Building Empathetic Riders

By Lydia Fairchok

I used to work at a large barn where over one hundred students churned through the arena weekly, often with multiple instructors and classes running concurrently. To keep everything straight and avoid overusing horses, we maintained a daily schedule on the massive dry erase board in the breezeway. This also served as the unofficial rally point for all incoming classes, where riders eagerly lined up to see their horse of the day. I always looked forward to seeing their reactions. Enthusiasm was the standard response; however, there were occasional accusations of injustice or petitions to trade when a rider had their heart set on a particular mount. I often imagined the horses reading the list from their stalls and having similar conversations:

“The nine o’ clock is Jingle with Kelly, Rusty with Sam, and Twister with J.J. Ten o’clock is Pico with Kyle and Carraway with Laura.”

“Ooh, I have a private lesson with Deshawna at eleven. Do you think she’ll learn to canter today?”

“Rusty always gets Sam – that’s not fair!”

“Hooray, J.J. so much fun to jump with.”

“Not Laura! She bounces and pulls my mouth.”

“I would trade you Kyle for Laura1. Last week he wiped his nose on me.”

This imaginary conversation may be somewhat silly, but it is a reminder that our horses don’t exactly have a vote in their lesson placement. They cannot surf the web for new career opportunities if they tire of teaching, post their human for sale if they don’t feel like a good match, or even send them off to the trainer for a tune up. The horse-human partnership is, by design, one of inequality. None of these things should make us feel sorry for our horses (unless we are being unfair in their assignments, in which case we should do something about it), but it is a reminder that we must build empathy in our students. Empathy is the equalizer that ensures the horse is treated fairly as a partner.

This begs the question, “But how do we build empathy?” It’s not a muscle group that we can target with exercises and conditioning, or a piece of equipment that can be adjusted. Some of our students come from homes where empathy is not modeled amongst people, let alone towards animals. Others have only a vague concept of the word or how it impacts their riding. A few seem to have natural intuition for the needs of the horse but lack skill in applying it.

Empathy is defined by Oxford as “the ability to understand and share the feelings of another”. In the context of horsemanship, we want our students to understand the actions of the horse and share perspective on its feelings so they can shape the horse’s behavior with fairness and consideration. This leads to a deeply trusting partnership where the horse consistently and cheerfully brings its best to the table. Understanding requires interpretation, and sharing requires imagination. Anthropomorphism, the projection of human qualities onto nonhuman entities, is a powerful tool for interpreting the horse in a way that engages the imagination, thus stimulating empathy.

I Thought We Weren’t Supposed To Do That?

Anthropomorphism tends to have a bad rap—often for good reasons. Have you seen the woman who blankets her horse because she is cold? Or the guy who says his horse is “being a jerk on purpose” and doesn’t even pause to consider underlying pain or training issues? Let’s not forget the person who allows their “affectionate” horse to crowd their space and frisk them for treats, then wonders why they got knocked down or bitten. It’s not exactly a model to strive for, is it?

We really do want to avoid these types of anthropomorphism, but they represent only part of the concept. Oxford defines anthropomorphism as “the attribution of human characteristics or behavior to a god, animal, or object”. The Cambridge University Dictionary expands on this with “the showing or treating of animals, gods, and objects as if they are human in appearance, character, or behavior”, and Merriam-Webster describes “an interpretation of what is not human or personal in terms of human or personal characteristics”. Notice that none of these definitions are inherently negative.

Anthropomorphism has traditionally been regarded as a detrimental thing in animal training because we focus on the projection of strictly human attributes and make false (and often dangerous) assumptions that animals share our thought processes. While this is certainly a risk that comes with the territory, positive anthropomorphism is actually necessary to empathy. It is the window through which we compare and contrast things we can feel ourselves human experiences with things we can only observe equine experiences so we can read the horse and respond appropriately. Coupled with a genuine desire for the horse’s wellbeing, this puts empathy into action.

NARRATION: Behavior + Message = Action

Don’t miss the importance of that word, “action”. It is not enough for a student to recognize what their horse is thinking or feeling, or even to care about treating the horse kindly; they must also know what to do about it. Anthropomorphic narration allows us to combine equine behaviors with relatable human terms to result in appropriate actions. It provides a more impactful learning experience than merely giving an instruction. Consider the following examples:

 “Don’t go near that horse” versus “When she pins her ears and swishes her tail, she feels standoffish. That’s like you scowling and crossing your arms. She is saying ‘Don’t touch me right now. Back off!’”

SPEAKING AS THE HORSE: PERSONIFICATION

Personification is the highly entertaining extreme of anthropomorphic narration. It involves speaking on behalf of the horse as if the horse itself is actually speaking. The instructor adopts this “voice” to convey important feedback from the horse’s perspective. Your acting skills do not need to be great to pull it off, but having a unique voice for each horse adds to the fun. For example, my little Hackney mare has often “said” in her signature raspy squeak, “I’m a pony, not a trampoline. Please stop bouncing!” or “Sorry, I thought you meant ‘stop’ when you pulled the reins”. Students invariably apologize (to the pony, not to me) and work on the problem with more motivation than my mere correction could have produced. Their desire to do better is rooted in their personal relationship with the horse.

 “Don’t brush like that” versus “See him twitch his skin? That means he is feeling sensitive, just like you might if someone touched you with a piece of grass. He is saying ‘Hey, that brush tickles when you use it like that. Can you brush more firmly, please?’”

 “Get his attention!” versus “Notice how your horse’s ears are pricked and his head is high. He is saying “Hey! Look at that interesting thing way over there!” Just like people, horses can get distracted. Turn him in a circle and go over those poles to remind him that he has a job to do right here.”

When you attribute the human ability of speech to the horse, you cause your student to see familiar mental or emotional conditions in the nonverbal communication of their equine partner. This leads the student to follow through on an empathetic response.

The concept is strengthened when you prompt the student to remember their own human experiences:

 “How does your body show other people you don’t want anyone close to you?”

 “What do you do when something tickles?”

 “What kinds of things are distracting to you? What do you do to refocus?”

Narration and follow-up questions like these are easily tailored to individuals or groups of any age. You can also prompt riders to narrate their own observations using a simple format such as “when my horse does [this behavior], he is communicating [this message], so I should do [this action]”. Riders who learn to think in this way perceive their partner as a relatable being rather than a machine or servant.

Reverse Anthropomorphism: Relatable, But Not Identical

Seeing the horse as a relatable being is the broadest basis for empathy, and the importance of this first step cannot be overstated. However, it is only one side of the equation. Notice I did not say “seeing the horse as a relatable human being”, because that is the kind of anthropomorphic thinking that causes problems. We must never expect the horse to think or act like a human; it doesn’t. While we do share many capacities, the similarities between our species are only helpful insofar as we respect our enormous differences. Therefore, as soon as the rider recognizes that horses have some things in common with humans, we must also incorporate the opposite truth: they have many things not in common. Everyday struggles provide plenty of opportunities to teach reverse anthropomorphism:

 “Remember he can’t imagine a circle like you can. He is depending on you to give him instructions the whole way.”

 “Your horse wants to walk instead of trot because his instincts tell him he should not use up all of his energy. A tired horse might not be able to outrun a predator. Walking is also comfortable, and trotting is harder work. He doesn’t see the point to trotting in circles when he could be walking instead. You are going to have to convince him it’s more work and less comfortable to walk than to trot.”

 “When he canters with his friends in the field, he uses whatever lead feels good to him. He doesn’t think of having a “right” or “wrong” lead. When we want him to take a certain lead, we must prepare his balance so the right lead feels good to him.”

 “If you are worried he will speed up, he doesn’t understand that you are scared of something he might do. He notices how tense and fearful your body is, and he thinks you are scared of something that would also be scary to him because he can’t understand that humans are scared of different things than horses. This makes him nervous, which makes him want to go faster.”

 “Your horse does not care about being more fit, so you are going to have to pay attention to whether or not he is doing these exercises correctly. If you don’t change how he’s doing it, he assumes it’s what you wanted. If you don’t reward him when he changes, he will not have a reason to try that behavior again.”

A rider who (consciously or subconsciously) thinks the horse “knows” certain things about how it “should” be acting can easily fall into the belief that a noncompliant horse is intentionally frustrating its person or withholding a better performance. By contrast, a rider who understands the inner drives of the horse can find fair, creative ways to inspire not force compliance. We impart this kind of intuition when we reverse-engineer anthropomorphism to include the rider thinking like a horse rather than expecting the horse to think like the rider—hippomorphism, if you will!

HONEST “NO”S: Respecting The Horse’s Boundaries

Of course, this intuition takes years to develop, and the gulf between raw beginner and conscientious horseperson is fraught with misapplied cues, environmental bogeymen, and days where the horse simply isn’t on board with the task. How you handle a student’s early struggles shapes their lifelong perspective of equine “disobedience”. Rather than blaming the horse, chastising the rider, or merely giving instructions, we can use all of our anthropomorphic tools to teach the rider to respond to the horse’s honest “no”.

 “I know you really want to canter today, but when I watch your horse, I see he isn’t in the right frame of mind for that. It is windy, his friends are running in the pasture, and it is close to dinnertime. Imagine how you would feel if you were stuck inside and hungry while your friends had recess. Feel how tense his muscles are and notice he wants to look out the arena doors to see his buddies. He’s having a hard time keeping himself together at the trot. We are not going to test his self-control by cantering right now.”

 “Sometimes horses have tired days just like people. I think your horse is having one right now. It’s fair to ask her to do some work, but it’s also fair to give her a break after she works. She needs your help to try her hardest, so get your best position ready!”

 “Even though he did well with that skill last time, he doesn’t seem to be making the connection so far today. We all have days like that. Let’s go all the way back to basics and get him thinking of moving off your leg before we try again.”

 “I’m sorry, but he is not ready to try that. Imagine if your boss gave you an assignment you didn’t understand and wanted you to complete it right away. Wouldn’t you feel stressed out? Your horse’s body is saying he is stressed out right now, so we need to change his assignment. This other exercise will help him feel more prepared for the task.”

Your judgement calls may be unpopular or even unprofitable as you scratch a class, pivot your plans for a ride, or have a serious discussion with someone about whether or not their horse is suited to the sport they wish to pursue. Clients are understandably disappointed when they do not meet their goals or miss out on an activity they enjoy. Empathy is the foundation that allows your students to not only absorb these disappointments, but also to see the wisdom in respecting their horse’s needs.

Building empathy is an intangible challenge but not an impossible one. Through positive anthropomorphism you can connect your students’ human experiences to their horses’ equine perspectives and watch empathy blossom. When riders learn to think like a horse, rather than expecting the horse to think like a human, true partnership occurs and can be enjoyed equally by both parties. Don’t be afraid to engage the imaginations of your students, and always encourage them to be the kind of rider whose horses cheer when they read their name on the lesson board!

About the author:

Lydia Fairchok is certified in Recreational Riding Level 1, and lives and teaches with her three horses in Central Indiana. Lydia segued from a full time instruction career to the field of public safety in 2014 and continues to teach a small number of students while working as a police officer and 9-1-1 dispatcher.