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Monty Roberts is 85, and like Craig Cameron, he’s not hanging up his spurs yet either. Monty learned the basics of horse behavior from Bill Dorrance, Tom Dorrance’s brother. (Tom was Craig’s mentor.) Monty believes that if we study a horse’s non-verbal language—his behavior and attitudes—are the key to communicating with him. He was already known for his non-violent philosophy before he wrote “The Man Who Listens to Horses,” a book that spent over a year on the “ew York Times’ Bestseller List.

I watched him in action at a horse expo once. His first horse was an uncooperative mare who dragged her owner around on a leadrope. Under saddle she would buck and kick. An inexperienced owner can get so caught up in teaching her horse that she won’t hurt him can inadvertently go too far. The result is a spoiled horse who has lost all respect for her. Monty’s job was to earn this mare’s willing cooperation, But first he had to regain her respect. He turned her loose in a round corral, and as the mare circled him at a gallop, he used a technique similar to one Craig Cameron had used—tossing a coil of thick white rope at her, underhand, so it grazed her hindquarters before falling to the ground. He did not have control of the mare. The rope was simply a stimulus—a method to keep her moving forward without exerting any physical pressure.

To reverse her, Monte stepped in front of her so he faced her head, not her hindquarters. Because his body English blocked the mare’s forward movement, she had to turn around. Once she slowed down—she was getting tired—Monty stopped tossing the rope at her. He explained to the audience that he was looking for three things: the mare was cocking her inside ear at him (indicating she was paying attention to him and not simply fleeing from him), that she had dropped her head (indicating she had relaxed), and that she began to lick her lips (indicating she wasn’t afraid of him). Once she made chewing motions, Monte stood absolutely still. Hesitantly the mare came to a stop. He walked up to her and rubbed her face. I’ve remembered his advice ever since.

Several years later I visited Michele Macfarlane at her family’s Scripps Miramar Ranch in San Diego. Michele is a legend in American Saddlebred circles. She is the first amateur—and the first woman—to win the World’s Grand Championship in Louisville, Kentucky. Since then she has won it a total of three times—on three different horses. It was breeding season, and Michele invited me to walk around at my leisure until she could sit down with me. Her show and parade horses were stabled in the main barn, while youngsters, broodmares, and a few retired geldings were in big, roomy pastures outside.

One of Michele’s most recognizable horses is Flurry because of her many appearances in the Rose Parade—she’s a lovely chestnut and white pinto mare. I stopped in front of her stall to admire her, and as she started towards me, I took a photograph. Since the only light in the barn was natural daylight, the automatic flash came on. It scared the daylights out of Flurry and she scrambled to the very back of her stall. I felt terrible—here I was repaying Macfarlane’s hospitality by frightening her horse.

I stayed exactly where I was, hoping Flurry would come to me—most horses are curious—so I could apologize. The flash hadn’t hurt her. It tell into that category of frightening but harmless stimuli that Craig Cameron and Monty Roberts had both used. Silently I waited a couple of minutes until Flurry decided to risk investigating me again. I didn’t move. She sniffed the camera. She sniffed my hand holding the camera. Then she turned her head to one side, gave a small, resigned snort, and began licking her lips. I am embarrassed to say I didn’t look to see if she had cocked her inside ear at me or not—I took my cue from the chewing/licking sounds she was making and the fact that she was tilting her head to one side so that it was parallel to the door. I reached out and lightly scratched her jaw to apologize for scaring her. That was clearly the response she was looking for. But if I hadn’t been willing to wait for it, I never would have discovered that little personality quirk that so endears certain horses to us.

As Tom Dorrance would have put it, “Take the time it takes, and let your idea become the horse’s idea.”

Joan Fry is a lifelong horse lover and the author of “Backyard Horsekeeping: The Only Guide You’ Ever Need” (The Lyons Press, Revised Edition, 2007). She can be reached via email at joan@joanfry.com.

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