Here is the edited transcript from our first What Horses Want Most Q& A.
Q: I’d like to talk about the “death and dying” part, because Valentine passed away quite suddenly, with no warning at all. It was September. We had a nice ride on Thursday afternoon—just an easy walk and trot for about an hour. She came in for breakfast on Friday morning, and when we went back for dinner Friday night, we found her body.
The other horses were gathered around her. When I went down there, Snowy came over and brushed my shoulder. Alice looked at me, and then they walked away once I was there.
I guess I’m curious about a few things: Did they know it was going to happen? Was there something I missed that was so fatal? How did they feel about it? They watched when her body was picked up, and I’m wondering how they experienced the whole thing.
Since then, both of them have been very attentive to me. I haven’t found a replacement yet, but they know they’ll eventually have another sister. How do they feel about that whole situation?
A: First off, I’m really sorry for your loss.
And to your question—did they know ahead of time? In my experience, if a horse has a chronic illness, the horses that are left behind often knew how serious the illness was, how much pain that animal was in, and they are relieved that the suffering is over. When a horse dies suddenly, though, they’re often more shocked. When I’ve talked to them in those situations, they didn’t know. I haven’t had a horse say, “I knew that heart attack was coming.” I’ve had several horses tell me they’re grateful they got to be with the body of their loved one afterwards.
How they feel is a great question. I think we underestimate how deeply horses can grieve when they lose a friend. Often, it’s harder for a horse who ends up alone afterward. For example, in a backyard situation where there were two horses and one passes, the remaining horse can’t sleep because the other one used to “watch” half the time for danger—like coyotes. In those cases, the need for a companion can be more immediate. In your situation, you have two horses, so you may have a bit more time to let them adjust before bringing in another horse.
They also might grieve when they come to a new home. They can’t tell you, “I had a really nice mom,” or “There was a little girl who loved me,” or “I miss my pasture mate.” but they know what they’ve lost. If they loved their old situation, they grieve it. New owners can be quick to say, “Hi—look, these are your new people and new horses,” without realizing what’s happening for their horse.
At the same time, horses are more used to loss than we are because we move them around so much. We change barns, move them to trainers, breed and sell them. Those aren’t necessarily bad things. The result is that horses are resilient and adaptable to change and separation.
One more thing about grief—horses do best when we’re honest with our feelings. I’ll give you an example. Here on Martha’s Vineyard, a dear friend had a gelding and a mare, and the mare died. When I arrived to talk to the gelding, he said, “She’s (my owner’s) broken apart, but she acts all cheerful, and it makes me nervous.”
That’s dissonance instead of congruence, right? Horses are more comfortable when we’re emotionally honest. For example, if you’re actively angry at a friend, but you approach your horse acting sweet, they feel the mismatch—your movements, your breath, your energy. If you’re angry and you allow your feelings to be present and real, that’s actually easier for them as long as you look to them for calm and relief rather than take your anger out on them.
In my friend’s case, I told her the gelding was deeply missing the mare, and he knew she was missing her too—but she wasn’t letting herself feel sadness around him. She agreed, went up to him, hugged him, and let herself cry with her arms around his neck. You could see him unravel: his head dropped, he started snorting, shaking, moving his hind end—big, deep breaths. And afterward, she said he was suddenly back to normal, after being “off” since the mare died.
Q: Do horses understand what we’re saying? Do they speak English or Spanish or French? How do they know?
A: I think it varies. I once talked to a little pony standing in a stall where all I could see was his face. He said, “My mom thinks I have the best butt. It has attitude.” I told my client, and she said, “I cannot believe it. Every time my friends come over, I trot him onto the driveway and say, ‘Look at his butt— it has so much attitude.’”
Horses will also give me their nicknames and other specific words people have used for them.
They also can sometimes hear our thoughts. For example, I was with a horse wearing a blue blanket. He told me how excited he was about his hunter green blanket. The owner said he didn’t have one. I said, “He’s acting like this is the biggest thing.” And she said, “Oh my goodness—I ordered one last night. It just hasn’t arrived yet. I didn’t think he could know what I did at home on my computer. How could that even be possible?”
At the same time, I’ll talk to a horse who’s been with an owner for ten years and still doesn’t know it’s their forever home. They’re still traumatized by the changes they went through before, and they haven’t been present enough to notice that this person keeps her horses forever.
There is a lot of variation. I always think it’s better to watch what you say, because there’s so much “banter” people don’t realize the horses can pick up on—like, “She gets really bitchy,” or “He’s just difficult,” or “She’s not the nicest mare,” or even “She’s really stupid.” There are horses who know exactly what was said—because they report it to me.
Q: You mentioned things horses particularly like—or don’t like—and I wondered if you could share some of that.
A: Oh yes. A couple of things come to mind right away. When clients ask, “What does he want to do?” or “Does she want a job?” I’d say the top sport is working equitation or obstacles, and trail riding is up there too.
Pretty universally, if they’re being ridden, they want to be hand-walked for five or ten minutes with no one on them before you even go near a mounting block. Even if they’re in turnout, they can still feel stiff. So many of them love hand-walking.
They also really love free-lunging. This doesn’t mean it’s always safe for everyone, but they show me that a cavesson or halter and a lunge line affect their head and limit how much they can balance and loosen up. They love straightaways so they can get the kinks out without being slowed down. They might twist, flip their head, or buck and look “fresh,” but they show me it’s like a chiropractic adjustment—finding their own balance before someone takes over.
Treats are an easy one.
Many horses ask for a pasture mate. They desperately want physical companionship: grooming, taking turns resting while the other watches, camaraderie, play, and freedom—even in a small paddock.
Q: Another question about death. My two seniors passed away two months apart this year. I always let my horses go up and see them. I bring them up, and once they’re gone, I bring the others back into the paddock where they can still view everything. But they want to protect the body from going anywhere. My horse Nizzy did that with my previous two horses, and Chance did the same thing when Nizzy passed. Then Chance passed second. How do you help them with that? They get so upset seeing the body. I’ve had to sedate them both times. I cry with them. I talk to them like they’re people, but I can’t seem to prepare them. Do they understand that the body is buried? Do they get why it’s not there anymore?
A: I don’t know if I can speak for all horses—there’s variation. But I do know that some will tell me where a friend is buried on a property, “Under the tree at the top of the hill.” or they’ll ask to be buried near another horse.
As for saving them from grief—if you had a best friend who was out of their mind with grief, all you could do is witness and support. Sometimes sedation is part of that support. I don’t know that we can prevent what they have to go through.
My best guess is that they know the animal has died. I think they’re very aware. I’ve had clients tell me their horse stands over the grave for a while.
I also want to emphasize something about death: almost 100% of the animals I’ve talked to—especially in end-of-life conversations—say they care much more about quality than quantity of life. They’re used to death. They see things we don’t, like predators hunting, and they’re aware of other animals dying. They’re often more at peace with death than people are. Almost always, owners aren’t ready as soon as the animal is ready.
Follow up Q: Yes. I’ve worked with an animal communicator for 20 years. My horse Nizzy asked me not to make the decision—he wanted to die on his own and told me he’d let me know. But he foundered severely, and he would have bled out. I told him I couldn’t give him that because it would be painful, and I wanted to be there with him. He accepted it, but he was a different kind of horse.
A: It sounds like you did a great balancing act. I would also say horses don’t always know the future. A chronically ill horse might say, “I want to go through the winter,” but then if something changes and they can’t walk, they can be very point-blank: “I’m done.”
It’s interesting how ready they can be, especially if they were athletes. They don’t like having physical limitations. We might say, “He’s still having a good day,” but the horse might be thinking, “I’m not even a part of my former self. I don’t want to do this anymore.”
Q: Going back to things horses like—I'm curious why Sparrow doesn’t groom other horses. I’ve never seen her do it. Sometimes she mimics it, like she’ll turn like she might groom me, but then she stops.
A: Do you know if she grew up with access to other horses? My guess is no. Sometimes a horse just doesn’t learn how to groom. I’ve seen that with a horse who was separated from his mother early and then kept in his own paddock.
It can also be physical pain, or even trauma—like trying to groom as a youngster and getting kicked.
But I don’t know that she’d miss it. What they don’t know, they don’t miss.
If you know a horse’s history, it can also help to explain why they look to people for help, look to other horses, freeze, or lose control when stressed.
I’ll give an example. My horse Spirit ran wild in Nevada for the first three years of her life. When I met her, she didn’t trust people. When she was scared, she ran to the other horse in her paddock. Over time, after repeated experiences where I protected her—like stopping a dominant horse from chasing her off her food—she started running behind me instead. “Mom, save me.”
So some things can be repaired over time. I’m just not sure about grooming specifically. I haven’t talked to enough horses about it.
Q: I’m still struggling with Phoenix—trust, shutdown, trauma. It feels like we make progress and then he’s herd-bound again. He’s large and in charge with the herd. I’m wondering: with shut-down horses, is there something that can really get through? PTSD is tough.
A: I do have a lot of experience with that. I think it’s the smallest gestures. Any way you can add value to the horse’s life without needing anything from him or her.
With my mare, I would stand in the field and swish flies off her—literally just help her be comfortable. Find what Phoenix appreciates and do more of it: rub a spot he loves, massage a sore muscle, take him for a walk and let him graze the best grass, stand quietly with him and not ask anything.
Shut-down horses especially benefit from calm presence: deep breaths, humming or singing, just being nearby. Some trainers suggest mirroring—walking next to them in parallel, your feet moving when theirs do – to show them you see them. Horses love when you’re present and calm, like a mentor. If a dog, person, vehicle, or another horse approaches and you place yourself between the horse and the stressor, you’re proving, “I’m paying attention. I’m not asking too much, too fast.”
That’s my best advice for almost any horse.
Follow up Q: I always feel like it’s two steps forward, one step back—sometimes one step forward, two steps back. Like yesterday he tolerated a new dentist and float, which I never thought he would, and the dentist was perfect. But then the next day, he’s like, “I don’t want to come to you.”
A: Horses notice everything. We don’t know what changed between those two days. If someone was anxious, rushed, less present—even subtly—they pick that up. Usually there’s a reasonable explanation.
Q: I’ve been having a really hard year, and I’ve been increasingly anxious. I keep hearing, “Only go to the barn when you’re calm.” But if I only go when I’m calm, I’m not going right now. I’m not okay.
A: That’s such a myth. Horses are here to help us feel better. They love helping. They just want us to be honest.
You can say, “I’m so anxious. I’m having a hard time,” and open your heart to yourself. The more forgiving we are of ourselves, the more congruent we are to our animals.
If you’re having a hard year, spend as much time as possible with your horse. That’s another big one horses ask for: time—undirected time. Showing up as you are is often the best thing you can do.
Follow up Q: What if I’m having those feelings during something stressful, like the farrier?
A: That’s different. I’ve actually had to excuse myself. If my heart is pounding because I’m anxious about how it’s going to go, I’ll ask someone else to hold my horse and I’ll step away and distract myself, so my horse has someone calm and detached holding her.
You can say it out loud to the farrier: “I’m worried about this outcome. What can we do to help my horse get through it?” Create the best environment you can.
By the way, horses want to be hand-walked before the farrier. They love Sure Foot pads by Wendy Murdoch or anything that helps them feel balanced and warmed up before they have to stand on three legs.
Also, horses can smell everything. If a farrier smells like old alcohol or cigarettes, a horse may react strongly. Some horses—especially off-the-track Thoroughbreds—can be very triggered by those smells. Sometimes the smoke from the forge scares them.
And one more thing: if horses are waiting on cross ties for a long time before the farrier gets to them, they’re already stressed. Standing in the aisle unable to lower or turn their head sets them up for a harder time.
I once had a horse show me a simple solution: “All I need is to tuck into half a watermelon.” The owner tried it, and the horse was perfect for the farrier.
So sometimes it’s about compassion: feed treats, soothe them, support them. Think about how much trust it takes to pick up a foot. And if the barn aisle is loud—people laughing, chatting—while the horse is standing on three legs, that can be a major stressor.
Q: Today I brought my horse to the hospital. He needs an MRI on his foot. He was great for the trailer and seems in good spirits. I want to help prepare him for going under tomorrow, and I don’t know how much he understands. I’m here in the moment now and I want to support him.
A: I’m so grateful you’re taking the time to join us while your horse is in the hospital.
I want to talk about sending information. Sending is much easier than receiving for humans, and animals are already very good at receiving.
In your specific case, you would get quiet—deep breaths, eyes closed if that helps. Bring a photo or image of your horse to mind.
Say to yourself, “I want to be connected,” and open your heart. Then “pull” your horse to you, and don’t rush it.
When you feel your horse close to your heart or in your consciousness or you hear “Hello” then you send a clear “video,” with clear parameters. Show the hospital: where he is, what it looks like, day or night. Show reassurance: “You are safe. I’m okay. Everything is okay.” Then show it get dark to represent night, him sleeping peacefully. Then sunrise. Then show you coming to be with him. Show a few good things that will happen.
You don’t need to show the procedure itself, but you do want to show that the vets are helpers—there to make him feel better. Then show him sleeping, and then waking up.
And you need to finish the video with: “We’re going home.” And show him getting off the trailer at home. Don’t stop the video until you and him are home.
Q: When I walk by horses in stalls, some pin their ears and do a fake bite. Then I look at them, say their name, say hello, and they perk up like, “Oh hi.” What are they thinking?
A: One thing I want to tell you all: when owners ask if their horse likes their barn, sometimes the horse specifically shows me the people who stop and give them treats. Those small interactions matter.
As for the ear pinning and fake biting—stalls are complicated. Very few horses wish they were in stalls. Stalls can create safety, and some horses don’t mind them, but too much time in a stall is like being in a closet. Horses are built to move.
If a horse has pain—arthritis, stomach pain, teeth pain—and they’re stuck in a stall, there’s no distraction. Some horses also have trauma associated with stalls—bad things done to them there—so they don’t want anyone near.
Sometimes, though, ear pinning can be playful: a horse trying to engage or get your attention.
But what you did—creating a positive moment and seeing the ears come forward—sounds beautiful to me.
If a horse has to be stalled, they often appreciate toys they can mouth, slow-feeding hay, and especially a short break in the middle: even a 10-minute hand-walk helps tremendously.
Q: Do horses mind being in a walkout?
A: Not in my experience. Walkouts are better—more light, more movement, more choice. If th