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Bella and Me |
Our family moved to the country in 2002 to experience nature from horseback. We planned to get a horse for each of us. When my ten year old son, Daniel, heard that our newest acquisition might be a mustang, he boldly stated that the new horse would be his. His announcement surprised us, as a recent experience on a runaway horse had all but smothered Daniel’s love for equines. Gathered by the BLM in 1991 as a four-year-old, Dodger was one of the mustangs selected for the inmate program at a California correctional facility. Eleven years had passed since Dodger had left the care of the BLM. With our purchase not yet sealed, we observed him from a distance. We evaluated the ramifications of welcoming this horse into our newly forming herd. Among other things, we were informed that he would run when approached with a halter and had issues with being ridden. This was the horse to help our son regain his confidence? Daniel slipped unseen through the fence rails; halter in hand, introduced himself to his new friend, and triumphantly led him over to meet us. Later, Dodger relished a carrot Daniel offered despite warnings that he would refuse food offered by a human. At home, as we became acquainted, Dodger’s behavior confirmed the story told by the physical scars on his body. Expecting the worst, our mustang, eyes vacant, trembled when being handled. When Daniel handled Dodger, however, he was a different horse. Dodger welcomed Daniel into his world. That which “normal” society overlooked, Dodger relished with utter abandon—the company of a boy that was “different.” Content to brush his pony or tenderly to care for his hoofs without the benefits of halter and lead rope, the two basked in the pleasure of one another’s company. Dodger often followed Daniel through the forested hillside pasture perhaps gaining comfort and camaraderie from the presence of this special boy. The relationship these two enjoy is, perhaps, best illustrated by something that happened one summer morning. Not one typically to defy the rules in our house about riding without an adult present, Daniel climbed onto the feeder. Outfitted with only a halter and lead rope, Dodger sided up and invited Daniel to hop aboard. Not willing to refuse so gracious an offer and convinced that Dodger would take care of him, the two promenaded around our corral like a natural horseman and his partner should. With this amazing mustang as his instructor, Daniel overcame his fear of riding. Dodger has come to trust humans again because of the unconditional love extended to him by a young autistic boy who wanted his friendship and companionship and asked for nothing more. Because of this unique mustang, my son has been changed forever, infused with a confidence provided only by a special relationship of which so many of us who love horses can only dream. Top of page |
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Official Newsletter of the National Wild Horse and Burro Program
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Good partnerships are born, not made—or such seems to be the case with our mustang Dodger, and Daniel, our autistic son.