Said he: “I know you’ve done some wonderful things with Trixie, but animals are animals, and I don’t believe that you can educate them. Let me give you some advice. Don’t waste your time. Many a man has gone crazy by allowing a fool idea like this of yours to take possession of him.”
I defended my ideas, however, and argued that my years of study of the horse had revealed things of horse nature and character few even dreamed of. I was sure they could think and reason. Everybody knew that they had memory, and I was satisfied that I could educate this, or any other intelligent horse, to use his reason, no matter how small it was—in other words to think.
Ringling listened with interest but made no pretense to hide his doubts, and again said I was going crazy when I affirmed my positive conviction that I could, and would, train Captain to take and obey orders blindfolded. He was certain it never could be done.
How well I have succeeded the hundreds of thousands who have seen Captain can best tell. It may also be interesting to recount Mr. Ringling’s expressions when he saw Captain sometime after I began to give exhibitions with him.
He said: “I confess myself beaten, Sigsbee, I take off my hat to you. What you have accomplished will be a revelation to the world, as it has been to me. In spite of my years of association with horses I never dreamed they had such powers in them. You have opened my eyes, and as others begin to see they will treat their animals with greater consideration, they will think more favorably of them, and no longer treat them as if they were mere brute instruments of their will or pleasure, without feeling or intelligence.”
Mr. Ringling well stated what it has been one of my constant endeavors to bring about. I have always loved horses. I wanted to see them better treated, and it is with great satisfaction that I am learning every day that my exhibitions with Princess Trixie and now with Captain are bearing this kind of fruit.
When my purchase of the colt was completed, I took him to my training barn in Chicago and there began his education. The first thing to do was to get well acquainted and gain his affection. This was done by giving him plenty to eat, the best of care, speaking gently and kindly to him, petting him, and giving him dainties now and again, such as carrots, apples, and sugar. My friends and acquaintances often laughed at me, and said I should never accomplish what I was after, but I persevered. They knew I was wasting time, money, and energy for nothing, but “I know” that what “they knew” wasn’t so.
It did not take Captain long to learn that I was kind to him; that I was his true and wise friend; and was to be relied upon. These are three things, the importance of which I cannot overestimate. Many people try to be kind to animals, but they are not wise in their treatment, and they are not to be relied upon. I knew that Captain trusted me for the little extra dainties he enjoyed. I never disappointed him. I never lied to him—that is promised him anything I did not intend to perform, and thus he soon learned I was to be trusted.
When left alone he became very uneasy. Like children he wanted companionship of some kind, so I hired a groom, Chili by name, whose duty was to remain with Captain, day and night. He was never to attempt to teach the horse anything, as that would lead to confusion, but was to care for him and be his companion at all times. Chili remained with him for several years and they became very fond of each other. I should never have parted with him, but when we came to San Francisco, he got careless and I had to let him go. Then I was fortunate enough to secure an equally good man in his present groom, Jasper.
Jasper is a natural-born horseman. He has ridden, broken, and owned some very famous horses, and has been on the track for years, hence he thoroughly understands horse-nature, and he and Captain get along famously.
As I have before explained Captain likes company. He strongly resents being left alone. Every night time before he goes to sleep he listens for the footsteps of his groom and if he is not there he signifies his disapproval by pawing, whinnying, etc., and generally keeps it up until Jasper returns and talks to him. Then, content and restful, he goes to sleep.
Once, when he was being brought south by rail, Jasper had to leave him in the Los Angeles freight yards—still in his car—to see that their tickets were properly endorsed, and he was gone for a half an hour or more. When he returned poor Captain was in a complete lather of perspiration. The unusual noises of the railroad yard in a large city, as he was shut up in a car so that he could not see, had fretted him into a frenzy. As soon as the groom returned he signified his satisfaction with whinnyings and nose-rubbings and in a very short time was cool again.
Every night before he lies down and goes to sleep, he peeks out to see if Jasper is there. If not, he awaits his return, and then stretches out with his head towards the place where Jasper sleeps.
Soon after we arrived in San Diego a lady presented Jasper with a pigeon. The bird was taken to the stable, and Captain became much interested in her. As the pigeon perched on the partition he reached up and nuzzled it in the most affectionate manner. Not only did the pigeon not resent it, but she seemed actually to enjoy it, showing no fear or desire to get away. Now they are almost inseparable friends, and Captain spends hours with his head upon the partition, snuggling close up to the bird. Prior to its coming, Captain often showed considerable nervousness when he heard strange footsteps approaching his stable, or just before a performance, but the presence of the pigeon has changed this. Its mere presence is a soothing influence, and when the show is over he goes back to the stable and greets his bird friend with evident pleasure and affection.
One of my experiences with Captain demonstrated his superior intelligence over most horses. My training barn was two stories high, and a wide pair of stairs led from the ground to the second floor. When my grandson was born Captain took a great liking for him. He loved to “kiss” him and nuzzle him while he was in the cradle, or baby-buggy, or even in his nurse’s arms. As the child grew older we used to place him on Captain’s back and Captain would march back and forth, as proudly as a king, apparently conscious of the trust we placed in him.
One day while I was working with Captain the child was in the barn, and he kept going up and down the stairs. I noticed that Captain’s attention was more often fixed upon the child than upon me and he seemed much interested. Someone called me away for a few moments, and when I returned there was no Captain to be seen. Then I heard a peculiar noise from above, and looking up, what should I see but Captain following the child up the stairs. I am free to confess I got scared, for I couldn’t see how I could get him down. But I went up, controlled my fears, and then quietly talked to Captain and told him he’d come up the stairs and now he’d have to go down them. And I backed him down, a step at a time, as easily and as safely as could be. And, strange to say, ever after that, whenever he wanted to go upstairs I let him, and he came down alone. I never had to back him down again. He comes down that way of his own volition.
People often ask me how I train an animal. Personally I would not use the word “train,” in speaking of such a horse as Captain, not because it is the wrong word, but because it conveys a wrong idea. I would say “educate,” for I firmly believe that horses and dogs and elephants and other animals possess the power of reason, though, of course, in a limited degree. And I believe that by patient and kindly treatment we can “draw out”—educate—the intelligence possessed.
I have no set rules or fixed system by which I work. There are a few principles that control me. First of all I study the animal’s nature and disposition. No two animals are alike, any more than any two children are alike. Some animals are very nervous, are easily excited, while others are placid and docile and nothing seems to disturb them. But whatever the natural disposition nothing can be done without gaining the animal’s complete confidence.
This I do by uniformly kind treatment. I always speak gently, mildly, never angrily or impatiently. Then I pet the animal at every opportunity, though with some, one must approach them a
t first, cautiously. As soon as possible get an animal accustomed to the feel of your hands, and to know that they always come gently, and with soothing effect. Find out what they particularly like to eat, and every once in a while, give this to them as a relish, a luxury, a reward for something well done. As I have explained elsewhere horses like carrots, apples, and sugar. Too much of any of these, however, is not good, as their natural food is grass, hay, cereals, and the like. Yet it should never be overlooked that a horse, like a man, can more easily be reached through his stomach than any other way.
Though you must be kind you must also be firm. Many people confound and confuse kindness with mushiness. No animal must be allowed to have his own way, when that way conflicts with his master’s will. (Yet a caution, here, is necessary. One who is training either a horse or a child should remember his natural proclivities and tendencies. There should be no attempt to “break the will.” It is to be trained, disciplined, brought under control. Hence, never set your will against the will of your animal unless it is in a matter where you know you are right.) For instance, if a horse wants to cut up and frolic when you wish him to attend to business, there are two ways of doing.
One is to leave him alone for a while and then firmly bring him to attention, even though he still desires to continue his fun. Another is to crush the spirit of fun and frolic and not allow him to play at all. This latter method is unnatural, unreasonable, and cruel, and therefore not to be thought of for one moment by any rational or kind man. The former is both kind and disciplinary. The horse is allowed to follow his natural instincts, but is also taught to control them at his master’s word. This is training and education. A third method is to allow the horse to frolic to his heart’s content and then get him to do what you desire. Here there is no discipline whatever. This is the way of “mushiness,” and it is often followed by parents and others in handling their children. It is about as bad as the cruel method of suppressing the natural instincts, for an uncontrolled will or appetite soon becomes the child’s, animal’s, or man’s master, and nothing is more disastrous than such a bondage.
Hence be firm in control. It is not necessary to whip to punish. A horse, as well as a child, will learn self-control through appetite, or the giving of something that is a pleasure. Where you have trouble in gaining control, or where the animal is lazy, hold back on the tidbit, or the free run, or something of the kind the horse enjoys. He will soon learn to associate the loss with his disobedience. Equally so be prompt and certain in rewarding his good conduct. It is a good thing in dealing with a stubborn or refractory animal (or child) to let him get “good and hungry.” It does not take him long to learn to associate obedience with food, or disobedience with hunger.
Then it is most important that you never lie to an animal. Be strictly truthful. When you promise anything—or by forming a habit imply a promise—do not fail to keep that promise. If your animal expects an apple, a carrot, a piece of sugar, or a frolic at the close of his hour’s training, do not disappoint him. A horse, a child, instinctively hates a liar. One soon loses confidence, and where there is no confidence there can be no pleasure in working together, and as soon as pleasure goes, the work becomes a burden, a labor, a penalty, and a curse, to be dreaded, shunned, avoided. So win your animal’s confidence and then be sure to keep it.
When it comes to actual teaching always be very patient, never excited, always talk gently and keep your voice pitched low, and remember that all animals are curious, possess more or less of the imitative faculty, and have good memories. To remember these things is of great importance. Never lose sight of them. Talk to your animal as you would to a child. Whether you think or believe he understands you, or not, act and talk as if he did. Then show him what you want him to do. Do it before him, again and again. Thus you will excite his imitative faculties and at the same time, train his memory.
Occasionally you may be able to give him extra aid. For instance, you want to teach your horse to shake his head to express the idea No! When you say No! tickle the horse’s ear, and he will shake his head. Then you also shake your head, and say with emphasis, No! Repeat this several times, and you will find that when you say No! the horse will shake his head without your having to tickle his ear. As soon as he responds to your question with a shake of the head be sure to pet and reward him with a lump of sugar, at the same time talking encouragingly to him.
Then repeat the process, again and again, until it is well fixed in his memory.
Every day go over this same thing; for, if you neglect what he learns today for a week or two, it is very possible he will forget and you will have to begin afresh. Review perpetually, until you know that he knows.
In assisting him to nod his head when you want him to signify Yes! when you use the word tap him under the chin. This leads him to throw his head up and down. Soon he will nod at the mere saying of Yes! and later, he will respond with a nod when you ask him a question to which he should reply with the affirmative.
Remember always, in all you do, that you are dealing with an animal whose brainpower is far less than that of an ordinary child, and be patient, kind, and persevering. Never allow yourself to believe the animal does not possess intelligence. Believe he has it, hope he has it, trust God that he has it, and work in that belief, hope, trust, and you will accomplish wonders. Faith, hope, and love are the abiding and moving powers of life. With them there is no limit to what can be done, for they belong to the infinite.
23
In Which True Becomes Justin Morgan
by Eleanor Waring Burnham
The Morgan horse emerged in New England during the first quarter of the nineteenth century in a time and place where good agricultural records were kept, particularly of horses that proved to be useful and valuable. We know something of the second generation and a great deal about later generations of Morgans but comparatively little about the father of the breed, even though he became well known during his own lifetime.
The mysterious origins of the first Morgan horse led to fiction and nonfiction accounts of his early life. In Eleanor Waring Burnham’s book Justin Morgan, Founder of his Race, readers got some of both approaches. Burnham produced a fictionalized narrative of one of the several versions of the horse’s early years. It was a technique that Burnham had successfully used in her previous novels.
In her story, Burnham begins with a mare she names Gipsey, who has produced a handsome bay colt, the son of a stallion named True Briton. Their owner, a farmer in West Springfield, Massachusetts, names the colt True Briton the Second, soon shortened to True. Gipsey has a prophetic message for True. “When other horses now famous are forgotten,” she says, “your memory will live on.”
True becomes a favorite pet of his owner, especially when he saves his master’s life by running for help when the elderly farmer is injured. But the farmer reluctantly sells True to a singing teacher from Vermont, a kindly young man named Justin Morgan.
After a sojourn among well-bred horses and distinguished people in Hartford, Connecticut, True travels to Vermont with his new master, who is proud to show off the sturdy little horse to his hardworking neighbors. Illness and financial problems force the singing teacher to rent True to Robert Evans for fifteen dollars so the farmer can clear a new field.
It was hard work but True revels in it, enjoying the admiration from Evans and his neighbors for the amount of work he could do. Evans enjoyed the admiration just as much. In this chapter, True receives a new name.
Once or twice a week it was the custom among the farmers waiting at Chase’s Mill to pass the time testing their strength or that of their horses. It was healthful sport and kept them and their beasts in trim. Many were the jugs of Medford rum consumed on these occasions, and anyone having a horse to try, or a new test of strength for the men, was welcomed.
Running their horses short distances for small stakes came to be very popular. A course of eighty rods was measu
red, starting at the mill and extending along the highway; a line was drawn across the road, called a “scratch,” the horses were ranged in a row, and at the drop of a hat away they went, cheered by the crowd.
It so happened that Evans and True, who never finished their work until dusk, were rarely at these tests. Evans, himself, was too tired to join in the sports, but True often thought he would like to try his strength against the larger, heavier horses.
One day, coming along the River Road to the mill, his heavy farm harness and tug chains still dangling on True, they passed Master Justin Morgan—he stood under a maple tree and was lilting an old French song learned from the Canadian lumbermen, called “A la Claire Fontaine.” True and Evans paused to listen. Everyone liked Master Morgan for his sweet voice and gentle manners.
When the song was finished Evans gave the singer a neighborly greeting and strode on to the mill, True following him, more like a dog than a horse. The sun was gone and the evening shadows were beginning to fall, but there were still lingering along the horizon long streaks of crimson and gold that tinged the river with color.
In evident discussion, near a log at the mill, stood a group of farmers. Evans and True approached. Nathan Nye, friendly and jovial, whittling a birch stick, looked up as Evans said: “How be ye all?”
“Why not give Bob’s horse a show?” he asked, a twinkle in his keen blue eyes, a smile brightening his genial face.
Great American Horse Stories Page 23
