The horse industry continues to astonish me—the practices, the stories, and the reality of what happens behind the scenes. It’s heartbreaking. I know that high-level dressage horses receive meticulous care, yet even during competitions, I see glimpses of things that make my heart ache: harsh bits, tight nosebands, and overwhelming pressure. And in every line off horse sports. Thankfully, there are exceptions, but they are far too rare.
I’ve been away from the horse world for a long, long time, and when I think back to my younger years, I cringe at some of the things that were considered "normal." As a young girl, I once gave a pony a tap with a whip to encourage her to trot when she wouldn’t. At the time, it seemed acceptable, everybody did it and you would even got encouraged by the trainer, but looking back now, I feel regret. That pony, Dolly, who everyone called stubborn and lazy, may not have been either of those things. She may have been in pain or discomfort. But how could I have known?
Now, 25 years later, I’ve made it my mission to do things differently with my horses and ponies. I refuse to use tools or methods that force them into compliance. It takes time, patience, and dedication to work without coercion, but the rewards are worth it. I recently came across a beautiful quote that resonates deeply with me and i wholeheartedly live by this. This is in the picture below.
Take Raina, for example. At the riding stable, she did everything that was asked of her—carrying riders at a walk, trot, and canter, going on trail rides, and even participating in lesson programs. But now, even the sight of a saddle pad stirs unease in her. She tolerates it, but I can see the worry in her eyes: What will she ask of me next? How will she ask it?
In the equestrian world, it’s all too common to see pressure and force normalized—sharp bits, whips, spurs, and all other stuff that will force a horse into coercion. But I’ve chosen a different path. I’ve seen old footage of Raina under saddle, but for me now, the thought is unimaginable. After four months ,slowly reintroducing tack, I sat on her back for the first time, not even with the intension to ride her, just sit. I, my sister-in-law and niece did everything to ensure her comfort: a bitless bridle, a perfectly fitting saddle with a pressure-relieving pad, and a gel girth. Everything seemed fine—she showed almost no signs of stress during the preparation. Its normal to react if someone putting something on your back, her reactions weren’t alarming at the time.
But just 10 seconds into the saddle, something shifted. She attempted to rear, and thankfully, my niece held onto her while I quickly jumped off. To this day, we can’t pinpoint what triggered her reaction—was it a sound in the distance or a flashback to a past trauma? Whatever it was, it was too much for her.
Since that day, I’ve taken a big step back. Instead of focusing on trying riding her, I’ve dedicated my energy to bonding and simply being with her. Trust takes time, and I’m willing to give her all the time she needs. Recently, Raina moved to my home—a significant change for her. She left behind the herd and environment where she had lived peacefully for six months, along with the familiar people who cared for her daily. It broke my heart to uproot her and see her go through such a painful transition again. But here, with me, I can be there for her every day.
Thankfully, Duna, one of my other horses, had already been introduced to Raina, and their connection has been a source of comfort for her. She’s beginning to see that the familiar faces from her past place haven’t disappeared entirely—they visit us often and share moments of affection with her. She’s adjusting, slowly but surely.
For now, Raina needs time to settle into her new reality, and I will honor that. Our days are filled with quiet bonding and mutual enjoyment. There are no demands, only patience and love. Because love has no deadlines—it grows in its own time.
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