Читать книгу Finding the Missed Path. The Art of Restarting Horses онлайн

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I then retraced my steps back to the middle of the pen. When I did, he ran back to the south end of the arena, made a large arcing turn and headed for his spot next to the fence in the southeast corner. He stopped right about where I had rubbed my hands on the fence and after carefully watching me for several seconds—probably to make sure I wasn’t going to move again—he slowly turned to the fence and began cautiously sniffing the area where I had left my scent. He moved his nose along the first fence rail, from one fence rail to another, then back to the first.

After a while, he turned and looked at me, then for the first time that day, he relaxed a bit and lowered his head. When he did, I left the pen. I went over to where Marie had been standing and watching and, with my back intentionally toward the gelding, I explained to Marie what we were trying to do.

“Basically,” I said, “we’re just trying to find a way to let him do something that he really wanted and needed to do but hadn’t been able to because he was so scared.”