Equestrian Network Magazine

Toner

by Priscilla Marden

It was snowing and blowing, a nasty Wyoming fall day. I was standing out in the middle of a field, watching a thin grey horse. All I knew was that the woman who called to donate the horse had decided, supposedly, not to keep it because it wasn't suitable for her husband. I watched him move; rangy, wary and not at all interested in buddying up. I had my doubts, but as I approached him with the halter, he turned and stared at me with a huge, kind eye.

This horse could speak with his heart.

He was terribly scarred. Much of his forearm muscling was missing and there were great exposed patches of skin visible through tracks in the hide. Something horrible had once happened to him, and yet he had that look and feel of tremendous spirit; the kind of horse who will do anything for you if you're trustworthy.

But on the outside he still had flaring nostrils. I wondered if I'd get the halter on. Surprisingly, he wasn't hard to catch. I was freezing, but took time for some ground work, to show him I was OK. He was uncertain, but tolerant, and very flighty. I wanted to try him before making a decision, but the donor pushed me, saying there were others interested in him and she wanted him out of her field. In retrospect it was sketchy, but I took that horse on faith.

His feet were a mess, slid out in front of him, cracked and long. He was an unfortunate color - flea-bitten grey and white paint - but his conformation wasn't bad. And that eye was unforgettable. It was the eye we all look for in a truly great horse.

I got a vet check after the fact and found he had ringbone, manageable with good farrier care. He didn't seem lame. But he could move like lightning if something unexpected happened. When I recall our first encounter in the field, I believe some divine spirit intervened so I could halter him. No one could touch his ears.

Meanwhile, stories about the horse filtered back to me. "Shown to death back east... shipped out to a dude ranch... left on the trailer too long... during reloading, severely beaten about the head..." Sensitive, wounded and scared, he landed in the wilds of Wyoming without a friend in the world. Our farrier had flunked the horse twice on soundness checks before we got him. He said he'd been nearly uncatchable in that field, and the farrier considered him unsafe.

So there he sat in our winter pasture, a two-toned, motley gelding, thin and hopeful. He had 6 months to find a niche. We called him Toner.

In our program is a remarkable young woman who started with us in middle school. She wears a hearing aid and struggles academically. She is absolutely horse crazy. If something has to do with horses, she can learn it in a heartbeat.

When we got Toner, she'd been in the program for a year and certainly was not an accomplished rider. When she met him, she instantly fell in love. She wanted him as her project. Like Toner, she has a tremendous heart and this horse took it all.

Toner could spook at anything, and did. There was no way she could safely ride him that first year - he was too much horse. So they worked together on the ground. It was tough. She'd forget and move quickly and he'd leap away. It took months to be able to touch his poll. He'd probably never seen a human on his right side. In our program we do everything from both. When she worked with him like that, he was Jekyll and Hyde.

She watched instructors ride Toner and longed to be up there, floating around the ring. Then she'd hand the instructor a water bottle, and be glad she was safely standing on the sand as he leapt sky high and tore to the other end of the arena. A bittersweet scene unfolded between them, day after day. If he stood still the whole time she brushed and patted him, it was a smashing success.

Our groundwork coaches worked with her one-on-one each week. Everyone told her not to give up, to hang in there when it felt like a setback. While she built his confidence from the ground, another instructor helped him regain trust under saddle.

The summer was filled with weekly ground work with quiet, careful relationship building and weekly trail rides with lots of walking and reassurance that rocks weren't predators. He softened. He shied less. He lowered his head for his two "people" and allowed touch around his ears. He nuzzled for treats, and made friends in the herd. He filled out. Those who'd known him before hardly recognized him. He stayed sound.

He softened. He shied less. He lowered his head for his two "people" and allowed touch around his ears. He nuzzled for treats, and made friends in the herd. He filled out. Those who's known him before hardly recognized him. He stayed sound.

We had a fundraiser scheduled at a donor's home. We were using his round pen for a demonstration on building safe relationships with the horses. I'd planned to bring a demo horse who was very easy and "dialed in." But the girl begged me to let her do the demo with Toner. They'd developed an incredible bond on the ground by then. Certainly she was his favorite person. He followed her everywhere, looking for treats and praise. I finally agreed but told her if he got too nervous we'd have to work with the other horse.

On presentation day she took him into the round pen to settle in while I explained to the group a little about the histories of the two partners they were about to watch. Most of them had some experience with horses, but not groundwork. This was new material.

The Demo Pair stood quietly in the center of the ring, horse and girl both shining in the sun. His white coat gleamed and she stood proudly beside him. She told them about her hearing disability, and how she'd had to learn to overcome it. Then she told them about Toner, and how he had been mistreated so badly and had to learn to trust her. She tenderly pointed out his scars.

She taught them how a rope halter sends gentle signals to the horses. She took them step by step through games and exercises while they watched Toner respond to the slightest touch on the rope or movement of her body. When it was over everyone clapped and exclaimed how moving it was to watch.

After the applause, she faced the audience and said, "This is what I like the best." She turned to Toner and looped the rope over his neck. Carefully tying it so it wouldn't slip or drag, she stepped back and began to move her feet.

Toner responded instantly, his eye never leaving her. Each movement he made was a mirror of her own steps, a response to her direction: "move left, move right, come in to me, turn with my turning." On and on they danced together in the pen, the elegant horse and the girl with the pigtail, waltzing and spinning, held only by an invisible thread between their hearts. Gone was any fear, any wariness; only trust and joy passed between them. Outside the pen the guests stood silently weeping, overwhelmed by what they saw. She beamed.

That fall she asked if she could finally ride Toner. She'd worked hard for months to get good enough. We talked it over: the instructor who had ridden him all summer, the student and I. We'd take it step by step, and agreed to change plans if it wasn't working.

The indoor arena was quiet and empty. The instructor rode Toner first, giving him more "amateur" signals in order to get him ready. He spent a lot of time chewing and looking happy. He was fine.

The student rode her other horse to warm up and get rid of her jitters. This was the day she had been waiting for, but now that it was happening, it was suddenly overwhelming. What if it didn't work out? Somehow she found the courage to dismount and turn to the task of the afternoon.

Toner waited patiently by the mounting block, chewing and looking calm. The girl touched him softly, breathed and centered, and slowly put her foot in the stirrup and swung up on to her "real" horse.

He didn't move. She fumbled getting her other foot in the stirrup, but he was steady. Everything seemed to be going perfectly. Head up, she gathered her reins and asked him to walk off, and he nearly shot right out from under her.

He leapt into his long, sweeping trot. She clutched the reins and he slowed back to a walk. They moved on and her leg bumped his side. Zoom!! It happened again. He scooted forward and she lunged back, but this time she was careful to get her balance without clutching, and he settled. It went like that, back and forth. He would react too quickly, and she would signal too much.

In the center, I witnessed again the unfolding of the round pen dance. The partners were just stumbling over their feet at the beginning, figuring out who was going to lead. They tripped, they bumbled, they got it, they lost it. Then Toner realized those legs weren't instructor's legs! Those legs were uneducated, but harmless. He stopped listening so much to the pressure and began listening to something much deeper.

She did the same. The spurt and dash stuff wasn't running away, it was responding! She relaxed, he relaxed. She laughed, his ears pricked up. They found a new kind of rhythm together. (After all, it was their first riding date - they had plenty of time to get it right!) Around the arena they danced, walking, trotting, stopping, changing diagonals, cantering through a cloud of smiles. They were a dream team come true.

Today these two are light years from where they started. Now Captain of the Demo Team, the rider says Toner taught her never to give up, no matter how hopeless it may seem. I'm betting that Toner shares those same sentiments. Toner isn't perfect, but he has Greatness, and shares a huge heart with his beloved girl. Life has rewarded him kindly for the pain of his mysterious past.

Toner lives happily in Jackson Hole, WY, as an upper-level program horse for the Equine Facilitated Mental Health (EFMH) program, Horse Warriors(TM) . He and his companions help children, families and women to create healthy, fulfilling lives through the many Horse Warriors(TM) empowerment programs. www.horsewarriors.com

Do you have a wonderful story about a horse that has impacted your life for the better? Send us your story, along with a picture, and we might publish it. Stories must not have been previously published or copyrighted. All photographs must be taken and owned by you and you must have full rights to them. Each month we will select and publish a story from those submitted by our readers. Please send your story to info@equestmagazine.com and write "horse story" in the subject line. All stories must be less than 800 words and have no typographical or grammatical errors. Who knows, your story may get published just like Priscilla and Toner.