Horseback Riding: ‘The horses listen when she talks’
March 3, 1999 — As I approached the stable, Boomer stared ahead vacantly.
Perhaps the big black lab was dreaming of supper, slumber, or soup bones — anything to take his attention away from Casey, the four-month-old Jack Russell terrier that was incessantly jumping up and nipping at his ears.
With one swipe of his mighty paw, Boomer could have squashed the tiny pest. But, except for the occasional growl or twitch, Boomer continued to stare ahead, knowing full well that Casey would never tire of this game, hoping that soon someone would take a horse out for a ride, and Casey would inevitably scamper after them.
As a barn cat prowling for mice slid by, the dogs didn’t seem to notice. Casey continued to bite Boomer’s ears, and Boomer continued to let her.
This is life at Gainesville’s Windy Hill Farm, where dogs, cats, horses and a scattered assortment of humans commingle, usually peacefully, communicating not with words, but actions … and thoughts.
One woman stands at the center of all of Windy Hill’s creatures.
When Camille Gathercole was just six months old, her father would take her out on his horse every evening. And when young Camille fell asleep in front of him, her father would ride back home where her mother was waiting, ready to put her to bed. Every evening.
“So they pretty much messed me up from the beginning,” laughed Camille, now 50, and proprietor of Windy Hill Farm for 18 years. “You really shouldn’t do that to a little kid, because they just get addicted.”
Camille has owned her own horse since the age of three, and currently her Windy Hill’s stables hold close to 30.
Camille grew up with horses, and now they grow up with her.
The horses listen when she talks, react to her every move, and even, says Camille, read her mind.
“Sometimes I try not to do or say anything,” said Camille. “I’ll just think it, to see if I can get them to do things with my thoughts. Sometimes I can.”
A skeptical look must have shot back at her from my face.
“It’s a gift,” Camille said knowingly. “Everybody can do it, but not everyone knows how.”
My doubts diminished later when Camille instructed me on horseback riding’s basics. Atop a horse named Banit, in the round pen a short walk down the driveway away from the stable, she taught me how to guide Banit, to start him, to stop him.
Then Camille had me sit the trot, the next gait up from a walk.
“Take a deep breath,” Camille said.
I did. And Banit stopped. I squeezed him with my legs and he started up again. Another deep breath, and we were stopped.
A sensitive enough rider, I learned, can guide a horse on breath alone without ever touching a rein. Horses can feel the slightest change in the rider’s temperament.
“If they try to tell me that they don’t feel it, it’s because they’re choosing not to,” said Camille. “And I fuss at them for it.”
Banit, however, is always on the lookout for a signal to stop. Stopping is one of his favorite activities.
Banit is so docile, in fact, that at a horse show last year he took home a blue ribbon in the stand-still competition. No lie.
Banit is a perfect horse for beginners.
“Horseback riding is dangerous,” said Camille. “But with horses like Banit, you would have to try real hard to get into much trouble.
“OK Dan, let’s start him up again.”
And before I could do anything, Banit started to trot. He knew, somehow, what Camille wanted him to do.
With a click of the tongue, Camille told Banit to go faster.
I’m not sure if I ever got it quite right. The hard leather saddle felt like a paddle on my rear end with every trot, canter and gallop.
Perhaps Banit was punishing me for getting him into this.
Regardless, my short lesson was over, and Banit and I were off on a trail ride led by Windy Hill regulars Kellie Rowker, Donna Judge and Yvonne Couget — and no one was happier to see this than Boomer, whose tiny nemesis, upon eyeing us take off down the trail, finally let go of Boomer’s ear and raced off to chase the horses.
We traversed an hour-long course through some of Windy Hill’s beautiful 72 acres. We walked through woods, cantered through pastures, and trotted through streams — well, not all of us.
Banit always stopped to get a drink.
And Casey, somehow avoiding falling hoofs, was scurrying between us the entire way.
Banit and I would look on as the others performed jumps, and then leisurely maneuver around the obstacles.
Our trail ride ended too soon. Banit and I were just starting to get to know each other.
Back at the stable, I told Camille I wanted to come again.
“Well, I’m always here,” Camille said, smiling. “I’ll probably be here forever.