The rope riders came down the driveway slowly, their horses veering this way and that, side to side, forwards a few steps, then backwards nearly as many.
It took them an hour to trespass from the bridleway that crosses the top of the drive and make their slow, dangerously shaky course between the paddocks full of horses until they made it to just opposite our smallholding, where their mounts gave up completely and just refused to take another step.
There were four horses, but only one was wearing what I would call tack, as in a saddle and bridle. The other three, including a child’s pony being ridden by a small girl, were being steered by only makeshift ropes wound loosely around the horses’ heads.
All manner of clever salesmen call this different names, mostly copyrighted. Natural horsemanship, Liberty training, Horsefulness… The idea seems to be that there is a magical relationship you can attain with your horse if you ditch all conventional methods of controlling a half ton animal and simply allow it to choose what it wants to do.
I call them bitless and witless.
Get Britain's best politics newsletters
Register to get The Spectator's insight and opinion straight to your inbox. You can then read two free articles each week.
Already a subscriber? Log in
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in