How is Your Horse Smart?

Bronzz likes challenges, such as obstacles on trails

How smart is your horse? Wrong question. Instead we should ask, how is your horse smart? Until the last century most horses had to earn their keep. They worked on farms, ranches, city streets, and race tracks. They worked in light harness and heavy harness, under saddle and bareback. They hunted foxes, bison, and wild boar. They died on battlefields all over the world. While horses were bred for physical characteristics suited to their jobs, they were also bred for the mental traits that made them successful at those jobs. With dogs it is apparent that their behavior reflects the job for which their ancestors were bred. Watch a Labrador Retriever fetch, or a Collie herd sheep; their intelligence is amazing. Ask a Collie to bring you a dead duck, or a Lab to collect the sheep in any orderly fashion, and you might be astounded by their “stupidity”. Horses, too, can inherit traits that make them appear intelligent and hard-working in one context, but stupid, lazy, or unreliable in another. Add individual variations in personality and talent, and you can see how a horse who is good at one job might be a disaster in another. My riding partner (Bronzz) and my husband’s (Shiloh) are a good contrast. Shiloh likes routine and predictability. She gets worried when she isn’t sure what to do. Her default speed is slow. When in doubt, she stops. In training she wants to be confident of each new skill before going on to the next, but once she understands what’s expected, she is happy to repeat it. Any resistance is a predictable pinned-ears slow-down strike. Her favorite riding activity is a quiet stroll in the woods. A rider looking for a speedy, subtle horse, adept at learning high level moves, might label Shiloh lazy or dull-witted. My husband, whose idea of a great ride is a bird-watching stroll in the woods, thinks she’s pretty smart. Shiloh’s way of thinking and working fits her Quarter Horse ancestry. Much ranch work involves repetitive tasks directed by the rider, and interspersed with spells of inactivity. Chase calf for rider to rope; wait for rider to finish with calf; chase next calf. Walk along fence line; wait for rider to mend fence. Etc. Bronzz shares few of Shiloh’s talents. Easily bored, constantly distracted, he hates repetition. If not sufficiently challenged, he creates his own excitement. He has opinions about everything, and creative diversions if his input is ignored. He interprets every shift of the rider’s body to mean he should do something. A rider who demanded absolute obedience or monotonous repetitions might find him sullen, willful, even dangerous. Bronzz could be a nightmare. Instead, he is my dream horse, a trustworthy partner who takes care of me and practically reads my mind. Negotiating keeps me tuned in to what he’s thinking. The need to keep him challenged has led me to be more flexible and adaptable as a rider and trainer. He has developed an uncanny knack for knowing when to take initiative and when to defer to my judgment. I imagine that Bronzz’s way of thinking served his desert-bred Arabian ancestors well. In tribal warfare or big game hunting, survival required intense teamwork between horse and rider, with the horse being an active partner in spotting and dodging danger. (Hence the origin of the flamboyant Arab spook that unseats so many modern riders.) No two battles or hunts were alike, so initiative was more valuable than repetition. No two horses are alike either, even if they come from the same parents. If you consider your horse’s behavior from his or her perspective, you might discover hidden talents, historical connections, or explanations for problems. Or you might just understand better why you’ve always thought your horse was a pretty smart character!

horseintelligence