When I read about clever horses twice in less than 24 hours, I knew it’s more than a coincidence. I was looking for my “new cat” topic, and I’m sure that I’ve found it in horses.
First it was Temple Grandin, the well known autistic writer and animal expert, who writes about horses in her Animals in Translation, which I began reading the other day.
Then Meg Rosoff goes on about horses, too. And I think she’s saying pretty much the same as Temple. Horses know what they are doing, whereas we humans don’t always.
Horses are also quite big, unless you go to Shetland, where they are a very nice size. I’m not sure how high 16 hands is, but I’d like Meg to remember she isn’t still fifty (Nice try, Meg!), or even fifteen.
Before discovering brooms I went on horses several times. That was also before I discovered common sense, which is that I don’t belong on horses. The pony at Skansen (Stockholm tourist place; look it up!) that I understood to be a size six, which is what it said on my ticket, turned out to be enormous. But then I was only four years old. That’s old enough to scream my way round the whole of Skansen, with a very determined Mother-of-witch by my side. The Retired Children’s Librarian sat on a bench and laughed. She still talks about it, too.
Then there was the farm horse belonging to my friend’s uncle. The horse was called M******t; same as the Retired Children’s Librarian, so there is a connection of sorts.
The only thing is that according to Temple I’d feel a lot better if I socialise with horses.