After two decades of learning and growing as an educator, I feel quite confident in front of a classroom. Presently immersed in something totally new and unfamiliar, I am beginning to realize how much I took that expertise for granted. Developing a solid skillset takes time, patience, and humility. Why did I think I could jump right in to the horse world like a pro? 

The amount of learning my poor old brain absorbs each day, both in my classes and at the farm, makes my eyes twitch. Book learning and lectures frequently raise more questions than they answer. I latch on to some random concept and lose myself in a digital scavenger hunt on that topic, such as when we studied the circulatory system and I got fixated on the size of a horse’s heart. Human hearts weigh about 10 ounces. The heart of an average 1,000-pound horse? 10 pounds. And remember racing legend Secretariat? His heart was reportedly a whopping 21 pounds! So there’s a good hour I can’t get back.

The minis also teach me a lesson every day. These two guys, Timmy and TJ, are among my most dedicated teachers.

They seem determined to trick me into a variety of rookie mistakes. TJ (on the right) is a rapscallion of a gelding with a strong sense of entitlement and crazy eyes. Timmy is TJ’s dad, the only stallion in the little herd. He is generally sweet and gentle, but TJ brings out his naughty side.

Every morning, when I clean the barn, they follow me and intentionally block my path. I keep telling them, “The sooner you let me sweep out this sand, the sooner I can feed you!” Yet they persist. Here’s one example of their determination.

After all this time, I had the brainstorm yesterday of shutting myself in the stalls. Shoulder-high doors lead from the barn aisle to the stalls, and metal gates lead from the stalls out to the sandy paddock. The horses roam freely in and out of the paddock but have no access to the barn’s interior. 

TJ and Timmy glared at me through the gate while I efficiently swept out the sand and loose hay. When I opened the gate, they rushed in, and I quickly shut myself in the neighboring stall. Smug with this new power, I forgot to latch the door from the first stall into the barn, and those two made a break for it. Before I could stop them, they gleefully knocked over a bucket of pellets and scarfed down a few bites. Touché, little men. Lesson learned.

Later in the day, it was bath time. Timmy loves to hang out in the water mister until he is soaking wet, and then he rolls in the sand. He was filthy, and his tail was matted with poo and sticks from the field. I tied him up and hosed him down before getting to work with shampoo, sponge, a rubber curry mitt, and a comb. Afterwards, I used a mystical concoction called Cowboy Magic to detangle his mane and tail. He was so handsome! 

And then he did this. I think I heard TJ egging him on.

When I texted their owner, she wrote, “That’s why we leave them in the stall until they dry off.” Well, rats. Another lesson learned.

Although my eyes ache from the pressure of my rapidly growing brain, I love this stuff. I may not reach expert status as quickly as I had hoped, but for now, I am focusing on the journey instead of the destination.