Clicking with my tongue and raising the whip ever so slightly with my right hand, I sent Rio to the left around the red metal ring. His feet seemed to never touch the ground as he moved from the paso fino walk to the intricate paso corto gait of his breed. With its icy blasts, the wind whispering through the trees lifted his silky mane that never tangles, giving him a wild and untamed looked. Glancing at the skies, I wondered if it would snow, covering the ground with powder the color of Rio’s coat. I shivered in apprehension, and turned my full attention to the task at hand.
After a few turns around the edge of the ring, I moved the whip to my left hand to see how well Rio was paying attention to me. Snorting at the loud sound of the dual-mufflers of the early 90’s Pontiac Grand Am that sped by on the country road bordering the field, Rio ignored my subtle command to change directions. Okay. The time had come to pay attention, to get down to business. It was time to whip Rio into shape. Establish control. Demand respect. Show the beautiful but young and green-broke Paso Fino who was boss and bridge the gap that hindered him from being a good partner.
Pushing him to his fast, four-beat gait, the paso largo, my vision narrowed, focusing in on the muscle tone that covered his shoulders and hind quarters, which carried him careening around the ring almost as quickly as the Grand Am that had sped by moments earlier. Within seconds, all I could see were flaring nostrils, gliding muscles, and glossy mane and tail floating through the still, cold air. Sweat glistened on the sleek white coat that sported tiny flecks of barely perceptible brown interspersed at regular intervals throughout the graceful hide of my Paso Fino, Rio. Colors whirred by and blended into one at the edges of his white coat as we turned about the ring, around and around and around. I was at the center, barely moving in a circle as he floated rapidly around me, yet he was the focal point, the true the center, the object of all my attentions and the concentration of all my senses. The effect was almost dizzying as the horse and I became like one.
Rio tested the limits by periodically trying to come into the center of the ring to stop and change directions before I gave the command, but I scolded Rio and moved my body according to the language of his species, the nonverbal language he knows, to send him loping on as I instructed. Despite the tunnel vision and incredible focus I had on him, my thoughts drifted to memories of the times I’d almost hated this infernal horse, and I wondered how we were now so much alike, so one, in complete and perfect understanding of one another. I remembered the time he’d knocked me flat on the ground in an attempt to steal the bucket of food from my hands before I was ready to give it to him. Oh, I had been furious, ready to sell the little fiend and have him off my hands!
Growing up with horses, I had always been unquestioningly in control and never afraid of these large beasts that weighed endless hundreds of pounds more than I. At that moment though, when the fierce and hungry aggression of my little but feisty Paso Fino took me off my feet, I felt a moment of fear. It angered me because I had never been one to feel fear. Today I would win back my confidence, gain my control, and demand the respect of this spirited gelding.
Duh-duh-dah-dum, duh-duh-dah-dum, duh-duh-dah-dum… as I heard the rapid, four-beat cadence of Rio’s hooves on the ground, I couldn’t wait for the moment when I could feel that smooth and even rhythm beneath my knees, and I relished the thought of how wonderful that wild and untamed speed would be when it was a controlled power under my direction. This time, as I switched the whip to my left hand, Rio immediately whirled around, changing directions to canter to the right around the ring as naturally if there were a fork in the river that he was navigating. We were getting there. He was listening. He was paying attention to my every move. He was giving me the respect I demanded.
I recalled the anger I felt towards him not many weeks before when he had been so defiant and difficult to saddle and bridle, and nearly impossible to ride. I felt a twinge of remorse as I remembered how infuriated I had become with the beast, only to later find out that he had been bitten on the underside of his jaw by the baby Copperhead snake I had killed right outside of his stall not long after. I had completely mistaken his behavior as defiance and rude impulse, when, in reality, he was hurting and didn’t understand what had happened to him or how to convey his pain to me.
It wasn’t like that now. Now we understood each other perfectly. I breathed to the tempo of his flaring nostrils. My heart beat to the wild yet peaceful sound of his hooves moving in their unique way around the ring. We were one now. As I dropped my whip, stopped moving, and yelled “Whoa! Whoa there Rio!” The graceful horse stopped immediately, lowering his head in a sign of submission and obedience as he walked to stand behind me in the ring. As I walked in tight circles or drunkard-like zig-zags around the pen, Rio followed me and emulated my every turn. This was it. This was what it was all about. I demanded respect, and now he gave it in full. I knew that with a flick of my whip and the click of my tongue he would go instantly careening around the ring again as I instructed. He would remain at whatever speed I commanded without stopping until I said so- even if it were for days on end, not because of fear or out of drudgery, but because he understood me and no longer needed to assert himself.
As I mounted onto his bare back, it felt as if the horse and I were molded into one creature, never to be separated again. Leaning down to open the gate, I directed him through it with my knees. Then, away we galloped into the fields that surrounded the barn, moving rapidly towards the horizon. The sun was setting in a vibrant array of colors that made the wintry clouds look like cotton balls dipped in paint. My hair whipped in the wind in just the way I had watched Rio’s mane earlier. When finally I slowed him down and we halted near the pond to look at the gentle ripples from the wind and the reflection of the sunset in the water, I was breathless with the exhilaration of the oneness and control that two wild and untamed sprits could experience through simple understanding. We meandered back to the barn, and when I slid gently off his back to the ground, Rio lowered his head for me to rub his face in encouragement. I knew at that moment that I had a companion and a confidante that would remain loyal to me until the day he dies. No more anger, frustration and misunderstanding. Now I knew his language and he knew mine. Now we understood each other utterly and completely. He knew what I expected and wanted to give that in return. Now he would listen to me, and I, in turn, would tune in to his wave link. I had a friend for life.
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