Fable Farm

When I go work with people whose thoughts I value, I often come away with a few quotes that leave me thinking until I see them again. When you work largely by yourself throughout the year, these things become important to look back on when you're feeling stuck, unsure or unclear.

Some notes from my clinic journal this year so far:

"The thing we call curiosity is the flip side of a tissue-paper thin coin called fear."

"The hindquarter is where you disengage the thought and the forequarter is where you engage the thought."

"The biggest favor we can do for ourselves and our horses is to get them in the habit of letting go of their thoughts with no trouble between us."

"Horses are not good at separating class time and recess."

"Speed doesn't come from hurrying, it comes from confidence."

"Don't let their motions verify their feelings."

Assuming past behaviors in your horse doesn’t benefit you or your horse. We don’t know what situations may arise, when we aren’t present, that may affect how a horse feels about something.

He had loaded without issue for five years and then on a Wednesday in May he stopped. Not dramatically. He came to the ramp and he stopped and he looked at the interior and he communicated clearly that the interior was no longer acceptable and he was prepared to hold that position indefinitely if I intended to argue about it. I have thought about what changed and I have not identified the specific event. Something shifted in his experience of the trailer between a loading in March and that Wednesday in May and I was not present for whatever it was and I cannot go back and observe it. What I could do was rebuild. I moved the trailer to the barn area and I left it open for a week with hay visible inside and no requests made of anyone. Day eight I asked for his nose inside. That was the only ask. Just the nose. I rewarded the nose and I walked away. Day twelve one foot on the ramp. Day twenty two feet. Six weeks of incremental daily sessions with no pressure and no timeline except the one his comfort level set. Week six he loaded. Stood in the trailer for five minutes while I walked around it. Ramp closed. Drove to the end of the lane and back. He unloaded fine. We practice every week now. I will not assume five years of fine loading means forever fine loading. He showed me it does not mean that. I will not forget the lesson. 🐴

This has been my journey for the past 35 years breeding Warmblood sporthorses.

I know this woman and have deep respect for her as a horse person. I’m privileged to have met her through the Harry Whitney clinics at Mendin Fences in TN.

A common thing I deal with in my travels are horses with stereotypies. In this context, we're defining a stereotypie as a physical action the horse takes that is an outward manifestation of that horse's internal stress...but that specifically has no other purpose or function.

In a horse that bolts, for example - the bolting serves a specific purpose, usually as a release valve for the build-up of internal anxiety. It happens in specific instances or is triggered by certain types of handling or by riding. It is not something the horse does unless they need to.

But in a horse with a stereotypie, the behavior is repetitive and may present even if the horse doesn't otherwise appear obviously stressed. It is often absent-minded, as if the lights are on but no one is home.

I've come to understand horses with stereotypies as horses that have lost the ability to be comfortably present. They have experienced prolonged stress to a degree they not only could not escape from but failed to cope with through normal and by comparison healthier measures. At some point something broke within them mentally and they resorted to the stereotypie. It's my personal belief having worked with a lot with these horses that something neurological changes in them once they get to that point and while I've successfully reformed several of them, I know that they are susceptible to returning to those old patterns if not well managed.

My husband and I just celebrated the one year anniversary of his receiving his green card. After a seven year waiting process during which we were living with the knowledge that he was not protected from deportation during this time (and the understandable anxiety this caused), we flew down to Mexico for his visa interview. The morning of his 7AM appointment I walked down to the consulate with him at six o'clock. I was forced to leave him standing in the long lines queuing outside as family members were not allowed to wait with visa applicants, and so I made my way back to our Juarez hotel room to wait.

For nearly seven hours I sat inside that room, staring at the white cinderblock walls and watching the clock. I tried to read for a while. At some point I moved on to a series we'd be streaming but my mind was buzzing. Every half hour or so I found myself leaving the room and walking down the hall to the elevators, by which there were large glass windows facing the direction of the consulate. I would watch for a few minutes to see if I could pick out Ober walking back towards the hotel. If I had to guess, I probably did this three to four times an hour for nearly the entire seven hour period, only to return to my cinderblock walls to find another way to manage my growing anxiety.

At some point I started pacing the room. It felt maddening - I'd think to try and text Ober only to remember he had been instructed not to bring his phone. I knew I needed to eat something but the thought of food made me nauseous. Nothing I had available to me could preoccupy me and keep me from my own thoughts and the spiral I was starting to enter. Why was it taking so long? When would he be back? Every noise started to make my heart rate spike: a voice in the hall, a door opening or closing, the sound of footsteps. I remember laying on the bed staring at the ceiling, attempting to count the black dots in one of the tiles. I remember thinking how this must be how people lose themselves because to be present in that moment was something I was rapidly failing to manage. I also remember thinking that this must be how a caged animal feels - no choices, no out, no understanding of when things will change, just the constant and insufferable anxiety and fear.

Ober did eventually come back - I met him coming out of the elevator on one of my desperate forays to that glass window. I don't remember much about that moment other than meeting his eyes and seeing the corners of his mouth turn upwards and knowing instantly it was all okay. That exchange broke the dam on not just the last seven hours but seven years of fear and worry. It also permanently altered something within me.

I've met other horsefolk who have stories like this - things that they experienced and couldn't help but walk away from changed. Stress is a necessary thing in life and we cannot entirely avoid it, but too much has consequences.

Sometimes we recover from those consequences. While humans can make meaning of experiences - even highly traumatic ones - horses cannot. They are designed to live entirely in the present and the presence of a stereotypie tells us that that ability has been altered. The only way that I know to help these horses find their way back to peace is to get creative in addressing that lack of presence, one moment at a time.

I don't tend to ride in large group clinic settings anymore but there was a time when I did. I was at one of these clinics one time in a group of well over a dozen participants. It started off as a lovely summer day but over the course of the afternoon a storm cell moved in and the clear, sunny skies turned to dark clouds and increasing wind.

At some point during the afternoon session, the storm that had been threatening to descend upon us actually did. The winds picked up and the rain came down, pelting us sideways. Luckily there was no thunder and lightening but the scene was chaotic enough without it.

A couple of people ended up coming off their horses who panicked as the energy in the environment increased and came undone once the rain started come down in droves. Others quickly dismounted, sensing the agitation growing inside their own mounts and not wanting to tempt fate. There were the few of us who stopped whatever we were doing, moved to the middle of the arena and allowed our horses to turn their haunches to the wind and rain to wait it out.

I realized the deeper definition of "fair weather rider" that day, and how it applied not only to ourselves but our horses.

I do not have an indoor or covered workspace, so the ramifications of the day's weather are very real. If it starts downpouring in the middle of a session, I can either run for cover, wait it out and keep working, or decide to pack up and try another time and calmly get my horse untacked and turned back out. I make that decision based on a few things, but my personal comfort is not one of them. There are many things I can control but the weather sure ain't one - if I don't want things to fall apart every time the wind blows the wrong way, my horses and I both need to be able to deal with that.

As circumstances would have it, I realized earlier this spring that I've set my good gelding Lewis up to learn this unintentionally. My horses live out 24/7 with access to shelter as they please but they often choose not to use it (even during storms where the squeamish part of me wishes they would). That said, we're in the process of building a new pole barn because my other gelding does not always allow Lewis to share the shed when the weather is inclement.

Because of this, Lewis has been caught in many a downpour and snowstorm, hanging out just outside of the shed. For a period of time after I brought him home I would watch him navigate this with some discomfort; he'd be unsure of which way to turn himself, shifting around, sometimes doing a bit of running about before settling in a spot that was, as I imagine, the best he could do in that moment.

Over time, though, Lewis has figured out how to find peace in the midst of chaos. In a recent downpour, I watched him locate a suitable spot, turn his bum to the rain, lower his head and lick and chew a bit before cocking a leg and settling in. It made me think back to that clinic and all those horses that panicked, not knowing what to do or how to handle the pressure the environment was placing upon them. It made me think about how sometimes, our own human desires for comfort might inadvertently limit our horses in ways that could become problematic to us down the road. Ultimately, it made me think about how important it is that we not wrap our horses in cotton wool and prevent any measure of discomfort from reaching them.

Discomfort is a catalyst for growth. It is the thing that spurns us to search and seek and find something else. If we're always within our comfort zone we never have a reason to look elsewhere. We stay unchallenged within our bubble of comfort and as soon as that bubble is burst we have no tools and no way to problem solve. This is not a way to live.

Not for us, and not for our horses.

2 year old Flynn is headed to TN for his first road trip and introduction to Harry Whitney. Louie, the seasoned traveler is along as emotional support horse😉

So 19 days past her due date my TB mare, Belle, finally foaled a beautiful filly by Denmark HTF. She’s very long legged, bay (or course) with a white star and white left hind stocking.
Waiting to figure out her personality to name, a “D”.
Thanks to my camera stalkers for helping on mare watch.

Hello Harry Friends. Harry will be at Mendin' Fences Farm during the month of May and June. We currently have at least one rider spot open in each week. Please contact Shelby at [email protected] if you are interested in attending or auditing.
This year we are not only having Intensive and Regular format weeks, but a new East Cost Legacy Clinic week. To learn more about the clinic formats and schedule please visit Harrys Website or SJ Saddlery Inc.
https://www.harrywhitney.com/
https://www.sjsaddleryinc.com/

✨ New Research: Your Emotions Don’t Stop at the Arena Gate ✨

A new study just confirmed what many horse people have long suspected — horses don’t just read our emotions… they catch them.

Researchers showed horses videos of humans expressing fear, joy, or neutral emotions and measured the horses’ reactions through:

Facial expressions

Heart rate

Eye temperature (a stress indicator)

Posture

Which eye they used to look (linked to emotional processing)

What happened?

🐴 Joyful humans = positive reactions
Horses looked longer with their right eye (associated with positive emotion) and showed more relaxed but engaged facial expressions.

🐴 Fearful humans = stress responses
Horses showed more alert postures, increased ear movement, blowing, eye‑wrinkling, higher heart rates, and greater changes in eye temperature — all signs of emotional tension.

In short: horses mirrored the emotional tone of the humans they watched.

💡 Takeaway for riders, handlers, and trainers:
Your emotional state matters. Horses are incredibly attuned to us — not just our body language, but our expressions, tone, and even physiological cues we don’t realize we’re giving off.

If you’re anxious, they feel it.
If you’re joyful, they feel that too.

Be the calm, confident presence your horse can trust.

Study: Jardat et al., Scientific Reports (2025)
DOI: 10.1038/s41598-025-98794-3