Building Trust
Charlie Needs a Friend - Part III
Deborah Ann Lucas
Where we left off...
After Losing Sonia Charlie needed a friend. We were lucky to find two senior OTTB (off-track Thoroughbred) horses to rescue and bring home (see Charlie Needs a Friend Part I). I hoped they’d soon accept our farm down the long lane as their new home. It takes time to build trust and many things can go wrong after adopting two hot-blooded horses. They could try to run away.
The Pecking Order
Establishing a pecking order is essential to establishing herd behavior. Usually the newest horse to arrive goes to the bottom of the pecking order. That means they eat last, getting what’s left over. I lock up all my horses at night to be sure they each get all the nutrients they need plus any special medicine. I also check for symptoms of illness and wounds. Horses are usually sweet, kind, and gentle, but they can act like a bully while fighting to become the alpha of the herd.
The horses not at the top of the pecking order regularly challenge the alpha horse, threatening with bared teeth and fiercely flying hooves. If there’s contact, teeth tear flesh that bleed, hooves bruise muscle that swell and lame. We’ve had to treat these kinds of injuries in the past, sometimes needing to call a vet. When not paying attention, I can get caught in the action and can be injured as well. Usually, I’m just knocked to the ground, although now that I’ve turned 70 it takes longer for me to get back up. While I struggle, the offending horse stares at me with a look of confusion and innocence: “Didn’t you see me coming? Why didn’t you move?”
Building Respect
I don’t see behind me as well as I used to either, well it’s more like a sense, but nowadays I tend to focus on one thing at a time. When I see a horse moving toward me but focused on another horse or the door, I yell and raise a hand higher than their heads. You see, whoever is tallest is in charge. Fighting horses often rear, and submissive horses drop their heads.
If I’m quick enough with hand and voice, they back off, go around, and sometimes pause to show respect. With Gracie, this is a problem. She walks right through me as if I wasn’t there, pushing me out of her way. For now, I yell at her and say, “eh eh” or “hey, cut that out.” I need to take the time to do some respect-building ground work with her, using a halter and lead, or better yet, working with her using only body language in the round pen. However, that won’t be possible until the mud dries up. These Natural Horsemanship techniques worked great for my OTTB gelding Lance thirty years ago and with each of our four foals, but mares can be stubborn, and I don’t know how much abuse she’s suffered, so I’ll take it slow.
the Plan that didn't Work
On the Friday after Mikey and Gracie arrived, Greg returned to work. So, I maneuvered those two into separate enclosures on my own while leaving Charlie loose in the pasture in between. They were so thin and could benefit from eating grass. But it didn’t go as I had hoped. After Mikey escaped his enclosure, I gave up and let Gracie out with the boys (see Charlie Needs a Friend Part II). Without much ado, the horses resolved the day’s pecking order and hung out together in peace—that is as long as Charlie honored Mikey’s rules.
Charlie keeps a respectful distance
Mikey remained possessive of Gracie, so Charlie kept a respectful distance, cautiously inching closer. It takes time to build trust. When he got too close, or when Gracie approached Charlie out of curiosity, Mikey raced up and separated them with his body. It would take a few weeks before they learned to trust each other and me…if I didn’t do anything to spoil it.
Trust is hard to gain and easy to lose with horses (that may be true with people too). If they get startled or scared, or if anything bad happens while they are in my care, I lose some of their trust. Once, to control Sonia, a horse dentist put a twitch on her lip. He squeezed the tender flesh with the metal plyers and twisted. The pain supposedly releases endorphins to calm them. But at what cost? It happened so fast I couldn’t stop him. After that, I never regained the level of trust I had built with Sonia since the day she was born. She transformed from being a sweet, confident filly into a distrusting, worried mare. I’ve never forgiven myself for not protecting her. Some vets and farriers tell you it doesn’t hurt them, that the horses get over it, or used to it, or some such foolishness. I’m determined to not fail in protecting these rescue horses—all their abuse is now in the past
After letting the three horses onto the pasture, I kept watch from the north barn door. I wanted to be sure they wouldn’t test the fence line as they moved around the field. Charlie came up to me and nuzzled a treat from my palm, then moseyed back to where Mikey and Gracie were grazing. They looked safe so I prepared to return to the house to write.
Gracie Takes the Lead
Out of the corner of my eye as I turned away, I saw the herd running…with Gracie in the lead. The horses quickly approached the west fence line. Charlie tried to turn them back to the south toward the barn, but Gracie had her own ideas. She neared the two-braid rope barrier. I know she saw it because she stretched out her neck and lifted her front feet off the ground. Her hooves caught the top line, stretching it but not breaking it. Instead, the nylon braid with woven electrical strands slid off her feet and snapped back to a slackened position, then her hind feet cleared it. In a fraction of a second, she was over and outside the pasture.
With my phone camera running, I watched, barely breathing. People think stallions lead a herd, but it’s usually the mares. Gracie took the lead becoming alpha at least for now. Would the boys both follow her? Then they’d all be out and could take off who knows where. Plus, one of the boys might get his legs tangled in the line and panic. We’d seen that when we lived in California. That’s why we never put in a hard wire fence line here. This braided line is supposed to break before it hurts them. Better to have them free than on the ground, their legs wrapped in a bramble of wire cutting into their flesh, severing their tendons. I know from experience.
Gracie is Out
I was relieved when the boys didn’t follow Gracie. Instead, they ran down the fence line while keeping an eye on her. When Mikey reached the northwest corner, he hadn’t found a way out, so he turned around and headed back toward me but keeping his eye on Gracie. Charlie followed him.
Beyond the fence, Gracie dropped her head to graze in the hayfield. When she saw the boys running, she burst into a gallop, away from Mikey. That was his cue. He picked the spot where she’d gone over with the still slumping top-line and jumped out of the pasture. Instead of clearing it as Gracie had, he caught the top braid across his front legs and stretched it into the hayfield, pulling it off the insulators up and down the fence line until it snapped. By the time he kicked free of it, half the west fence was down.
To my surprise, Charlie didn’t follow. He did, however, panic. He raced up and down the fence line looking at me for help then back at his two herd mates getting away. They soon disappeared behind the storage buildings. Charlie kept running but respected the barrier even though he could have easily jumped it and followed them.
The Bait
Charlie ran around the outside of the barn to the other side. I turned off the video on my phone and inside the barn, breathing deeply to calm myself, put grain in a bucket. All the horses I’ve ever had, whenever they escaped through an open gate or downed line, followed me back to the barn when I shook a bucket of grain. I prayed it would work again.
But first, I had to push away my fears to remain calm. If I didn’t, the horses would sense my worry, mistake it as a sign of danger, and run in the opposite direction. That’s how horses in a herd warn each other of any disturbance. Even if I hid my panic, the horses could still read my subtle body and voice changes and translate them into horse talk as “run.”
Once I got their attention, I planned to walk away from them so that they will follow—a lesson I learned from the cowboy Natural Horsemanship trainers we worked with in California. Never chase a fleeing horse. I needed to establish my status as head of the herd, as a trusted leader…then maintain it every day.
The Plan
Once inside the barn, I dropped a cup of grain pellets into a bucket, then locked the gate inside the barn between the new horses’ stall and Charlie’s to close them off from the pasture they’d just escaped. Charlie had already run around the barn and was standing on the south side at the edge of their outside corral. He saw them coming before me—from between the storage buildings and the house. Charlie was so afraid of being left behind that maybe his panicked screams drew them back. Maybe they remembered the hay, grain and water in the barn and decided not to run away from the delicious, dependable daily meals. I was relieved I didn’t have to go looking for them.
I shook the grain bucket as I swung open the big gate to their enclosure. Gracie and Mikey walked right by me, through the twelve-foot gate and into the barn, ignoring the grain. Huh. Ya’ never know what they’ll do.
As I closed the gate, Charlie ran around to the north entrance and into his stall to greet them inside. When I saw all three horses in the barn, I released a long sigh. But the momentary relief quickly dissolved. I still had a big problem.
The Problem
The fence on the west side of the north pasture was now down and if I let them out, we might start this dance all over again. I like to call it a dance instead of an ordeal because it keeps me from panicking. Getting out and getting them back in is something the horses and I do from time to time, but I didn’t have the energy to do it again today.
So, I couldn’t let them out to eat grass until the fence was fixed. However, accomplishing that would take more than mending one break in the line. Now, I need to confess something that’s a bit embarrassing: the power hadn’t been turned on when they broke out. They didn’t react to the zap because the wire wasn’t hot!
Fencing the Pature
When we arrived here twenty-five years ago, we ran a one-inch-wide woven strap with tiny wires inside to carry the current for our fence line, but it didn’t hold up in our weather. Now our fence line consists of two braided lines, the top hot with a modified electric current, and the bottom acting as a ground. When the horses test it, they feel a gentle shock to keep them from leaning over to eat the grass on the other side, that is as long as nothing is interfering with the signal along the entire perimeter, like a tree branch.
My Confession
As my original herd of horses aged and got sick, they required additional care—like daily massages and magnetic resonance treatments by our farrier which took hours of my time. Plus, every day I had to find new ways to give Sonia and Maggie their bad tasting medicine they usually tried to spit out. Each trick only worked a few times before they got wise to it. Also, when Charlie had deep abscesses, I needed to soak the infected hoof twice a day, each time convincing him to stand still with his foot in a bucket of a warm Epsom salts solution for thirty minutes. With all the usual chores taking up the rest of my free time, I neglected regular maintenance projects, like keeping the brush trimmed away from the fence’s top strand because it grounded out the electric pulse.
With all the rain last year, mulberry trees and raspberry brambles along with multi-flora rose (a nasty weed introduced from eastern Asia in the 1950s for wildlife cover and food that has become a serious invader of agricultural lands, pastures and natural communities throughout Illinois) had flourished under, around, and over the fence line. The birds even planted evergreen seeds that grew into a nice shrub which we preserved at my request by trimming its branches around the top hot wire. I hate killing viable plants, but I’ve come to terms with mowing down all the little walnut trees that the squirrels planted because I’ve run out of places to transplant them.
Clearing the Lines
On Saturday morning, we placed tools into the back of the 4Runner: clippers and limp cutters for brambles, weed eaters to clear the underbrush, a reciprocating saw for me and a chain saw for Greg to use on the bigger branches and trunks. We drove out to the pasture pulling our trailer behind, prepared to work all day.
Moving the truck along the inside of the fence as we worked, we cleared the brush, then loaded it into the trailer. When it was full, we transported it to the burn pile.
We wore long sleeves and heavy leather work gloves to help protect against the thorns on the wild raspberry branches and the multi-flora rose bushes. Their sharp spikes grabbed my cheek as I whacked them off at the base. I tackled the briar patches systematically, ignoring the scratches they left on my face and arms (even through my sleeves). Behind me, Greg cut the heavy mulberry branches and we lifted them into the trailer.
As the sun sank toward the power plant towers, we had finished only the south fence line. We’d need to work again on Sunday to clear the north pasture perimeter. The horses wouldn’t be safe until we finished it all, but they made it clear they wanted out anyway, trying to push through whenever we cracked open a door or gate.
Evening Chores
After a short break, I cleaned stalls working around the horses. Greg filled their hay nets and prepared a moist grain mash with a special combination of supplements for each horse. As I finished mucking out his stall, Charlie, kept separate from the others, seemed lonely. Copper the stray barn cat came over to keep him company. I hated leaving them locked in all day. I told Charlie we were working as fast as we could to repair the fence.
Heading back to the house to nurse our wounds and feed the dog and inside cats, I was reminded why we were willing to work so hard to live here on this land. Looking up, I breathed in the spectacular sunset, letting its rose and baby blue sooth my worried mind and exhausted body.
Finishing the Work
Despite aches and pains from the previous day’s work, we got an early start the next morning. After a considered discussion, we decided to let the horses out to graze only because we’d parked the truck and trailer as barrier at the fence line where they’d broke through. Plus, we’d be working there to keep an eye on them. As soon as we opened the door, the horses got busy tearing off big clumps of grass, seemingly undisturbed by our presence.
We quickly filled the twelve-foot trailer with brush then drove it to the burn pile on the far side of the house. After pulling off the prickly branches and limbs, we returned to fill it again—easily making the loop a half dozen times in the two days.
Once the overgrowth was clear, we returned to patch and repair the woven wire and replace any broken insulators. We dragged off the last load of brush from the trailer, put away all the tools, and brought the horses in for their dinner and the night, grateful they hadn’t attempted any more escapes.
After the long day, our hard work was again rewarded with a breathtaking sky, along with a sense of safety for the coming weeks that the horses would be constrained on our property with two working hot wires. Our nearly mile-long lane to the paved road made it unlikely that the horses would end up in danger, but not impossible. I’ve heard many horror stories of big animals and cars colliding on country roads, and I cringe at the thought of it happening to one of ours.
Mikey Wants a Treat
A few days later, Mikey came to visit me while I cleaned stalls. He mostly wanted treats but I was encouraged when he hung around for some loving touch as well. It was a sign we were building some trust with each other.
A week later, I saw all three horses grazing together in the pasture. My heart fluttered. In such a short period, they have built trust with each other as well with me. Charlie has his new herd. Mikey and Gracie seem happy, too, with their new forever home.
When we made the decision to adopt these two horses, we struggled with it partly because we are getting older, but also because we knew so little about their past. None of their owners were available to tell their story, and so their story begins anew here with us.
We made the right choice for Charlie, Greg, and especially for me. All the work it takes to care for them is worth it because they fill me with such joy.
I’ve struggled with anxiety and depression all my life and the time I spend with my horses gives me peace. I continue to be in awe of their beauty each time I step onto my porch to watch them graze and groom each other and roll to scratch their backs…my spirit sores with theirs as they run across the flat together.
When they nuzzle my hand or shoulder for a treat, I feel like I’ve been kissed by an angel. Maybe it’s my brother Chuck’s spirit, smiling. He helped me to buy my first horse Lance. I will be forever grateful for his love and kindness and I feel his presence whenever I stand with my horses. I breathe with them, matching their cadence, and our spirits merge.
Want to Help?
If you want to help some animals in need, I want to give you a link. We adopted our German shepherd dog, Killian through the Animal Rescue Foundation. They rescue, foster and place homeless dogs and orphan cats. Another admirable group is the Field of Dreams in St. Charles and Maple Park, Illinois. They have rescued horses since 2005 and find them secure and caring new homes. Both organizations do great work and are always in need of donations, both time and money, so if you are of a mind, I know they and their animals would be grateful.
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A Note from Deborah:
If you like this story, please leave a comment. And if you are interested in seeing more about my horses, (future posts won’t be as long as this series has been, I promise) please sign up for my newsletter. That way you will get my next story in your mailbox as soon as it is available.
2 thoughts on “Building Trust: Charlie needs a friend Part III”
Beautiful story. I loved it.
Thanks so much Susan, for reading it and for giving me that invaluable suggestion for the ending.