Take a moment to really think about this. It might just shift the way you see horse behavior. This thought struck me this morning while I was sitting in the dental chair, my mouth wide open as the hygienist worked away, poking and scraping at my teeth. I was lying there, hoping for a painless experience, fully aware that she had no intention of causing me harm. I knew that the end result would be a cleaner, healthier mouth.
But then, I started imagining something different. What if I had a wide gap between my canines and molars, and in that gap, I had to carry a nutcracker or some other strange device—maybe even one with a rough, bumpy texture? And every now and then, that device would be yanked unexpectedly to one side or the other, just because the person holding it felt nervous or unsure about what direction they wanted to go in.
I could feel the device being pulled back too sharply on both sides, clamping down painfully on my gums, while the apex of the joint pushed up into the roof of my mouth. In that moment, I’d instinctively pull my head back in pain, not sure what was happening or why. I couldn’t even imagine which part would hurt worse—the pressure on my gums or the spike poking into the roof of my mouth.
Now, imagine that after causing all that pain and confusion, the person gets frustrated with me because I reacted. They don’t understand why I was startled or why I wasn’t sure how to respond, so instead of calming down, they kick me in the ribs. And as if that wasn’t enough, now I’m being poked with their spurs, all while still processing the pain from before.
If I were that horse, I’d certainly appreciate it if my rider would use the bit more gently to communicate with me. And if they were scared or uncertain, maybe they could hold onto the saddle horn instead of pulling on my mouth.