It’s a woman’s world.
Any masculine male coming into horses soon becomes aware that this is a female dominated world and he must adapt into it. A man soon has to learn that women think differently from men. It is not just the hair pieces, the false bosoms, the cleavage, the fashion, the make up, the high heeled shoes and the insistence on moving the furniture around, rather it is the aims and objectives in life. The likelihood is that the man will have been introduced to horses by a woman and that the first riding lesson will have been given by a woman. Masculine men are indeed rare creatures in this equestrian society and mostly, from the very beginning, nearly all of we private male owners treat our horses differently from women. A man who takes riding seriously probably was born with the instinct to love horses.
Looking back over the horses which took a place in my life, they were all geldings bar the last one. Somehow it seemed natural for me to own a male horse rather than a female of the species. But one day I met, and was captivated by a pretty, dapple grey, spotted mare. I had not taken into consideration that she might be one of those dominant mares who would in the wild have become the matriach of her herd. I had to learn how to work her. I had to ride her differently. I had to learn to ask and not demand. I had to be firm but gentle. Any other way of treating her would have been counter productive. I had to stroke her and give her ’presents’.
Just where had I learned to act that way I wonder.
At first I had not realized that my newly acquired Diva might be good at dressage and it took a young gifted female to show me that my little mare was a natural at the discipline. Me, well I had bought her simply because she was pretty and she had given me a lick on the first meeting. Her role would be to take me down to the pub but that wasn’t good enough for her. If she had been human, then should would have been a prima donna ballerina. She always wanted more and she felt she was worth it.
Then one day I realized that she experienced ‘monthlies’ and that during the period she could morph into something completely unmanageable. She would then dominate the place. She’d throw herself about, she’d chase off after the geldings, she’d throw strops and she’d pretend to be ’frightened’ when she wanted her own way.
There’s a long sad story to tell about her but I have to admit that, in a relatively short space of time, she wormed her way into my psyche. Actually she wasn’t the prettiest horse I have owned. She certainly wasn’t the easiest horse to ride. But without a doubt she was the one with the strongest character. But she could not help it - after all she was female.
I miss her still.
Undoubtedly a good female is worth her weight in gold - if the man still has any left over.
Last edited by xxBarry Godden; 05-30-2013 at 07:41 AM.