Calming Signals and Playing Poker with Horses.

I can’t remember my age when I first saw Dogs Playing Poker, the famous painting by Cassius Marcellus Coolidge. It portrays dogs smoking cigars and playing cards. I didn’t see the original, of course, but a copy painted on velvet. It still offended my little girl’s sensibilities. I didn’t think dogs should smoke. Or maybe a romantic notion about card sharks, from the old west to present day Las Vegas, irritated me. They stood out from the crowd, shifty, but in a very cool Paul Newman kind of way. Every bit as unsettling as the dogs.

Some of us feel forever doomed. We will always think dogs dressed up acting like humans are an insult… to the dogs. Although I come from a cribbage-playing family, I will never understand games, cards or otherwise. Playing games wasn’t real-life enough for me. But don’t think I’m on any moral high ground. Everything changed when I called a donkey’s bluff. When I learned to play poker with horses. Is there Gamblers Anonymous for Horse Trainers? 

Will anything be more interesting than meeting a horse and experiencing that first moment of sizing each other up? It isn’t about winning or losing. It’s about each asking the other “who are you?” And taking stock of each other’s poker-tells. Do they exude confidence or anxiety? Generosity or detachment? Or sometimes blunt fear. We both have clear memories of our past, and those experiences impact our perceptions and choices in the present. It matters who exhales first.

Humans think they can sell themselves as better than they are, but horses don’t try. Some horses hold their cards close to their chests, they keep their eyes still. Too still. Other horses show every card, anxious brows, polls tense for every move. But each horse is authentic. Even the stoic horses, those who shut down to protect themselves, are honest about who they are.

This is the analogy that just won’t die. There is even stud poker; games which include some cards face up. Face up is naked, no hint of deception, not that horses are even capable of it. Deception requires a frontal cortex. We are the only ones with that. And a reminder; the word stud refers to an animal who is not neutered and sometimes referred to as entire or intact. Mares usually fit that definition so well. In our world, mares might be the most shrewd players. 

If you were to ask horses about playing poker with humans, my guess is there would be a lot of flehmen response. Lips would roll up, but it’s kinder than out-and-out laughter, which horses are too polite to do. Horses think humans are as easy to read as hay in a manger. And as foolish as a duck. Horses watch us flap ourselves up, and run around, quacking off in self-important ways, as they continue grazing.

Horses have acute senses and are aware, intuitive animals. They almost seen psychic by the time a human catches on to the thing they’ve already noticed. Because in comparison, human senses are not as sensitive as a horse’s, but then we don’t exercise the ones we have. We are lazy. We daydream, lollygagging in made-up stories about horses rather than listening to their calming signals in real time. It would be easier to believe horses are psychic than to focus with the intensity required to keep up with them mentally. Humans walk into doors, whether we are texting or not.

Horses are masters of subtly. Sometimes I wonder if they see us as foalish, ineffective communicators who can be emotionally unreliable. Everything about us is loud. We kick gates, wave our arms, rattle with frustration. We do four things at once, each more badly than the one before. And we talk too much to listen. 

Meanwhile, we think we’re born leaders. We think we are cleverly hiding our feelings, but our breathing tells the truth. We spend more energy overthinking how we look in the mirror than focusing on what we are saying with our body language. Our human calming signals are honest as theirs. Even if we believe we can bluff our way through, the horse always sees us for who we are. We even walk into the barn in ALL CAPS.

My point is horses have an advantage over us. Calming signals have always been the primary language in the animal world. We like to think we’ve evolved into something better. But we would choke on our arrogance if we got stranded in their natural world. It would be hopeless except for another sense horses have. They read our intention. They show us grace when we try. 

What if the highest form of horsemanship was all about reading the horse’s poker-tells or Calming Signals? It would mean that listening skills would be prized more than accomplishments. It would also mean we have some work to do on ourselves.

Does your horse anticipate transitions? Do they read your mind and take cues before you give them? Do they always seem one step ahead or sideways, or even bored? Sorry, your horse isn’t psychic. You are leaking a poker-tell that your horse can read. Most of us have learned to correct horses, but have limited knowledge of how to inspire them. Instead of dumbing our horses down with punishment, maybe it’s time we sharpen ourselves up to their level. We could respect our horses enough to pay attention to their side of the conversation.

You notice when your horse throws their head up and tenses from nose to tail. What if you could trace back and feel the anxiety when they gave a previous, smaller resistance? You could release that early bit of tension before it took over. It would keep the conversation in a whisper rather than yelling. Better yet, what if you gave a cue and recognized a tiny calming signal of assent from your horse? You could reward them for their intelligence as the result begins to play out. Would the horse think you were reading their mind? 

Horses aren’t behaving differently. Their calming signals have always been there. We knew horses had opinions, but we haven’t responded well. We must give their feelings credence as a language, trust their intelligence, and aim to understand their answers. It means we consider them not as humans dressed up in horse suits, but as fully formed unique individuals, not less or more. 

Building our own confidence and allowing the horse the same takes time. We know that, but it feels like more time than we think we have. Each half of a partnership must be whole for it to work. Then comes the day, the shining clarity of a rider’s mind becomes visible in the rhythmic beauty of a horse’s movement. And all debts are paid.

I’ve known people who didn’t think poker was a game so much as an analogy of navigating uncertainty in life. I doubt horses think any of this is a game either.

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