Dominance Revisited

I've been looking back over old posts. Seems I used to fret over the concept and practice of "dominance" a lot. We've all read about herd hierarchy, alpha horses, speaking a language horses can understand, the horse respects the one who can move its feet, and so forth. The technique of "join-up," I believe is predicated on the practice of asserting one's place as a higher-ranking herd member.  On the one hand, Imke Spilker was leading me away from dominance, and on the other hand, received wisdom, and Klaus, were leading me back towards it, or towards a version of it.

There's been a good bit of water under the bridge since I first started blogging, and somehow I don't worry about dominance any more. For one thing, I met someone (now a friend) who actually spent time at Klaus's estate in Denmark, and she assured me that - no - we don't have to be Klaus. Au contraire. We have to be ourselves. For another thing, I've tried at least to take Imke's advice to allow the horse to be my teacher, and the horse doesn't seem to be super-impressed by any displays of dominance I can muster. And I'll admit it does take a bit of mustering on my part. 

I'm not much of a leader, or a boss. But on the other hand I'm definitely not a doormat. And somewhere in learning that about myself, I discovered that the horse doesn't need me to be a Klaus, or a fake horse, or a herd leader, or anything at all except myself.

I believe horses understand very well that human beings are not the same thing as a horse. That we have our own way of doing things. That we cannot be herded and dominated, but at the same time, we can be trusted to suggest things that are worth listening to for their own sake. Not because the safety of the herd is at stake, not because the food supply is being safeguarded, not because the strongest is the best one to breed the mare - we act for our own reasons that have nothing to do with hierarchy. Reasons that the horse is happy to consider. We think the horse is purely pragmatic and that we must talk to it in a mechanistic language of survival, but the horse is idealistic and delights in a world beyond that of daily necessity.

I think of George and Bridget, who jockey for position in their little herd, George always vigilant that Bridget shouldn't topple him from his position as first-in-line-for-good-things. When they were turned loose together the other day in the round pen, the place where non-survival values predominate, they beat their swords into ploughshares and stood together quietly and amicably for the very first time.

Not being dominant doesn't mean being dominated. A lesson that the whole world needs to learn. I think more and more of us are catching on - it's the zeitgeist. There's a good book by Mark Rashid called Horses Never Lie: The Heart of Passive Leadership which talks about the way a non-dominant horse can win the respect and cooperation of a dominant one. And I just finished a book called It's for the Horses by Dutch Henry, a book which made me happy, as it's the first time I've read a book by a man which goes as far as I would hope in its advocacy for non-coercive human/horse relationships.

In the horse world, respect is often thought to be the flip side of dominance - the one dominated respects the one who dominates. Why would horses be so different from us? I certainly don't respect a person who tries to dominate me, but rather the person who is polite, considerate, and respectFUL. Someone like George in fact.

And for this episode's pictographic content, here is Bridget on the trail with me on board, following our little buddy on his trusty steed:

Some Are Watching the Superbowl. I am Writing This Instead.

When it comes to deciphering dominance, George is not a very good example to follow. George gets what he wants, but getting your own way is not the be-all and end-all of dominance/leadership.

Dominant horses often enjoy very cordial relationships with others in the herd - sharing space, grooming, or playing. Sometimes they'll even allow another horse to share their food.

Between George and the mares, however, although a rapprochement is in progress, relations are little more tense. Dear George is, I feel, slightly dysfunctional, socially speaking. He doesn't really know how to play with the other children. He gets along very well with more dominant horses, but he has not figured out how to be dominant himself without becoming crabby. Noblesse oblige is a concept George has yet to fully take on board.

So I look to Bridget to explain things to me.

Bridget is clearly more dominant than Rose. If Bridget wants what Rose has, Bridget will get it. However, the two of them are friends and are able to eat together and be comfortable in each other's company.

What I can learn from Bridget is how a more dominant horse reacts when a less dominant one is "rude."

How does Bridget react? She doesn't.

If Bridget walks over to take Rose's food, Rose will give her the evil eye and snake out her head - even open her mouth and swipe. Does Bridget get mad? Not a bit of it. She just calmly proceeds with her coup de food. If Rose seems to be raising more objections than usual, Bridget produces the trump card - she turns around and backs up toward Rose, adding a ladylike kick if necessary - but the turning/backing usually does the trick. And no rancor or excitement accompanies the maneuver.

Bridget isn't always intent on taking something away from Rose - often she's simply saying, "Ok, I'm going to eat/stand here too, so move over!"

If Rose reaches out to nip at Bridget, Bridget sometimes flinches backwards, but she is not intimidated or deterred. Neither will she be moved to reprisal. It's enough that she knows she can win - she doesn't need to punish or scold in the process. And if all Rose wants is for Bridget to just stay out of her space, then -  no big deal - Bridget will shrug her shoulders and give in.

I have given up trying to be "dominant." However, I still sometimes need to be "in charge." Maybe it's a fine line linguistically, but to me there's a difference. I guess it helps to think of it in terms of children. When my children were little, I never thought it would be appropriate to "dominate" them. But there were (are!) many times when it was necessary to be in charge.

Bridget's example could be helpful for those times when I have to be in charge. I don't need to be superhumanly unflappable - Bridget flinches or startles when Rose produces one of her patented stink-eye swipes. Nor do I have to be punitive or defensive. I just have to choose - do I really want this? Or is it not a big deal? If I really want it, I can just politely insist, and if it's not a big deal, then I can let it go.

Herd

I recently returned from a family wedding in Scotland - an extended feast, held on a remote estate in the Highlands of Scotland.

A shared bravado united the guests - we had all dared threats of blizzards and ice to journey to this faraway spot, divided from the outside world by the sea on one side and by miles of snowy mountains on the other.

For four days, we guests moved from room to room in shape-shifting waves, like a flock of starlings - from the downstairs drawing room, to the billiard room, to the main hall, to the subterranean kitchens. At times, we splintered into smaller groups, swooping away to walk up the snowy hills or to drive to the local shop to buy sweets. Our numbers "gathered to greatness" at pivotal moments - the whisky-tasting, the cabaret, the wedding itself.

Food magically appeared - a roast chicken in our kitchen, a fruitcake and pots of tea after a walk, beer on tap in the front hall. We gathered late at night and rustled up spontaneous eggs and toast. Everyone was a host, everyone was a guest.

Family members, seen only at weddings and funerals, reappeared as if they had never been gone. Dead faces came to life again in sudden resemblances; new children recalled past children. Strangers became familiar.

I had a feeling, there, that my being did not end at the confines of my body, that I was part of an organism - a living, breathing thing with a life of its own. I was smaller, but - being a part of that thing - larger too.

After the wedding, we gathered in the hall to dance. The skills of most of us were rusty, but as each dance progressed, our confidence grew; with each repetition of the form, the dance became stronger, and a single pulse seemed to vivify us all.

After it was all over, and we reluctantly departed, our hopes for a major snowfall having been disappointed, I set off to fly home with my own little splinter-flock - two daughters and a son-in-law. As we arrived in my old home town on the way to the airport, I looked for a feeling of loss - a sorrow for those who live there no longer. But the feeling eluded me - I had my home with me, in the presence of the little group who travelled alongside me. Again I was not certain where I ended and they began.

It was a good feeling. I wonder if horses feel like that all the time.

Photo by Sam  Short

Scene from the Bathroom Window

George chases Bridget away from the water and goes back to eating his hay.

Bridget moseys over to her pile of hay.  I think to myself, "Bridget, I can't wait til you take over. George is a paper tiger - you should go for it."

Bridget starts creeping over to George's pile of hay, one step at at time, yawning all the way. She arrives at the edge of the pile and starts nibbling.

Every time George gives her a look, she backs off a little or turns her head away, but then resumes eating. George doesn't move, but after receiving one sour glance too many, Bridget leaves and goes back to the hay pile she's been sharing with Chloe.

Tag team - Chloe leaves and walks over toward George.

Nah, that's far enough. She turns around and goes back to the girls' pile.

They'll wear him down yet.


p.s. I know the water trough shouldn't be in a corner, but it's the only place the hose will reach.