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The art originated thousands of years ago when Man first domesticated the horse.
Horses became the primary source of transport and a horse problem would have had as profound an effect as a broken down car does today.
The original horse whisperers held a mystical status within society, not least due to the secrecy that surrounded their skills.
The need to preserve an aura of "magic" derived from a desire to protect their income.
Today's practitioners are more open and there exists a mass of information on the subject, both in books and on the web.
In the past whisperers were adept horsemen and drawn from the gypsy and rural communities.
It was a male preserve and sadly the more disreputable of them practiced many tricks.
When sensing that a wealthy client could be milked, they created problems where none existed.
Capitalising on horses' dislike of pigs and their excrement, a common trick was to rub some on the stable door, or manger when vacant.
A large fee was then charged to cure the refusal to eat, or box.
This involved boiling an infusion of "secret herbs" and rubbing the concoction on various spots - which included the previously soiled places.
The most important attribute for any human wishing to practice this ancient art is the ability to think like a horse.
It is essential to transform orientation from human being (predator) to flight animal (food!) The main process is one of breaking down the fundamentally aggressive relationship that exists between these two vastly different life forms.
I will describe an example of this theory put into action.
Many years ago, when I lived in the bull breeding area of southern Spain, I was approached by a lady who had bought a stallion.
Her job involved working with stud farms and one day, when visiting a regular customer, she realized that she had never seen their stud stallion.
Curiosity aroused, she asked to see him.
A groom pointed to a line of stable doors and indicated one which had both its top and bottom doors shut and the catches secured with cord.
Later in the morning she wandered down to the closed one and tried to look in.
She assumed there would be a window in the back wall, but upon placing her eye against a crack in the door, she found the interior was in darkness.
Gradually, as her eye adjusted, she could make out the vague shape of a handsome horse.
A few weeks passed before she returned there and as fate would have it, a day and time when a visiting mare was due to be covered.
She stood and watched with growing horror as two male grooms approached the stallion's door, each carried a broom handle.
As one man repeatedly struck the metal door, the other untied the cord and slung back both top and bottom sections.
They entered armed with their sticks and attached a vicious halter.
They reappeared wrestling a beautiful dark bay from his permanent gloom.
In the harsh sunlight, a mare was held awaiting his attentions.
A few minutes later he was dragged back into his stable and the doors once more secured.
Her work completed, the lady asked about the scene she had witnessed.
"He's wild and dangerous, that's the only way he can be handled," she was told.
For months she re-played in her mind the horrifying experience she had witnessed.
Finally she could stand it no longer and on her next visit asked whether they would sell "the beast" and if so, for how much? For her there was no decision, she paid the huge sum requested.
Bringing him back home was an adventure in its self, but her challenge had only just begun.
A naturally humane horse person, she set about the massive task of establishing his trust in Mankind.
Gently over the next few months, she forged a relationship that was based on cooperation and kindness.
There remained one big problem.
The stallion's major fear/aggression was reserved for men.
Believing attack to be the best form of defence, their appearance was enough to provoke pawing, snorting and laid back ears.
A visit by either vet, or farrier was impossible without massive tranquilization, which eventually prompted her consulting me.
My arrival prompted his "normal" reaction to male visitors.
My response was to do nothing.
To break a cycle of learned behaviour it is necessary to interrupt the sequence.
My inactivity was the first step in allowing him to re-evaluate his reaction to male humans.
The next few "sessions" involved me doing very little.
I would approach his door, lean against it and read a book.
On another day I would open and shut his door without going in, sometimes I just put in one foot, sometimes I half entered and then immediately went out again.
Every visit was different, but each one would provoke the same reaction from my "patient" - a retreat to the farthest corner and a display of fear/aggression.
One day, as I noted that his reactions were becoming less pronounced, I joined him in the stable.
This time armed with a good novel as I guessed this was to be a long session.
Back to him, I propped myself against the half door.
Ignoring him as her tensed in his far corner, I began to read.
After about ten pages, I heard the faint clicks of his front joints as he made minor changes in his position.
Twenty pages in, he moved his hooves.
Thirty pages in, I heard one step.
I was no longer reading when I felt the first tentative abrasion of his lips on the back of my coat as he nuzzled me...
I recently re-visited him and he let me rub his nose.
He remembered me, but so far, he has reacted to every new male in the same way.
Duncan Drye
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