The Helpers

Fred Rogers, the icon of the Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood TV show is often quoted, “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’”

It is such sage advice for anyone at any time. But  I find it most valuable when I am in the trenches trying to claw my way out. It seems more than ever that everything in my life is falling apart, and at the same time, new things are appearing. Isn’t that how it works? Chaos before clarity?

My two star faculty members of my Equine Assisted Learning program for individuals struggling with anxiety, depression and social challenges, and me, did something unplanned. In the late afternoon of a crisp fall day, I asked Hunter and Romeo if they would like to go for a walk together. Hunter is very confident and definite with his decisions. When I opened his stall door, he greeted me and then quickly shoved his head into the halter. He almost pushed me over as we walked outside. He knew! We had been practicing for this moment and discussing a big adventure.

We walked over to the stall where the three miniature horses live. All three minis were standing by the stall door, ready to go. I apologized to Pixie and Fluff and promised next time. Romeo put his head in the halter, walked out of the stall and said hello to Hunter. These two were all business. We were off!

I still did not have a plan to walk a 2-mile trail behind the farm. I was only allowing them some time for exercise and socializing. We went over to visit some of their friends in the pasture, who were waiting to come in for dinner. It was not until we walked the fence line to the highest point of the farm that I received the message from Hunter:“We are doing the entire trail today.”

How did I receive this message? By observing his energy and body language. He was forward and ready to go. His ears were forward and he was looking at me with a relaxed but stern gaze. He made the first move.

I opened the gate at the edge of the property. Now, I had two very different horses by my side with a lead rope for each. The rope was our physical connection. The openness to the land was our emotional connection. I kept on repeating, “wow!” while the two charged forward. We were on an adventure!

I asked them to trot the long straight sections and then stop for some grass (so I could recover). I kept asking, “should we turn around since the sun is low?” I had no clue if the trail was a loop or an out-and-back trail. Everytime I asked, Hunter would lower his head and step forward.

The trail narrowed over several culverts. As we trotted, Hunter jumped one of the culverts. Romeo would alter between a trot and canter to keep up with Hunter. Both stayed by my side. We made it to the end of the trail. I took a celebratory selfie of the three of us oddballs. 

Who goes on a trail walk with unmounted horses? HA! We do and we love it!

Hunter, who has degenerative arthritis in his hocks, and Romeo, who is overweight and out of shape, would trot freely up the hills. When I work with Hunter in the indoor arena, he will reluctantly trot and stop frequently. Not now!

It was when we were returning to the barn that I had that moment of clarity, that satori, a light flickered inside my mind. It was this: WE WERE SUPPORTING EACH OTHER!

Hunter heard an animal rustle in the woods and became nervous. He spun and kicked out but never pulling me. He snorted and was ready to bolt. This is the moment that every horse person prepares for, never knowing when this will occur, but always aware that this is part of being around horses. 

I asked Hunter to lower his head, while I kept a firm grip on the lead rope, and to slow his pace. But it was Romeo who offered support to Hunter. Romeo was not phased by the noise. He did not alter his gait and stayed relaxed. Romeo and I put our intention on the task — to stay on the trail and cross the next bridge.

When we got past the bridge and to a clearing, I let the two have a grass break and re-group. Hunter confirmed that it was no big deal, and let Romeo and me  know that he wanted to see if we were paying attention. Typical horse response.

I thanked Romeo. I reminded him that he is helping Hunter just as much as Hunter is helping him. He chomped on some more grass and blew some snot as he exhaled. As we continued back to the barn, I started to wonder who is really leading who? I definitely had a leadership role but so did Romeo and Hunter.

For a brief moment, I felt like we were a herd, and a family. I trusted them. They trusted me. This is the foundation for healthy development of a human and a horse.

Who do you trust? Have you told them?

Camron Adibi is a sailor, horseman, equine relationship coach and a PATH Therapeutic Horse Riding Instructor who holds a master’s degree in education. He offers equine assisted therapy, sound therapy and Chi Equine Massage. He has a mission to improve horse and human interactions through education and storytelling.