Proud to be an Arabian Horse

Bronzz with Sapphire

My name is Bronzz, and I’m proud to be an Arabian horse. I’m bright chestnut with a handsome face and lots of mane. When I flag my tail and prance, people notice me. But Lynn says that’s not why she picked me. She picked me because I’m smart, sweet, sensible, athletic, and I have a sense of humor. We get along great, Lynn and me. When she rides me we practically read each other’s minds, but it wasn’t always like that. We’ve been together for 20 years, or so Lynn says; I don’t count past 5. At first she had a lot to learn. She didn’t understand that my saddle hurt my back, and when I tried to tell her, she yelled at me for bucking. Sheesh. I had to try on a zillion saddles before she finally found one that didn’t hurt. Who do they make those saddles for, anyway? Then there was the spooking issue. Many people don’t understand this about Arabs. We don’t spook because we’re cowards. We dodge because we’re always alert for possible danger. My ancestors were war horses from the deserts of the Middle East. Not the kind of war horses that marched in formation, following orders. It was tribal warfare. The horse was supposed to watch her rider’s back, and dodge fast if she sensed danger. Why wait for orders when there’s a spear coming at you? For fun, my ancestors’ people hunted wild boar, really dangerous. If a boar charges, you move fast or die! I’ll admit Lynn wasn’t overly impressed with my spooking abilities at first. In fact she used to get downright cranky even though I am careful to stay underneath her. Then she came up with this really irritating plan. Every time I spooked and jumped she made me walk in a circle 10 times. She actually counted! She didn’t get mad; it was just really boring. Pretty soon, I figured out how to avoid circles by keeping my feet still when I was startled. Mostly. And Lynn figured out that I can pay attention to her and the rest of the world at the same time. The other thing that helps me spook less is that Lynn always lets me check out things that worry me which, if you stare at them long enough, usually turn out to be boring. She checks them out, too, so I know she’s paying attention. When we’re stuck in the arena, we sometimes play with toys like umbrellas, balls, tarps, flags, barrels, bells, poles, tires... I never know what she’s going to dream up next. Now it’s hard to find anything that scares me. Except geese. That’s because back when I was little I saw one of my friends get beat up by a goose. I don’t see why. All he wanted to do was play with the baby geese. Those birds are scary, and we horses don’t forget things like that. Actually, I don’t forget anything, and I have opinions about everything. Curries and brushes must be soft. Don’t pull my mane when you brush it. I don’t like my winter blanket, but I love my fly mask in summer. Medicine in my feed is gross; I won’t eat it. My favorite thing is trail riding, especially the trails where I get to trot and canter. I’d rather gallop full speed through the woods, but Lynn says, dream on. Oh well, there are always interesting critters to see, hear, and smell; and the beech leaves taste great this time of year. I like playing tricks on Lynn, like sneaking out of my stall when she’s not looking, or picking up the cats’ water bowl and flipping it over. With water in it, of course. Usually Lynn laughs. Unless she’s in a bad mood. I also like challenges. Ask me to do something easy, or over and over, and I might not bother. Give me a tough problem, and I’ll show you I can handle it. Not all Arabs are as brave and sensible as I am. In fact I’ve known some who are downright flakey and give the rest of us bad names like “spooky airhead”, but that’s not their fault. My breeder, the man who raised me, explained it. Before I was born, horse farms were a tax write-off. (Something about money which seems useless to me since you can’t eat it, but whatever.) So rich people bred Arabian horses they didn’t even ride, but they sent them to shows where they actually won more ribbons if they acted wild. By the time the tax thing changed, there were some really wacky Arabians running around. For most of our history, we Arabians were prized for what we could do, not just our looks. We’re tougher than we look. That’s why we’re great endurance horses. And you know that story about how we lived in the tents with our people? Don’t believe it. There was an English lady who spoke Arabic, dressed like a man, and traveled all over the Middle East to find the best Arabian horses to send home to England. She said horses were so poorly cared for that she feared our breed would become extinct in our native lands. But we survived anyway. Maybe it helped that we don’t need much food. Now our problem is that those yummy green pastures or too much grain can make us insulin resistant, and then we have to wear muzzles, which isn’t fun, but I can tell you from personal experience it beats having laminitis. I don’t like hot weather, either. I don’t sweat as much as most horses, so I pant and get out of breath. My vet says that was probably good for desert horses, so they didn’t need as much water. Some people say Arabians like to bond with a special person. Lynn says most horses do, but maybe Arabians are better at it because a horse and rider who had that special connection were more likely to survive in battle. I just know that I like being Lynn’s special partner. She’s pretty klutzy, way too careful, and doesn’t see well either, but she looks out for me, so I look out for her. Something I am personally proud of is that I have a special dent in the muscle on my rump. My vet says it’s a defect in the muscle, but the people of my ancestors called it “The Prophet’s Thumbprint”, and said it was a sign of good luck. I guess it’s true, because I have the good luck to be an Arabian horse!

Arabianhorsebehavior