The Long Ear Answer to Humans Doing Everything The Hard Way

“I am not sure why horse people are especially prone to doing things the most difficult way possible, but it’s a habit that dies hard,” she said. Agreed. I hope we’re the worst, but it is an addictive habit. Edgar Rice Burro thinks it’s just our normal condition. Actually, he puts it this way: you’re only human.

She’s a woman in one of my classes who posted two videos, one not following my advice and one following it. This woman has a great sense of humor and a chestnut Arabian mare, the former being a requirement for the latter. Her goal was to put a saddle pad on her new mare at liberty. Smart, mares will take a choice if you don’t give them one.

In the first video, the mare had some anxiety and walked off. It’s a fair response, not a refusal. She just needs a moment. When horses have anxiety, walking relieves that anxiety. Consider it a calming signal. Asking a flight animal to stand still is an open question if you are not willing to tie her to a post or punish her for being a horse.

My advice was to trade one calming signal for another. If she could ease her anxiety with a hay bag, would she be able to stand at liberty? Chewing releases the jaw and poll, also calming. The mare stood beautifully, engaged with her human and munching away. Demonstrating the miraculous power of stillness I embody while eating popcorn during a thrilling movie. Besides, working a horse on an empty stomach is asking for gastric upsets. An effortless win-win. Or is it too easy?

“What is the big deal about hanging a hay bag?” says Edgar. He is the voice of common sense on the farm. I always bring him in for the big existential questions. About now, his ears fall wide. He’s always right. When you think of it as stress eating replacing stress walking, it makes all kinds of sense. And it isn’t teasing with sugar or causing obesity. At best, it’s lunch a bit early.

Our farrier is grateful we hang hay bags. He wishes everyone would. And we avoid separation anxiety by, wait for it… Not separating them. Our Edgar is old and has weak fetlocks. Trims worry him and he likes his friends there snacking with him. And here I go, spoiling the entire herd, a stern voice in my head asserts. I don’t listen.

Our mare doesn’t believe in trimming four hooves. Three is plenty for her. But everyone has a reason. Youngsters are impatient. No horse loves a death grip on the lead rope. And some horses are owned by people who think it would ruin their horse to be comfortable for trimming. That having a horse is like keeping a good kid in detention after school, just in case, just for good measure.

Edgar has no patience for people who overwork anyone. He says it’s bad enough that humans do everything the hard way, but do we have to ask our animals to do the same?

I try to explain us to him. Maybe it’s our ego? We surely do love showing off. I suggest that sometimes things get harder because of indecision and overthinking. That yes-or-no game where we become disabled by poisonous self-talk. Edgar nods agreeably, giving me a knowing eye. He’s seen me do that. Other times it’s as if we need to prove our manhood, taught by people who were experts, or so we thought. As if kindness destroys horses.

And some say that doing hard things can help people become more resilient. That suffering makes us stronger. Personally, I think I’ve learned everything I need to by doing it the hard way. It gave me the opposite of confidence and a few scars.

“Little Ears,” Edgar says. He calls me that pet name sometimes. “You humans are so consumed with false fear and self-judgment. It’s written all over your bodies. Don’t humans know we have enough of our own stresses in life and could use a break when we’re with you?”

I nod at his wisdom. He can tell me this now because I’m less defensive of my inadequacies and easier to get along with. More likely to scratch an ear. I had to let go of my whining and worry around horses. I was miserable, no one was nickering, and something had to go. Either my horses or my inner railbird, always criticizing me and talking trash until I couldn’t utter a word of praise to my horses, and least of all, myself.

I had to stop bad-mouthing myself. It was a habit like biting nails. Instead, I pursed my lips and looked at the sky. I thought of something I did successfully. Some days, it was that I didn’t poke anyone in the eye. It was a negative success, but it still counted. Around animals, I taught myself to say “good” even if things were coming apart, to remind us of who we are. Slowly, a new habit took over.

Is there some point where we age out on doing it the hard way? Can we just award ourselves a get-out-of-jail-free card?

My grandmother, well into her eighties, got into trouble one day. An aunt dropped by when she and Grandpa were eating lunch, pizza from the freezer and homemade chokecherry wine. The horrible news burned through the family like a rumor of an unwed pregnancy. This German woman made her own sausage, for crying out loud. Now she was eating tasteless crumbles on a cardboard crust. And drinking in broad daylight. Was it time for a nursing home?

Humans really do jump to the worst conclusion. I cheered Grandma on. She was still a strict taskmaster, but a sip of wine was all the better for an afternoon nap. It’s not like she was doing secret scientific research for the government. For all the soups, roasts, and chocolate chip cookies that woman made, she deserved an easy lunch. Maybe they were celebrating something.

Casting stones at others to disguise our insecurities. Aspiring to be a perfectionist in an imperfect world. Feeling the silent criticism of others when it’s really our own voice. Trying to score karma points by suffering. These are unique traits in the animal world. Just us. Do we think it makes us better than dogs or donkeys or, God forbid, chestnut mares?

Edgar Rice Burro shakes out his poll, flipping his ears from side to side, as his prodigious lips follow the sway. He says, “But do they know they are at liberty and can walk it off? That we aren’t asking them to be perfect?”

…

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