The Story of Faramir.

Shannon McClane
14 hours ago
4 min read

I saw a post from a local horse rescue. They had just taken in twelve miniature horses from a hoarding situation.

I called the woman I used to work for managing her barn and asked if I could borrow her trailer. Olivia came with me, and we drove the two hours to the rescue.

We arrived just in time for it to start snowing profusely.

Choosing was almost impossible. They were all adorable, but I was immediately drawn to a white pair who stayed close together. One was extremely tiny. The other was bigger, and even in the middle of everything going on around him, you could immediately see his charming personality.

That was Faramir.

I fell in love with him almost instantly.

The tiny one was Belle, and I began thinking she might be the perfect Christmas present for my sister. It was at the beginning of her illness, when she could no longer ride, and I thought having a miniature horse of her own might give her another way to stay involved with the horses — and with Olivia and me.

I did give her the choice between the two.

Secretly, though, I hoped she would choose Belle.

She did.

Because by then, I already wanted Faramir.

I had another reason for being drawn to him, too. I have always loved theatrical horse performances — Zingaro, Cheval Théâtre, Cavalia — and there was something about this funny, charismatic little horse that made me imagine possibilities.

Someday, I thought, perhaps Faramir and I could learn to do something like that together.

Not a grand theatrical production, of course. Just the two of us, working at liberty. Learning to communicate without force. Maybe a few tricks. Maybe something that felt a little like a dance.

It was only an idea then.

First, we had to get two little white horses' home through the snow.

Someday

But that little vision I had for Faramir didn’t happen.

At least, not then.

I still had Hadji, my Arabian and the horse who had been my partner for so much of my life. There are only so many hours in a day, and most of the time I had to give to horses beyond their everyday care went to him.

So Faramir settled into life at Oz.

He was fed. He was cared for. He had Belle and the other horses around him. But if I am truthful, Faramir and I didn’t really have a relationship of our own.

Years passed that way.

Both Faramir and Belle were fairly shy in the beginning, Belle more so than Faramir. And recently, when I decided it was finally time to begin working with him, I didn’t start with training.

I started by doing almost nothing.

Before I approach a horse, I try to become very calm and still and center myself. Then I began simply spending time with Faramir. I would hang out with him in his stall or stand with him in the pasture. I didn’t chase after him or immediately ask something of him.

I waited for him to approach me.

Once he began showing me that he wanted the connection, I started grooming him. I ran my hands over him and discovered the places where he especially liked to be scratched. I wanted him to learn that being with me was something he could enjoy and choose.

I could have accomplished some of this faster with treats. Faramir certainly wouldn’t have objected to that. But I didn’t want food to be the reason he came to me.

I wanted it to be me.

And slowly, something changed.

Now Faramir whinnies when he sees me.

Learning the Conversation

Only after that connection had begun to feel strong did I start asking for more.

We began with very simple liberty exercises. On a lead, I walk backward while Faramir comes toward me, teaching him to focus on me and follow my movement. Then we began working on yielding his hindquarters.

Next I will teach him to circle around me on the lead. Eventually, when those things are understood, the lead will come off.

But I am beginning to understand that liberty work isn’t really about teaching a horse to perform without a rope.

It is learning how to have a conversation with your horse.

The rope is there in the beginning while we learn the language. I ask. He answers. I pay attention to his answer and adjust what I am asking. Little by little, the conversation becomes quieter.

Someday, perhaps, we won’t need the rope at all.

All those years ago, standing at a rescue in a snowstorm, I looked at a charming little white horse and imagined the two of us doing liberty work together.

I thought I was imagining the tricks.

Maybe what I was really imagining was the partnership.

It just took us a while to find each other.