How Old is Good Horsemanship?

Bucephalus was named for his ox-head brand.

Good horsemanship goes back many centuries. The partnership of Alexander the Great and Bucephalus is a legendary example, though the story of how Alexander acquired his great warhorse sounds decidedly lame to me. Most modern historians quote the Greek biographer Plutarch whose story goes like this: Alexander’s father, Phillip of Macedon, was buying horses for his army. Among the horses offered for his approval was a very expensive black stallion who couldn’t even be mounted because he reared when anyone went near him. Phillip waved the horse away as useless. Alexander, then 12 or 13 years old, declared that he could ride him, and challenged his father to a wager. If Alexander could ride the horse, Phillip would cough up the exorbitant purchase price. Phillip agreed. Apparently the Macedonians loved a good wager. Alexander approached the horse quietly, turned him around, mounted and rode him. When asked how he did it, he explained that the horse was afraid of his own shadow, so he turned him toward the sun so he could not see his shadow. Now really. Alexander rode Bucephalus into battle for the better part of two decades. He thought so highly of him that when Bucephalus died, he gave him a state funeral and named a city after him. All for a horse so timid he feared his own shadow? “Listen men, the enemy’s west of us. We can’t attack till after noon so my horse doesn’t see his shadow.” I don’t think so. The story makes more sense if we take into account what Alexander likely knew of horsemanship. Alexander (356 – 323 BCE) was educated in Greece, then considered the cultural center of that part of the world. He was a small child when Xenophon wrote The Art of Horsemanship. That is “art” as in martial art, Xenophon’s advice to his fellow cavalry officers on how to choose, train, and ride a warhorse. Training in Greek horsemanship might have acquainted Alexander with ideas uncommon in Macedonia, including Xenophon’s admonition, “Make your horse your friend, for in battle your life depends on him.” Now Alexander’s handling of Bucephalus takes on a different meaning. He has spotted a horse with the potential to be a great partner, but who will be no one’s obedient servant. So Alexander does not provoke a confrontation by barging authoritatively into the horse’s personal space. Instead, he approaches quietly, his body language sending the respectful message, “I’m not here to bully you. I’m waiting for your permission to enter your personal space.” This permission is granted with subtle motions (a slight lowering of the head, turning toward the person, or relaxing of facial muscles) that escape anyone who doesn’t know to watch for them. But Alexander did. I suspect there were additional unrecorded interactions in which Alexander’s quiet body language offered Bucephalus the bargain that horses most want. “If you accept me as your leader, I will also be your friend. You can trust me to treat you with respect.” When he asks Bucephalus to turn around (i.e. move his feet), the horse’s cooperation shows that he has accepted the bargain. Where, then, did the “afraid of his shadow” business come from? A couple possibilities come to mind. First, Plutarch was not above putting words in someone else’s mouth, so it’s possible that Alexander never said any such thing. Or, if we give Plutarch the benefit of the doubt, we could put the remark down to Alexander being a smart-aleck teenager. Or perhaps he just showed a glimpse of the brilliant leader and military strategist he soon proved to be. From Alexander’s point of view, he has just pulled off a stunning performance, riding a horse his father’s battle-hardened warriors can’t get near. The Macedonians don’t have a formal army like the Persians they later defeated. They are tribal warriors entitled to express their opinions directly to the king, and presumably will not accept Alexander as their leader simply because he is the king’s son. He must prove himself. Perhaps it would not have enhanced Alexander’s credibility to explain that he had made friends with the horse, using skills he learned in a foreign country, skills that anyone can learn. Much more effective to let everyone think he has near magical powers of control over a dangerous horse. Alexander and Bucephalus’ partnership are ancient history, but their message is timeless. A horse nearly dismissed as a worthless rogue proves himself to be one of the greatest equine partners in recorded history. How many horses today are passed on, passed over, abused, or worse because they are unwilling to be someone’s mindlessly obedient servant? Or because rough handling has frightened them into aggressive behavior that from the horse’s perspective is self-defense? If we approach every horse with patience and respect, offering him a fair bargain, who knows what kind of partner we might find?

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