DRUM

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

Alongside my experience with horses, my love for wilderness and my concern for humans’ degradation of the planet (particularly clearcutting of the old growth forests of my Pacific Northwest homeland) led me as a young adult to walk away from the horse world as I knew it, turn my horse out with a herd on a hundred acre farm, and devote myself to studying ecology, environmental studies, and philosophy at university.

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. I had many questions about humans’ handling of horses, including questioning if we should be handling them at all.

When I met a scarcely-handled thoroughbred yearling on the farm in British Columbia I was in no way looking for a horse. High strung and having learned to use his size to his 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 saw the depth of all horses, and the challenges they faced with humans. I had un-pressured time to spare, and with this I built a round corral and with no agenda other than to learn from this largely unfettered horse I began.

The farm was remote farm 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, which was vast.  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 confirmed as unnecessary and misguided.

A foal is born into this world, open, sensitive, capable, full of promise. How is it that years later the mature horse is found hardened, a resigned or fearful look in his eyes? Why is it that  the foal who would once respond to the slightest suggestion is now a horse that appears to feel or respond to nothing? It became increasingly obvious to me that what is understood as a foal, the natural abilities and sensitivities, are often unwittingly overridden and dismissed by humans.

While continuing to learn from the young thoroughbred (now 17.3 hands) I began training Norwegian Fjord Horses at a Fjord breeding farm and horse camp on the other side of the mountain. All 18 of the horses (from yearlings to seniors) needed starting or re-starting. Several months along most of the horses had enough of a foundation to 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.

Horsemanship and yoga have been long been intertwined in my experience. Balance, flexibility, releasing, and being fully present are a few of the elements shared between yoga and horsemanship, for both horse and human. Horsemanship asks a lot of us, for good reason. I wish not for my horse to endure me, but to become fit for my horse, as best I can.

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 classical yoga.  In 1999 I took on 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.