"Whoa", By Arizona [color ebook reader .txt] 📗

Whoa. A universal word horses understand. Well, most of them understand it. They may choose to ignore it, but they understand it. Spencer doesn’t understand it.

Spencer is a seventeen-year old Canadian Thoroughbred who at some point in his career as a baby horse failed to hear the word whoa. The universal equine vocabulary bypassed his growing brain cells, but he understands other words. He’s compliant when he hears “would you like to go for some grass?” and will leave without me if I’m not quite ready. Another favorite phrase: “time for carrots”. He immediately heads for my tack trunk and begins an in depth search. But whoa somehow got missed.

Whoa is an important word. Whoa is the Supreme Commander of Equine Vernacular. It means “stop whatever behavior you are presently engaged in”. Without whoa the rider is left with pitiful alternatives such as screaming for help or resorting to profanity.

Fortunately, there is an alternate phrase that Spencer has learned. “Stay there.” Now, that makes no sense whatsoever when we’re doing our workout and I’m asking for a downward transition, say from a trot to a walk. But stay there works well on the ground. Addressing a 17hand, full-bodied (plump) Thoroughbred in the manner I would a dog is a little strange, but I have adjusted to it over the years.

When Spencer and I first found each other, I tried to use whoa. It didn’t work. Out of desperation one day, I shook my finger at him and said stay there. That worked. At first I thought it was my body language. Later I realized I could say stay there in any tone of voice without hand gestures and get the same result. He stops what he’s doing and stays there. Amazing.

An interesting episode with the horseshoer (farrier) proved Spencer’s command of the English language. Spencer is a solid citizen who doesn’t need cross ties and other horse paraphernalia for routine acts like grooming and shoein

g. I park him in a nice, shady spot, slip the lead rope over his neck so he won’t step on it, and he stands quietly for his shoeing. On this particular occasion he tried to follow me when I needed to fetch something from my tack trunk, leaving the farrier holding an imaginary left hind hoof. The farrier said “whoa”. Spencer kept walking. “WHOA”. “He doesn’t understand whoa”, I said. “Try stay there”. The farrier didn’t believe me, but he tried it. Spencer froze in his tracks.
I can leave this horse in the middle of anywhere, tell him ‘stay there’, and walk away. He’d still be there an hour later. I can’t get my Golden Retriever to do that. Maybe I should try whoa.

Publication Date: 05-20-2010

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