Science fiction and fantasy have a long tradition of cultures and characters based on Earth animals. Cherryh’s Chanur, to cite one of my favorite examples. Space whales in multiple space operas (I love me some space whales). And most relevant here, Mercedes Lackey’s Companions, who are openly based on horses, and dragons, who are not—but Anne McCaffrey told me herself that the origins of Pern’s dragons are a particular breed of horses and the riders who serve them.
In both cases, we have magical, marginally mortal creatures of high intelligence, who communicate telepathically with their Chosen or Impressed riders. Choosing of Heralds happens usually in young adulthood, though there’s no age limit on the process, and Companions do so in their adult form. Dragons Impress at hatching, again on young adult humans usually. The result is a deep, lifelong bond between the human and the animal, which when broken tends to result in the death of the bereaved partner.
It’s a fantasy, right? Companions are straight-out little-girl dream horses, with their milk-white coats and their silver hooves and their dreamy blue eyes. Dragons are, well, dragons. And with those you even get the consolation-prize fantasy of fire lizards for people who can’t or don’t Impress dragons, but can keep one or a flock of adorable shiny mini-dragons (which make great cosplay accessories).
Real-world horses can’t compare to these creatures of the imagination. Can they? They’re big, surprisingly fragile prey animals with a propensity for spooking and bolting. They tolerate a great deal from humans, submitting to use and abuse as transport, sports equipment, even food. These days a substantial number have taken on the role of pets, especially those bred so far down in size that they’re unridable even by small children, though they’re still used to pull appropriately sized-down carts.
All of that is true enough, but about that inability to compare…
Every companion animal accretes a certain amount of myth and mystique. Humans tell stories, that’s built in, and humans also have a tendency to project themselves on the world around them, including the living things in that world. When those living things have shared space with humans for millennia as dogs and cats and horses have, the stories multiply exponentially.
That doesn’t mean the stories aren’t true.
In the case of Companions and dragons, the story is the bond. The magical animal selects a single human who becomes that animal’s rider and caretaker. The selection is a tremendous honor, carries tremendous responsibilities, and is highly significant to the welfare of the world and its inhabitants.
Now here’s Dobbin in his pasture, dozing in the sun, flicking his tail at the cloud of flies that accompanies any horse anywhere unless the horse’s caretakers go to extraordinary lengths to get rid of them. Totally mortal and ordinary, right? Also kind of stinky unless you’re a horsekid, then he smells lovely. Generating masses of actually stinky manure every day, in which the flies breed, but which also makes pretty good fertilizer.
Along comes his kid. Often a girl these days. Less often a boy. Of whatever age.
Dobbin lifts his head. His nostrils flutter. He might even whinny if he’s in the minority of very vocal horses.
To the objective observer, there’s a scruffy, fly-blown, dusty horse of indeterminate age and lineage, and an equally scruffy, nondescript kid in well-worn clothes that will tolerate a lot of dirt, because horses sure do love to roll in it and share it with all and sundry. But to the horse and the kid, the world is an entirely different place. Swirling rainbow eyes? Shining magical being? Chosen human who hears every unspoken word and would give their life for the beautiful magical partner?
It’s all there. Probably not literal telepathy, though animal communicators might beg to differ. Most probably not telekinesis or time travel, though then again, who can be sure? But the connection between them, the sense of being in sync, the secrets shared—oh, yes.
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Miranda in Milan
There’s a very real basis for this. Horses are much bigger than humans as a rule (even mini-horses will outweigh the average human), which gives them a great deal of sheer presence, and their herd-animal psychology predisposes them to form bonds within the herd. It also causes them to be extremely spatially aware, as each individual in the herd has to keep track of the rest in order to preserve the unity and safety of the group, and to be perpetually on watch against threats. Horses generally sleep on their feet, and they’re awake as much as twenty-three hours a day, because staying alive means always being ready to run from things that want to eat them.
Put all of that together and you get a big, powerful, hyperalert creature who is wired to form social bonds. You also get individual relationships within the groupthink of the herd. Horses have friendships and favorites, and can be quite overt about them. If a horse doesn’t like you, you know it—with flying hooves and snapping teeth. Whereas if she likes you, she’ll do things for you that she won’t do for anyone else, and she may protect you against all comers (sometimes with less than happy results of the comer is, say, your boyfriend).
So, you say, horses in most cultures including ours don’t live with their humans the way dogs and cats do, so they don’t share that closeness, do they? Even if you live on the farm, the horses are out there and you’re inside much of the time. You don’t generally coexist in the same space.
It doesn’t matter. When horse and human are together, they know how to make the most of the time. Just being with each other is important to both parties, to the point that if the horse can’t be ridden or worked, he can still share time and space. If the horse can be worked, the ante goes sharply up.
A human can use a horse without paying much attention to how the horse feels about it, and many humans do and have. If you’ve read Black Beauty, you know how that works.
But even in the world of Black Beauty, when horses were still the main form of transport, humans recognized that horses can have an inner life and a distinct intelligence. They also recognized the bond that can happen when a human meets a horse. It doesn’t need proximity. It can persist through years of separation. It’s supported by ample evidence and experience.
So what is it? What does it feel like? Well, that depends on the horse and the human. But mostly it’s partnership, a sense of two minds and two bodies working together to become something bigger than either of them. Which when one of them is a half-ton animal, is pretty big.
For many humans and horses, there’s a sense that the human is the brain and the horse is the brawn. It’s not equal, though it’s strong and productive and makes both sides happy. That’s what most lore and literature about horses presents as How It Works.
But then there’s the other kind.
Both McCaffrey and Lackey based their magical beasts on a particular horse-human partnership: that of the riders and the (mostly) white stallions of the Spanish Riding School of Vienna. The horses are called Lipizzaner or Lipizzans in tribute to the original stud farm at Lipica in what is now Slovenia, and have been bred to much the same standard since the sixteenth century. They’re short, stocky, sturdy, strong, and highly intelligent. And they’ve been bred to favor individuals that bond with a single rider for, in the best case, the life of the horse.
The work they do is high equestrian art, and it’s a decades-long process. It needs a horse with intense focus and a strong work ethic, and a rider with the patience and dedication to spend years developing the horse and himself. It’s very much about the horse: the horses are state treasures of incalculable value, and the riders learn from the beginning that human ego is a bad thing to bring to the mix.
These horses Impress. As foals if they can. As adults if that doesn’t happen. They choose a human, and if that human does not accept the choice, the results can range from unhappy to tragic. The human can’t force it, and if he tries, again, the horse might shut down, tune out, and/or erupt in human-shattering ways.
There’s your Companion, white coat and all. There’s your dragon. The mares have had a much less positive press than the stallions, but as those in the breed are wont to observe, they’re all queens.
And they’re all horses. They’re bred specifically for this trait and it’s notably strong in them, but it’s inherent in the species. Dobbin may be more tolerant of human failings and less inclined than Maestoso Borina to launch the failing human with an explosive capriole, but in his heart he’s still a Lipizzaner (and a Companion and a dragon), and his human is Bereiter Lindenbauer (and Talia and Lessa). It’s all there, and to both of them, it’s real.
Originally published in March 2017.
Judith Tarr is a lifelong horse person. She supports her habit by writing works of fantasy and science fiction as well as historical novels, many of which have been published as ebooks by Book View Cafe. Her most recent short novel, Dragons in the Earth, features a herd of magical horses, and her space opera, Forgotten Suns, features both terrestrial horses and an alien horselike species (and space whales!). She lives near Tucson, Arizona with a herd of Lipizzans, a clowder of cats, and a blue-eyed spirit dog.
I agree. I’m mid-50s in age. Horses have been in my family for generations, and I worked as a professional groom (Kentucky’s bluegrass region) as well as owning my own horses. I’ve had the blessing of knowing that bond with horses and dogs (and other creatures, at times). It feels magical, yet it’s down to earth in the best ways. Thank you for sharing your view with us.
They can also bond with dogs and cats. My mare and my German Shepherd were best buddies. Heidi the dog would lead Lady around by her reins, guard us when we rode in the countryside, and freak out when Lady and I had a tiff because she didn’t know whose side to take. Once, we were surrounded by small dogs. Heidi knew she was in their territory so she was in the wrong so she didn’t eat them for lunch as she could have. Instead, she stood under Lady who popped at them with her hooves until they left us alone.
Suggestion. When an article is republished, link to the previous version so we can easily find and read the previous comments.
I certainly wouldn’t disagree as far as bonds with horses and their riders are, but there’s also a type of bond which should probably be mentioned, and one which occurs to me whenever I read a Pern or Valdemar novel.
That is the bond between a guide dog their person.
Every time you step out the door, you risk literal injury or death on the strength of your partnership, indeed a lot of the guide dog training phase basically involves getting the dog and their person emotionally synchronised, which takes work and commitment on two sides.
I have heard people who assume all dog training basically is a slot machine process, all about giving biscuits, not true at all, especially when your working with a guide dog, since it doesn’t matter how many treats you offer or how often you say “no” if the dog doesn’t want to help you, the dog won’t, indeed one guide dog trainer I knew once said the only reason a dog would be willing to wear a handle on their back and walk a person around is because the dog wants to actually help that person.
A huge part of the partnership for the human also involves trusting the dog, which I can say from personal experience is not easy, since if your used to every sense constantly aware when your out of doors, having to relax just assume your furry thing knows what they’re doing is quite an experience.
The benefits though are huge, and though we don’t have the sort of mind telepathy Dragons or companions have, you’d be surprised how much your dog can understand your intentions, for example, looking for alternative exist when the dog knows where your going, or learning a huge number of objects and locations, (I was quite surprised when my dog learned what a counter was).
You also always need to put your dog first. Not only do you live with your dog, but you tend to have to structure a lot of what you do during the day around your dog. if your booking a train for example, you have to make sure there’s room for your dog, if you sit at a table in a restaurant, you need to make sure your dog is somewhere where they won’t get their paws trodden on, assuming of course you don’t have nuclear war with the restaurant owner about bringing your dog in at all.
This for me will always be what I think of when I consider the dragon/companion type bond, or indeed other human/canine bonds, like Fitz relationship with Night eyes in Robin Hobb’s books, and being as its a bond which lets going out be far less stressful than it would otherwise be, as well as preventing a lot of injuries, its just as beneficial to me, and to others as fantastic human/animal pairs are to their worlds.
Guide horses do exist, and I imagine their bond is similar, likewise I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that mobility assistance and other sorts of assistance animals have close bonds with their people as well.
@darkempathy.
I’ll always remember one man who came into the museum back home with his young nieces and his assistance dog. He was a huge pacific island guy – think the Rock – but had been partly blinded in a warehouse break in while he was a security guard. His working dog was a huge Alsatian, who due to their bond had been somewhat retrained to act as an assistance dog for him – mostly covering the blind side and keeping him aware of his surroundings. It was a gloriously incongruous sight, these two huge placid creatures and their whirlwind of 3-5yr old energies racing around, the pair had such faith in each other to keep calm in a chaotic environment.
WE are social animals at heart and the animals that bond with us have that same tendency. We want to connect and share our lives. I am so sad that fewer children every year will know the wonder of riding in a meadow on a horse that you love. It’s a life choice that is disappearing in our world.
Other equine/human bonds are Daine Sarrasri Salmalin in Tamora Pierce’s Immortals series, and Rosie in Spindle’s End. Both of them are Animal Speakers, though they each have very close bonds with equines.
I have had the good fortune to be bonded to several horses in my life, and as a horse whisperer (in the old parlace), yes, it is very much literal telepathy.
Another good example of this Bond in my opinion is Sir Sparhawk and Faran in The Elenium and The Tamuli By David Eddings. I love there interaction.
” Faran is famous for his bad temper, but this may not be entirely his fault. In one of the later books, the child-goddess Aphrael tells Sparhawk that Faran only has a bad temper because he is trying to please Sparhawk by matching his personality. Much to Sparhawk’s annoyance, Faran has a habit of prancing whenever Sparhawk rides him with his formal armour on. (Taken from the https://davideddings.fandom.com/wiki/Faran )
There used to be a real P.E.R.N. Performance Equine Rescue Network. Horse rescue with a specialty in finding homes for retired race horses. Dunno if they’re still around because there’s a domain squatter on their URL.