DRUM

My early years with horses left me both full of respect for horses and disheartened by the less than respectful treatment they were often subject to, even by those who loved them.

As a young adult my ruminations about horses, along with my deep concern for the health of the planet as a whole, led me to university to study ecology, environmental studies, and philosophy.

Following school and a farm manager position at Slide Ranch—a demonstration farm on the coast of Northern California—I returned north to British Columbia with many questions about humans’ handling of horses, including if we should be handling them much at all.

When I came upon a semi-feral thoroughbred yearling on a farm in British Columbia I was in no way looking for a horse. High strung and well aware his size was an advantage, this young horse didn’t think much of people. He was the kind of horse that could bring out irritation and impatience in handlers; I could see a hard life ahead for him.

In this horse I felt the depth of all horses, and the challenges they faced in the human world. I had un-pressured time to spare, so built a round corral and with no agenda other than to learn from this largely unfettered horse I began.

The farm was remote and the time pre-internet. A book by a horseman passed to me by my mother was enough to start with; the horse filled in the rest. He was the greatest teacher I could have asked for.

Learning from this horse, questions that had simmered for a long time took new meaning; threads of understanding began to knit together; and many common horse-handling methods I had observed over the years were exposed as unnecessary.

While continuing to learn from the young thoroughbred (now 17.3 hands) I began training Norwegian Fjord Horses at a breeding farm and horse camp on the other side of the mountain. All 18 of the horses (from yearlings to seniors) needed starting/re-starting. Within several months most of the horses could be safely handled and ridden by beginners.

In my late 20’s, in the course of building a barn for the horses, a logging accident left my right leg crushed and shattered, pinned under an old growth fir tree. My leg was saved, though permanently twisted, weakened, and shortened. Along with multiple surgeries and a long recovery, out of necessity I gave myself to a continuing study and practice of yoga.

When I eventually began to ride after the accident (bareback due to my leg), I developed an even greater appreciation for the importance of thoughtful foundational work with horses, and ourselves.

In 1996, after many years in British Columbia, my horses and I relocated to San Juan Island, Washington. During this time I continued my study of yoga, including completing a residential teaching certification in Vedic yoga.  In 1999 I undertook rehabilitating a former sheep farm and established Free Horse Farm, where my work and philosophy with horses evolved into Essential Horsemanship.  Since then I have been committed to helping horses, and people with their horses, however I can.

Over many years of teaching workshops, presenting at horse expos and fairs, offering demonstrations, lessons, apprenticeships, and training with all kinds of horses in all kinds of settings, each horse and each person has been a teacher.  Always I have aspired to remain true to my venerable teacher and inspiration, Drum.

Visit Drum’s Memorial here.