your hand. He
will come, maybe with a precautionary snort
or two on account of the gloom, but oats are
worth taking a Httle risk for at any time, and
his eyes are getting used to things. Further-

/ 77

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

more he has the utmost confidence in you,
and, if you are not afraid, he is not quite sure
why he should be. Keep on talking to him
cheerily and let the halter be quite loose. A
pull on it would excite suspicion at once. Let
the only pull be the pull of the oats, and of
your personality, as you move back. By now
he has got quite used to the dim light, and the
occasional snorts are only an intimation that
he is taking notice of the surroundings. Move
back a foot or two with an exhibition of a few
oats, and, as he comes forward, move still
further back ; and as he follows up he will
have come clear inside. Stand by his shoulder
and hold out oats at arms-length, and, as he
pushes forward to reach them, draw slowly
round and pivot yourself, so that he has to
move his rump round from the doorway the
more readily to get them. You can now
quite easily swing him round so that he faces
the doorway. Keep him so and play with
him. Now manoeuvre, with occasional oats,
so that by reaching back you can get at the
door, and quite gradually close it. Shut and
fasten it without noise, let the halter drop,
and leave him to his own devices, without
speaking. Keep quiet and he will go round
sniffing and examining everything. A big
snort will intimate discovery of some specially
interesting odoiu* of a predecessor, which will
occupy his undivided attention for quite a

78

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

while, for he is sizing up in his own mind breed,
height and sex. More discoveries have to be
made and attended to, and when these have
ceased to attract, back he will come to you
with the obvious question " What about those
oats ? " And the job is done.

Is all this trouble worth while ? Most
assuredly. It is all training. It has been a
great experience to him, for he has come in of
his OAvn free wiU. For love of you and of oats,
he has done violence to all his hereditary in-
stincts, and has so increased his personal
confidence in you that on another, and, may
be, an even more terrifying occasion, he will
display even less hesitation in following where
you go.

The practical result is that you have got
him into the stable, not only without any
harm to his nerves, but with a quieting
effect upon them, which will prove an asset of
value in the future. Give him water and a
feed, and let him stop there.

In the stable you have to put your horse,
which up to now you have handled yourself
exclusively, in the care of your groom, and
here is your great difficulty. It is a much
easier thing to train a horse to do what you
want him to do, than to train the usual Enghsh

79

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

groom to do what you want him to do. It is
against his nature to do anything contrary
to what he and his forefathers have always
thought proper to do. In the way of feeding,
grooming, conditioning, physicing and in
attending to abrasions, cuts and wounds, the
Enghsh groom is excellent, and is seldom sur-
passed by the horsemen of any other country ;
but in realising the true nature and brain
capacity of the horse, and the best way of
handhng and training the horse, the average
English groom seems to be less gifted than those
of many other countries. Of course there are
many brilliant exceptions, but these are mostly
men of mental capacity above the average,
who think for themselves, and have broken
away from the traditions and dead conser-
vatism of their forefathers. The value of such
men is inestimable.

That this is so, those who have travelled
much must know to be the case, and the reason
which has borne best the test of investigation
is the somewhat curious one, namely, that the
great bulk of English grooms have had to do
only with geldings and mares bred in two's
and three's, and in small enclosed paddocks.
Many English grooms are utterly afraid of
stalUons of any kind ; look upon them as tigers
and wild beasts of ungovernable propensities,
and would decline to enter any service where
they would be called upon to tend them. There

80

THE USE OF ENTIRE HORSES FOR TRACTION

1. Six Percheron stallions pulling a load of 20 tons up a
heavy gradient

2. Paris omnibus with team of three Percheron stallions

[To face page 80

THE USE OP ENTIRE HORSES FOR TRACTION

3. Heavy draught Percheron stallions in Paris

4. A fine pair of heavy draught Percheron stallions at
the Eiffel Tower, Paris

[ To Jace page 81

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

is a traditional prejudice in this country against
the employment of entu'e horses for any kind
of traction, either hght or heavy, or for riding
purposes, and if enquiries are made either of
masters or men for their reasons, answers are
given which the experience of countries, where
entires are habitually used for all utilities, show
to be absolutely at variance with the facts.
Besides being capable of so much greater
work on less food, besides having better paces,
much greater courage and endurance, being
less susceptible to disease, the entire horse
possesses much greater intelligence and capa-
city for difficult work and is quite as amenable
to control, by those who understand him, as
any gelding. In France, Italy and other
countries it is not uncommon to see mares and
stallions working, peacefully and without any
disturbance, in the same teams. Those who
know the staUion at work, love him. Some
of the most beautiful sights in the world —
now, alas ! but a charming memory — were those
thousands of splendid teams, of three Perche-
ron or Boulonnais stallions abreast, in the Paris
omnibuses, which drew twice the loads of our
own horse buses, at a much greater pace and
at less cost.

These Percheron and Boulonnais staUions
are bred by farmers, and, when weaned, are
turned out together in great droves in the
marshes and other huge pastures, and the

81

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

men who handle, break, and train them are
some of the best horsemen in the world. The
fiUies are similarly segregated in other pastures.
These men learn more about horse nature than
almost any others in the world, and the results
of their handHng are to be seen in the universal
gentleness, confidence, good nature and perfect
amenability of both staUions and mares, after
leaving their hands. The first thing these
men learn is absolute control of their own
tempers, and any man showing temper to a
horse under no matter what provocation is,
with the entire approval of his fellows, dis-
missed permanently as constitutionally un-
fitted for the business, and a source of danger
to his mates. This lack of control of their
tempers with horses is unfortunately the
common characteristic, rather than the
exception with the average Enghsh grooms
and horsemen, and, in five minutes, thej^ often
do more harm to horses than they are able,
in six months, to repair.

You know in what category your own groom
stands. If he is a man ever shomng bad
temper with his animals, the fruits of all the
careful work you have accomplished with your
" wild " horse are liable to be lost. On the
other hand, your groom may be a man genuinely
fond of his charges, open to try new waj^s and
to see if there is anything of real value in them.
If he has been abroad and has kept his eyes

82

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

and ears open, he will himself have discovered
that there is much in the different foreign
practices and methods of handling and training,
which is worthy of adoption here, and that
therefore what you are asking him to do, in
continuation of the special handling of your
" wild " horse, may after all have something
of value in it. If he is sensible, he will give
your system a perfectly straight and genuine
trial. If he does so, he will be astonished as
to the amount of unnecessary work he will be
saved personally. Let it be left at that ;
except that you can say with absolute truth,
if there is any kick in him against foreign
practice, that your system is that of an English-
man whose family have been English and
horsemen for a thousand years. That ought
to settle him all right.

Your recently " wild " horse is in the stable,
and has had time to make himself quite at
home there. When you or any of your men
go in, make it a practice to speak to him before
opening the door, which should be done as
quietly as possible. You can make even an
old and steady horse quite nervous by the
constant sudden and noisy opening and shut-
ting of his stable door — much more so a young
horse, but newly brought up from pasture.

83

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

All movements in the stable should be slow
and as noiseless as possible, and the more the
horse is spoken to the better. Speak before
you go up to the horse. When you approach
him do so slowly, and, above all, make a
practice of keeping your arms quiet. If you
put out your hand to him, do it quite slowly.
This is not a fad, but very sohd sense. Never
make a movement of your hands, or arms,
quicker than can be followed by the horse's
eye. That is a golden rule, and saves all sorts
of shps and accidents in the stable. If the
horse cannot follow the movements of your
hand and arm, he does not quite know where
they are going, or what they are going to do,
and shrinks and starts in fear of possibilities.
It is a little difficult to train yourseK into this
system of slow movement, but with practice
it becomes a second nature, and you yourself
will quickly appreciate its value, by the in-
creased confidence and readiness with which
your horse permits you to touch and handle
any part of his body. Impress this on your
groom, and get him to practise it when groom-
ing, and even he wiU see the value of it ; for it
means an end to aU unexpected bites or kicks,
which, undeservedly received as he thinks,
are a trial to any man's temper.

Don't slam a bucket down on the bricks, or
let the handle drop. It's just as easy to put
both down quietly. The same Avith forks.

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

rakes, pikels and brushes. Attention to these
matters of detail results in the permanent
improvement of the most nervous animal's
nerves, and fewer accidents to man and beast,
both in and out of the stable. If you take care
of your horse's feeUngs, you will find he will
take care of yours.

It is easy to punish a horse ; difl&cult to
convey to his mind the definite idea of reward
for good work done. It is very helpful if you
can do so. The cheery word and affectionate
pat are an indication to him of your feeUngs,
and are good as far as they go. He returns
them with equally affectionate nose rubbings,
and nips not intended to hurt ; but in the
advanced education of the horse you want
more than this. You want to use the stimulus
of reward, and to get him to understand the
idea of reward. He is by nature such a noble-
minded, generous beast that he doesn't seek
reward, and will do everything he can for you
from pure love of you. In your handling of
him you have given him oats, as a distraction
in times of apprehended difficulty, with success.
It has been helpful. But, when he is brought
up, oats become part of his ordinary food,
and you need something quite distinctive ;
and for the purpose of reward, nothing is

Q 85

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

better than lump sugar. It is portable,
occupies little room, and all horses become
passionately fond of it.

Now it is a tradition of the old time British
groom, held by many with the most perti-
nacious obstinacy, that sugar of any kind is
utterly disruptive of the moral and material
welfare of the horse — ^that it induces crib-
/ biting, wind-sucking, bladder trouble, and
every evil under the sun. The tradition has
been handed down, sacrosanct and incon-
trovertible, from father to son, without the
least suspicion that it is really the most
ridiculous rot. The British stud groom of
the highest variety, the autocrat of a great
racing stable or stud, would fall down in-
stantly in the worst kind of fit, if it were sug-
gested to him even by his Owner — usually a
personage of quite minor consideration in the
stables — ^that the moderate use of sugar would
help to molUfy the tempers of some of those
man-eaters which the great man produces
with such facihty. He knows nothing of the
chemical food-value of sugar, or of its work-
sustaining and recuperative powers under
great stress of action, but condemns it utterly,
because that still more conservative and
ignorant person, his father, did so before him.
But those who have been in the tropics know
better. In the West Indies, and in those
parts of Central and South America where

86

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

it is most extensively grown, horses and poniea
are fed almost exclusively on sugar-cane, as
it is the cheapest food product, and nowhere
in the wide world are the animals seen in such
perfect condition, with such shining coats
and found to be so free from every kind of
sickness and disease. Verb, sap., or, as in
U.S.A., " Nuff sed."

To a horse who has never tasted sugar, it is
not at all easy at first to give it to him, and
requires patience and good handling. The
fact that you have already massaged his head,
lips, mouth and tongue is a distinct help.
Remembering the oats he will at once take
the lump into his mouth, only to reject it
immediately. Standing on the near side, put
your right hand on the top of his head, to
prevent him drawing it away and throwing it
up, and again present the lump with the left
hand. You will find his teeth shut, but he
will play with the lump with his lips. He
will keep his teeth shut, but, if you press the
lump against his teeth and rub it sideways
on them, he may open his teeth to bite the
lump. Hold it there quietly, and, by and
by, the lump, to his great surprise, will give
way with a crash. His mouth will be filled
with the fragments, and his first impulse is to
reject the lot. He may succeed in getting
rid of most, but some will remain, and, on
turning these over in his mouth, he will find

87

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

them of more interest than he thought. After
having gone through this process with about
three lumps, he will have caught on to the
idea, and will himself ask for more. In the
case of a few horses, they really don't Uke
the sweet taste at first, but persevere and they
will come to it. It is a curious fact that those
who at first obstinately refuse it, in the end
become generally the more passionately fond
of it. When a horse is accustomed to take
sugar, he will always lick your fingers, and
some few wiU suck them. It becomes a very
special pleasure to him, and he will suck or lick
your fingers for as long as you let him. The
practice has one great practical advantage.
A horse, who has become accustomed to lick
or suck your fingers, will never, under any cir-
cumstances or provocation, attempt to bite
you, anywhere.

88

TRAINING FOR RIDING

CHAPTER VII
TRAINING FOR RIDING

WORKING aU by yourself in the straw-
yard, you have now got your horse
under complete control in every way,
and entirely dominated by your personal in-
fluence. You can mount him by stirrup, and
have taught him to stand stock still until you
give him the word to " Back." It is a great
thing to teach it in this way, that is to hack
before going forward. Get the sequence of the
backing thoroughly ingrained in the horse's
mind and memory. Keep him up to it, and
he is cured in advance for all time, however
nervous and impatient he may be by nature,
of that most objectionable habit, contracted
by so many horses, of starting forward the
moment the foot is put into the stirrup.

In the straw-yard you have turned him to
left and to right, have walked, trotted and
cantered him as well as the confined space
permitted ; have made him stand at any place
for as long as you wanted ; have made him lie
down and have sat on him for as long as you

91

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

wanted ; have made him get up at your word
and he has followed without pull wherever
you went. There have been oats on occasion,
scratcliing and so on. He has done every-
thing most willingly, and altogether he looks
upon you as a most interesting and dehghtful
pal, and Hkes to be with you as much as possible.

In the small paddock or stable-yard, you
have taught him to lead, have left him free to
go about, and have shown him that you are the
place he is to come back to. In the entry into
the stable you have taught him that it is safe
to follow you into a horrible place. It is now
time that you rode him outside.

Bring him from the stable, bridled and
saddled but loosely girthed, to the straw-yard.
Put kneecaps on, tighten his girths, mount
and ride him around. Dismount and make
him lie down. Mount again, have the old
horse brought in and bring him alongside.
Let them talk to each other. Have some of
your friends in, and let them come up and pat
the horse. Have even the infernal dog in.
Spend half an hour this way, remove and tie
up the dog, double chained. Now you can
open the gate and depart.

The first outside ride had better be in one
of your large paddocks, empty. The lesson
to-day is restraint. It is better, for the whole
time you are out, not to increase the pace
beyond the walk. Stop a great number of

92

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[To face page 92

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The swan protests

Rohan's Last Gift." Romarsando II and Romarsando I, 1917

To face p^ge 93

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

times and keep the horse standing for minutes
at a time. Don't forget the sugar. Ride all
over the field, under the trees and along the
hedges. If one side gives upon the high road,
ride him along it to get him acquainted with
the traffic. Let him stand and look at it.
Take him into the centre of the field and circle
him to the right and left S-wise and figure-of-8.
Dismount and let him follow you. Make him
lie down and sit on him ; for which one lump
of sugar. Remount and ride home. Gently
with him at the stable door, and all is well.

The next day, not forgetting the kneecaps,
take him out on the high road to meet the
traffic. This day's lesson also is restraint, so
keep him at the walk. You will have a most
interesting time with him. Talk to him a
lot and watch his ears. In the incidents that
occur he will be continually appeahng to you
for guidance and support. Ride with almost
a loose rein, and give your indications as
lightly as possible. Don't force them on his
attention, leave him to look for them and you
will see he will do so. He is young and it is
joUy to be out, and all these new sights and
sounds are so thrilHng, so he is bound to play
up ; but restraint is the lesson of the day, and
he is attending to you. When he plays up,
use the rein as little as possible, use your
voice. Reproach him just as you would a
naughty child. It will have effect, and when

93

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

he is good again let your voice indicate your
satisfaction. After half a dozen times of this
kind of thing, it mil surprise you how great
is the efEect of your voice on the horse. If
you give all the indications through the reins,
he will look to the reins only for control ; if you
give most of your indications through your
voice he will be quick to attend to your voice
for control. Of course give him both, but
practise him mainly by the voice ; it is the
voice that stimulates his intelligence.

It is the voice which gives him encourage-
ment in the face ot difficulty. The more he
has attended to your voice for guidance and
control, the greater will be the effect of its
encouragement in soothing his fears. You put
up your hand, as a warning to an approaching
motor, that you are on a young horse in train-
ing, but the odds are 10 to 1 that the motorist,
either from pure ignorance of the danger, or
often from callous indifference to anyone's
comfort but his own, wiU not take the faintest
notice of your appeal. It's a pretty severe
test for a young and nervous horse to meet one
of these road-hogs whizzing on to him with a
cloud of dust behind, and he will need all the
encouragement you can give him. Speak to
him in the most endearing way, keep him at the
walk ; lean down and, with your left hand,
pat and scratch him on the neck, increasing
the pressure of the scratching as the car

91

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

approaches, until it is quite a hard scratch,
before it passes you. It's a little thing to do,
but it distracts a certain percentage of his
attention from the oncoming fearsomeness,
for he is attending to you as well as to the car,
and it may be that the increased scratching
prevents his fears from reaching just that panic
point at which everjiihing would have to be
abandoned, and flight — his primeval defence —
would dominate all of his brain and energy.

If he comes through this test all right, you
have made an enormous advance with the
horse. It is you who have got him through
this trouble, and have protected him from the
monster — he is quite sure of that — and if
another comes along he knows you are there
to help him again. When the car has gone,
make a great fuss over him and show him what
a brave nag you think he is. He wiU be so
pleased with you and himself, that he wiU
want another car to come along right there.
It's not the car, but the jolljdng, that has left
the indelible impression.

Other road adventures will be less fearsome,
but treat them all in the same way. If there
is anything unusual at the roadside, take him
up and let him stand and look at it. He will
take an extraordinary interest in anything
new and strange. It may be that a Gracious
Providence has sent your road-hog and his
friends into a pub, and has ordained that their

95

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

car should be buzzing outside. Watch the
disciple spot it ! Watch the prick of those
ears, immovable, pointed like bits of steel !
He will come to a dead stand. Give him a
scratch on the shoulders just to remind him
of the support you gave him, but don't push
him on. A huge snort ! Then another.
Those ears of steel ! Every muscle braced
and tense ! He is not a bit frightened, he has
too much confidence in you for that, but his
attention is most wholly arrested.

You are going to have as priceless a bit of
fun as you have ever earned in your hfe. You
are going to watch a horse under the influence
and interaction of the most powerful emotions.
You Tvdll see, as clearly as through a glass, every-
thing that is passing in his mind. You will
see as pretty a play of forces as you could wish ;
suspicion, apprehension and fear pushing one
way, interest and curiosity another, and the
horse's natural courage and his confidence
in you rising all the time.

Tizz — Tizz — Tizz, pm-rs the motor in a most
fascinating way, Tizz — Tizz — Tizz. " This,"
says the disciple, " is the absolute hmit. I've
heard crickets and corncrakes and horse fhes,
but what in the name of all that's buzzible is
this ? And what's it doing it for ? It's aUve
all right ! I can see it shake. Dash my eyes,
but it's a funny thing. Lets go a bit nearer
and see what it is."

96

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

Just scratch him on the shoulder, and of his
own accord he will take a step or two closer
to it — ^with all precautions of course — because
who knows whether or not this infernal thing
may not jump. There he stands and has
another look, and a snort or two. Look at
those pricked ears. Tizz — Tizz — Tizz. He
throws his head up and down, and has another
look and a snort. One ear comes back just to
hear what you have got to say about it. Tell
him it's all right, with another scratch on the
shoulders. Of his own accord he will go for-
ward yet another step or two. Clap him on
the neck and encourage him, and just gently
touch him behind with the whip and he will
go right up to within five or six yards of it.
Tizz — Tizz — Tizz. Let him stand there and
look and snort at it all he wants.

(The Nightmare. — A motor standing buzzing
by the side of the road. Enter a riding lad on a
young and nervous horse. The horse catches sight
of the motor, throws his head up and is obviouslj^
scared. The boy swears at him, saws at his mouth
and lashes at him with his whip. The horse tries
to swing round and bolt. The boy savages him and
the horse rears. The boy beats him and presses
him forward. He gets him to the far side of the
road. The horse terrified and trembling, not
knowing what he is doing, forces himself into the
hedge, gets pricked, and rears again. The boy
lashes him and gets him a yard or two further, and
the horse, with his head strained round in agonised

97

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

gaze on the motor, makes a burst forward, and,
seeing safety in the road beyond, dashes past in
frantic fear. The boy, cursing, saws at his mouth,
which is bleeding, and the horse, a mass of sweat, is
pulled up a quarter of a mile further on. On return
the riding lad, asked to account for the condition
of the horse, which is still excited and trembling,
answers, " Oh I had a little trouble to get him to
pass a motor.")

At the distance of five or six yards, ride him
up and down past the motor, letting the disciple
keep his head to it all the time. Tizz — Tizz —
Tizz purrs the motor, and the horse is getting
used to it. Come to a stand opposite the rear
wheel. Scratch his neck and tell him to go up
to it. And he will, a little at a time and with
a bit of snorting, until he actually touches the
hood with his nose. Brave old disciple ! How
pleased he is ! Make all the fuss in the world
of him and he will touch it again and again,
curling his lip up, if he thinks the smell a bit
poignant. Then he will look round at you as
though to say " Mate ! I don't think much of
this, it's all right ! " Move him a foot or two
along, to get another smell in a fresh place.
He will do that and ask for more. Move him
along to the bonnet. Here it is a little more
exciting, as this is undoubtedly the place where
the Tizz — ^Tizz — Tizz comes from, and there
are all sorts of essences and flavours which he
has never met before. He holds his head

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

up and is going to tliink this matter out. See
the play of his ears ; one second both pricked
forward, then one comes back and then the
other, and then a shake of the head and a
saucy glance at you to see what you make of it.
He is not so free with his nose as a prehensile
tester this time — it's the smells part which
he has under examination and grave consider-
ation. He will bob his head up and down a
little, and then, up will go his nose high in the
air, his neck stretched to its utmost limit
with his upper lip curled right over his nose.
First one way will he screw his head round,
and then the other, with lip curled up and all
the time he is taking great sniffs of air. Eh,
but this horse is a great connoisseur in smells !
He is not going to lose any part of one of them.
He lowers his head and pops his nose into the
density of something quite special in the way
of an odour, gets it, sweeps his head up into
the air again, and begins a slow long-drawn-
out inspiration, with a spiral movement of his
curled-up nose, which does not allow one
particle of it to escape examination or be
wasted. It is so entrancing that he has to
shut his eyes. Tizz — Tizz — Tizz. He has got
to the bottom of the smells and has secured
quite a lot of satisfaction out of them, and
thinks it time to investigate further this thing
that does the Tizz — Tizz — Tizz, so out goes
his nose against the bonnet. Just a touch and

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

he gets a thrill of vibration. Gee-whizz, he
starts back. What was that ? Snort, snort,
snort. But it didn't hurt — so out goes the
nose and he tries again. Start and snort.
Dear me ! this is very odd, but there's really
nothing in it. Once again — no, there's posi-
tively nothing in it. So up comes his head
and he turns round to look out of that dark
eye at you and to tell you there ain't a darned
thing in it, and its positively boresome ! He
looks up the road and watches a dog, and is
doing nothing more in motors.

So move him away and bring him back
past the motor, and he doesn't even look at it.
Do this once or twice more, and that bogey has
fallen down dead, and it can Tizz all it likes
for what he cares. It's a sheer fraud.

It's worth a lump of sugar, though, and so
homewards. We are pleased with everything
we have seen, and with everything we meet.

100

TRAINING FOR RIDING
{Continued)

CHAPTER VIII

TRAINING FOR RIDING

{Gontinued)

THERE are always two ways — ^inducing
a horse to do a thing of his own
accord, and compeUing him to do it through
fear of punishment. After the first, you
have him regarding you as a friend.; after
the second, he holds you in fear, in fact as an
enemy. Under no matter what circum-
stances, was any good ever done to a horse by
punishing him so severely that the impression
left upon his mind is that the man who did it
was his enemy ! Good is done sometimes —
but not to the horse. Occasionally a horse
turns and kills a man who has brutally ill-used
him. The man does not look pretty after-
wards.

The whole art of successful horse-education
and training, for whatever purpose, is the
careful thinking out of methods by which you
get the horse to himself elect to do the thing
you want him to do. You make him think,

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

and in making him think habitually, you
stimulate his brain power and increase his
intelligence. In his instinctive defences, no
animal's brain is quicker to act than that of the
horse. It is a splendid instrument for his own
purposes, but you must learn how to use it
for yours. Many think the horse is stupid.
He is not. Perfect, each one of his senses is
probably far keener than yours. Sight, on
the plains he AviU pick up a soUtary horse
feeding, or a troop of horses, long before you
have any suspicion of their whereabouts.
Hearing, he will catch a trot, gallop, footpace
or neigh, when you can hear nothing. Taste,
who so clean feeding as the horse ? Smell, he
distinguishes thousands of nuances you know
nothing of, and deduces confidence or distrust
from a sniff, in a manner you cannot even
conceive. One smeU of you is sufficient. If
he passes you, you are all right. Feeling, that
nose of his is a living wonder, it is as deUcate
in its sense of touch as the tips of your fingers ;
but, in feeling, the horse has undergone a
special development of nerves which has helped
in the survival of his species. Sensitive to the
least prick, yet if wounded in the most horrible
manner or with even a broken limb, the nerves
of the horse so quickly cease to telegraph the
damage to the brain, that he is able to get
away from the danger spot at f uU speed, and to
sustain a gallop to safety in the herd maybe of

104

(a)

Marpegorby and Musket
(«) First Introduction (6) "What's vour little game?'

[To face page 10-i

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

many miles in a condition which is almost
unbeUevable. No doubt this capacity for
immense and sustained effort, when grievously
maimed, has stood the horse's ancestors in
good stead in the far-away days when they
ran wild, the prey of whatever carnivora could
catch them.

No, the horse is not by any means stupid.
None of the higher mammalia are stupid.
In all matters affecting their existence, the
quality of their brain power is probably as
fine as your own. The brains of different
species, in the course of evolution, have been
developed in different directions. In the case
of each species its senses and brain have been
developed to extreme brilUancy of action, in
all matters vital to its existence, by the con-
tinual excision of the individuals amongst its
ancestors who have been the less fit. The
weaker and less artful in attack ; the less
cunning in defence ; the less knowledgeable in
matters of food, have been the earlier cut off
in life, and have had fewer opportunities of
propagating their kind. In a state of nature,
it is the brainier individuals, who, on the long
average, leave the more descendants. Those
who have encountered animal brain work in a
state of nature, know how splendid it can be.
Tliose who only know horses, cattle and sheep,
in small enclosures, cannot even guess what
it means. The horse's brain is all right. If

105

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

you want to make it your instrument, you
must exercise yours.

You have taken the disciple out a number
of times, and have shown him many strange
things, of which, at their first aspect, he was
apprehensive of harm, and have let him see
that after all there was nothing in any of these
to be afraid of. You have had recalled to you
his hereditary instincts and defences. That
old blackbird, which tumbled out of the hedge
with such a flutter and screech, stirred the
same grey matter in his brain which had
flashed into action when that desert lion had
sprung at, and missed, his ancestor of a miUion
generations ago. The disciple made a most
splendidiferous shy right across the road, and,
if you had not been something of a horseman,
you would have been off that trip. It would
have taken more than a lion to have got the
disciple that time. What is a shy ? It is a
perfectly natural and proper defence — not a
fault to be punished — and if it had not been
practised successfully myriads of times by the
disciple's direct ancestors, your particular
disciple would not then be between your legs.

(The Nightmare. — Enter the riding lad on a
young and nervous horse. Blackbird, screaming,
tumbles out of hedge. Horse shies badly and

106

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

ridiiig lad, taken by surprise, is nearly dismounted.
Recovers himself with difficulty. Has lost his
temper, swears at horse and hits him across the
head again and again. Saws at his mouth and
pulls him up. To that wretched animal every black-
bird is followed by a beating. Every blackbird
becomes a potential lion, and the horse a confirmed
shyer.)

What to do ? Turn him to the place where
the blackbird came out — he has got his eye on
it — ^and jeer at and mock him. A horse knows
all about being ridiculed and just hates it.
Tell him what a double-dyed idiot he has been.
It isn't true — ^like the other illusions you
practise on him — but he will believe you. You
haven't hit him, and obviously there is nothing
to fear on that score, so that when the next
blackbird comes out he won't shy so far, for
his lightning-like brain will remember the way
you chaffed him. Jeer at him again every-
time a blackbird comes out, or whenever he
shies at anything else. He will soon connect
the jeering with the shying and will drop it ;
nothing is hurting him, and he hates being
mocked.

Always talk to your horse. Direct him by
the voice as much as by the pull on the rein.
The horse loves your voice and learns to attend
to it in a remarkable way. Thus, when you
want him to increase his pace, say to him
successively " walk," " trot," " canter,"

107

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

" gallop " — ^he will very soon recognise what
is meant by each word. Decrease his pace
in the same way. In a little while you can
dodge him about, from the " walk " to the
" canter," then back to the " trot " ; then
direct to the " gallop," and back to the " walk,"
and so on. When you want him to stand still,
say " stand," and when you want him to back,
say " back." It will surprise you to find
what an interest the horse takes in these spoken
directions, and how keen he becomes to con-
form to them quickly. It is as good as a play
to watch his ears, and by watching them
closely you will get a good indication of what
is passing in his mind and what he is expecting
of you. When you get more advanced with
his training and are teaching him to turn, say
to him " Right " or '* Left." Alter his gaits
by word, when you come to attend to them,
"Trot," "Pace," "Single-step," " Spanish Walk,"
" Passage," and so on. When you want him
to jump anything say " Jump." You will
delight him by talking to him like this, and
his pleasure in it will be evidenced by the
increasing quickness of his responses. It
develops his intelligence, and, by and by, it
reaUy becomes conversation. One of the most
amusing things you can do is to teach a horse
to " neigh " to order. It is not so difficult
as you may think, particularly if the horse is a
stalUon, and an Arab. When it once dawns

108

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

upon him that you are asking him to speak,
it tickles his imagination and pleases him im-
mensely, and he will neigh quite readily at
your word. You can develop this faculty
until the horse really tries to talk to you, and
the modulation and expression he is able to
put into his conversation is surprising. It is
worth doing, for you get very near to the
mind of a horse this way.

109

TEAINING FOR HIDING
(Continued)

CHAPTER IX

TRAINING FOR RIDING

(Continued)

IF you have an opportunity take Disciple
as soon as possible on common, moor-
land or forest land. You will find your
horse's brain work extraordinarily interesting,
if he has not been in such surroundings before.
Leave him as much as possible to his own
devices, just guiding him from time to time
in the general direction you want, and watch
the ancestral traits. A horse's thoughts pour
through the channels that were most used by
his wild ancestors. Keep him at the walk
and leave him a loose rein, so that you may
take indications from him, and not he from
you. When he realises that he is on his own,
he will behave much as his ancestors did in
the same circumstances ; circumspectly and
scrutinisingly, as to potential and hidden
enemies ; questively, as regards his own kind.
He will examine every bush and clump ol
undergrowth carefully, giving them room to
be out of the " striking distance " of that

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

hereditary ancestral lion. In the narrower
ways, where the undergrowth is near on either
side, he will be all attention, and the breaking
of a stick is sufficient to startle him. Watch
his ears and eyes, muscles all braced and in
tension. He's all there ready for any emer-
gency. He stops for a moment and considers
whether, if need be, his best chance is ahead,
or by the way he came. Scratch his shoulder
and tell him it is all right, and he will go on.
In forest glades you will find that, left to him-
self, he will make his trail equidistant from
the umbrage on either hand, and, in no case,
not even in that of an obvious short cut, will
he ever allow himself to come within " striking
distance." Near cover he is always at at-
tention.

His air of entire unconcern when he gets
out into an open place is quite amusing, but
in the wide open he will always keep an eye
upon any isolated clump and give it a wide
berth. Even our most domesticated horses,
who for generations have been under cover
or in small fields, will, even in the field, of
which they have known every square foot all
their Uves, never sleep within " striking
distance " of the wood or plantation alongside.
The breaking of a stick in it at night is sufficient
to send them scampering and snorting to the
far side of the field.

In an open plain, the horse wiU always make

114

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

for rising ground to enable him to survey the
country to look for all possible pals. With
ears pricked forward and nostrils compressed,
he will search on a clear and sunht day to the
very horizon, and. What Ho ! for a cheery
neigh, when he finds them. It's pretty to see
the effect. Nothing attracts horses more in-
stantly than the distant challenge of a ringing
neigh. They may be spread over a field, all
with heads down, busy feeding. Instantly
every head is up seeking for the source of the
sound. They run together, each asking the
other as to who this is. Every movement is.
watched by your nag, his nostrils trembling:
in the surdight with excitement. If Disciple
has the luck to be a stallion, the thrills on
either side are multipHed a thousandfold, and
his calls are perfectly splendid to listen to.
Then the distant reply comes, thrilling Disciple
to the roots of his being. He screams back,
\\dth a hoarse grunt at the end of each scream,
stamps his foreleg and swings from side to
side, but always with his head to the find.
The mares, with manes flowing and tails like
flags — you can always tell them by this
response — dash hither and thither, making
beheve they are seeking the protection of the
one or two old geldings, their mates. The
staUion's scream and roar, as Job said, is as
nothing else in creation, and it makes the old
geldings peevish and surly, so when their giddy

115

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

companions, decked with this fancy dress of
mane and tail, come prancing up to them, the
dames are met with open mouths and lashing
heels. Greldings of all kinds resent frivohties
in which they cannot participate. But the
mares don't care a continental D, they chaff
the old geldings and prance all the more while
Disciple roars to them all the love stories he
can think of. Well you've waked up the
neighbourhood, and half the farmers in the
county are running to see what's the matter ;
so curb the amatory and extremely ornamental
frivolling of Disciple, and come and study
natural history once more.

Vigilance against enemies is the first con-
cern of the horse in the wild, food the next,
and quest of his kind the third. In this
country the food of a horse is all over the
floor and he feeds where he stops. Much
therefore is not to be learned here of the horse's
skiU in foraging and discrimination in feeding
upon what he finds, and only in an elementary
way can one study him in the quest of his
kind. In the wild, the horse studies all spoors.
Those of the elephant, the buffalo, the Hon,
tiger, panther, bear and wolf, amongst his
attackers, with care; mainly to learn date of
the track and probable vicinity of the enemy.
He takes stock of the spoor of his cousins, the
zebra and wild ass, with general interest ; but
of that of his own kind he makes the most

116

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

searching scrutiny, deducing date, direction,
sex and individuals with accuracy.

On EngUsh roads there is nothing ot interest
to be got, but on moorland and in forest
quite informing incidents are possible. With
nothing in sight, your horse walking along may
suddenly stop dead, make a big inhalation
or two, put his head down and move about
sniffing at the ground. Leave him alone and
see what he does. He does not attempt to
touch the herbage, but moves about with his
head on the ground, sniffing. He paws a
little with a foreleg. If he gets a good and
recent whiff, he will turn it over in his mind,
shaking his head up and down a little. If he
decides that it is a mare, up will go his head,
and that lip will curl over his nose, the head
stretched out sideways, first on one side, and
then on the other.

Then he will try to continue the track by
scent, and, if on soft ground or dust he sees
the footprints, he will institute a close inspec-
tion. If he gets another stimulating whiff,
there is more inhalation and nose curUng.
Let him go along, and on a strong scent he
will move fairly quickly, every nov^ and then
putting his nose to the ground to keep check.
He's looking out for droppings and as Hkely
as not he will come across them. As soon
as he sees them, he will hasten to them and
conduct a complete inquest, with much nose-

I 117

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

curling and inhalation. Here he comes to
quite definite conclusions, and you can almost
tell, by the way he heads off, whether he has
decided that it is a colt or a mare. If the latter,
he will pause less over the droppings and head
off quicker. If they are quite fresh, he won't
go far before giving a neigh, because he knows
that his voice will probably carry to where
the mare is. He will try two or three times,
and will divide his attention between sniffing
the track and listening for an answer. The
scent is becoming stronger, he is going at a
good pace, and is scanning the horizon and
slopes most carefully. He is getting impatient,
so up goes the call again, and then again ; and
almost certainly in a little time the far off
answer will come.

Just look at Disciple's excitement ! He
rears and throws his forelegs out. He shouts,
with that double-bass roar at the end. Every
nerve is quivering. He arches his neck and
plunges forward. No sniffing of tracks now.
He is aU eyes and ears ; every nerve ahght ;
every muscle braced. Doesn't he look
splendid, and everything that a horse ought
to be !

Still nothing is seen. The answering neigh
had come from far down the mists of the vaUey,
and only the crests of the rolling foreground
are visible. Another faint neigh comes, and
Disciple is up in the air again with a roar.

118

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

Gad, what a voice Disciple has got ! It vibrates
his whole body, and you as well !

Suddenly against the opalescent sunlit mist,
maybe a mile away, a string of five tiny ghostly
figures appear, hardly to be distinguished from
the mist, racing for all they are worth ; manes
flying, tails high over their backs, plunging
and kicking in their strides. Hold on now !
for Disciple is exploding with excitement and
grunts. For the moment he is far too excited
to neigh — ^he is taking in the vision. You
caught a glimpse of them as they rose extended
over the crest of a roll ; now they swing round
and dive into the mist of a hollow. When the
vision appeared. Disciple was as turned to
stone, not a flicker or a quiver of a muscle —
looking, looking, as if his eyeballs would burst.
Then the little galloping figures vanish in the
mist. With a mighty roar uprises Disciple in
protest, and is ofl. Look where you are going,
for he is in earnest and he takes some holding
in. He is going to get to those flyers, or will
perish in the attempt. And lo, as you make
a rise over the crest, there they are below
racing up out of the valley, their figures sil-
houetted against the gleaming mist. Along
they come, ears like lancets, manes and tails
awave, squeaUng and kicking high in the air
and at each other. Disciple is taken aback,
and himself pulls up to meet the onset ; and
here they are, as nice a looking lot of big polo

119

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

ponies as were ever seen. Snorting and blow-
ing, steaming and still squealing, they wheel
round, pull up at twenty yards, and each faces
Disciple, who, not to be outdone in politeness,
stamps forward a pace or two, shakes his head
at each, and neighs his very warm salutes.

Three fillies and a couple of geldings, four
and five year olds, and as full of fire and devilry
on a glorious spring morning as any young
things can be. The geldings are not as pleased
to see Disciple as the filHes, and with drawn-
back ears shake their heads at him, spitefully.
A five-year-old mare is obviously the lady who
answered his call. From behind the others
she now neighs gently an invitation to him to
make her closer acquaintance, and, a Httle
later, works round the edge of the group with
the brazen intention of pubhcly proclaiming
her love ; which manoeuvre, being detected
in time by that jealous sleuth of a gelding, he
darts at her and leaves fine marks of his teeth
in her shoulder. It was a good and healthy
bite, but the mare, spirting as she turns back,
gets one in with her hinds and can fairly claim
quits. She brings up momentarily behind the
other two mares, who are gazing wide-eyed at
Disciple, in maidenly embarrassment at his
tempestuous excitement and unseemly carry-
ings on, then dashes on, thinking to get round
the other wing, only to run right into the wide-
open jaws of the other gelding, who happens to

120

I. Ro-Akbar, walking on his hind legs
II Shaking hands

ITo face page 120

I. Rotunda I and Rotunda II, by Rohan ex Fatima
II. In the Bols de Boulogne

[To face page 121

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

be her special guardian and pal. Look at the
vicious way he goes for her. Ears back hard
down on his neck, whites of eyes gleaming, and
snap, snap, snap of those savage teeth. That
stopped her ; and now he is going to have a go
at Disciple. He just gives one look over his
quarter to get Disciple's bearing, gives one last
vicious snap at the mare, and is round in a
flash with a bound, all eyes and teeth for you
or Disciple, it doesn't matter which.

It was good for you that, knowing you might
have adventures, you had a lash on your hunt-
ing crop, so you get him on the neck Hke a
crack from a rifle. Well done ! or he would
have got you by the thigh. He is up in the air,
and so is Disciple, and for full ten seconds they
strike at each other with their fore feet like
professional boxers. You get another into
the gelding, the lash snapping round his hind
legs. You hurt him, and, on the instant, he
turns round his rump, and humps himself
together, with the intention of planting his
heels on Disciple's chest. But Disciple is not
having any that way. Disciple has risen before
the gelding lashes out, gets one foreleg over his
back, bends down and buries his teeth well
into the gelding's buttock. It's a proper good
grip, and Disciple can chew and does chew,
hard. That's enough ; it's a deuced tender
place when Disciple has done ; and, squeaUng
and kicking, the gelding makes for the mares,

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

who have watched the tussle with excited
interest. With ears laid down hard along
his neck and open mouth, he goes straight
for the cause of the trouble, and that faithless
little lady, preferring a whole skin to meeting
him in his anger, scampers lightly away.

It only needs a crack of the whip for the
whole string to race off, manes and tails flying,
in just as great a hurry to get away as they
had been to come. Soon they disappear in the
mist in the hollow, and the last Disciple sees
of them is as they rise, still plunging and kicking
over the crest where he had first caught sight
of them. Disciple is quite quiet, he stands
at gaze, watching with a twitching nose ; and,
as the last of the ghostly little figures vanishes
into nothingness, he gives just one big parting
neigh, and then looks round at you with that
dark soft eye of his to ask " What next ? "

And on the way home Disciple ponders over
that last beautiful mouthful for quite a while,
and grins as he remembers the mark he has
left. You can see that he is thinking of the
little scrap, by the way he throws up his head
and momentarily arches his neck, and by the
proud glance of his eye. He is thinking of you
too in its connection, for he looks round at you
— farticeps criminis — quite a number of
times ; and once gives a short sharp Httle neigh,
and in return you clap him on the neck and
tell him he's a bally fine boxer. All the way

122

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

home he is exceedingly pleased with himself,
and with you. The httle scrap has brought
a new bond of union between you. When
you dismount he swings round and rubs his
head hard against your shoulders. Pure
affection.

123

TEAINING FOR RIDING

{Continued)

CHAPTER X

TRAINING FOR RIDING

(Continued)

IN the forest it is much easier to pick up
the tracks of ponies and horses running
loose. Take any ride and let Disciple
wander along with a loose rein. He will make
various examinations — some a little interesting
and some dismissed with indifference. He
realises you have put him again on the quest,
and with zest lends himself to the game. Pull
him up at the cross rides, and let him make
his own selection. He will cast about un-
decided, sniffing the ground, and will look up
first one ride, and then the other, and, if there's
nothing doing, will turn his eye round to you
for guidance.

Go along and let him do the hunting. He
makes all kinds of stoppages, often in places
where you can see nothing to attract ; but if
he spends time, you may be sure he has got a
whiff of something worth consideration. If he
decides it's not worth while, on he goes.

At last, after many disappointments, he

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

strikes something quite good. He stops dead,
snuffs and snorts and scrapes at it with his
foreleg. Another deep snuff, then up goes
his head with the curled-over Up. Repeated
two or three times, and, following up a line
diagonal to the ride and leading off it, the
investigation is closed with a sharp neigh and
a confident plunge into the brushwood. He
has got on to quite fresh spoor, and, if you
watch carefully, you can see traces of it in
bruised grass and newly-shifted leaves.

He knows he is all right now, and moves
forward at quite a fast walking pace. You
come to a sandy patch, and can see by the
superimposed footprints and their sizes, that
there are at least five or six in the string, all
fairly small ponies. Disciple bends down for
a sniff, but doesn't waste time. In some
occult manner he knows they are a good way
oS yet, so hurries along. No use calUng just
yet. Then you come across a place where
they had stopped to feed a little, and can see
the cropped grass and a few tufts pulled up.
The tufts are quite fresh. A little further on,
as the ponies moved off after their feed, there
are droppings. Disciple stops for details, and
each one is examined. He comes to quick
decisions, and is off again at that fast walk
ears well pricked in front.

All at once he starts violently, and pulls up
sharp. He has heard something long before

128

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

you. You calm him, but he is quite agitated
about it, whatever it may be. You still don't
hear anything, but he does, and has directed
his pricked ears to your left, where he knows
the danger lies. He is in cover, and his
hereditary instincts are aroused. He has not
become sufficiently accustomed to forest life
to be educated to the fact that no real dangers
lurk for horses here. Tlie myriad escapes of
all those far-away ancestors, right down to the
Uttle hipparion, have left this surviving descen-
dent amply equipped with all the hereditary
defences that not only kept the hne unbroken,
but evolved the splendid alarm apparatus of
the horse's ear, mth the pivots automatically
and instantaneously directing the ears to the
danger, whatever its situation, without inter-
fering with the direction of the horse's flight.
In a flight for life, this evolved provision means
many seconds gained, where seconds count for
life or death. Disciple is worth observing and
studying as a product of evolution, and of the
survival of the flttest.

Now even you can hear something ; the
snapping of twigs and little sticks ; the hurried
rush of tiny feet through bracken ; and away
in the opening, dark against the sky, appears
a greyish red arch of palpitating living things.
It is a herd of startled deer ; does and fawns
first, and stags behind. There is high bracken
on the raised sides of the sunk grass track you

129

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

are following, and, in the head-long rush, the
leaders clear the depression in most magnifi-
cent leaps. What the leader jumps over, all
the rest jump over. There must be forty
or fifty at least ; and, as the bulk of the herd
come on and leap together, you get that weird
effect of the arch against the sky with the
dayhght showing below. In three seconds it
is over, and the faint and fainter snapping is all
that remains.

Disciple was quite interested, and gave a
snort as they vanished. The very moment
he saw them, his nerve tension was released,
for he instantljT^ realised that they were not of
the kind to hurt horses. How this knowledge
so suddenly came to him wants a little thinking
over, for he had never seen deer before in his
life. Clearly the information was instinctive
and detailed, for it was quite definite and
dependable as far as he was concerned.

The transition from this interruption to the
resumption of the quest is not immediate.
You do not prompt him. He is still standing
on the spot where he so suddenly pulled up.
He sniffs in the air, as though a waft of the
scent of the deer has come to him, and he is still
intently listening, his eyes fixed on the place
where he last saw them. Then he moves a
few paces forward, as though to follow them,
and stops again, ears pricked, still listening.
He gives a snort and a little bound, and, with

130

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

his head half-turned, points his ears again.
It is plain he has heard the last of them, for
now he turns his head to the left, gives you a
glance, and resumes his walk. He makes a
dozen paces, then remembers the quest, stops,
and puts down his head to pick up the scent.
As he passes the spot of the deer-leap he halts
in his stride and sniffs the air, to the left and
to the right, goes on, and again bends down to
pick up the pony scent. After this he resumes
his fast walk as though nothing had happened.
The track leads to a Httle green dell, open to
the sky; and here the ponies, spreading out,
had fed for a little, and there are more drop-
pings and the usual inquest. Something must
have startled them, for you can see, from the
laid grass further on, that they had rushed
together, and scampered in line after their
leader, who had left the track altogether and
plunged into the undergrowth at the side.
The laid Hnes in the lush spring grass makes
this plain to you, and evidently to Disciple,
for he follows without hesitation; and in his
eagerness rushes you through some nut bushes,
and you have to put up your hands to save
your face. Now the ground slopes away
rapidly. It gets bare under some beeches,
and at the bottom is a trickhng stream almost
choked with last autumn's leaves, which the
winter winds have blown into this resting
place. The thick mass of withered red leaves,

131

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

newly turned up, show where the ponies had
crossed the stream, and Disciple on the slope
breaks into a canter and jumps wide with a
mighty leap, and on the other side you have to
pull him back into his walk.

There is nothing like the soHtary ride, to get
to know your horse to his core. A quest such
as this shows you his manner of thought, and
the things that direct him. You learn the
world as it looks to a horse ; learn what he
notices, what attracts him, what he disregards
and what he dislikes. When you get really
skilled in this outlook, the interest of the soH-
tary ride becomes absorbing. Every incident
tells you something new, something fresh ;
gives you weird facts ^o ponder over. Learn
this horse-world from the different points of
view of the mare, gelding, and staUion. They
are quite distinct. Each has a different out-
look, and is actuated by differing stimuh, or
differently by the same stimuli. The con-
trasts are a study in themselves ; are especially
curious between the entire and the gelding :
more curious still in a hybrid — the mule. But
the staUion is the horse to ride for true com-
radeship, for multiplicity of interest, and for
the deepest insight into the working of the
equine mind. Try it and see.

At the end of his rush Disciple examines
his ground, which is still pretty bare under
the beeches ; catches sight of the hoof marks

132

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

and drops his head for a sniff. It's all right,
so again the quick walk. For a full mile he
tracks the wanderings of the little herd, through
underwood, along a broad ride, then along a
narrow winding track under the trees, and
across another little brook. One incident
causes a short delay. The ponies had crossed
another horse track, apparently, from the trail
of the grass, quite recent. Disciple spots it
and stops to smell the ground for at least half
a minute. Then, having reached his conclusion
with just a glance along the other track and a
shake of the head, without further ado he
dismisses it, and goes on.

His pace quickens, and he is inclined now
and then to break into a trot which you repress,
but he is getting hot on the scent, and, at the
third check, he throws up his head, and gives
vent to a half-suppressed neigh. They are not
far off now, and he knows it. He carries his
head high, peers eagerly to right and to left,
with ears pricked to catch the slightest sound.
He is getting quite excited, and tries to break
again. He grunts with impatience, and is
puUing quite hard on the bit. Just ahead
you are coming to another of these grassy
Uttle dells, and, as you enter it, he is overcome
by his feehngs and lets go such a full-throated
roar that it echoes and re-echoes all around ;
and he is himself a little startled at the result.
He stops still and neighs again, loud and long;

K 133

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

strikes out with a foreleg and begins to prance,
arching his neck and champing at the bit,
wliich is covered with foam. He swings him-
self quite round, prancing ; throws his head
about, and comes again to a dead stop. He
stands rigid, looking ahead with a most pierc-
ing gaze ; bit quite still, but muscles of his
mouth twitching spasmodically. He hears
something, for his ears are hke steel. Then a
high pitched neigh — a call to come to be
obeyed — if ever there was one. Still he re-
mains rigid, and listening.

Tumbhng over one another, bursting out of
some gorse bushes all at once, appear four
httle woolly-black, long-maned, long-tailed
ponies all of a size, and, three lengths behind,
a httle grey donkey, ears plastered down on his
neck, and braying hke sin ! They are a good
hundred yards away when they break into the
dell all together, and badly jostle one another
as they race down in a mass, kicking and
squeahng. It is quite a good race, for when
they reach Disciple they are all rushing abreast,
and their momentum is such that they all
but charge into him ; and, in the pull up
and sudden recoil, neddy dashes into their
rear, cutting short with the jerk a bray of a
pecuharly rancorous kind.

Disciple does not turn a hair, but if ever a
horse laughed he is doing so now. After all
his trouble it results in this ! As they spring

134

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

back, the four little ponies form a semicircle
in front of him, and the neddy plays clown
at the rear. For a moment they stand and
gaze at this big horse who had called them —
what for, goodness only knows — then shake
their manes and tails, and all stretch out their
heads towards him, sniffing and blowing.
Disciple breathes a little hard, but keeps
perfectly quiet; so quiet that they are en-
couraged to come a little closer, and a little
closer still. Now all their little heads are
close together, and their noses almost touch
as they sniff and puff. Each egging on the
other, they press forward, just an inch at a
time, to get a sniff and a touch of the great
horse's nose, which he stretches down to meet
them. Then oh ! such a snuffing and blowing !
It begins with restraint and moderation on
both sides ; just little smells at a few inches
distance ; gets animated with big and long
drawn out smells, Disciple's audible above
the rest ; pushful smells, with short grunts,
almost barks, from Disciple ; the excitement
rises to snorts and squeaks, with a vehement
rubbing of noses, when — Explosion ! A
devastating roar from Disciple, with an instant
strike out of his foreleg, at which the four
little ponies, perfectly paralyzed, tumble over
backwards, completely upsetting neddy on
to the ground, who had been stretching to get
in a long distance smell over their backs.

135

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

It's over in a second ; Disciple stands quiet,
and the little ponies recover themselves, and
reform their semicircle two or three yards
away. They shake their pretty heads, give
a squeal or two, and then, one by one, stretch
out their noses once more. Then one puts
his ears back and stands aloof : the gelding
of the party. Neddy, being of the male per-
suasion, also stands aloof. So the next time
only three come up, a little timidly, remember-
ing that roar and the Hghtning-like stroke of
the foot. Disciple pokes out his nose en-
couragingly, and, with a whimpering neigh
or two, invites their confidence. Seeing that
they hesitate, he even advances a step and
gives the little neigh again. He knows they
are ladies, and assures them, as a gentleman,
that he is prepared to receive them politely.
They look at one another, toss their manes
and with mutual assent move a little closer.
Disciple puts his great head down to meet
them, and his nostrils move in the tenderest
snufEe of a call. The one he more particularly
looks at, simply cannot resist him and goes up
quite bravely; and the two others, not to be
outdone, follow up and the four noses all meet
at the same time. Snuffles and smells ; pushes
and withdrawals ; a little excitement ; more
excitement ; and at last a squeal, not a
roar this time, from Disciple ; and just a
stamp of the foot. This time they are not

136

Sanderling, with chestnut filly Marsanda, by Marzouk, in 1907

Marsanda, first chestnut, then a roan, and, in 1917, finally grey

[To face page 13&

THE USE 01 THE TEAINING HEADSTALL

Marsanda and Exmarsa with training headstall

r-m^i^mm^^-

"Rohan's Last Gift" with training headstall

[To face page 137

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

frightened at all, and only draw back a
little.

Disciple steps up to them, and the nose
rubbing is resumed for a little. The gelding
and the donkey stand sulkily away, with ears
half cocked, looking extremely dissatisfied and
out of it. Then Disciple comes half a pace
forward, gives a smell at the neck of the little
lady who so perkily came up to him, and
scrapes it two or three times with his teeth.
She not only approves, but herself advances
a pace to touch his neck with her lips, so that
he continues his scraping on her wither. He
gnaws hard, and she seeks his shoulder to
return the compliment ; whereupon he opens
his mouth and bites, not too hard, on her back.
Bites again and again. She winces and gives
to him, but does not move away. He bites
more excitedly, but still not to hurt, and moves
down to her flank. Its a hberty, and tickles
her, and she gives him a little bite on the
shoulder herself. But she does not turn away
from him. On the contrary, she moves her
quarter in to him so that he grabs her, gently
enough, by the thigh and playfully chews her,
grunting and snorting the while. This, how-
ever, is just a bit too much for her maiden
modesty, so she lashes out. He does it again,
and she takes to her heels and bolts. He
looks after her and makes at first as though he
would follow, but his attention is suddenly

137

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

called to the fact that the other two little
ladies, piqued by his neglect, are browsing
with animation on the other side of his neck
and shoulder. He makes a dive at the flank of
the nearest, and the action is so abrupt that
she rears in defence, and puts a forefoot on his
neck, catching it in the rein. She excitedly
tries to release herself, and you have to inter-
vene to throw her off. Loves of the horses
are sudden and tumultuous, and courtship is
of the briefest. The perky one, having com-
pletely lost her small heart to Disciple, comes
back to tell him so, and proceeds to do it as
plainly as any little pony can. But the other
one who gnawed at his neck also finds herself
overcome with a sudden infatuation for him,
and palpably indicates her capitulation. To-
gether they get in front of Disciple, and push
and jostle in their competition for his kind
attentions. He gnaws at each impartially,
and each responds as if she were his best
beloved. Ecstatic thrills pass through the
bodies of the two little ponies when in receipt
of his favours, but the joy is intermittent, for
he can only gnaw one at a time. And thus
entered this Garden of Eden that monster,
green-eyed Jealousy. Side by side, each has
regarded herself as the true fiancee of the
great horse ; but now each is seized with the
obsession that the obnoxious presence of the
other alone frustrates attentions from Disciple

138

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

of the most piquant and intimate nature quite
personal to herself. It is a wicked, wicked
shame, and it is her own special friend who
thus robs her of the fruits of her self-surrender.
With them to think is to act. Each goes
for the other's forelegs, and down they both
drop on their knees. The bites really are not
gentle. The woolly little beasts are making
each other's fur fly. They spring up, go for
each other's forelegs, and again they are down
on their knees, grabbing with vigour and much
mingling of manes. Simultaneously they
arise, rear, and spar at each other at a distance ;
then, with open mouths, close, each with her
forelegs round the other's neck. They bite,
and bite again, in earnest. As background to
this orgy of mis-directed energy is the third
little lady, following the swaying of the com-
batants with startled eyes, and still further
behind, with wondering countenances, the
little gelding and donkey stand set for flight,
in case of untoward developments coming
their way. That anything so little could be
so furious, is what is passing in Disciple's mind,
as he regards his lady loves with pricked ears
and the most rapt attention. He is visibly
pained, and gives a stamp or two to show his
annoyance, when, before, all in the garden had
been so lovely. They go down and rise again,
but, faihng to clinch, they turn round and
indulge in the most unholy kicking match.

139

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

One backs and gets in a double whack, but is
forced forward again by a lurid rejoinder;
then both lots of hind legs go up together, and
the air is made dark with turfs and hoofs.
This must be stopped, or the little ponies will
hurt themselves, so a disillusioned Disciple is
forced forward and he gives each a good hard
bite on the rump, and they are parted, puffing
and blowing for want of breath and heaving
with their emotion. The other three start
away as though retribution was about to over-
take them also, but pull up on seeing that
nothing happens. Disciple looks and snorts
his displeasure, first at one antagonist and
then at the other ; shakes his head, and in-
dicates that he had no further interest in the
proceedings.

You turn his head homewards, and he leads
ofi tranquilly without evincing the least desire
to linger on the battlefield. More time has
been taken up than you intended, so you make
your way to the nearest ride to go home by
the shortest road, and put Disciple into an easy
ding-dong trot. You must have gone at
least half a mile, when Disciple throws his ears
back and starts into a canter. Lo and behold
it's the little ponies galloping after you !
Disciple's two sweethearts have made up their
tiff and are racing side by side ; the third httle
mare is close at their heels, and the gelding
and donkey, coming on quite unwillingly, are a

140

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

good bit in the rear. As the two scamper up,
manes and tails waving, they come, one on
each side, almost touching your toes. Dis-
ciple's for home,and beyond keeping an eye on
each takes no notice and continues his stride.
Little ponies' hearts are tender, and they like
the big horse. As they scamper alongside
you can see they are out for some fun. They
chuck down their heads and kick up their
heels, make prodigious leaps on the least
excuse, or with no excuse at all — feint at
biting Disciple — and sheer round in pretence
of a kick.

And thus they keep up with you right to the
edge of the Forest, and on to the grass land
beyond. It goes against the grain to have to
scare them off, but if you did not they would
follow you home. So you pull up, and three
sharp cracks of the hunting whip send them
scampering back to the gelding and donkey,
who have just emerged from the ride. An-
other day, perhaps, you will meet them again,
as old friends. It is worth a little trouble to
secure a second encounter, for they wiU present
amusingly fresh problems, and give you quite
a lot to think over.

141

TEAINING FOR JUMPING

CHAPTER XI
TRAINING FOR JUMPING

OF all his achievements, jumping is that
form of action which gives the horse
the greatest delight, for it calls into
play, to their extremity of attainment, the
best of his mental and muscular powers, at
one and the same time. In the combination of
man and horse, jumping brings to the pair
closer community of interest, thought, judg-
ment, and action, than in any other of the
phases of their association. For the time
being their mentality is practically identical.
You and your best old hunter, who have been
through so much together, and have had the
same experience a thousand times over in the
preparation for and negotiation of jumps,
probably view any given jump with an absolute
identical outlook ; from the same consider-
ations and conclusions, you two form precisely
the same judgment as to how it is to be
negotiated ; man and horse each know exactly
what the other is going to do in the circum-
stances ; and for a certain number of seconds

145

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

you and your horse act together absolutely
as if you were of one flesh — the Centaur in
actual fact. It is this unity of mentality and
action between man and horse which forms
the greatest charm and attraction of hunting.
In all the eventualities you know to an ounce
what you are going to get out of the old horse ;
and the old horse knows to an ounce what he
is going to get out of you, and you two act
together accordingly.

In the hunting field there is nothing more
comical than the actions of a disunited pair,
always in two minds as to everything they
encounter. The best hunting jokes relate to
the breaking up of that molecule into its com-
ponent atoms.

In teaching Disciple to jump, begin on the
theory that you wish to show him something
new which is going to be a special treat to him,
and that you only allow him to jump as a
treat and reward. He will soon accept that
view of the matter and will jump just as often
as you let him. For Heaven's sake, from the
very beginning, never once drive him over a
jump. Never let him for an instant think
that jumping is an unpleasant duty which he
is to be forced to do against his will. If that
idea ever gets into his head and develops into
conviction, it will infaUibly lead to refusals.
What you have got to keep always before you,
in training a horse to jump, is to do it on a

U6

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

plan that has for its special object the eUmina-
tion of every tendency to refuse any jump
at which he is put. Never, in his training, put
a horse at a jump which is at all likely to pro-
duce a refusal. You must use your best
judgment in this matter. In jumping, as in
everything else, you must use the system of
little steps, by which you will know to a cer-
tainty what is, and what is not — ^for the time
being — within your horse's capacity. Always
make the lessons quite short, so that, during
the training, the horse is never tired. If he
gets tired, the conceit that the jumping is a
treat and reward will fade from his mind, and
the risk of a refusal begins to increase in direct
ratio to the increase of his fatigue. Moreover,
jumping brings into play an entirely fresh
lot of muscles, and the strains must be put
upon them quite gradually in order that these
muscles may develop to their maximum pro-
portions and tenacity of fibre without risk of
sprain or rupture. For all these reasons go
quite slow, and stick to the system of Mttle
steps. Festina lente, every time. By so doing
you make the quickest progress, and avoid
any risk of failure. Whatever is worth doing
at all, is always worth doing in the very best
possible way.

In the matter of his first learning to jump,
let a horse always think that he is doing all the
thinking himself. It improves his brain and

147

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

courage, makes him work intelligently, and
helps the idea that he is being allowed to jump
as a treat and favour to himself. One of the
best ways of starting this idea and of beginning
jumping, is to put him on the grass side of a
road, and, when he knows he is on the way
home, to let him, at a walking pace, take the
little drainage channels, at his own speed and
in his own way. He will probably at first try
to take them in his stride. Let him do so.
It will teach him to accommodate his stride
to the inequalities of their occurrence and size.
In a little while give him a tap with your
riding whip, just as he arrives at each, and he
will hop over them with a baby jump. Don't
use the reins except to keep him on the gxass.
Let him do everything in his own way and
time. It will amuse him, and he is learning all
the time. He will gradually learn that your
mind is, as a matter of fact, controlling his ;
for from time to time you correct his faults.
As his own judgment improves, he recognises
certain things to have been faults, and respects
yours. It is in this way that your old hunter
acquired his great confidence in you, and him-
self played up to your judgment of things.
After Disciple has played with these little
drains for a while, tell him to '' trot," and to
" jump " as he goes over them. He will soon
do it quite nicely at the trot, checking himself
appropriately in his stride. He will soon

U8

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

learn the meaning of this new word "jump,"
and as soon as he does so, leave off the taps
with the whip and use the word each time.
On the second or third day of doing this, you
will find Disciple will want to leave the road
as soon as he comes to the grass and little
grips, just for the pleasure of hopping over
them.

If you have the luck to live near forest or
common, it is always possible to select a num-
ber of quite little jumps to begin with — ditches
of all kinds, little gorse growths and the like.
If there is an object in getting across them which
Disciple can understand, such as getting out
of undergrowth into an open space of grass,
so much the better for him, as it gives point
to your order to " jump," and, if the jump is a
little bigger than what he has previously been
accustomed to, he will the more wiUingly
make the greater effort. This question of
object becomes quite an important one when
you begin to negotiate larger obstacles, such
as a water-ditch, a gap in a fence between two
fields, and the horse will wilUngly tackle a
greater width or height than he has attempted
before, because he understands that you want
to get him into the next field, which he will be
quite keen to do as he would Uke to explore it
himself. Before you start your run, point out
the ditch or gap to him, and in a conversational
voice repeat the word " jump " three or four

I. 149

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

times, and he will quite understand what you
want him to do, and you can tell by the way he
goes for either of them what is his own opinion
of his capacity to clear it. When the exact
taking-oS place arrives, say " jump " again as
a sharp order, and you will find that in a few
times he will value your judgment as to taking-
off and follow it. When you want to intimate
to him that after a few more jumps you are
going to make him rely on his own judgment
in taking-off, lower your voice in giving the
" jump " order, and give less and less emphasis
to the word until it is just a mere observation
en passant. Probably you have never thought
of giving the verbal order to jump to a horse,
but, when you give it a systematic trial in
training a youngster, it will astonish you what
a real help it is. You can, if you like, carry
it so far that a horse, on level ground and with
no obstacle before him, will take a high jump
in the air just on your order. There is a
practical side to this accomphshment, for a
horse so trained can safely jump over bare
barbed wire.*

Putting him at the casual natural obstacles
one meets on moorland and in forest, gradually

♦Many Boer farmers in the Transvaal train their ponies to
jump naked barbed wire.

150

Jumping an invisible fence

[To face page 150

Is this a Unique Occurrence ?

J.ijiituii, fi'iiliil I'll j:.riiii,nr, Mmj, 1911, iihotor/niphrd at Lynton I'ony Show,
OH loth August, 1911, ivith his dam, The Champmi Kitty VI

M'Ar-.LiH.itty, burn lltli May, 1911, with her Jual Lyninarkittu, burn -.'Jth
May, 1913, and Lynton the sire. Photographed 10th August, 1913, luhen the
combined ages of the three totalled 4 years 7 months.

[To face page 151

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

from the smallest to the largest he can get
over or across without risk or refusal, is of
course the soundest way of teaching Disciple
to jump ; but it may be required to teach him
to negotiate the obstacles he would be faced
with at a local Show or at the Agricultural
Hall, IsUngton, such as hurdles, double hurdles,
gates, gorse fences, imitation walls and the like.

Now, in such a case, you have to train the
horse or pony to jump with the special disad-
vantages that no ulterior object in the jump is
apparent to him ; that all the appliances are
artificial ; and that the jump itself, when
ultimately raised, is the highest part of the
barrier he sees before him — whereas the
natural tendency of a horse is to select the
lowest or easiest part of the obstacle. You
have, therefore, a much bigger task; and have
to rely more than ever for success upon Dis-
ciple's love of jumping for its own sake, and
the belief with which you have imbued him
that he is being allowed to jump as a treat
and reward. For these reasons it is aU the
more necessary that you should proceed in
the smallest of small steps, and that he should
do everything of his own volition, and not be
driven to do it.

The greatest treat you can give some horses
and ponies is to permit them to jump in hand,
that is, without a rider and on the leading
rein. In some cases, especially those of three and

151

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

four year olds, the teaching of jumping in hand
is the best way, for their bones, tendons and
muscles are not yet at their best to take the
heavy strains involved, and by jumping them
without a rider the strains are much less ;
moreover, their judgment as to taking off and
landing is entirely unfettered.

Training for jumping is an art in itself, and
this chapter cannot pretend to a full treat-
ment of the subject ; only to touch lightly
upon those basic principles on which success
depends, and each reader, if he is so disposed,
can adapt these principles to his own specific
requirements. For a jump in hand, the
requirements as to paraphernalia are the
ordinary two vertical posts, with holes and
pegs for the horizontal bar, plus smooth guide
bars on each of the wings running from the
ground to the very top of the posts at an angle
of 25° from the horizontal. The object of
these guide bars is to allow the leading rein on
striking them to slide right up and over the
top of the posts without any possibility of the
rein catching in anything that would put a
jerk on the pony's head at the moment of
approaching, rising and clearing the bar. If
there is a double jump, the guide rails for the
leading rein must be carried on from the tops
of the first two vertical posts to the tops of the
second pair of vertical posts, to clear them
also. The guide rails should dip between the

152

Teaching Rosanda II to jump in hand

Hind feet well tucked up, owing to loose rail on top of the furze

[To face page 153

- ■r^-^\^

Rosanda II clearing bar in hand at 6'

Rosanda II clearing 6' 3"
(This pony was only 13 hds. 3 ins. high )

To face page 153

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

two sets of vertical posts, when they are
very high, 25^ down and 25^ up again to the
top of the second posts. These are essentials
in the prevention of accidents, and for that
reason attention is here especially drawn to
them. As to the character of the obstacles
themselves attached to the vertical posts,
they may vary from the plain rope or bar to
the most comphcated hurdles, furze bushes,
gates and imitation walls, for the time being
in vogue at the shows.

But, whatever the character of the obstacle
you want the horse or pony to jump, begin
with leading him through the approaches and
vertical posts, at a walk, with nothing in the
shape of any obstacle there. Let him examine
and smell the posts, guide bars, and whatever
else there may be there of a permanent nature,
to his heart's content, and so thoroughly that he
will take no further notice of them. Then, if
you are going to start him with a rope or bar,
let the rope or bar lie on the ground and let
him walk over it. Put it up three inches and let
him walk over it again — ^then another three inches
and so on until he finds it necessary to hop
over it. Remember always the little steps. If
you are starting him to learn to jump a furze-
bush hurdle, first put a little loose furze bush
between the vertical posts and let him walk
over it ; then a Httle more ; then the beginning
of a hurdle, and add to its height quite

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

gradually, eventually raising the full sized hurdle
itself on the vertical posts. The same with the
artificial brick wall. Begin with a hne of
loose wooden bricks on the grass, put another
row on top and so on little by little until quite
gradually you have arrived at the height
which necessitates a hop over and then a
jump. In the case of each and every one of
the different kinds of obstacles, begin it in its
most elementary form and increase its diffi-
culty, as imperceptibly as you can, up to the
hmit of the animal's powers.

Even when Disciple has become a really
fine performer over these various obstacles,
on each fresh day always see that they are
low and well within his capacity, to begin with.
Raise them, little by httle, until you put a
real tax upon his jumping powers. Abuse
him by word of mouth (not angrily, but in
reproach or ridicule) when he makes palpable
errors, and praise him when he does well.
He will pay the utmost attention to what you
have to say to him, and will be pleased with
your approval and try to win it. When he
has done something exceptionally good, make
a great fuss over him and give him a lump of
sugar. He will know quite well what it is for,
and he will make efforts to win another lump.

Follow precisely the same procedure when

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

training for jumping in saddle. It is quite
helpful to do the jumping in hand and in
saddle on alternate days, and it stimulates
Disciple's intelligence and judgment. As soon
as he becomes proficient in both, it is a good
thing to have a few spectators to begin to
accustom Disciple to the ordeal of the crowd,
which he will have to face at the local Show.
Get the spectators to make a little noise, and,
as it is sure to put him off his jumping, see that
the jumps are very low. By degrees he will
take less notice of the noise, and as he gets
accustomed to it, put the jumps a little higher.
Finally he won't trouble his head about the
spectators at all, and will jump in his best
form. Do not be disappointed, however, if
at his first or second Show he is entirely off
his jumping. Enter him for as many events
as possible — ^for musical chairs and anything
else open to him — just to get him accustomed
to the crowds and their little ways. But the
ordeal at the Agricultural Hall is ten times
worse than anything he will have to face in the
summer Shows in the open air. The roof and its
reverberations, the blaze of electric lights, the
galleries, the arena itself with its fringe of heads,
the applause and laughter, the unaccustomed
appearance of the jumps, the excited neighing of
the stalhons, and above all, the thrilling per-
formances of the band have a most unsettling
effect upon an animal up for the first time.

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

On his way to the Hall, on his first visit, he
had had the most frightful time of his life.
The train was bad enough, but the tramcars
and motor omnibuses blazing with electric
Ught, as they did before the war, and discord-
ant with bells, coming at him and behind him
one after another, made him think that the
end of his world had come. Quite a number
of animals coming for the first time to the
Show, neither drink, eat, nor sleep the first
night, and some (mostly mares, worried by the
neighing of the stallions) have been known to
touch neither oats, hay, nor water the whole
time they were in the building. Unless the
novice is of an unusually equable temperament,
an owner must not expect his Pegasus to do
well in the Jumping Classes on the first or
second visit to the Agricultural Hall — but all
horses have long memories, and the stage
fright gradually disappears. Animals new to
the London Shows do require and merit all the
help that can possibly be given to them, and
it would certainly be of great assistance and
immensely improve the jumping of novices if
they could be permitted practice over the
obstacles in the early morning, and even given
one free run to accustom them to the crowd
and noise in the actual competitions. Every
encouragement should be given by the Societies
using the Hall to novice jumpers. Of all the
animals shown, they are the most severely

156

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

handicapped by the newness of the conditions
in which they are called upon to display their
talents, and it is not every owner of a promising
jumper that can afford to send him up two or
three times to Ishng-ton before he begins to
have a chance of coming home a winner. Such
concessions would certainly increase the num-
ber of novices in the Jumping Classes; and
the pubhc, while welcoming the good old-
timers that perform so well year after year,
are keen to see new faces, manes and tails.
The pubhc enter into and understand the
jumping competitions without difficulty, but not
always the other selections, which sometimes,
and for various reasons, are puzzles even to
the very elect. Hence the large attendances
in the afternoon when the jumping takes place.
There is a great deal of trouble and expense taken
in preparing them, and the novice animals
ought really to have a better chance of giving
creditable performances. Perhaps the great
authorities may be led to take notice of this
Uttle request, which is made on behalf of many
good, but high-strung and nervous horses and
ponies.

157

TEAINING FOE DEIVING

CHAPTER XII
TRAINING FOR DRIVING

YOU have ridden and trained Disciple
sufficiently to have him under control
in every possible way. He answers

voice or reins promptly and con amore.
In response to your voice alone he moves
from any one pace, or gait, into any other ;
starts, comes to a stand, and turns to right
or left. He jumps well, and loves it. When,
either mounted or afoot, you tell him to "He
down " he does so, and remains there until
you tell him to " get up." If you want him
to lie flat on his side, you tell him to " lie over ";
if you want him to come up from the prone
position on to a level keel again, you tell him
to "he up." When he is on a level keel, sit
on the saddle or on his rump ; when prone on
his side, sit on his shoulder, on his quarters,
or on the grass between his neck and forelegs,
with his chest for your back-prop. On a long
ride, to he down is a rest for the horse and
yourseK, and you will find that he loves it.
If, while you are still on the ground, you tell

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

him to " get up," he will do so, exercising the
greatest care not to touch or hurt you. You
can train him to stand over you " on guard."
while you Ue on the ground. When thoroughly
trained he will not move a pace from you,
and, if you are, or pretend to be, asleep, he
will stand there motionless ; or just occasion-
ally touching you with his soft nose to assure
himseK that you are all right. As an extension
of the " on guard " idea, it is quite easy to
teach him to stand over your coat, or hat,
while you yourself perambulate away from him.
It is also most useful to teach him to stand
" anchored," when his reins are thrown over
his head and He traihng on the ground. This
is a great Far-West practice, and is used
extensively in Mexico, Brazil, Argentina and
AustraUa. Teach him to " follow," which he
will do, with his nose just at your right elbow.

Every lady's hunter ought to be taught to
" Ue down " at the word. The most serious
accidents to ladies in the hunting field do not
occur, as a rule, from any actual fall, but from
the struggles and kicking of an excited animal,
scared by finding himself on the ground in
unaccustomed circumstances, and in which he
has not been practised, or, in fact, subjected
to any control. If he has been taught to lie
down habitually, and he falls at a fence, he
will at once cease to struggle, if his rider caUs
out to him authoritatively to "lie down." It is

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

curious that this commonsense bit of training,
which would save so many serious accidents
to children, ladies, and even men, in the
hunting field, has not only not been brought
into common usage in this country, but appears,
with this safeguard as an object, never to have
been practised by hunting men at all.

When Disciple has become thoroughly pro-
ficient in all saddle-work, you may wish to
add harness work to his accomplishments.
Begin by letting him stand in his stall in har-
ness. Before putting on the new equipment,
show all of it to him thoroughly, and let him
smell it all over. He will understand that
you have some new game on for him, and will
take a keen interest in all the paraphernalia.
Talk to him all the time when you are putting
the harness on. Show each individual piece
to him, and put it very slowly on his back,
scratching his back as you do so. Handle his
tail and quarters well before you put on the
crupper and breechings, and again, afterwards.
When all is in position, flap all the traces,
breechings and loose straps about, gently at
first, and then with increasing vigour, so that
he becomes accustomed to have them danghng
about him. Let him spend an hour or two
fully caparisoned in the loose-box, and free to
move about in it, before you take him outside.

Have no bUnkers on the bridle. They are
not only wholly unnecessarj'^, and serve no

163

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

good purpose whatever, but interfere in his
relations with you as his driver ; for it is an
object with him to have a look at you occasion-
ally, and a pleasure to him as well. Gradually
accustomed, as he will be, to the sight of the
vehicle behind him, neither it, nor it's moving
wheels, will have any terrors for him.

If a horse has been always used to bUnkers,
it is the easiest thing in the world, if you wish
him to do without them, to accustom him to
their absence. Replace the leather bhnkers
with stiff cardboard bhnkers of the same size,
and every two or three days cut off a quarter
of an inch in front. In less than a month
they wiU have disappeared altogether. This
plan is an apt illustration of the advantage
of educating the horse by little steps at a time.

When Disciple has stood an hour or two
harnessed in his loose-box, take him outside
on a leading rein, and walk him about with
everything danghng about him ; and don't
forget to have two or three lumps of sugar
in your pocket. In turning a horse on the
leading rein always turn him away from you
and not towards you. It is much safer to do
this. If you turn a young and frisky horse
towards yourself and he rears he can strike
you with his forefeet. He can't, if you turn
him away from you. Talk to him aU the
time, and you wiU find everything go quite
well. Stop him with the word " stand," and

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

set him off again with the word " walk." Do
this a number of times. Next day take him
for a walk on the road. Tliere will be no
trouble.

On the third day put on the driving reins
in the loose-box, and gradually flap them all
over him, so that he is not scared by their
touch anyivhere. When you take him outside,
use a leading rein as before, and get your man
to carry the driving reins behind the horse
loosely, and so that no pull at all comes on the
bit. Lead him and turn him about the yard
first, and then take him out on the road. He
has no bhnkers on, and is able to see your
man following him and also the reins. Again
stop him and start him with the words " stand "
and " walk."

After a mile or so, turn the horse home-
wards, and let your man take the leading rein
while you take the driving reins. For a little
carry them loosely, as your man did, without
any pull on the bit. Then stop him, with
the word " stand " accompanied with the
first pull on the bit. Release the pull, and
start him with the word " walk." Now tell
your man to hold the leading rein quite slackly
and to drop behind the horse's shoulder, so
that, from now on, you direct the horse's
movements with your voice and the driving
reins alone. Tell your man that you are
going to turr. the horse to left and right, so

M 165

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

that he may be prepared to keep the leading
rein slack in both eventuahties. Then direct
Disciple with your voice " Right turn " and
pull the appropriate rein, " Left turn " ditto,
and " Forward " when you want him to keep
straight ahead. In a very few minutes he
will have absorbed this new line of instruction
quite intelligently, and you can dispense with
the leading rein. Give him another day's
practice at this, and he will then be ready to
learn to pull.

The easiest way to teach a horse to pull is
to get two men to haul on the traces, lengthen-
ing each with about 10ft. of rope, so that the
men remain behind you. At first they should
carry the ropes and traces quite slackly, with-
out any pull on them. You will first go
through the previous day's operations of
starting, stopping and turning with everything
slack. When you first give the horse the
word to " Pull," tell your men to put only a
little drag on the traces ; just sufficient to keep
them taut. The next time you say " Pull,"
let them put more drag on ; and subsequently
gradually increase the drag, until they are
putting all their weight on to the horse. Take
care that the weight is increased very gradually,
so that there is no hazard of a refusal on the
part of Disciple. If you get him to under-
stand that you want him to pull, on the word,
he will do so cheerfully ; but there is some

166

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

little risk of his misunderstanding the weight
as being meant as an indication to him to stop.
For this reason, it is well for you to carry a
gig Avhip, so that you can touch him on the
quarters when you give him the word to " Pull."

Give him another day of this, until he
thoroughly understands pulling at the word,
both on the straight and in turning. The
next thing is to introduce him to the vehicle,
to which you intend to harness him. There is
nothing better than an American four-wheel
buggy, with a full lock so that you can turn
round in the width of an ordinary road. For
Hghtness of draft, up hill and down, smooth
running, absence of repairs, and ease for your
horse, a well-built, rubber-tyred, full lock four-
wheel buggy, made by a good American builder
cannot be surpassed. Bring it out into the
yard, when Disciple is standing outside. Take
him up to it slowly and let him look at it, and
smell it all he wants to. Take him all round
it and talk to him. Lift up the shafts and
drop them. Lift up the buggy with one hand,
and turn the wheels round ; slowly at first then
quickly. Shake the buggy until it rattles, and
move it forwards and backwards. He will be
quite inteUigent about it, and will understand
that this is just one more of your games in
which you wish him to participate.

After he has seen everj^hing there is to see
and is quite familiarised with the buggy in all

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

its aspects, put the driving reins on him with
a short leading rein coiled up for subsequent
use. Walk in front, using the driving reins,
and get your men, each holding a shaft, to
follow him with the buggy behind as close up
as possible. A quarter of a mile of this will
do. Then stop, give him a bit of sugar, coil
up the driving reins and tie them up on his
back, have the leading rein ready and get the
two men, while you talk to Disciple, to bring
the buggy up quite slowly and put the shafts
in the tugs. Tell them to hold them there
by the pressure of their fingers when you
presently lead the horse on. It is not the
least Ukely that Disciple wiU object to have
the buggy follow him so closely, as he knows
all about it, and you have already taught him
to pull ; but it is well always to be prepared
for any eventuality. Therefore do not have
the traces fastened to the puU-bar, or the
breechings to the shafts, at this first essay.
He will get the sense of pull all right through
the shafts being held in the tugs, and if, by any
unlikely chance. Disciple did make a fuss, it
is quite easy for the men — but only on your
order — ^to release the shafts and fall behind
with the buggy.

This eventuaUty, and what they are to do
in case of trouble, having been explained to
your men and properly understood, start
Disciple with the words "Walk" and "Pull,"

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

on the leading rein, with yourself at his shoulder.
It is a hundred to one that everything will
go all right. Talk to him and go about one
hundred yards. Stop and pet him, and administer
just one lump of sugar. Start again and continue
for a quarter of a mile, talking to him at
intervals. Stop, and if everything has gone
all right, take off the leading rein, uncoil the
driving reins, fall back behind your men to
the level of the forecarriage, and start him
again with the words "Walk" and "Pull."
You have him under complete control with the
driving reins, and it is again a hundred to one
that all will be right. Go half a mile thus, stop,
pet Disciple, give him another piece of sugar in
reward for his perfect behaviour, and get the
men to make the traces fast to the pullbar,
and the breeching to the shafts. Then let
the men go back to their former places, each
with his hand on his shaft, and start again.
Disciple won't know the difference. After
another haK mile, during which you have
talked to Disciple from your new position,
stop, go to his head, pet him and give him just
another lump of sugar.

Take the opportunity of this stop, and while
you are at Disciple's head, to get one of your
men to get up into the driving seat and step
down again two or three times, so that the
horse gets accustomed to the swaying of the
buggy. Then with the two men at their

169

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

places at the shafts, get up yourself and start
him with the famihar "Walk" and "Pull,"
All will go right. Stop and start him often.
Talk to him, and you will see him turn his
head just sufficiently to get a sight of you on
the box. When he comes to a stand, he will
bend his neck right round to get a good square
look at you. Get down and go up to him
and make a thorough fuss of him. He is not
scared or frightened in the least. With your-
self at his head and your men still at the shafts,
turn him round in the road to face for home.
Do this quite slowly, as it is the first time that
he will see the buggy following him in this
position. Walk at his head for another fifty
yards, then turn him completely round again,
to get him more used to it.

Again mount to the driving seat, and walk
the horse for a quarter of a mile. Tell your
men that you are going to trot him slowly,
and that they are to keep their positions and
run alongside. Then tell Disciple to " Trot,"
and he will do so without demur. Keep at a
slow trot for a mile, then tell him to " Walk,"
and let him continue at the walking pace for
a mile. Then stop ; a little petting and the
lump of sugar. Tell him to " stand." Let
him stand here for a quarter of an hour. Move
around him, so that he understands that it is
part of the business to stand still for a while.
Get up again and walk and trot alternately

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

until you get home. Enter your drive at a
walking pace and so continue to the stables.
Make a great fuss of him on arrival ; unharness
him ; take him round the buggy, which he
will look at and smell with renewed interest,
and j^ourself take him into his stable and
unharness him.

The next day start in the same way, but
after a couple of hundred yards fix the traces
and breeching and walk and trot Disciple with
your men at the shafts. After a couple of
miles, let one man get up into the back seat,
and walk and trot as before. After another
mile, let the second man get up and all will be
right. At the end, and before you turn round
to come home, let both men get down to their
places at the shafts. Then turn round quite
slowly and stop for the men to get up. On
his homeward way Disciple will go like an old
customer and you can let him trot a little
faster. On your way home turn him round
two or three times, and for these turns let the
men get down and take up their previous
positions, but a pace or two away from the
shafts. They are there only to be handy in
case of need, but they will not be needed.

Tlius, in a week from the commencement of
operations, you will have broken Disciple to
harness without the least trouble to him, or
to yourself. It has been done by a progression
of very Httle steps, in each one of which you

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

have had his willing co-operation ; and never
once has he been scared or frightened by any-
thing that you have asked him to do.

More horses are spoilt in breaking into
harness than in any other way. The horse is
easy enough to teach ; but it is so difficult to
really teach the man. The usual British
groom cannot be taught anything. He has
his own ways, from which he will not depart,
however much trouble you may take to try
and convince him that they are detrimental
to the objects in view, namely, the breaking
of the horse without scaring him, and without
making him beheve that man is an enemy.
He will listen, respectfully enough, to all you
have to say ; and, immediately your back is
turned, will straight away do again what he
did before. Follow such a groom on his heels
into the stable, and you will find that the
horses, who always welcome you with a whinny,
turn nervously away from him and lay their
ears back. His bed-rock idea is that he must
always exhibit to his charges his mastery over
them. When grooming them, he speaks
rouglily. He makes them move over smartly,
and, if they do not move over smartly enough
to please him, he hits them with the brush.
He picks up their feet roughly. When he is

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

standing near a horse, you can see a certain
nervous tremor, and an expression in the eye
of the animal, that tell the tale with unfailing
accuracy of his treatment of his charges ? in
private. When a groom gets a kick or a bite
in a stable from an animal, who has been long
under his charge, the occurrence tells against
the man rather than against the horse. Such
a groom is never the comrade of his horses,
and, but for the fact that they have to look
to him for their food and drink, they would
prefer to have no truck with him at all. When
they are turned out to grass, his entry into the
field is the signal for them to move away and
he can never get near them ; sometimes not
even with the customary bait of a feed ; they
know him too well. On the other hand, to a
groom who is their well-loved comrade, his
incoming is welcomed with neighs and a racing
scamper up to him ; feed, or no feed.

To a groom, so out of sympathy with his
horses that they are afraid of him, it is the
worst mistake to entrust one of them to him
to break into harness. Such a man is sure
to be short-tempered. The horse views with
suspicion every new thing that the groom does,
and is prepared for defence, and, if need be,
for revolt. The man has not the intelligence
to understand horse-nature, or his horses would
not be afraid of him, and his one idea, if things
do not go well, is force and punishment.

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

Instead of a succession of little steps, all of which
the horse can understand, he wants to make big
steps, which the horse will not understand and
will resent. And so mutual antagonism is set
up at the beginning of the course, and the result
is, not only little or no progress in breaking,
but the very effective spoiling of the horse.

Some horses are so sweet-tempered that
even a short-tempered man cannot help but
succeed in breaking them into harness. But
it is when difficulties arise that he fails. It is
most essential that, in giving orders to assist-
ants during the breaking, a level tone of voice
should always be employed, without a trace
of excitement in it. Something scares the
horse and he gets excited, and to this particular
brand of fool it appears appropriate that, in
such circumstances, he should shout his in-
structions at the top of his voice. It does not
occur to him that he is adding to the terror
of the horse. The more the horse gets scared,
the more excitedly the groom yells to the
assistants, and, unless he succeeds in getting
control of the horse by main force, he ends
in scaring his assistants too, and thus the
accident happens, which, when he relates the
result to the owner viewing the remains, appear
to him clear proof that " that there 'oss might
be a good saddle 'oss, but 'e'd never make an
'arness 'oss as long as he Uved, and it's lucky,
sir, we found it out in time."

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

In his system of breaking by vis majeure,
the short-tempered groom encounters problems
in which force is, of com^se, no remedy ; and
it is then that the Httle intelhgence there may
be in him deserts him altogether, and he
becomes a blind raging brute. Nothing up-
sets his temper so much as the obstacle he
doesn't understand. He has not sufficiently
accustomed the horse to his harness, or to pull ;
the collar or breast-strap galls, and, when the
horse is asked to pull the load behind him, it
hurts him, and he does not move forward.
Instead of getting down to see what is wrong
and put it right, and petting and encouraging
the horse to go ahead, he shouts and slashes,
and saws at its mouth. Under punishment,
some animals will end their resistance by
going ahead, but others of a sulky nature wiU
continue their refusal. The more the horse
refuses, the more this sort of man loses his
temper and rains blows upon the unfortunate
animal. He saAvs at its mouth, until its hps
and gums are a mass of foam and blood.
Sweating and trembling with fear and the
punishment, and rearing with the pain of its
mouth, in about ten minutes of this treatment,
the horse has been converted into a jibber for
life.

If you have a valuable horse to break
into harness, do it yourself. If that for any
reason is impossible, take the greatest care in

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

the selection of the man to whom you entrust
so important a job.

If your horse, when in a vehicle, sHps up on
the road and falls, as may be the case on
asphalte or ice, don't scold him in a loud and
agitated voice. Go quickly and quietly to his
head, pat him on the crest of his mane and
give him the usual order to " lie down." He
will keep quiet and make no struggle. Keep
at his head and tell your man, or any helpful
bystander, to quietly release the belly-band,
traces, and breechings, and, while the horse
is still on the ground with you at his head, to
slowly draw back the vehicle until the shafts
are quite clear of the horse. Then tell him
to " get up," which he will do quite quietly
and with the minimum of damage to his
knees. It is not often that a horse
sustains severe damage in the actual faU:
most occurs when the horse is scared and
struggles.

When a Uke accident occurs with the excit-
able unintelligent groom in charge, he generally
loses his head completely, jumps noisily ofi his
box, raises his voice to the horse and shouts
to the bystanders who run up to assist. If he
had kept quiet, the horse would have kept
quiet ; but excited by the commotion, the
noise, and the men running up to him, the
horse struggles and tries to get up. Entangled
by the harness and shafts, he rises only to fall

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

and struggle again, and thus the greater damage
is done.

In any and every kind of accident to a horse,
never raise the voice ; keep cool, talk to him
and pet him, and, even if he is hurt, you will
immediately disperse his fears and have him
under complete control.

177

THE MOST WONDEEFUL THING IN
THE WOELD

CHAPTER XIII

THE MOST WONDERFUL THING IN THE
WORLD

THE mystery of procreation and the con-
tinuation of life handed down from
generation to generation is the study of
aU studies, for it is the peak from which
every theory and problem of origin, relation-
ship, and destiny has, in final resort, to be
viewed and reviewed. The widest problems
of space, matter, and motion are involved ;
the meaning of the universe ; the reason and
object of life ; the why and whither of every-
thing. The contemplation of such high
thoughts is the true religion, the stay and
foundation of all morals.

Come down, from the contemplation of the
remote universe and its starry systems as a
whole, to this world ; from this world, to its
matter ; from matter in general, to organized
matter ; to the long development from the
lowliest organisms, up to insects, fishes, birds,
and beasts. Still further narrow the view to
the mammaha and man. They are so close

K 181

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

in affinity, as to be almost one in essence and
in spirit. So close are they that their
" whither " cannot He far apart.

In the quaUty of the senses man has Uttle
or no superiority over his brother mammalia.
In sight, hearing and smeU, other members
of the family have the greater gifts ; but some
of the birds have an incomparable supremacy
in long distance sight and hearing over any of
the mammaha. If man excels at all, it is in
the nuances of taste, but, more importantly,
in dehcacy of feeling, the hereditary results of
education in the course of thousands of genera-
tions.

As to brain and brain power, it seems certain
that every kind of animal's brain, including
man's, is developed (on an average of the
whole, but varjdng in respect of individuals)
to an equal pitch of efficiency and range, in the
sufficiency required to successfully maintain
their existence in their several modes of Hfe.
Brain power, in degree, consists in faciUty of
response to stimuU, and in aU matters of vital
importance the degree of brain power must
be equal in all animals ; but the range of brain
power will vary in accordance with the range
of stimuli, of which account has to be taken
to maintain existence. In degree, man's
brain power is probably not in excess of that
of any of the more intelligent mammals ; but
the range of stimuli encompassed is enormously

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

greater, hence the great development in the
mass of the human brain.

In man and the other mammals the stimuli
and methods of procreation are the same ;
the methods of carrying and bearing their
young, the sustenance of their young when
born, and their affection for their young, all
are the same in essence. What variation
there is in detail, is the circumstance of diver-
gent anatomical structure and mode of life.

But in the degree of development of the
young at birth, the most extraordinary vari-
ations occur. Kittens and puppies are born
blind, and are utterly helpless prey to any
bird or beast for whom they would form food.
For many days they sleep the whole time,
waking only for sustenance, and but for the
hereditary abilities of their mothers to success-
fully hide them, cats and dogs would long
ere this have been extinct species. The human
progeny, who arrives endowed with no more
intelligence than a bag of pulp, is in worse
case still, for the enlarged infant, while wholly
incapable of resistance but presenting solid
attractions as a meal for carnivora, declines
to lie low and remain hid in a bush. His
habit of advertising his precise locality by
piercing lamentations would have wiped tlie
human species also out of existence ; but for
the marvellous caprice, developed of heredity,
of the human female, who unprovided, like the

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

kangaroo, with a suitable pouch, actually
carried its young in its arms. Subsequent
expansion of the brain-pan of the male enabled
him to perceive that danger to the race lay in
reposing absolute reUance upon the permanent
continuance of a freakish female custom, so
with an expenditure of much grey brain-
matter, and with manj^^ headaches, he gradually
and in succession invented houses, bassinettes,
baby foods, nurse-girls, pohcemen and peram-
bulators. It is thus that the human race has
continued to this day — little stimuli acting
on a range of brain power sufficiently extended
and attuned to gather them in.

The prehistoric dog was a small animal like
a jackal, gregarious, without much strength
or courage, and no attacker except of small
things and dead carcases ; but his success in
hiding his mate and her young sufficed for the
long impotence of the puppies. The wild
boar, with his tusks, is a ferocious and courage-
ous beast, and the wild sow is no poltroon.
As the element of effective protection comes in,
the semi-comatose period of the young shortens.
The young pigs can run well in a very few
days. Wild cattle, and their cousins the
buffaloes, Uve in their herds, and both have
the habit, when danger appears, of forming a
circle, horns outwards, with the calves in the
middle. It takes several days before a calf
can move quickly. But the horse has no such

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

weapon of defence. His sole defence in danger
is promptness of action, and his great speed
in conveying himself away from its scene.

It is the foal that is the most wonderful
thing in the world. He comes into it equipped
mth every muscle fit for action, with every
sense developed to its full ; but most wonderful
of all, with a brain capable of instant decisions
and fortified mth experience. Only under such
conditions could the equine race have survived
prior to their association with man as their
protector. A critical examination of the con-
duct of a foal, immediately following his birth,
leaves not the shghtest doubt that he is en-
dowed with experience of the conditions of
his new environment. Obviously this experi-
ence has been gained in antenatal days. What
does this mean ? It means that he has seen
with his mother's eyes, heard with her ears,
smeUed with her nose, felt with her nerves.
Whatever stimuli of the outer world have acted
upon her brain have been transmitted through
the nerve connections of the umbilical cord —
the most wonderful telegraphic cable that
ever was, or will be, because it transmits sight,
sound, sensation, smell, sustenance and power,
aU in full degree and simultaneously — to the
receiving apparatus of the brain of the foal
witliin her body, and have acted upon his
brain also. When her brain has been at work,
his brain has been at work. When she has

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

thought of nothing in particular he has been
asleep. But in all the mare's moments of
excitement, quick mental decisions and vigorous
muscular actions, his brain has been educated
and his corresponding nerves and muscles
have been actuated under Uke, if shadowy,
impulses. Whatever has happened to her has
been enacted in parallel, more faintly, in him.
Even in the early foetus, rudimentary inchoate
stirrings must have taken place, ever growing
stronger with the gradual growth and extension
of the nervous system, until, with the antenatal
development of the foal approaching its
maximum, the impressions become so more and
more striking in their vividness as to compare
with those of the mare herself.

There is not the least doubt that towards
the end, the pictures of men, animals, herbage
and landscape formed within the foal's brain
are as complete in colour and definition as in
the brain of the mare herseK. The picture
grows upon the foal's brain exactly as it does
upon the ground glass plate of a camera with
the gradual opening of an iris diaphragm.
First of all nothing, then dim impressions of
movement, and of the greater masses of high
lights and deep shadows. These brighten and
deepen ; then come the beginnings of definition,
then in low tone a recognisable picture, and
finally, as when the diaphragm is completely
open, the same in the sharpest definition and

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

contrast. But however low the tone of the
picture, the movement in it is always that of
actuahty, and it is probable that movement,
rather than contrasts of hght and shade, makes
the earhest impression on the foal's mind, and
colour the last. The tone of the foal's pictures,
even at the end, is probably low, but the move-
ment, definition and contrasts quite perfect.

Here foals have the luck to be born mostly
in the early hours of a sunny morning in May,
the blessed month of wild flowers and sunshine.
In this world there is nothing more perfectly
entrancing and delicious than to be out in
flowering meadows between three and seven
on a sunny May morning, and nothing more
inspiring and wonderful than to be present at
the birth of a foal, and to watch its first actions
and impressions of the new Hfe. There is
much for reflection in the first actions of any
foal ; but if you have cared for and petted the
mother herself from a foal, and her mother
before her, you may receive the revelation of a
wonder vouchsafed but to few.

But first of the mare — who is one of your
dear and cherished friends — who loves you to
handle her. Those with experience in such
matters can foretell with considerable accuracy
the near approach of the great event. The
expansion of the udder with milk gives the
first warning, further expansion and great
hardness the next. Tlie final indication is the

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

coating of the tips of the teats with wax and
sometimes the actual leakage of milk. The
vigorous movements of the foal can be felt
and seen, and their effect on the mare must be
noted. Every day be out early, rain or fine.
If a wet cold snap comes on, it will almost surely
delay the birth until after its close, but do not
count on this with too great certainty, because
other causes may counteract. It is a kindly
provision of nature that a clear still morning
with good warmth in the early sunbeams,
quickly taking the dew off the grass, does help
the mare to her conclusion; so, on such a day,
make your cup of tea and go to her extra early.
If she is feeding as usual it means not yet ;
but if you find her standing or l3dng down there
is probabihty. If she is standing under the
shade of a tree, it means not yet. A mare
won't foal down near a plantation or thicket —
instinct following those primeval prejudices.
You can judge the immediate prospects almost
as soon as you get to her. If the foal occupies
the usual position there will be delay, but if,
from the changed contour of the flanks of the
mare, you can see there has been some displace-
ment rearwards and upwards, you will not
have very long to wait.

You can judge from the mare's expression
as you come up to her, and the turn of her eye,
whether she is in any pain. Pat and pet her.
She knows quite well what is going to happen,

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

and is waiting for it. You can see that she
is grateful to you for coming to be with her,
for if you move away a pace or two she will
almost certainly follow and stand by you
again. In a little while she will probably rest
her nose against your arm and quite likely
stand there just touching you, for the confi-
dence it gives her. You can feel the tension
when the pain comes, and tell just how long it
lasts. If a bad one comes she will push against
you quite hard. Don't talk to her. Just
stroke and pat her.

When the great pains begin she will move a
Uttle way from you and lie down. Her eyes
show her distress as they seek yours in appeal.
Go up to her and sit down in front of her head,
for when the paroxysms come she may want
to roll over on either side. When the pains
come stroke her on the forehead, hard. Hold
and pull her ears with both hands, massage
both cheeks together, then both eyes. You
can see it helps her, for when they pass, she
wiU rub her nose against you and may even
lick your hand. Don't talk to her when the
pains are on, just pull or push hard. She wiU
have intervals free from pain ; then get up and
stroke and scratch her neck and head, her
back and sides. She wiU he flat on her side
in her rehef, cocking back one ear the better to
listen to what you may say to her. When
you go back and sit in front of her again, her

189

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

affection for you is apparent in her every action.
More great pains, with a visible displace-
ment of her burden, then the final great con-
vulsions. The girding up and concentration
of muscular effort is immense. The muscles
of her neck stand out Uke ropes, her teeth are
set, and in the paroxysms of her anguish her
breath is forced out explosively in jerks and
moans. As you bend over, stroking gently
behind her trembhng ears, even in this ex-
tremity her wistful soul looks out to you in
tender regard.

Now the actual extrusion begins. First a
breaking up of the great waters which had
surrounded the membrane enclosing the foal,
and whose gradual accumulation has allowed
his greater freedom of movement, and are now
used to lubricate and ease his ejection. Then
the protrusion of the silvery semi-transparent
membrane, so deUcate that it is like a fabric
of white silk, and hidden within can be dis-
cerned, as they emerge, shapes of two tiny
hoofs, then pasterns and fetlocks and the
long forelegs and knees. All are masked in
this beautiful shroud, with its delicate tracery
of veins, for feeding its expansion with the
growth of the foal. Examine it while you
may, for its existence and use is soon to be
over. The mare's next spasm brings the out-
line of the little nose into view, and with con-
tinuous efforts the whole head is slowly

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

projected. Still the shrouded foal is sur-
prisingly quiet, apparently comatose for the
time being ; but the mare's greatest effort is
to come when the massive bulk of shoulders
and chest are to be thrust forth. It is good
to be here, for in this great effort you can
assist most materially to save her the strain and
its pains. It begins. Seize the legs of the
foal and pull hard. With a strange elastic
resistance, the form of the little creature
emerges, and, as that wonderful umbilical
cord is severed and he begins his independent
existence, the shock startles him into con-
sciousness. He throws out his head, strikes
out with his forelegs, the enclosing membrane
is broken and he takes his first breath. He
lies on the grass panting and gasping.*

The mare lies coUapsed, and for a while, is
wholly unconscious, lost to her troubles and
dead to the world. Draw the little fellow
along the grass by the forelegs around to his
mother's head, so that, when she recovers,
her foal may be the first thing she sees. It
will save her a struggle to rise, and she will
be quite content. She will know you have
him safely in charge and are there to protect
him from enemies of every possible kind.
Let her rest aU she can.

* The first and supremely important thing to be done
immediately after the birth of a foal, is to tie up and sterilise
the umbilical cord. Many foals are lost every year through
failure to take this precaution.

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

]Now examine this newly-born, gasping,
shivering httle person. All of his previous
existence has been so warm and comfy, that
to be suddenly ejected from his agreeable
habitation, in an exceedingly moist condition,
even into the sunshine of a May morning, is
the most chill and most surprising experience.
He is very wet, feels the cold horribly, and is
shaking all over with it. He sits up quite
alert, but the bright sunshine makes him bhnk
and shut his eyes. His ears are quivering
mth the cold, but alreadj^ he is using them —
pricked forwards and backwards as they are
attracted by the early morning sounds, the
distant bark of a dog, the lowing of a cow.
What a perfect httle thing he is ! That tiny
httle nose and mouth ! His hps are moving,
and you can just see the httle pink tongue.
That exquisite httle mane, with the curl in
the hair and the beautiful arch of his neck !
His steaming coat shines in the sun, acurl and
wavy. Look at the long yellow legs and their
clean-cut firm tendons ; the very perfection of
modelhng !

Now look out for the curious and most
interesting vestigial zebra markings, which
many foals possess, especially if they are got
by Arab sires. The markings are most clearly
distinguishable at birth and for the first few
weeks afterwards, but fade as the foal's coat
grows longer, and it quite often happens that

192

S m

(f)

OQ

V 1.

HI-

Mare Zebra in the Jardin
des Plantes, Paris

Zebra striping of chestnut
foal— wave-line curling of hair.

r

I

Rotund in his dun-coloured stage : showing his Zebra stripings

[To face page igs

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

when the foal's coat is cast, and the new coat
comes on, they are not there at all. You may
see one or more dark lines running parallel
along the spine from mane to tail, with strongly-
marked, cloudy patches on the wither branch-
ing off into rays on the shoulders and ribs.
Look for cross stripings on the inside and out-
side of the knees and hocks, the forearms and
near the pasterns, and on the thighs and hind
pasterns. You may see rays on the neck
and chest, and on the ears. But the most
striking of all, when well developed, are the
concentric semi-circular markings on the fore-
head, and the stripes on the cheeks running
down to near the nose. The arrangements
of the markings show considerable variation
on the back, loins and body ; but on the head,
neck, withers and legs they closely follow the
striping of the zebra, and prove most con-
clusively that right away towards the dawn of
equine life the horse and zebra had common
ancestors. It often happens in bright bays
and chestnuts that dark marks are absent,
but the striping is shown by wave hnes in the
hair. On the forehead this is particularly
noticeable.* Sometimes a wave-Hne in the

*In Toluca, near Mexico City, the writer in 1908 saw and
photographed a red dun pony on which were most prominent
zebra markings in white, or rather very light yellow. The
film spool containing the pictures was, with several other
gpools containing photographs of remarkable striped ponies,

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

hair at its termination becomes a coloured line.
Thie colom' of the very early horse was most
probably dun, and the dun pony and horse of
to-day often carry, even as adults, the most
pronounced vestigial zebraical markings. The
colours and markings of horses are a most
fascinating study. In grey horses the zebra
markings sometimes appear as white stripes.
The white " trees," on the hind legs of grey
horses with dark points, are a subject worthy
of extended comparative examination and
record.

Then see the curious white excrescences,
attaching themselves hke snowballs at the
base of those beautiful feet. They are worthy
of the most careful and special examination.
They are fibrous, soft and springy, almost
Hke greasy rubber, but they project so far
that clearly they would interfere with his walk-
ing. Little smears and pieces are already
breaking away. Obviously their attachment
is temporary. Do you know what they are
for ? They are lubricating cushions on the
sharp edges of the hoofs, to fend them from
cutting the caul when the foal is approaching
maturity and exercises the muscles of his legs.
So long as the membrane remains intact, the
action of the lungs does not begin. All births

most unfortunately the subject of an accident in which they
were all destroyed. Naturally, the lost pictures were the
best of all those taken.

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

are not as straightforward as that of this little
man. Wrong presentations sometimes occur.
Sometimes the foal struggles within the mem-
brane, his head is projected and withdrawn,
and, if he had cut the membrane with his
hoofs and had drawn but one breath, he would
be suffocated, and a dead foal would be dropped.
It is the kind of provision that might have
been suggested by an Engineer if Nature had
called him in to advise her how to stop the killing
of colts by this cause, but he would have been
puzzled how to attach springy self-lubricating
pads to the hoofs. To Nature, in her dull
old slow way, it presented just no difficulty
at all. Why should it ? In her patent
evolution machinery she had made hoofs from
hair by the simple process of making the hairs
adhere together, compressed into a solid and
hardened fibrous mass capable of withstanding
hard wear and tear ; so why should she not
turn another handle, and arrange a prolonga-
tion of these same hair fibres beyond the
hardened section ; but so that they should
become more and more gelatinous as they
extended and finally become just plain lubri-
cating material ? That evolution machine of
hers is a marvel ; and that's just what old
Dame Nature did, and then issued her survival
of the fittest edict that those foals, who grew
footpads, should have the better chance of
living to propagate their kind, and that those

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

who did not should mostly perish untimely
and leave no descendants. When the foal
first endeavours to get up, he will slip on his
lubricators leaving thick streaks of the jelly
on the grass, and it is only when the softer
ropy mucilage has been rubbed off and worn
down to the harder material, near the hoof
proper, that he will get any foothold at all.

The foal's eyes are getting more accustomed
to the brightness of the light and although
he still quakes with the cold and blinks a Uttle,
he begins already to take an interest in the
things of this wide world, in which he has so
suddenly found himself. Tlie scent of the
grass is the very first thing that attracts him
and he puts down his nose to touch and to
smell it. Once or twice he does so, and
approves. It is the grass that he touches.
He knows all about it, and, in that dreamland,
has seen it before and the buttercups as well.
A big buttercup touches his nose, but he dis-
dains it, and pushes down to the young grass
that his dam found so sweet. The mare lies
motionless stretched out with closed eyes, the
foam about her nostrils and mouth and on the
herbage, telling of the throes of the struggle
safely past.

With clearing vision the foal looks about him.
His eyes are wide open now, and comprehension
comes into his gaze. He has seen all these
things before, mistily maybe, but the same

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

things — grass and flowers, trees, sky. He has
rested quite still where you placed him, with
those long legs half tucked under him — and
they are so dreadfully long, and his knees so
workmanUke and big. A foal seems all legs,
as if some three sizes too big had been allotted
to him in error. Wait and see, they are his
business ends, and in that long while ago it
was the foals, who could gallop, survived.

He licks his Ups and opens his mouth and
makes little jerks with his neck, and now he
puts one foreleg out. It is not yet a full ten
minutes that the little horse has been born, and
yet, already he is anxious to rise. He puts the
other foreleg out and makes his first effort to
get up. He slips on those padded feet, and,
in the excitement of the tumble, utters his
first little cry. It is almost like the bleat of a
lamb ; but it penetrates the poor fogged brain
of the mother, and instantly she is awake, ears
forward, eyes straining to see him, and she
responds with a faint little neigh. She tries
to rise, but is too weak — all the strength has
gone out of her, and she falls back. The foal
looks round and stretches his little face to her,
and again that little bleat. You push him
forward, so that she can just touch and smell
him. A little further still. She is content,
and, still lying down, just licks him with the
tip of her tongue, her eyes closing again out of
pure weakness. But only for a moment.

O 197

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend '

Bracing herself, she rolls up on to her knees,
and, trembUng with weakness, eagerly smells
him from head to foot. Yes, it's really and
truly her own.

But as she begins to lick his face ever so
gently, one of the big after-pains overtakes
her, and she is forced to throw herself down.
After the struggle she is exhausted, but happy,
for she knows you are looking after her foal.
You talk to her, and it helps to keep her quiet ;
but the foal is getting obstreperous now. He
wants to get up and means to, so you pull him
over to lie flat on his side, and, as he still
shivers, rub him to warm him. He Hkes the
rubbing for a little while ; but the over-
mastering desire to get up again seizes him,
and he rolls up to have another try. He gets
as tar as putting some weight on his forelegs,
then flops over ignominiously alongside the
mare, where for a time he is pacified, while
she, now somewhat recovered, performs her
first maternal duty of licking him all over.
It is pretty to see the pleasure it gives her.
Then energy again awakes within him, and
the legs are astir. His sole ambition is to get
up. He rises on his knees and succeeds,
groggUy enough, in keeping himself up thus
far for a few seconds ; then falls over on his
side and is quiet. But only for a little while.
There is something more than mere voHtion
in these restless efforts to get up. There is

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

that within him, which impels. Dame
Nature's evolution machine has been at it
again and has planted that hereditary spur.
The foals that were not early on their feet
and afield had the lesser chance of survival.
Those who were up and doing, and able to
gallop within the fewest number of minutes,
survived to propagate their like. It is one
of a myriad examples of the inexorable law
of the survival of the fittest.

However often the foal tumbles over, the
overmastering impulse is immediately again
at work. Watch him for a httle. The mare
herself, with enormous effort, gets upon her
legs and stands there swaying and tottering,
but determined not to go down again. A
Httle yellow milk is spurting from her teats,
and she rubs the foal with her nose and con-
tinues to lick him. She is still so weak that
perforce she has to stand where she is and let
the foal, in his gymnastics, wander a little
away from her. What with the licking, the
evaporation in the sunshine, and the increasing
warmth of his body, the colt is steaming and
getting dryer. Not the worst of tumbles
daunts him now. He has learnt the trick
of putting out his forefeet wide apart to steady
his swaying and is trying to get foothold be-
hind. Many are the slips until the hind snow-
balls disappear ; but he struggles on, and
when he does get a real grip, his propulsive

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

power is so great that he gets shot over on to
his poor httle nose. Is he discouraged ? Not
a whit. He tries it again, and gets a hke
tumble. He learns. Once more he makes a
try, and, in a better balance of muscular efforts,
he is actually up on four shaking legs, just
long enough to look round at his Mother and
give a little bleat of victory. Then the whole
wobbling structure collapses, and he is on the
ground kicking out his disappointment. He
reassembles himself, and, in the interval of
recoupment, has another sniff at the grass.
He knows quite well what it is for, and nibbles
at it.

The spur is at him again. He fights his
way up on to the top of those tall legs, remains
perched up a httle longer, wobbles about for
his balance, succeeds in maintaining it, wobbles
again, and tips over. He is perfectly indomit-
able. He is no sooner down than he starts
a fresh effort. Look at the hnes of resolution
in the muscles of his mouth and nose, as he
makes his next fight to get up. He remembers
what happened to him before, and is very
careful when he gets to the top. Puts restraint
on his muscles ; wobbles a bit, but recovers ;
better sense of balance ; draws his head up,
then lowers it a little ; puts one foot a little
forward and finds better support ; then the
next and another — near risk of a tumble that
time — but recovery of balance quite good ;

200

THE BIRTH OF A FOAL

In the search for sustenance all foals invariably start at the
wrong end

Right— at last !

ITo face page 201

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

then a rest with a new sense of poise, and a
bobbing head looks round at the dam. He
actually tries to turn in her direction, makes
three wobbling steps, trips, and comes down.
It has been big business, his flanks are heaving
with the exertion, and he is quite glad to rest
a little. But again the spur, and he is up
once more, making uncertainly towards his
Mother. He has had many exertions. For
the first time in his life he experiences a sen-
sation of hunger. The sensation of hunger
and his Mother are somehow inextricably con-
nected together in his mind. The more
hungry he feels, the more he wants her.

Tlie mare has had affairs of her own to
attend to, and is resting ; but all the while
she has kept an attentive and sometimes even
a strained gaze on her foal during his tumbles.
But she has been in no fear for him, partly
on account of her confidence in your presence
to protect him if need were, but mainly because
that evolution machine of Dame Nature's has
implanted the hereditary instinct in her mind
that this gymnastic exhibition of her colt, to
its completion, is a necessary preliminary,
both to her feeding him, and to her being able
to take him away if danger should arise. In
the wild, foals are always dropped in a place
far removed from possible attack. The in-
stinct, that this performance has to be gone
through without interruption, is just as deeply

201

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

impressed upon her mind, as the instinct to
immediately get on his legs is impressed on
the mind of the colt. Of course if danger did
actually arise, from a dog, from cattle or
horses on the move, or if she were apprehensive
of such danger, she would be by her foal in an
instant to protect him from all comers ; and
she would give her life for him, whatever her
own condition. Safe and alone, she will give
the foal room for his antics, and wait patiently
until she sees that he has surmounted his
difficulties and can stand up. Then she will
set herself to give liim his first meal.

The foal is up and comes doddering along.
Quite Ukely he has another upset on the journey,
but picks himself up and reaches his goal.
He is glad to be with her and fumbles at her
with his nose, while she bends down and licks
him most lovingly. The conviction in the
foal's mind, now that he has reached her, that
his Mother has to do with food, grows infinitely
stronger. He does not yet know what to
expect, but he snuggles his nose against her ;
then opens his lips and sucks at her hair. It is
not very satisfactory, but it's better than
nothing. He tries a little further on, with no
other result. But his hunger increases, and
the scent of his Mother's skin sharpens his
appetite. He gets impatient and pecks at her.
Then searches about her forelegs and getting
no satisfaction, positively stamps with vex-

202

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

ation, loses his balance, and down he goes.
The mare licks his prostrate form, but the
foal is not enthused, and struggles up in double
quick time for further investigations.

The mare sets herself, and, wandering
around, the foal gets right on to the target,
but misses recognising it, although he comes
away with a streak of milk on his nose. But
he has got a sniff of the milk, which quite
excites him. He has got good balance now,
although still wobbly. He is dead keen on
the matter, and searches all sorts of impossible
places far removed from the real source of
refreshment. He keeps coming round to the
forelegs, quite obviously of opinion that, if
the source isn't there, it ought to be, or at
least in the immediate neighbourhood. In his
peregrinations he has twice got on to the target
itself, and has again passed it by. The mare
is utterly patient, but is convinced that in
this matter of search for sustenance she has
got a fool of a son. He is getting faint with
hunger and wanders about, a little aimlessly,
just smelling around in any old place, and
entirely by accident, alights right on to the
very thing. Oh ! such a suck ! And another,
and another ! His table manners are deplor-
able, for those sucks can be heard half across
the field.

Then he sets himself square down to the
business, all his legs planted out in the firmest

203

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

support. Suck — suck — suck. He pushes so
hard that the milk in the other teat is forced
out in a fine spray over his nose and his face.
Nothing matters. He is glued to that teat
as if, once lost, it would be lost for ever and
ever. The old mare is frightfully pleased.
He is not such a fool as she thought. The
foal's tail is ashake in the ecstasy of that first
long drink, and the mare bends round her
head and licks it and to as far as she can reach
of his rump. She hcks his buttocks and hocks
— he is her very own foal.

Every good thing has an end and, suck hard
as he may, Mr. Foal has the dreadful fact
forced upon him that, still frightfully hungry,
the sustenance has come to a conclusion. He
tries again. No result. It's altogether too
bad. Once more. He thought he had got a
taste of it that time and perseveres, but no
good. This is terrible, and he withdraws to
think the matter over. A bright idea strikes
him. He has discovered one favoured spot ;
and might there not be others ? He renews
his search. He is still of opinion that a Refresh-
ment Bar should always be right in the fore-
front of the premises, and accordingly rein-
vestigates all the country around his Mother's
forelegs. Barren of all result. He considers,
and it occurs to him that he has not yet ex-
plored the off side of his dam and that there
might be surprises there. It is worth trying^

204

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

so round he waddles on legs, kept very wide
apart for stability. It is no accident this
time, but the fair reward of a reasoned out
conclusion and a diligent search over a very
extended area that he at last discovers a second
magazine near the other, loaded with the
sustenance he is seeking. He engages and
positively engorges. He sucks until he can
suck no more ; backs a little ; replete to un-
steadiness, he circumnavigates the vitualler ;
incontinently tumbles down, and immediately
falls fast asleep. The mare drops her nose to
give him just one touch, and then, with her
head held a little low, stands on guard. She
shuts her eyes and lazily wags her long tail
to flick off the flies. It's more than likely she
gets a snooze or two herself, and well she
deserves them.

All this time you have kept quite quiet,
lying down at a discreet distance, close enough
to see all that is happening and to give the
confidence of your presence to the mare, and
yet far enough away to interfere in no way
with the foal.

He sleeps for a good half hour, then awakes
fuU of strength and energy. He is in no doubt
as to the object of his next move. Gets up
and goes straight to the department of supply,

205

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

and finds that fresh stores have come in, and
annexes the lot. The mare has been waiting
for this, and now that, for the time being, she
has been of all the use she can be to him, and
after a glance to see that you are still there,
she decides that it is her turn to take a rest,
sinks down on to the warm grass and rolls
over, with a grunt of relief, flat on her side.
This is a surprise to the foal, and at first he
hardly knows what to make of it. He stands
off for a little, all eyes and ears, then some-
what apprehensively approaches his prostrate
parent and smells her. She seems all right,
but he is not certain. He hesitates, then
moves a little further, puts down his head
and smells her again, and so on until he finally
concludes that there's nothing much amiss.
The mare Ues motionless, except for an
occasional flick of the tail. The foal is full and
feels quite good, and, the interest in his parent
having subsided, draws himself up and looks
about for adventure.

This is your great opportunity, so arise quite
slowly and stand stock still. Then it is that
this great marvel happens. The foal looks at
you ; knows you ; recognises that old hat and
coat, and with a cheerful toss of the head
makes straight for you without any hesitation
whatever. Right up to you he comes, affec-
tion for you gleaming in his beautiful eyes, and
there — ^with his dear nose — he touches your

206

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

outstretched hand ! Lower your hand quite
slowly and he follows up your arm, touching
and smelling your clothing, lifts his nose on to
your waistcoat and looks up into your face.
Put your hand on his neck and stroke him.
Scratch him, he loves it. Get to his wither
and scratch, and — O Miracle ! — he scratches
back. You can handle him anywhere, and
in any way you like. You can hft either fore-
leg, or lift him up by both. He has seen and
liked you in the dreamland, and now he has
come to you, face to face, he accepts you,
right there, as his best playfellow. There is
no doubt as to his real affection for you. You
can see it in his eyes. Put one arm round his
neck, and scratch him on the back and sides.
He goes almost wild with delight, gives little
jumps off the ground with both forefeet to-
gether, twists his head round and gnaws at
your elbow. Release him, and take a step
or two backwards. Instantly he follows up,
and pushes hard into you, begging to be
scratched again. If you don't he will stamp
with impatience, and if that is no good, he will
jump up on you, quite likely putting both
feet on your chest ! Give him a real good
scratching again, like his Mother's lickings, all
over. It entrances him. Then lie down on
the grass, take off your hat, and keep quiet
and see what he will do to you. He will smell
you first at what part is nearest, and work up

207

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

till he comes to your head. He will smell
your ear, your face, your hair, and then make
a complete examination, finishing up with
your boots. Apparently all is satisfactory,
and he is thinking of the next thing. If j^ou
still keep quiet, it will intrigue him, and he
will lift up a forefoot and paw you with it.
Quite slowly and gently to start with, but, if
he fails to stir you up he gets impatient and
paws quicker and harder, first with one foot
and then with the other. Then rise slowly on
your elbow and, as slowly, put out your hand
and capture his foreleg. He is not afraid
and will stop the pawing to bend down and sniff
at your fingers. Shake the leg, it wiU amuse
him and he will himself assist in the shak-
ing of hands. At last he will pull back to
release it, but he will be quite ready to do it
all over again. Then get up — always slowly —
and go towards the mare. He will follow ;
push into you ; rub his neck against you from
intensity of pure affection for you ; make off,
as though to run away, and come back to you.
That you should be made thus the object of
the pure love of a creature so newly come into
the world is an experience that you will never
cease to wonder at, and for all your life the
memory of that entrancing half hour will be a
priceless and undimmed treasure.*

♦This is not a story of the imagination. It happened to
the writer exactly as described. Twice since then have his

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

newborn foals recognised him in almost precisely the same
way, and with the same manifest pleasure. On the first
occasion the wi'iter was so dumbfounded with the surprise
of the occurrence that he could hardly believe his senses.
But he had to ; for there was no mistaking the extraordinary
personal affection for him of the newborn foal. The two
later cases put the matter beyond any question or doubt.
It was thus that he was led to consider how this extraordinary
thing could be, and to develop the theory, set out in this
chapter, as the best explanation of the facts.

It would greatly interest the writer to learn if others have
had any similar experience, or would take the trouble to try
to obtain it. It is so wonderfully beautiful, that it is worth
a great deal of personal time and trouble. He has been a
pony breeder for about 18 years and his animals have always
been very devoted to him. Nearly all carry the blood of his
two Arab stallions, Rohan and Marzouk (Vide G.S.B.Vol.
XX.), and some combine it. This may have some bearing
on the case, as all three foals had Arab blood, and the first
was pure Arab.

To any who desire to test the matter independently, the
writer suggests that they should follow the same course as
that by which the results were produced. Select a mare
who has great personal affection for you, and let her be covered
by a staUion, who has the same great affection for you. Keep
the mare in a home paddock, so that you have many oppor-
tunities of going to her during the whole period of her preg-
nancy. When you are with her, pet her a great deal ; handle
her all over ; scratch her neck and back ; give her a little
sugar. If you can help it never miss a day, and be with her
at least 15 or 20 minutes daily. When you enter the paddock,
call her, and make her come up to you, which she wiU do at
the canter. During the last three months, that is to say
when the foal receives his more defined impressions, go, if
possible, twice a day to the mare, taking care to wear the
same old coat and hat. The mare wiU be delighted every
time with your attentions, and, if the theory is correct, all
these impressions are duly transmitted to the foal, and become
part of his experience. Do your best to be present at the
actual birth of the foal, which must take place in the same
paddock in which all these impressions have been received.

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

In a stable, or in another field, everything would be un
familiar to the foal, distracting his attention from you, and it
is an object that it should be concentrated upon you. No
stranger should accompany you. You must be quite alone.

In one case, the writer did not arrive in time for the birth,
and the foal was already upon its legs. The foal trotted up
to him at once with the same extraordinary manifestations
of pleasure and affection.

August 18th, 1917. Since the above footnote was written
two more foals have been born at Goldings this year, in which
instant recognition of the writer, as the result of prenatal
acquaintance, was conspicuously demonstrated. The first
was a colt foal (now named " Kohan's Last Gift," as he was
the last foal got by the old horse before his death by my
hand on the 5th August, 1917, as a happy release from great
suffering) by my Arab Stallion Rohan, ex Cubawinna, dam
Windermere, who had arrived in the early morning of the
5th June, about half an hour before I came upon the scene
and was still in the climbing-on-to-his-legs stage. He mani-
festly recognised me with pleasure and made for me each time
he got up. He kept whinnying to me to come to him, and
when I did so, rubbed his head and neck against me from
sheer delight. His keen affection for me is described by my
friends as truly remarkable.

The second was a filly foal, " Exmarsa," by the thorough-
bred horse Explorer ex my mare Marsanda (by Marzouk ex
Sanderling), born on Sunday, the 22nd July. Although over-
due the filly's arrival was quite unexpected, as the mare had
not begun to make up. A friend, Mr. WilMam J. Cambridge, of
Hazlewood, Loughton, had called to see the amusing ways
with me of " Rohan's Last Gift," and I took him into the
home-field to find the little colt. It was seen that all the
mares had gone into the sheds to get away from the heat
and flies, and as I entered the gate-way into the shed en-
closure, I found a wee chestnut foal just born, which Marsanda
was licking, with all the other ponies standing round in a
semi-circle as most interested observers. It was lying in
a very awkward place, most uncomfortably. The moment
it saw me it stretched out its little head and neighed to me.
It tried to get up to come to me. I petted it and made it
happy, and then determined to get it out on to the grass

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

And so, playing together, you come back to
the mare. She is quite strong now, and so is
the colt, and both are ready for anything.
She gets up, and he revictuals himself. When
he is done you clap your hands, and the mare
takes him off for his first canter. She goes
quietly at first, looking back to see that the
foal follows, which he does gaily. Now watch
him closely. The mare starts with a slow trot,
making a semicircle to let the foal get up to
her. He makes a short cut, dodges round a
clump of quickly growing thistles, and a little
later round a fallen branch, showing that he
already has knowledge of what they are, and
that they are things to be avoided. He
reaches his mother, and from pure joy bounds
into the air beside her. In a second bound
he throws his forelegs on to her back. This
makes her increase her pace, and the little
chap canters alongside, just at her shoulder.
He is going quite strong, when he makes a
sudden slip, and over he goes. The mare
checks herself, sees that nothing is amiss, and

and into the sun. It had not found its legs, so there was
difficulty in doing so, but it looked upon me as its best friend,
and did all it could to help. Finally I got it on to the grass
and its demeanour to me of pronounced affection excited
Mr. Cambridge's extreme surprise.

As he is the only man who, except myself, has seen this
curious and interesting phenomenon of recognition as the
result of prenatal acquaintance, Mr. Cambridge has kindly
permitted me to give his name and address as being a witness
thereto.

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

then goes ahead a little slower. It is evident
she thinks she may have been going a little
too fast on this first run round. He catches
her up in a jiffey, and moves along with his
tail aloft, prancing. Then she makes a pretty
sharp turn away from him, which he did not
expect, and so overshoots the mark, but he
joins her again, after a wide sweep. She goes
through this manoeuvre again, and this time
the colt is more ready and the sweep is not so
wide. She is taking him on quite a long trail
through the field, which has little hills and
dales in it, but at first she takes care to run
along the contours and not across them. The
mare increases her pace to a slow canter and
makes more sharp turns. It is wonderful how
weU the little chap keeps up, and without
any undue exertion.

There is a large pond in the field, formed
by a high dam thrown across a valley ; and
although the top of the dam is her favourite
short cut, she carefully avoids it, and, to keep
him out of harm's way, makes a long detour
around the pond. They do a mile or more in
this winding course without stopping, and
they visit every part of the field. Then the
mare now does a rather remarkable thing ;
she makes her first stop at a long wire fence,
with the clear object of drawing the foal's
special attention to it. Without even looking
at the fence he proposes to utilise the halt

212

THE BIKTH OF A FOAL

Investigating the Master

A first lesson in deportment at four days old

{To face page 212

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

for the immediate intake of miore sustenance,
but she won't let him, and manoeuvres him so
that he is pressed up against the wires, with
his head under hers, and so that he cannot
get away. She keeps him there for two of
three minutes, then trots along the whole
length of the fence and returns along it, and
only then lets the thirsty foal have his drink.

Up at the stables someone, forgetful of
orders, lets loose a white bull-terrier, and his
dehghted barking fills the air. You see him
nosing up and down the lawn to pick up your
scent. He finds it, pushes through the iron
fence, gets on your track and comes bounding
across the field. He is extremely fond of the
ponies and they are equally good friends with
him. They all smell and lick him to show
their keen regard. Sam's last job at night is
to go round the horses and ponies in all the
fields, all on his own, to see they are all right,
and it is his first job in the morning to do
the same round as soon as he is loosed. Sam
races up to you and jumps around as usual,
then catches sight of his old friend the mare
and starts off to pay his usual respects. Hullo !
what is this ? She's got something with her !
By Heaven, this must be looked into. Sam
is usually quite obedient and stays — more or
less — at heel when you tell him to ; but on this
occasion the excitement is altogether too much
for him ; and although you yell at him, he goes

p 213

Tlie Horse, as Comrade and Friend

on — with pauses, because your yells tell him
his is a sinful act — until he gets near the mare.
She turns to move away, for, although she is
very fond of Sam, she is not quite certain
that, in this newness of things, he is to be
altogether reUed upon not to chase the foal.
As for the foal, he doesn't move ; but stands
on legs very wide apart, gazing fixedly at
Sam. He has seen this white dog in the
dreamland, and is not afraid ; but the trouble
is that Sam has not seen him ; hence the ex-
treme deUcacy of the situation. Sam sits
down, quivering with excitement, and gazes
equally fixedly at the foal.

The foal is taking a particular interest in
Sam, especially since he sat down, and doesn't
move. But the mare continues to walk away,
expecting the foal to follow. As she sees he
doesn't, she neighs to him, and the foal turns
his head to look at her. Noting the growing
distance between himself and the commissariat,
the foal gives a leap, and starts after his mother
at full gallop. Too much for Sam ! who is up
and after the foal, not with the least evil intent,
but devoured with curiosity. The mare's
apprehensions are aroused, and, calHng the
foal loudly, she breaks into a canter. Now
these two act in perfect unison, and, without
the least hesitation on the part of the foal as to
the part he is to play, he races up to her far
shoulder and keeps his place there. The mare

214

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

manoeuvres herself and curves her path, so
that she always keeps herself between Sam
and the foal. Sam has never seen the mare
fly away from him before, and, with the added
attraction of this little thing racing with her,
thinks it a great game and humps himself to
get up with them. You call Sam but with no
effect, and the race continues all round the
field, until the foal begins to get a little pumped.
The mare sees this, and, suddenly facing round,
goes for Sam with open mouth and forelegs
viciously striking at him. Sam was out for
fun and not for a fight, so turns tail and plumps
himself down in some long grass. All that
can be seen of him above it are his eyes and
two cocked ears. The mare goes to the foal,
who has dropped behind, sniffs him to see that
he is all right, and, catching sight of you, makes
in your direction, but bending her head to keep
an eye on the traitorous Sam. The foal follows
slowly behind, but, as soon as he sees you, up
he comes at a trot and pushes himself boister-
ously against you. You pat him, scratch his
neck and back, from delight of which he rubs
his head and neck vigorously up and down
your waistcoat. The old mare comes up and
touches you with her nose, and stands by —
still with an eye on Sam.* So all is peace and
harmony once more, and, in a moment or two,

*In three days Sam and the foal were inseparable pals.

216

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

the foal, forgetting all else, is busy gathering
in his rations.

Consider for a moment what you have just
seen. The foal has shown inteUigence of a
high order, keen affection, courage, good judg-
ment and decision ; all of which depend on
experience ; a physical capacity to gallop at
speed, showing that his bones, muscles and
ligaments are in fine working condition : he
has recognised the meaning and potentiahties
of everything he has seen and has conducted
himself accordingly — and he is not yet three
hours' old ! Is he not truly the most wonderful
thing in the world ?

216

TWO MYSTEEIES

CHAPTER XIV
TWO MYSTERIES

NOT being a literary genius like my
cousin Dion Clayton Calthrop, I
suspect this book to be full of trans-
gressions against recognised literary canons ;
but it seemed good to try to avoid strewing
its pages with an everlasting first personal
pronoun singular, and in this I have managed
hitherto to succeed ; but the incidents to be
related in this last chapter are so very personal
to myseK that it has been beyond my abihty
to handle them in the same impersonal way.

To the man who regards his horses merely
as so many racing or hauling machines for
making money, this and the previous chapter
will have no interest, and may appear ridicul-
ous. There are others, and I believe a good
many, who will appreciate the bearing of these
experiences, which occurred exactly as I have
related them, upon the psychological inter-
relationship of men and animals. At all events

219

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

to me they have given much to ponder over ;
and I have unfolded them somewhat at length
in order that the precurrent conditions may
be understood.

Shortly after the dispersal of a great racing
stud, I had the opportunity in 1911 of pur-
chasing a very shapely little thoroughbred
bay mare Windermere (1901) 14-2 J hds. (by
Pride, ex The Lake by Barcaldine) who had
been covered by Persimmon's well-known
brother Flor-di-Cuba (by Florizel II.). I pro-
posed to breed Polo ponies from her. When
Windermere first arrived and was turned out
into the home field, she was unusually wild,
and refused to allow anyone to approach her.
Evidently at some time and in some way she
had been ill-treated, for she hated the sight
of a man; and it was several weeks, although
I used my most persuasive efforts, before she
would permit me to get anywhere near her.
When finally she did surrender to my blandish-
ments, it was in the most whole-hearted way ;
but she would have nothing to do with anyone
else. Probably I was the first man to make
a real friend of her. Anyhow, after a little
while I could do anything with her, and when-
ever I came into the field she raced up to me
and refused to leave me while I was there.

220

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

Whenever I crossed the fence into the next
field, she never took her eyes from me, but
waited for my return, and never left her place
at the fence. Curiously she was not jealous
of my attentions to other ponies in her own
field, and when I went up to them she waited
nearby until I was free, and then followed
me, wherever I went, just at my elbow. If I
lay or sat down on the grass, she had the habit
of standing behind me with her head bent over
mine, and every now and then used to lick
me on the back of my neck.

I never can resist being licked by a horse ;
licking you and gently rubbing his nose and
head against you, with sometimes a gentle
little nip, just as hard as he would give to his
pet mare, are really the only means available
to him of showing the running over of his
affection for you.

When Windermere's foal arrived on the 2nd
May, 1912, I was present and did what I could
to help her ; for which she seemed to be extra-
ordinarily appreciative, for she divided her
attentions, and licked me almost as much as
she did her foal. Her filly foal, Cubawinna,
became a great pet; and during that summer
the pair, when they saw me on the lawn, or
getting over the railings into the field, in-
variably raced up to me at top speed.

When weaning time came, Windermere was
greatly distressed at losing her foal, and I

221

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

gave her a good deal of extra petting, which
she returned with many signs of her affection
for me. It was at that time that she got badly
entangled one night in a wire fence ; so badly
that she could not move. I heard her calling
to me when I awoke about 6 o'clock in the
morning, and got up to see what was the
matter. As I came up to her, she kept on
whinnying to me, to tell me all about it. After
a great deal of work I got her out of the trouble.
She realised I was helping her ; did not struggle,
and did just what I wanted her to do.

She always knew when Saturday afternoon
and Sunday came ; for on those days — and
not on any other weekday — she would always
feed quite near the iron railing of the garden,
or stand for a long while looking over it^ on the
oS chance of seeing me. If she saw me in the
distance, she kept on whinnying until I went
up to her. I mention these things to show
that I had a very special attraction for her.

In the early morning of the 18th March, 1913,
at 3.20 a.m. I was awakened from the most
dense sleep ; not by any noise or neighing —
but by a call conveyed to me — I know not
how — from Windermere. I could hear no-
thing— not a sound outside, although it was a
perfectly stiU night — but as I became fully

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

conscious I felt the call in my brain and nerves,
and I knew that Windermere was in direst
extremity, and was entreating me to come
instantly to her aid. I threw a coat over my
pyjamas, pulled on my boots and ran across
the garden for all I was worth. There was no
cry; but in some extraordinary way I could
tell exactly from what direction this soundless
S.O.S. call was coming, although it was per-
ceptably feebler than when it awoke me. As
soon as I left the house I realised, to my horror,
that the call came from the direction of the
pond. I ran on, but the S.O.S. became fainter
and fainter, and had ceased altogether before
I could get to the pond. As I came near, I
could just make out the surface of the water
covered with ripples, which had not yet
subsided, and, in the centre, a dark mass
silhouetted against the reflection of the dim
light of the sky. I knew it was the body of
poor Windermere and that she was dead.

The poor mare was not got out until midday,
and it was not till then that we understood
exactly what had happened. That she had
evidently gone for a drink from the steep side
of the dam and had shpped in, we already
knew from the marks on the grass, which were
plain to see ; but we could not understand

223

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

why she had not been able to swim ashore.
In the water, which was very deep, she had
struck out to swim and in some way had thrown
her right foot through her head-stall. She
had made a most gallant struggle to free her
leg, as the condition of the headstall showed.
She had broken part, and the rest was nearly
broken through — a little more and she would
have been free. In her death agony she slipped
a filly foal by Rohan, and its poor little body
was found floating beside its Mother's.

I can only relate the facts. I cannot explain
them. Call it, if you please, a case of mental
telepathy, but it does not get one very much
nearer. One deduction does, however, emerge
with clarity — the receiving and transmitting
apparatus must have been very closely attuned.
I loved the mare, and the circumstances of her
death made the most profound impression upon
me. Even now, if I catch sight of anything
floating in that pond, with the smallest resem-
blance to what I saw that night, the memory
of it gives a stab at my heart.

I have never known a cheerier foal. She
was the gayest, most lighthearted, happiest,
merriest little fairy that ever was born. She

224

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

lived but a little time on this earth ; but there
is one who to his dying day will never forget
her. In colour she was the most perfect golden
chestnut ; a coat as soft as silk and the brilliancy
and sheen of it was a thing to marvel at. Her
mother was the chestnut thoroughbred Mafia
(1900) by Orvieto by Bend Or, ex Countess
Macaroni by Victor Chief (see G.S.B. Vol.
XX.), and her sire was my grey Arab Stallion
Marzouk (G.S.B. Vol. XX.). It was in the
early days of my Httle stud at Goldings, and
Mafia was the first thoroughbred mare I bought.
I made much of her and she became greatly
attached to me.

Marmafia was the first foal I helped to bring
into the world. It was a wonderful May
morning after a most exquisite sunrise of pearl
and opal — a day to be thankful one was aHve
to see. And the watching of this great mystery
of birth and the after happenings, made it a
wonderful day indeed to me. Marmafia was
cheery and liked me from the very beginning.
I remember how astounded I was at the self-
possession and acuteness of a thing so newly
born. I had seen babies, puppies and various
other little beasties shortly after their birth,
and had expected something of the same
inertness and helplessness ; but here was a
creatmre, ten minutes' old, who knew all about
things ! I was lying on the grass stroking the
little thing and scratched her on the wither,

225

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

and, hang me ! if she didn't turn her head
round and scratch me back on the arm. I
started in amazement, for it was one of the
most curious experiences I had met with in
a somewhat variegated Hfe. I did it again and
again ; and every time I scratched her wither
and shoulder, she scratched back ! To a
knock-down fact of this kind there is no gain-
saying, and, as the French say, it gave me
furiously to think. I did not know then as
much as I do now about the arrival of foals,
and, when she commenced the struggle to rise
and kept falling back, I took compassion on
her weakness and helped her to get up. I did
a great deal for her, which later I learnt to
watch, with spell-bound interest, other foals
doing for themselves. I helped her to stand
up and balance herself and then to make a
step or two forward. This took me quite a
while, and the mare, when she began to get
better and able to notice things, kept a watch-
ful eye on all these proceedings. The energy
this little beast expended in its continual efforts
to get up was surprising and I had to let it lie
down a time or two to rest, when the mutual
scratchings were repeated with increasing
ardour. It was a great time, and I don't
know who enjoyed the fun the more, the foal
or I.

After a while, I got her so that she retained
her balance quite nicely standing ; but she was

226

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

still very wobbly when she tried to move
ahead and I had to steady her. She gradually
improved so that I was encouraged to let her
try to go ahead herself, which she essayed to
do, meeting with signal disaster after about
ten steps. She was not at all happy on the
grass and her eyes plainly invited me to give
her assistance to get up. There were perhaps
a dozen of these catastrophes, and, each time
she went down, she waited for me to help her
up. She had learnt that it was easier. Once
up she was quite happy and quite willing to
stay by me ; all the more so, because she so
thoroughly enjoyed the scratching I gave her
on the neck and back. Then she began to
nibble and suck at my coat. Pangs of hunger
had seized her. There was some sugar dust in
the bottom of the sugar pocket, and I wetted
my finger, and, sugar-coated, put it in her
mouth. There was no delay in the decision
she took about that ! My aunt, how she
sucked ! She was perfectly wild after it ! I
backed a little and she was after me in a second
— knew it was the fingers that tasted so good,
and wasn't happy till she got them. There
were no more falls after she bad tasted the
sugar ! She followed me, all on her own,
for quite a hundred yards, without one tumble.
With the exception of once or twice, when
from weakness or pain she lay flat on her side,
the mare never took her eyes off the foal ;

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The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

but she knew me so well that it was plain she
was content to leave the foal in my charge.
As I brought the foal near, the mare whinnied
and endeavoured to rise ; but had not the
strength. So I took the little thing right up
to her, and their noses met. The foal was
enormously interested, smelhng the mare's
face, her eyes and her ears ; and the mare
Hcked the foal's feet and its forelegs, as high
as she could reach. It was a pretty sight to
see the affection in the mare's eyes. Then I
took the foal away a little, and the mare made
another effort to get up. Very tottery at first,
she came slowly along to the foal. She smelt
it all over and then began to Uck it. The
foal stood with legs very much apart, balanced
well, and evidently liked it.

After a little she turned and sniffed at the
mare's chest and began to suck it and I moved
away to see what would happen next. The
foal got more and more agitated and sucked
hard and began to seek for more solid susten-
ance. The mare set herself to accommodate,
but the foal — and, as I found out afterwards,
they never are at first — was not successful in
its search. Like so many of the others I have
since seen, it seemed to have made up its mind
that what it sought was to be found near the
mare's front legs, and would not get away from
there. With my superior knowledge I en-
deavoured to assist ; clasped the foal, and

228

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

urged it to come with me. Not a bit of it !
It got quite impatient, and when by main
force I brought its little nose to the right place,
it rejected my advice and struggled most
desperately. Every time I tried to get contact
it was the same. At last a happy thought
struck me ! I put my finger in the sugar dust
and offered it to the foal. Instant success !
The vacuum inside that foal was something
terrible. I just drew my finger along and the
foal followed up, and held on to the finger
like grim death, in one perpetual suck. With
some manoeuvring I got my finger alongside
the proper article, and, with a jerk, transferred
it into the finger's place. Eureka !

That was the beginning of the acquaintance.
I was simply fascinated with my new treasure,
and hurried back from my work in the City
to learn more of this world of new problems
which it presented. Putting on the old coat
with the sugar pocket, I made my way in the
home field to where the mare was busy feeding.
The foal was close by, sound asleep. I ap-
proached as quietly as possible not to awake
it ; got within five yards and lay on my elbow
in the grass. It was not me, but a very per-
sistent fly, that eventually awoke it. It kicked
a httle in its sleep, but the fly came back each

Q 229

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

time to the identical spot. A few more of
its own kicks awoke the foal, but it still lay-
lazily with its eyes only beginning to open.
Then suddenly it put up its head and caught
sight of me. To my exceeding joy it wasn't
a bit frightened ; looked hard at me, and, with
obvious pleasure, recognised its p?i of the
morning ! I did not know then what an
enormous attraction a man lying down motion-
less, even a stranger, has for a foal. I kept
perfectly quiet and left the next move to the
foal. Looking at me it rolled up on to a level
keel, leisurely put out one foreleg straight in
front of it, then the other ; made as though it
would get up, but abandoned the effort. Then
it yawned two or three times, and indulged in
a most tremendous stretch. Thus refreshed,
it looked at me steadily for a few seconds, then
gravely nodded its head up and down as though
coming to a decision. I lay low and said
nothing. It got up, shook itself, stretched one
hind leg out almost horizontally, and then came
along. I kept dead still. Tlie foal came and
smelt me ; starting with my arm and working
up to my shoulder, it became especially inter-
ested in my ear. What the special attraction
was I could not guess. It smelled up and
down me several times, but always came back
to the ear, and with its lips played with it.
In the course of this investigation she pushed
my hat off. It startled her, but after a pause

230

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

she investigated the hat, dismissed it, and
returned to the ear. The smell tests having
concluded quite evidently in my favour, I
awaited Avith interest the further development
of the inquest. Quite slowly she 1^'fted a fore-
leg and put it in the middle of my back ! Two
or three times she stroked me with it, and
then put it down. Then she smelled me some
more, and lifted the other leg and pawed at me
again. Then I put my hand out and shook
hands with her, which amused her vastly.
Holding her leg T moved it up on to my knees,
took hold of the other leg, and, as I rose up,
lifted her, and put her feet on my chest. She
did not even attempt to struggle, but seemed
to think it an ordinary proceeding, and quite
part of the game. She had no fear of me at
all, and raised her little head to my face as
though 1,0 kiss me. I was so dehghted and
thrilled, that, although it was many years ago,
I remember it all as though it were yesterday.

Lifting her up and putting her forefeet on
my chest, and later over my shoulders, did,
in fact, become an ordinary proceeding. She
loved it — especially when, in this position, I
scratched her with both hands on the withers
and back — so much so, that she got into the
way of jumping up of her own accord, and,
what was really surprising, was the extraordi-
nary gentleness with which she put her fore-
feet on me. She took the greatest care to not

281

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

in any way hurt me. When she was about
a month old she always saluted me, on my
first coming into the field, in this way — then
would scamper back to her mother, jump up, put
her feet momentarily on her back, and race
back to me to give me another embrace. But
always, notwithstanding her high spirits, with
the utmost gentleness. Often when following
me about the field, if she thought I was taking
insufficient notice of her, she would rear up
and put her forelegs over my shoulder. I
would catch hold of her feet and she would
walk Hke this quite a long way. Her capers
were wonderful. She always indulged in
gymnastics in the double run between me and
her mother, rising up often, with her forelegs
high in the air, and going on her hind legs
alone. Then she would dip down, and give
almost vertical kicks in the air with her hind
legs ; finishing up with the most marvellous
series of bounds and bucks, all the while squeal-
ing with dehght.

That was before the days of the biograph,
and I would give a great deal to have now a
record on the film of some of her wonderful
exhibitions. They were the very acme of
beautiful physical movements prompted by
the sheer dehght of being ahve, and I do not
conceive how they could possibly be excelled
by any Uving thing. One of her most remark-
able gaits was a prancing] movement, with her

232

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

nose high in the air, neck arched and drawn
far back, tail high and waving hke a flag, and
picking up her feet for all the world as if she
had been taught the Spanish walk. Out of
sheer excess of spirits, she would race up to the
other mares in the field and treat them as she
did her own mother. At first they resented
it, but after a while they regarded her as a
specially privileged person, and really liked it.
They always watched her, as one watches a
Star Performer, when the fit came upon her to
play these mad pranks. They were really
fond of this little sprite, and two of them,
who had their own foals, did a thing which I
have not seen before or since — they allowed
her an occasional suck — a privilege indeed.

She never left me for long, whenever I was
in the field. She got to know the sugar pocket
so well she would put her nose in it and posi
tively refuse to take it out until she had grabbed
at least one lump. She would always suck or
lick my fingers whenever I gave her the chance.
If I sat on the grass she would come behind
me and put one foreleg over my shoulder, and
sometimes both. She would take my hat off and
shake it, drop it on the grass, and then nibble at
my ears. She always had a fancy for my ears.
I cannot conceive why, and licked and nibbled
at them, but never once hurt me. Her gentle-
ness in everything she did was her great
characteristic. She was tremendously keen in

233

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

searching for my handkerchief, which she
would pull out of my pocket. The first time
that she got it entirely out was the only
occasion on which I ever remember to have
seen her really scared. There was a big wind,
and as she pulled it out it flapped across her
chest. She gave a big jump and broke away
at a gallop, with the handkerchief still in her
mouth. It fluttered in the wind and scared
her still more, but she wouldn't or hadn't the
sense to let it go ; and there she was racing all
round the field in the maddest way, with the
handkerchief alternately beating against her
neck or fluttermg in front of her. It was a
truly comical sight, and, only after she had
gone round the field several times, did she
drop it through stumbling and having to open
her mouth. It was characteristic of her that
she followed the handkerchief as it blew along
the grass, and, when it came to rest, smeUed
and pawed it, and then came back to me.
For some days afterwards she was still a little
scared when she pulled the handkerchief right
out ; but afterwards it became one of her most
cherished accomphshments. She would race
up to her mother and the other mares with it
in her mouth and scare them to death, to her
own infinite delight. Never before or since
have I seen such a merry little creature with
such a keen idea of fun. I never got tired of
watching her. She was always doing some-

234

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend *

thing original and amusing, and often, I am
sure, to please me. Wlien I called to her she
would come to me like a dog.

In many of her funny little ways she re-
minded me irresistably of a Shire cart foal
whose most ardent affection I had managed,
when a small boy of five or six, to draw down
upon my devoted head ; but that cart foal was
so much bigger than I was then that he used to
bully me quite a bit. Marmafia had the habit
of pressing up against me as though physical
contact with me gave her keen pleasure, and
she used to rub her head and neck against me
in a frenzy of affection. So did the long-ago
Shire foal, but I was so small then that in the
vigour of his amiability he used often to knock
me down, to the great amusement of my
father and his friends ; but I loved that big
and strong cart foal very dearly all the same,
and we were inseparable pals.

This little Marmafia had a very happy sum-
mer, when her mother, who had not done well
and had had to have veterinary attention,
sickened, and one morning was found dead,
with the poor puzzled foal standing beside her.
It was a great misfortune, and the little thing
missed her mother very much and often called
for her ; sometimes most piteously . So I was left

235

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

to do what I could for the orphaned filly. She
was brought up to the stables and given cow's
milk and everybody petted her, but it did not
suit her. She had commenced to feed on the
grass, and the vet. advised that she should
again be turned into the field. The two other
mares helped her a bit, but naturally kept most
of their milk for their own foals. I impressed
upon the vet. how fond I was of the little thing,
and begged him to spare no trouble or pains
to get her well ; but the event proved that his
science was unequal to the emergency. Even
now I cannot bear to look back upon this
time. The httle thing was ill and unhappy.
It was a sore trial to me to feel how helpless I
was in such a case. The filly was obviously
losing flesh, but everjrthing was done for her
which the vet. directed.

After her mother's death the intensity of the
foal's affection for me was quite pathetic, and
in the early mornings and late evenings I
spent as much time as I could with her.

So long as her strength lasted she always
met me with the rear up and the gentle placing
of her little feet on my shoulders. She never
did that to anyone else, but only to me. It
was a special favour. At any time I had only
to pat myself on the chest for her to respond

236

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

at once and put her feet there. It amused her
to walk after me with her feet on my shoulders
Often she gave me a Hck or two on the face by
way of a kiss. As long as I was in the field
she never left me, and when I went up to the
other ponies she was never a yard away.

Eventually we had to bring her into the
stables, and all was done to make her as com-
fortable and happy as possible, for it was plain
that she could not be with us for long. Even
when her weakness make it impossible for her
to stand, her cheeriness and indomitable spirit
never left her. She always neighed to me
when I came in to see her, and did all she could
to rise and was absolutely happy while I was
with her. I spent all the time I could mth
her. Very urgent business compelled me each
day to go to the City, but I came back as soon
as I could.

One morning, as I was getting into my
carriage to catch my usual train, an impulse
seized me to go to her yet once again. A
little neigh and such a pleading look was too
much for me. I had a very important meet-
ing, but I telephoned that it was impossible
for me to attend. I shall be glad all my days

237

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

that I had the wit to understand and answer
that appeal so that I spent those last three
hours with her, soothing and petting her. I
sat on the straw and she lay with her head on
my lap — licking my fingers. She kept her
gaze on me the whole time, and I can never
forget the love-light and sweet expression of
her eyes. Every now and then she gave me
her little neigh. Towards the end I think she
could not see me very well, for she strained to
look at me. As I stroked her I felt she was
getting colder and colder. I kissed her and
spoke to her as I would to a dying child, and
she opened her eyes to try to see me and gave
me that little neigh once or twice more. All
the while she kept licking my fingers — slower
and slower — and when the last little shudder
came she was still trying to lick them and her
tongue remained touching my hand. And so
her dear spirit fled.

And whither ?

238

The water where Windermere died

Mafia, and her filly foal Marmafia by Marzouk

[To face yage 23a

The black " Guardian Angel " Parachute

[To face page 239

AFTERWORD

I HAVE been much criticised for my repre-
hensible habit of keeping ponies. I have
been told that, as a poor man, it was a criminal
waste to spend good money on a number of
useless animals. My depravity has been dis-
cussed with my friends and relations, and even
my sanity has been impeached. Painful
visions of the Workhouse have been dangled
before me, as my destination here below,
precursory to a torrid if not wholly incandescent
hereafter. It is a discouraging enough pros-
pect to hold out to a person whose fault is that
the blood of many generations of horsemen
flows through his veins ; but, goodness loiows !
Even that sweltering abyss may have its com-
pensations. Perhaps it is there that Elijah's
horses of fire are still stabled. Surely the
charioteer's job, even if a hot one, would be
extraordinarily interesting !

But the ponies have had their very great
uses — at all events to me. It is true that I,
like so many other men of late, have had very
harassing times to pass through — the closure
of a great railway enterprise owing to the chaos

239

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

in Mexico, and of other important railway
work in India due to the War — in which all
personal expenditure has had to be reduced
to the minimum ; but the ponies have well
earned their keep, pastiu-e in summer "svith a
little hay in winter, which is all they get.
Their affection and cheerful mentality have
been so really helpful to me. They are always
so pleased to see me and their welcome is so
genuine ! Ponies never carry glum faces and cast
no reproaches, ever ! When I am with my
ponies, I cannot help throwing off all the worries
and troubles of the City, and, for the time
being, forget them so utterly that the mental
refreshment is quite surprising !

For the last six years I have had a problem
before me, the solution of which has taxed to
the utmost all the brain power and inventive
faculties of which I am capable. It has been the
invention of life-saving apparatus for the air —
the automatically opening Aeroplane Parachute.
That I have succeeded, almost beyond my
anticipations, I can say with the utmost truth,
is directly due to the assistance given me, in
two ways, by my ponies.

As to the first way, they have composed
my mind from all troubles and left me with a
perfectly clear brain to visualise the very
compUcated forces with which I had to deal,
and to think out the theoretical results of their
interaction. As a matter of fact, nearly all

240

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

the important)[solutions arrived at were at-
tained in their company. There was no
occasion more favourable for thinking out the
more abstruse problems, than when I was
able to lie out under the stars on a summer's
night, with one warm pony stretched out for a
back rest, and the others lying close around
me.

As to the second way, the habits I had
acquired of making close and minute obser-
vations of the actions of my ponies, which are
governed by a multipUcity of direct, remote
and interacting stimuli, undoubtedly quickened
my abihties to perceive and understand the
extremely abstruse forces which enter into and
determine the actions of Parachutes, in the
very different circumstances of their drops
from Free and Captive Balloons, from
Airships and from the different types of
Aeroplanes, and to learn how to control these
forces so that the nature of the Parachute has
been changed from that of the most wayward
and unruly libertine, into that of a staid
machine, of which every detail, and its action,
is under absolute control.

The inter-corelation of circumstances is
always a grim mystery to some dull people,
and the aforesaid detractors, of my ponies and
myself, of course never dreamed that I was
breeding ponies that could help to invent
Parachutes. In the National Pony Society's

241|

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

Show at Islington these Parachute Ponies
ought to have a Class to themselves.

My taming of Horses and Ponies has most
certainly helped me to tame that most uncanny
beast the Parachute, and, when our Airmen's
lives are being saved in hundreds by the
" Guardian Angel " Parachute, to my ponies,
God bless them, must be given quite a big
share of the credit.

Note. — The above was written in 1917, when the
Guardian Angel Parachutes, with their " positive
opening" and "tangle-proof rigging" which have
never once failed to function exactly as they were
designed to do, had been used most successfully, and
without any mishap whatever, for dropping " secret
service agents " at night from aeroplanes on to
positions previously selected behind the German lines.
The Guardian Angel Aeroplane Parachute was perfected
and standardised in June, 1916, after innumerable
trials and tests, private and official, from Government
Aeroplanes; since which date official records show
that more than 8,000 Flying Officers were killed in
machines falling in flames or broken in the air. It
has been estimated that of these dead air -fighters at
least half of them would have been saved alive if
they had been provided with these life-saving para-
chutes. It was the very efficiency of the parachute,
for its life-saving purpose, which led to its undoing
and condemned its use ; for the authorities at the
Hotel Cecil, who decided such matters, took the view
that if this appliance were to be placed at the service
of Flying Officers, for use and escape in case of
accident, machines might be needlessly crashed.

242

The Horse, as Comrade and Friend

It was not until newspaper correspondents at the
front, in August, 1918, were constantly reporting the
escape by parachute of German officers from burning
or broken aeroplances that the Air Ministry, over-
whelmed by indignant protests from all sides that
our fighting officers had not similar protection, which
they had so frequently asked for, at last gave orders
for all military machines to be so provided. The
first 200 machines were in course of b-^ing fitted with
Guardian Angel Parachutes when the Armistice of
the 11th November intervened to prevent the demon-
stration of their utilities in actual warfare.

ISIr. Calthrop was honoured by the King of Italy
with the Cross of Chevalier of the Order of St. Maurice
and St. Lazarus, in recognition of the exceedingly
valuable services rendered by his parachutes on the
Piave front in dropping secret service agents behind
the Austrian lines. This successful work was being
carried out at just the time when, in reply to
questions from hon. members urging that parachutes
should be adopted for life-saving purposes, the Under-
Secretary to the Air^Ministry was repeatedly assuring
the House of Commons that *' no parachutes suitable
for use from^an^aeroplane had yet been arrived at."

Printed by Miller, S(m dt Cai/ipy,, Fakenham and London.