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Reverence Equine, Shrewsbury, VT (2025)

08/20/2025

This photo brings me such joy.

This gelding has so many things going on his body, and he has for some time. Those things had translated into how he felt about being present in that body, being ridden and being with a person. His outer layer of stoicism covered up many layers of defensiveness and worry. He was very concerned about what you might ask of him, how quickly you would ask it and what would happen if he didn't respond just right. His physical compensations were and are numerous, and he did an excellent job of masking his unsoundness.

Of particular note were his front feet. Radiographs revealed what most people term "navicular syndrome" or "navicular changes", much worse in his right front than his left. He was landing toe first all the time. He also had significant high/low going on: most horses do to a certain degree as horses, like people, are "handed" and will pattern their bodies over time based on their preferred side. All of this translated up in the soft tissues of his body and shaped how he moved and his body in rest.

It also meant that this posture - front legs neutral and square under the body while in full spinal flexion/ventral bend - was impossible. While grazing and eating from ground level, he'd have his front legs significantly staggered, usually pointing the right front. While eating from a neutral position, he'd still stagger or point to some degree. He was quite uncomfortable on firm or hard surfaces.

I've been working at improving his hoof comfort for about 18mo. This postural development has only been within the last couple months or so and is a major milestone in a long journey towards better, more sustainable function. He continues to make changes on his own time but his attitude has done a complete 180 from worried, avoidant and stoic to golden retriever-esque. He no longer weaves. His "riding" consists of us standing mounted and brief periods of walkabout: him safe to relax into his body with a rider on his back, and me safe to sit deeply and fully and allow my perpetually tight and compensatory pelvic floor find neutrality and balance, something heavily triggered by riding certain horses.

At 16, he is the epitome of teaching an old dog new tricks. Probably more accurately, he's the epitome of what's possible when you give an old dog space to show you what they can change.

08/11/2025

What does it mean, to have a "broke" horse?

I have, for some time, known I have a much higher standard of what it means for a horse to be "broke" than the industry average. I hear that term tossed around a lot and applied to many horses that, when it comes down to it, don't and can't live up to the word (through no fault of their own).

A horse being "broke" is not about their level of reactivity or lack thereof. It is not measured by whether or not you can crack a bullwhip while standing in the saddle and have the horse nary flick an ear. Being "broke" isn't determined by the amount of distractions you can ride your horse through without incident nor is it really about degrees of exposure at all.

Being "broke" is about understanding - more specifically, the horse's understanding. It's his understanding of the tools you use, the aids you apply, the ways in which you ask for things and what his response to all of these things are.

Being "broke" is about the way in which the horse relates to a world you designed for him - one not of his own choosing and one totally foreign to everything millions of years of evolution has prepared him for.

Being "broke" does not have anything to do with overstimulating a horse to the point of shutting down.

Being "broke" does not have anything to do with how much stress a horse is willing to tolerate.

A "broke" horse is engaged with people and responds thoughtfully based on his understanding of what is being asked.

When I hear the term "halter-broke" it very often indicates the horse simply has worn a halter. You can catch it and lead it to some degree. But it does not take into account at all HOW the horse has come to understand that halter and the process of wearing it and responding to it: does the horse greet you in the field and actively help you get him caught? Does he understand how to stay within the boundaries of the pressure the halter creates if tension is put in the lead rope? Can you take ahold of the base of the halter under the chin and guide the horse through changes of direction and tempo with relaxation and responsiveness? Does the horse lead up with you without being pulled on and notice when you slow down or speed up?

When I hear the term "saddle-broke" or "broke to ride" it is very often in reference to a horse that can wear a saddle and a bridle. You can put a saddle on it and cinch it up and ask it to take a bit or bridle and the horse allows for this to some degree. But it does not take into at HOW the horse has come to feel about being tacked up and ridden and what it means. Does the horse fuss when saddled and need to be restrained in order to cinch him up? Is he a "bloater", and seems to need the girth tightened several times in the first few minutes after tacking up? Does he accept the tack with a calm and pleasant expression or does tension creep into his face when the tack comes out? Is the horse okay on the ground but then gets to get worked up as soon as someone mounts up?

"Broke" tends to be a word used to describe what a horse does, when it really should be used to describe what a horse FEELS. And what a horse feels is determined by what he understands.

08/09/2025

I write pretty often about the lessons horses have taught me.

Sometimes I mean the more tangible skills.

Very often I don't.

The things that are hardest to teach other people are the things that horses have taught me better than anyone or anything else possibly could. And yet it is these things that a lot of people need the most. A lot of it has nothing to do with horses and everything to do with just life, but then I get to thinking about the fact that there isn't anything in horsemanship that hasn't applied to life in my experience.

Letting go has been one of these things.

Sometimes it's letting go of ways of being or doing that no longer serve us.

Sometimes it's about letting go of a narrative we have about ourselves.

Sometimes it's letting go of trouble, worry or fear.

Sometimes, it's about letting go because we have to.

I've worked with some tremendously troubled horses. Not simply scared or fearful horses: horses that carried tremendous worry and tension because they had learned no one was going to listen. Or worse: someone did and showed the horse that they didn't care.

And yet I've seen many of these same horses make tremendous change when there was absolutely no reason for them to want to do so. When literally everything in their world up until that point had led them to this existence by virtue of a thousands cuts. It's very rarely one incident that makes these kinds of horses this way: it's many small insults over a period of time.

I got an email this week about one of these horses. Her person had put in some tremendous work, and the horse that came through that process with her was one I hardly recognized from when I met her a couple years ago. The softness in the mare's eyes was astounding, in a video of her packing around her person's young daughter. The peace that had settled upon her brought me almost to tears. Two years ago you could hardly touch her - she'd look right through you if you stepped into the round pen and wouldn't think twice about running you over if he felt she had to.

She'd let it all go.

And I'll be damned if she can, why we can't, too. So I find myself lately reflecting on how much I've let go and of how much I STILL have to let go. The inbox never seems to empty. And yet here I can sit and rationalize and draw deep meaning and extrapolate upon the reasons why I have things to let go of in the first place. The horse just knows she feels poorly and that she has a choice: continue doing what she's doing, or do something different.

And so many of them - having no good reason to do so - choose something different.

For some of us, horses teach us to let go of fear when we have every rational reason to be afraid.

For others, horses teach us to let go of the pressure we put upon ourselves when the world has convinced us we aren't good enough.

For me, horses have taught me to what it means to have faith. I am not a religious person, but if there is a God, I'm not sure they could have taught me more about faith than horses have. There is so much of working with horses that feels so much more spiritual to me than I sometimes care to share in writing: there's a "woo-woo" feel to it that makes me hesitate to put it into words, and yet I find myself steeping in my own evolution as a human, as a woman, and as a rider and handler of these animals every time I step into a pasture or round pen or arena.

It find myself - at the same time - marveling at how much I've let go, and humbled by how quickly the horse points out how much I'm still carrying.

08/03/2025

I have needed to attend to the farm's bookkeeping for a few weeks. I've been dreading it. Summer is fleeting in the northeast and the first morning in August was already in the 40's when I went out to feed breakfast and do chores. Winter always seems to be right around the corner and I want to soak up every second of sunshine before the inevitable cold creeps back in and the days turn short and grey and I wonder why I live in a place where the air hurts my face for six months out of the year. I can spend plenty of time with the books then.

But the books need keeping now, so I settled upon taking this morning to get it done.

I was up at 5AM yesterday to get out and teach a bit before heading to do a demo at a first-ever equine expo a couple hours north. It was the kind of weather we all yearn for - sunny skies, not too hot and a nice little breeze. A little crowd gathered for my two hour demo. There were supposed to be two horses but the second wasn't able to come and I ended up working with the first horse for about about an hour and a half, then coaching a bit on his owner. This horse had some trouble: there were lots of holes in his foundation and he didn't have any tools so he was doing the best he could with what he had. He made some lovely changes and his owner asked if we could continue the work together in one on ones. I chatted with some neat horse people from eager learners to seasoned owners and riders. I even got asked if I take working students, something I've been considering for a bit but don't quite have the best set-up for yet. It was a thoroughly enjoyable day.

One of the questions I was asked after I'd finished working with the horse was if I ever felt frustrated with him. He was pushy and worried and not really aware of me for a good chunk of the session, and while he was trying to find comfort it took him a while to find it within himself to let go of everything around him and seek me out. It will take many sessions of setting things up for him to find comfort in people before he gets confident in it, but it was a good starting point.

I thought for a second before I responded to the question: it hadn't occurred to me to be frustrated with the gelding while I working with him but I could understand why others might have done. There was a time in the not-too-distant past where I would've, but horses have done more than any human could have done in helping me get comfortable with being present during uncomfortable times. It's easy to want to press fast forward through the tough or banal parts of life: we all want to bask in the sunshine all the time, but the sunshine only feels as good as it does because of the clouds it breaks through. Duality is a necessary part of it all, and when I run into some sticky spots with horses I am reminded of this.

And when your niche is helping tough or troubled or misunderstood horses, you run into sticky spots a lot.

I sat down and did the books thinking about that gelding and the many before him who have given me such an excellent education. There is something to be said for finding meaning in all things, especially those moments we'd rather avoid.

PC: Robillard

07/25/2025

One of the biggest lies I think we're sold as young horsepeople (or old horsepeople, depending on when you join the party) is "that's just the way he is".

There's a training horse boarded quite near our farm that I've gone out to work with almost daily for the last two months or so. Recently I went out to work with her and happened to be riding at the same time as a young boarder. She had her horse on the lunge and was starting to saddle up as I was finishing my ride.

I couldn't help but notice her struggle. The mare circled and fussed and couldn't manage to stand still while she tried to saddle her. Over the course of more than fifteen minutes she struggled to get the horse tacked up, repeating "ho, whoa, ho girl" over and over as the horse wound around her. By the time I'd dismounted, untacked, hosed my horse off and returned her to her paddock, she still wasn't finished.

As I walked out to my truck, I paused at the gate and watched for a moment, debating as to whether to offer some assistance. I finally asked her if she would like some help.

"Oh, this is just the way she is" was her reply.

There was so much conviction behind those words. In her mind, she was simply stating fact. There were no alternatives. This was the way of the world and nothing was going to change that. Nothing COULD change that. It just...was.

There was a time when I also believed this was true - when I was told my lesson horse for the day or my personal horse was just quirky. That thing they did? That was just habit, just something they'd always done. Very often, the next words uttered were instructing me to either ignore it or somehow push the horse through it. Those things became part of the fabric of my understanding of that horse, the same way I knew that they were bay or a mare or a gelding or had front shoes. It just WAS, and there was no reason to question it.

Now, I question a LOT of things.

One of the brilliant things about horses is their ability to adapt. Indeed, this ability is much of what makes a horse a horse and not some other creature. Horses are constantly learning, figuring and molding to their caretakers, their routines, their environments and their handling. It is - to a large degree - why their domestication has been so successful. It is the reason why one person can have great success with a horse and another can barely lead it.

And yet, the idea that something a horse does "is just how they are" is still such a pervasive idea.

At this point I believe there is always a reason. Our empathy dictates whether or not we consider that there is a reason. Our curiosity determines whether or not we decide to go in search of that reason. Our ability factors in to our success in finding that reason. Our determination is linked to how far we go to figure out that reason.

But no matter how you slice it, there's always a reason.

07/22/2025

If you're local in this part of New England, please consider joining me and so many other wonderful horsepeople at the first ever OCF’s Northeast Kingdom Equine Expo.

The horse community is small and in our little corner of the world it's even smaller...and yet it can still be so hard for horsepeople to find like-minded practitioners, tradespeople, and instructors.

I'll be doing a live demonstration on Saturday, August 2nd from 12-2PM on problem solving and developing one's "horsemanship toolbox". I hope to see you there!

07/19/2025

Some of the most dangerous points in our interactions with horses come not when the horse chooses to leave, but when they choose to stay.

A horse that stays could be doing so because they are okay with staying. They lack concern or fear and so leaving the situation is unnecessary.

A horse that stays could be doing so because they are mildly concerned but not yet concerned enough to feel the need to put space between them and the situation.

A horse that stays could also be quite concerned, even terrified...but freezing and staying put is a coping mechanism in and of itself to stress, one that some horses employ more than others.

Situation #3 can lead to blow ups. I've watched these unfold in real time. Situation #2 can lead to Situation #3 if we're not considerate of what we do and ask of the horse in those moments.

So when a horse stays, I'm observing very closely. Are they breathing? What is their head and neck posture like? Where are their ears? How hard are their eyes? Their muzzles? Can I ask a question and get a relaxed response? Does that response come with some ease or do they seem stuck and stilted? I get lots of information this way, information that will inform how I proceed with that horse in that moment. Information that serves to keep me safe(r) and my horse below a stress threshold where he cannot think through what I'm asking.

It can be all too easy to take advantage of the horse that stays. The horses that leave are easy by comparison when it comes to feeling out what is too much for them to process and handle. The horses that stay lull us into a false sense of security about how much they can handle. These horses tend to have larger "cups", so to speak - more room and a greater ability to handle stress - but every cup will overflow at some point if you aren't paying close attention to what you're putting in it.

07/04/2025

You can't fix a management problem with a horsemanship solution.

Very often, part of what I end up counseling owners on falls into the category of horse husbandry. We discuss supplements, forage choice, turnout, herd dynamics and feed schedules. It's not all that infrequent that we get into the weeds a little bit about some of these things - not because there isn't plenty that might need tending toward from the horsemanship side but because training cannot overcome basic management issues.

I'm alright dying on this hill - 25+ years with horses has taught me that it is incredibly rare that a horse doesn't benefit from more turnout, friends and forage. I say "incredibly rare": I haven't come across a case yet.

This, by the way, doesn't mean indiscriminate turnout, friends and forage. We can put horses under tremendous stress by putting conflicting personalities in too small a space. We can create situations where resource guarding develops. We can cause horses to develop dangerous metabolic conditions and obesity. We can - despite our best intentions - manifest more problems than we're solving if we're not thoughtful and attentive to how we implement management solutions.

So when someone comes to me with a "training issue", one of the first things I'm checking on is how the horse is living.

How close I can keep a horse to how biology intended him to live is somewhat of an preoccupation of mine. I figure there are worse things to be come obsessed with. It's not always easy to get the formula right for each individual horse, but it is always - in my mind, at least - a worthy pursuit.

06/25/2025

With summer now in full swing, I've been finding myself with little time - or energy - to write much.

My days start early with a lesson or two, with my full time job taking up the bulk of the normal business day before I head back outside to work with training horses. I often get in just as the sun is going down and wake up to repeat the same cadence. There is a lot that needs doing in each 24 hour period.

And so I find myself being very aware of - and probably metaphorically beating my students with - the idea that in every moment you spend with a horse you are either teaching them to pay attention and mentally draw to you, or else teaching them to ignore what you do and mentally distance from you. We don't do on purpose: as my mentor says often, "animals are constantly consciously learning things we're unconsciously teaching them".

Every moment. I know, and I'm sorry, because there are times I wish it weren't the case, too. There are times I have found myself having to try to unteach something I unintentionally taught, and BOY is it harder to unteach the thing you don't want than it is to teach the thing you do.

You can either choose to address things when they are small and more malleable or be forced to address them when they are bigger and more rooted in habit. That decision is yours, at least initially.

The reality is life comes with its constraints, but we do get a bit of a say in whether we try and set ourselves - and the horses in our charge - up for success.

06/06/2025

Someone asked me where the name “Reverence Equine” came from. It occurred to me that I’ve never told the story.

When I take a horse in training I send out weekly emails of progress. I’ve always done this. Sometimes people express how much they appreciate and look forward to them. Others acknowledge their receipt but choose not to engage further. Others still I have no idea about whether they read them at all.

Each email – to me – feels carefully crafted. It’s not just a report home: it’s a story of days’ worth of work, thousands of moments and little interactions and subtle shifts. Sometimes the shifts are less subtle. Sometimes they are in a direction we’d rather they not be. I try to always keep my accounts honest, focused and with respect for the horse’s role in the journey we’re on together. I often include details about what I’m noticing in their bodies. I’ve described the way catching them starts to feel different, how the process of getting them groomed or tacked up starts to feel less “process-y” and more dynamic. I've penned whole paragraphs about a horse's discovery of the joy of movement and the ability to do so freely and with feeling and comfort. I’ve written to owners about what it looks like for their horses to start to express themselves differently or a bit more. I’ve confirmed – as much as I feel comfortable using the term – things suspect as well as disproven or contradicted long-held beliefs. I’ve done this on both sides of the spectrum of “good news” and “bad news”.

I’ve sent horses home in ways that would make even me, the harshest of self-critics, allow for the tiniest glimmer of pride. I’ve sent horses home knowing I did the best I could but feeling a little lackluster about whether I was really able to help. I’ve sent horses home knowing this was the end of the line for them.

With each horse I’ve sent home, I’ve tried not to just send home the horse. I try to send home a glimpse of what I saw every day, in every interaction, in the hopes that maybe I can inspire the human to continue to do the work: even when it’s hard, even when it feels the opposite of rewarding, even when we fear and worry that everything we’re doing is wrong and useless and getting us nowhere. Even when we question everything we ever thought we knew about anything. Most days I work alone with nary a person around – I can’t be the only one that sometimes wishes I had a trusted ear and eye nearby to offer a little nudge or reassuring nod every once in a while.

A good friend of mine knows I do this. One day she said to me with a wry grin “you know, if you were smart you’d get those organized and learn how to take your own advice.”

Nearly every “letter to the owner” that I’ve written in the last few years now lives in a binder out in my tack trunk. When I am feeling unsure or skeptical or overwhelmed or frustrated, I open to a random page. One of the hardest things I’ve done in my life is learn how to trust myself: my gut, my intuition, my thought process, my ethos, my ability to figure it out. I used to happily heap trust in anyone and anything but myself. I could never seek answers from within, and I shied with tremendous discomfort away from my own innate capabilities and talents. I wanted desperately to grow, but to grow meant to fail and “fail” was a far worse F-word than anything even the most foul-mouthed sailor could utter.

I could never comprehend in even the most infinite of possibilities that the woman staring back at me in the mirror could be that trusted ear and eye.

I don’t know who I would be were it not for my lessons from horses. I don’t say that in a Black Beauty-eqsue way: there are no delusions or anthropomorphizing. I just feel - at times profoundly - deeply grateful for how the grace of horses has taught me how to offer grace to myself, even when I’ve felt woefully and completely inadequate. “Reverence” is a deep respect, to regard highly or stand in awe of. It is what I feel for my equine counterparts, and it felt to be an entirely natural and appropriate choice for the title of what has been a lifetime of trying to do better by them.

05/31/2025

"Through no fault of their own" seems to be the starting phrase to a lot of horse sale and rehoming ads these days, specifically ones for horses that are older, less than sound, high maintenance or otherwise difficult to place.

It always makes me scratch my head a little bit. It also lights a small fire in me.

I have buried every horse that has come to be mine over the last 20 years. I feel pretty strongly about being the last stop for an animal that comes into my care. I also feel pretty strongly that dealing with the inevitable decisions regarding end of life for those animals is not only part of the deal, it's my responsibility as a horsewoman.

As someone who has carved out an unintentional niche working with tough horses, I get offered - more often than I'd like - horses no one else has been able to figure out and for whom I am often their last hope. I got another offer this week for such an animal. I declined. My heart is too open and soft and is marked with too many scars from horses past that I couldn't fix. I wear those scars well and with a fair amount of stoicism...but I know they're there and feel their pull more often than I care to admit.

The older I get and the more time I spend with horses, the more I feel that it is a rare thing that choosing a peaceful end for the horses in our care is the wrong decision.

Even if the horse is still rideable "for the right person".

Even if the horse is sound.

Even if the horse isn't what one might consider "old" or "aged".

Even if the horse "just needs some basic maintenance".

Even if the horse "might be perfectly suited for a different job".

Maybe so.

But the moment you release that horse into someone else's hands, all bets are off as to what happens next. I offer my horses quite a bit - at least I'd like to think so - but the most important thing I offer them is the guarantee that they will never know suffering. They will never know cruelty.

They will never face an uncertain future "through no fault of their own".

05/21/2025

I don't focus on developing relaxation anymore. It's not that I don't find it vital to a horse's being able to function contentedly in a relationship with a human long term. I don't focus on relaxation because what I've learned over time is that when we focus too much on keeping the horse relaxed - when that becomes the sole objective - and when we get myopic to the point that we stop everything the second the horse falls a little bit out of regulation, we can inadvertently create horses that no longer have resilience.

For most of the people I work with, their biggest concern is safety: they want to feel secure working with their horse and they also want the horse to feel content in their job. They want their horse to get something from the exchange, and relaxation ends up becoming a major priority for them. In the human mind, if the horse is relaxed then this must mean there is some derived sense of satisfaction from the job he's doing.

The problem with this is that we end up trapping horses into spaces where when they become un-relaxed, when something in the environment stirs them, when things naturally come up that we can't control, they have no coping mechanism. They have no tools and nothing to reach for to regain homeostasis: they can fly up, but they don't know how to come back down.

So I don't go into situations with unrelaxed horses determined to bring about relaxation: I go into situations with unrelaxed horses determined to offer clarity and build resilience and confidence in the process. I want horses to understand what I'm asking. That process might sometimes draw up some tension when I have to draw a boundary or say "that won't work" to a horse that is pretty sure whatever they are doing is the ONLY thing that will work...but when a horse gets clear on something, the natural byproduct IS relaxation. Lack of understanding, fear of the unknown and not being sure about what is happening are the biggest contributors to a horse's inability to find calm. If I can introduce clarity into the situation I'm almost guaranteed that relaxation will follow, whereas if I prioritize relaxation about all else I'm depriving the horse of the ability to experience a big emotion or a big shift and then find his way back down because I'm constantly trying to build a bubble of comfort around him: a padded stall - if you will - to counteract all the things in life that could cause him to become uncomfortable.

Comfort IS the opposite of discomfort, but learning how to navigate discomfort - not avoiding it - is what allows the horse to find lasting peace.

Pictured: one of our mini jacks, Churro, getting more confident about water with my husband on one of our many hikes.

Reverence Equine

08/20/2025

08/11/2025

08/09/2025

08/03/2025

07/25/2025

07/22/2025

07/19/2025

07/04/2025

06/25/2025

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05/31/2025

05/21/2025

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