I Switch Between Right and Left Brain Extrovert, How About You?

(Thank you, Pat and Linda Parelli, for this valuable insight!)
The journey starts with understanding the basic nature of your horse. Horses are prey animals, hunted in nature. Safety is their primary concern and fear is their primary reaction. They are herd animals who look to their “alpha” for leadership. Understanding even these basics can transform your frustration with a horse as you learn to step into his shoes and see the world from his point of view as well as become his trusted leader.

The next step in the journey to understanding your horse is to determine his or her individual personality type. Within the Parelli method of horse training, horse personality – or “Horsenality™” is divided into these main categories:

Extroverted
Introverted
Left-Brain
Right-Brain

Extroverted horses tend to:
■have high energy
■have more “go”
■be quick
■have a tendency to run

The Introverted horse exhibits these qualities:
■low energy
■more “whoa”
■slow
■has a tendency to stop

Right-Brain horses tend to be:
■submissive
■fearful
■not confident
■nervous
■reactive

The Left-Brain horse tends to be:
■dominant
■brave
■confident
■calm
■tolerant

Horse personalities come in these combinations:

■Right-Brain Extrovert
■Right-Brain Introvert
■Left-Brain Extrovert
■Left-Brain Introvert

Each Horsenality™ and its unique characteristics, motivators, needs, wants, desires, behaviors, etc. have been studied in depth, including the leadership strategies that streamline the training of each horse personality.

To find out what type of personality your horse is, click here.

Copyright © 2007-Present Parelli Natural Horse•Man•Ship Understanding Horses

Green Horse, Green Rider and How I Can Afford It

Let me start off by saying this is not the most optimal situation. But I am here to say it can be done. The first thing you need to do if you are in this situation is surround yourself with knowledgeable horse people, who won't judge you, and who will believe in you. I was fortunate enough to be in this position. Things can be hard enough without someone criticizing you constantly. I had been out of touch with horses for many years, and only because I had kids that caught "the fever" did I make that big step to get back into things.

In addition, most outsiders will look at those of us who are horse owners and immediately assume we are rich, or have somewhat unlimited funds for our passion. I want to stop all of you out there who generalize this, as it is simply not true. A friend once told me if you want something badly enough, you will figure out a way. And, that, folks, is how I have come to be the owner of one of these most magnificent creatures. No, we don't have the fanciest tack, or perfect riding gear, but as long as we pratice safety first and foremost, and make sure that my horse's saddle fits well, and that she has a decent, comfortable bit and bridle, then I know I've done the very best I can.

(Another tip to save some cash: I have been blessed in my years as an owner to work out a "self care" arrangement. This means I visit my barn everyday, and I do all the mucking and feeding myself. Not only is this the best economical value, I actually prefer doing it this way because it allows me to see my horse on a daily basis, and thoroughly check her over to ensure she doesn't have any nicks or scratches I need to attend to, i.e. lameness issues, etc.)

It was about 8 yeas ago I was inspired by a woman I met when my kids were old enough to attend a mini summer camp one year. She had a small farm and three horses of her own and was boarding a couple of others on her property. To raise some spending money for the season, she had allowed her teenage daughters to run a camp from 9-12 noon for the week for children ranging in age from 6-10. There was a small ad in the local paper which I was lucky enough to discover.

It was a lovely way for me to get re-introduced into the world of horses and share this awe-inspiring experience with my kids. Most parents will understand what an incredible gift it is to be lucky enough to be able to re-visit something you loved so much as a kid and be in a position to re-live it again through the eyes of your children.

That week was a HUGE turning point for me in my life. I was fascinated by this lady who was living out her dream of owning a farm. "How did you do it?" I flat out asked her as the camp week drew to a close. She laughed. "We were so clueless when we first got Emily's pony, Tootsie Pop. We were lucky enough to find a boarding facility with a very professional and well-educated barn owner." she replied. "I finally got up my nerve to ask her one day if she minded if I shadowed her for a while to learn as much as I could. I went out there as often as I could, mucking stalls, grooming and picking her brains every opportunity I had," said Jen. "Spending as much time as you can with someone like that is invaluable."

Later in the summer we were delighted to discover another summer camp through the local paper. I eagerly enrolled the kids and we looked forward to beginning another chapter in the wonderful world of horses. As the week drew to a close, I approached the "very professional and well-educated barn owner."

Let's just say the rest is history.....

So That You Might Have a Better Understanding of Why?

Here is an excerpt from an 87 year-old woman's hand-written journal about riding. For some of us, it is a part of life, like breathing, eating and sleeping.....


"... I ride. That seems like such a simple statement. However as many women
who ride know.... it is really a complicated matter. It has to do with
power and empowerment; being able to do things you might once have
considered out of reach or ability. I have considered this ! as I shovel manure, fill
water barrels in the cold rain, wait for the vet/farrier/electrician/hay delivery,
change a tire on a horse trailer by the side of the freeway, or cool a gelding out
before getting down to the business of drinking a cold drink after a long ride.
The time, the money, the effort it takes to ride calls for dedication. At least,
I call it dedication. Both my ex-husbands call it 'a sickness.'
It's a nice sickness I've had since I was a small girl bouncing my plastic model horses and
dreaming of the day I would ride a real horse. Most of the women I ride with understand
that meaning of 'the sickness.' It's not a sport. It's not a hobby. It's
what we do and-- in some ways-- who we are as women and human beings.

I ride. I hook up my trailer and load my gelding. I haul to some nice trailhead
somewhere, unload, saddle up, whistle up my dog and I ride. I breathe in the air, watch the sunlight filter through the trees and savor the movement of
my horse. My shoulders relax. A smile spreads across my weathered face. I
pull my floppy hat down and let the real world fade into the tracks my horse
leaves in the sand. Time slows. Flying insects buzz loudly, looking like fairies.
My gelding flicks his ears and moves down the trail. I can smell his sweat and
it is perfume to my senses. Time slows. The rhythm of his walk and the movement
of the leaves become my focus. My saddle creaks and the leather rein in my hand
softens with the warmth.

I consider the simple statement: I ride. I think of all I do because I ride. Climb
rocky slopes, wade into a lily-pad lake, race a friend across the hayfield... all
the while laughing and feeling my heart in my chest. Other days just the act of
mounting and dismounting can be a real accomplishment. Still I ride, no matter
how tired or how much my sitter bones or any of my other acquired horse-related
injuries hurt. I ride. And I feel a lot better for doing so.

I think of the people, mostly women, that I've met. I consider how competent they
all are. Not a weenie in the bunch. We haul 40 ft. rigs, we back 'em up into tight
spaces without clipping a tree. We set up camp, tend the horses. We cook and
keep our camp neat. We understand and love our companions, our horses. We
respect each other and those we encounter on the trail. We know that if you are
out there riding, you also shovel, fill, bathe, wait and doctor. Your hands are a little
rough and you travel without makeup or hair gel. You do without to afford the
'sickness' and probably, when you were a small girl, you bounced a little model
horse while you dreamed of riding a real one."

"My treasures do not chink or glitter, they gleam in the sun and neigh in
the night."

Fantastic Video-I had to watch it twice

Act I, Scene One, The Story Begins

A woman enters a large barn with her husband. They peer around, as if searching for something. Another woman emerges from outside. "Welcome!" she says brightly and breathlessly, like she had been running up stairs. "You must be here to see Dancer. I'm Mary. Let me go get her for you, it will take me just a minute." She is middle aged, with a kind face and she disappears as quickly as she came. The visitors stand quietly, taking in everything. The barn is a beautiful two level structure, with that newly-built smell. It's an overcast September day, a bit dreary, and damp in Newville, PA. There is a sound of hoofs clacking on a cement walk and then Mary is back, with the beautiful bay mare. The horse's head is high in the air and the whites of her eyes are showing. Her mane is dark and a little disheveled from when the halter went over her head. She is doing a sort of dance-prance in place. "She doesn''t like being away from the rest of the gang," the woman says-nodding her head to the paddock adjoining the barn. Through the window, two geldings are waiting anxiously outside, pacing back and forth. Dancer let's out a whinny to her partners. They reply in unison.

"I got her for my grandchildren,"Mary begins. "She is a very sweet girl. But, I think she's too much for me at my age to deal with,"she says, as Dancer steps back and jerks Mary's arm with her. "I'm going to put her in a stall and you can look her over." She walks Dancer over to a big airy stall with dutch doors and unhooks the lead rope. Dancer wheels around and goes to the window to peer at her friends. She nervously circles, stopping each time at the window and to whinny. Mary chuckles. "I suppose she is a bit herd bound,"she offers and then adds,"Oh, and I've noticed she's pretty head shy. I can't seem to get a bridle on her. I've had my neighbors across the street come over to see if they would have any luck; they breed Tennessee Walkers and have a lot of experience with horses. We think she may have a problem with her teeth." The visiting couple moves into the stall with the mare to look her over. She is gorgeous, standing at about 15.3 hands and appears to be in fantastic shape, with a gleaming dark brown coat and beautiful full black mane and tail. She is just seven years old, and had been recently racing somewhere in New York. The story goes that a woman in the area sought out retired racehorses from the tracks there and promised owners and trainers that these horses would end up in good homes. Little did they know the fate these poor animals would encounter. They were brought to a livestock auction in PA where animals are sold primarily for meat. Jo Deibel and her organization, Angel Acres, rescued Dancer from a fate too horrible to mention. Jo and her team then spent many hours retraining Dancer (as Angel Acres does with all the horses in their care) and eventually placed her as a police horse in the D.C. Park Police program. They decided shortly thereafter that Dancer's build was too slight for the men on the force and she also wasn't fond of traffic, so she was again back on the market for a new home. Enter Mary, who had been working at the Department of the Interior and was just getting ready to retire. She had mentioned she was looking for a horse for her grand kids to ride when they were visiting her farm. The Park Police often give away horses to good homes that don't make the cut in their program, and Mary took advantage of this. Fast forward to the couple in Mary's barn: The female guest went up to the horse, took the halter firmly and asked her to stand. The animal immediately responded and stopped, regarding this woman for a brief second who was standing before her. For a moment, a look of calm washed over the equine's face, but it was gone just as quickly as it had come, and Dancer started fidgeting again. The husband turned to his wife and said, "She comes by her name honestly, doesn't she? Quiet a handful, don't you think?"


The woman replied in a breathless voice, full of awe. "She's beautiful," she replied. And, with a gleam in her eye, she turned to her husband and said with conviction, "I want her!"

And so, the story begins....