National Geographic: The Noble Horse (1999)

[bunniefuu]

He gives us his all.

Speed.

Endurance.

Power.

Yet his wild spirit

burns bright.

Spark of ancient myth...

pride of king and conqueror...

...he was the backbone

of civilization.

History was forged

to the b*at of his hooves.

Even now, he still lays claim

to the heart

- with all the bold beauty

that is the horse.

Summer

sets off fireworks in the

mountains of southern Montana.

Spurred by heat and hunger,

wild horses converge

on the cool green heights,

and sparks begin to fly.

Stallions spar

and court young mares

in a drama as old as the hills.

The mustang has become a symbol

of the American West.

But some say he's a newcomer

to these parts,

even a trespasser.

The truth

is tangled in the long and

winding history of his kind.

It began some

in the forests of North America.

Living on leaves,

a creature the size of a fox

walks the underbrush

on padded toes.

In time,

forests give way

to grassy plains.

Legs grow long,

and toes become nimble hooves

in a body

built for speed.

About a million years ago,

the first true horses

spread across land bridges

to Asia and Europe.

Their numbers swell,

then slowly decline

perhaps due to climate change,

or the impact of a

two-legged predator.

To Ice Age hunters,

the herds must have seemed

inexhaustible.

But by 8,000 years ago,

horses were extinct

in the Americas

and dwindling elsewhere

into memory and myth.

Then somewhere on the steppes

of Eurasia,

at least 4,000 years ago,

the horse inspired someone

as more than just a meal.

It may have begun

as a shaman's ritual,

or a reckless teenage prank.

But some brave soul

took a quantum leap

and changed the world forever.

The horse utterly changed our

sense of distance and speed.

He carried us forward

in space and time,

and made our world smaller.

Great equestrian cultures arose

and thundered across antiquity

Today, most have vanished.

But here on the steppes

of Mongolia,

little has changed

since the time when the horse

became a way of life.

Nomads still measure

their wealth in livestock

and move vast herds

with the seasons.

Small but hardy,

Mongolian horses endure

a harsh climate,

and grow a thick winter coat.

When pasture is meager,

they can survive

on very little.

Mongolian nomads also

herd sheep,

goats and cows,

but horses

are their greatest pride.

Revered,

they are largely reserved

for riding

and one other important role.

Mongolia's national drink,

called airag,

is fermented mare's milk.

Life in the saddle begins early

in keeping with a local proverb:

"A Mongolian without a horse

is like a bird without wings."

In July,

thousands of nomads

set up camp on the edge

of the capital city,

Ulan Bator.

They come to celebrate Naadam,

an ancient religious festival.

National competitions of

traditional sports are held,

including two days

of horse racing.

One of the country's top

horse breeders,

Khen Medekh

traveled over a week

to take part in what will be

his 30th Naadam.

From a herd of 400 head,

he has brought

his 12 fastest horses.

Also in tow are

his grandchildren

for good reason.

Riders must be under 12

to compete at Naadam.

Training, however,

is no child's play.

It's what Khen Medekh lives for

Horse training is a passion.

My father was a great trainer

and he passed that on to me.

It's the same for

most Mongolian people.

We compete at Naadam

to see who has the best horse,

and because we're so proud of

our horses.

A fine racehorse

is a symbol of good luck

and happiness.

On the day of the first race,

preparations begin at dawn.

Hats and bright silks

will help families

spot their little jockeys

at a distance.

The distinguishing mark of

a racehorse

is a leather tail wrap

always wound clockwise.

Forelocks are also bound.

Khen Medekh enhances

the look with a charm

bearing Mongolia's

national emblem.

He has high hopes for

this young stallion.

With an offering of mare's milk

Khen Medekh's wife

invokes the sacred powers

of nature

to bless horses and riders.

A circle of incense purifies.

A drop of airag protects

from harm.

An ancient Buddhist chant

rings out for luck.

Some 500 riders will compete

in the first race.

Parents on horseback

swell their ranks.

By tradition,

they circle clockwise

at a staging area

near the finish line.

But the running of the race

is not yet at hand.

The starting point lies

more than 15 miles away

in the open steppe.

To reach that point at a walk

will take the racers

some three hours

which leaves time to k*ll

for everyone else.

Nomads like Khen Medekh

take the moment to catch up

with old friends

and trading partners.

For people who live much

of the year

in relative isolation,

there's also

the irresistible allure

of new faces.

For now,

small talk belies the drama

that's erupting miles away,

as 500 horses reach

the starting point

and the race begins.

Long before they can see

the racers,

spectators crowd

the finish line.

According to myth,

the dust kicked up

by winning horses

showers happiness

and prosperity

on all those it touches.

Front-runners have been

galloping for nearly 30 minutes

By Western standards,

this might qualify as

an extreme sport

but these are the descendants

of Genghis Khan,

who forged the largest land

empire ever known

on horseback.

The blue sash of victory

goes to the first five horses

A flash of green tells

Khen Medekh

his granddaughter has placed.

But a riderless horse

sends him off in search of

his youngest grandson.

After an initial flurry,

racers trickle in for

another hour.

Herd instinct alone will keep

a horse going

even one that lacks the fitness

and conditioning required

for a long-distance run.

For some,

the strain is too much.

When a horse dies

on the racetrack,

the trainer is dishonored.

But the child who has lost

a beloved pet

reaps only heartbreak.

A fall near the starting point

dashed the hopes of

Khen Medekh's grandson.

His horse is safe,

his bruises minor.

But his six-year-old pride

will sting

until the races are over.

Naadam concludes in

the National Stadium,

with a parade of champions.

Khen Medekh is twice a winner.

His grandchildren take

two of his horses

through their victory laps.

A herald sings the praises of

the winning horses;

medals and mare's milk

do them honor.

But for each little rider,

the highlight is a kiss from

the President of Mongolia.

No other nation makes more

of the horse.

Fiery steed,

faithful servant,

he is all good things to

the Mongolian people.

In return,

they may succeed in saving the

last truly wild horse

on earth

Before the rise

of civilization,

his kind ranged throughout

Asia and Europe.

Alert and aggressive,

they were elusive prey

with their camouflage of

tawny coat,

their upright,

two-toned mane.

These horses were already rare

in 1878,

when Russian explorer

Nikolai Przewalski returned

from Mongolia.

He carried a skull and hide

that would prompt the

announcement of a new species.

In a race for specimens,

stallions were slaughtered

to subdue mares.

Mares were k*lled to

secure foals.

Dozens d*ed en route to zoos

and animal collectors

in the West.

Przewalski's horses

were last sighted in the wild

in the 1960s.

A decade later,

fewer than 300 survived

in captivity only.

This endangered species was

declared extinct in the wild.

In 1992,

European reserves

touched down in Ulan Bator.

Their journey was

the crowning achievement

of Dutch conservationists

and Mongolian authorities.

Transports were blessed with

mare's milk

as the horses arrived at

a nature reserve

established in their honor.

The homecoming

delighted local people.

Their name for the horses

is takhi.

The word also means spirit.

Today,

some 80 free spirits roam

under watchful eyes.

Park rangers closely track

the animals' health

and behavior.

Breeding success is high:

two generations have been born

in the reserve.

To increase the gene pool,

horses are still brought in

from the west.

But prospects for

self-sustaining population

are promising.

Mongolia's preservation

of the takhi

seems a fitting tribute

to an animal who has given us

so much.

Domesticated, the horse

revolutionized our world

but in the process,

he was also transformed.

The legendary Arab is just one

of more than 150 breeds

some honed for work,

some for sport,

others for sheer show.

The Spanish horse

boasts one of

the oldest pedigrees.

His speed and stamina were

praised by the Romans.

The famous Spanish Riding

School in Vienna

was founded in his name.

A dancer's grace made him

a favorite of monarchs,

and earned him the title:

"Royal Horse of Europe."

Today, he inspires

a new generation

at the Royal Andulusian School

of Equestrian Art

in the town of Jerez,

in southern Spain.

Few gain admission here:

only first-rate horses,

trainers and students.

A strict curriculum has produced

several Olympic competitors.

The school also keeps

tradition alive.

Once a week,

the public is invited in,

to enjoy the splendors

of another age.

In 18th century costume,

riders recreate the height of

classical horsemanship,

as it was practiced throughout

the courts of Europe.

Most spectacular

are the

"airs above the ground."

Horses naturally leap and kick

when fighting.

Centuries ago,

cavalry mounts were trained to

perform these moves in battle.

Eventually

each gesture became an end

in itself

as formal as ballet.

A supreme effort,

virtually in place

Few can perform

this exacting dance

with the power and precision

of the Spanish horse.

The purity of the breed is

proudly protected in Spain,

yet his bloodlines extend

far and wide

for this

was the horse

who once conquered a new world.

Some 500 years ago,

Spanish explorers rode upon

the shores of the Americas.

Some native people

mistook man and mount

for a single fearsome creature

But soon,

they would make the horse

their own.

Through stealth and trade,

Native Americans embraced

the horse.

It was said

"they came to each other

like long lost brothers."

Some called him "Sky Dog."

He opened vast horizons

in this life,

and haunted their visions

of the afterlife.

But this cult of the horse

would not last.

By the 19th century,

Native Americans

had been robbed of land

and livelihood.

Their beloved Sky Dogs

were sh*t,

or simply set loose.

Scores of Indian ponies

joined strays and runaways

already thriving

in the wilderness.

By 1900,

over a million horses

roamed the American West.

But not for long.

To make way for cattle

and sheep,

public lands were cleared

of animals

considered worthless pests.

They were slaughtered

by the thousands

for pet food, fertilizer,

and mere sport.

In the 1950s,

public outcry denounced

the abuses.

Still,

numbers had dropped

below 20,000 by 1971,

when a federal law was finally

passed to protect the wild horse

as a "living symbol of the

pioneer spirit of the West."

Today,

the Bureau of Land Management

oversees some 45,000 horses

on public lands in 10 states.

On the Montana-Wyoming border,

the Pryor Mountain Wild

Horse Range

is home to a herd of about 160

Most live in small family

groups of several mares,

their foals

and a single dominant stallion

His role

is to guard his "harem"

and protect

his growing offspring.

This stallion, known as Raven,

is one of the most dominant

on the range.

A heap of fresh droppings

called a "stud pile"

alerts him that potential

rivals may be in the vicinity.

A band of

young bachelor stallions

prompts Raven to move his

family to a safe distance.

Then he advances

on the intruders

and confrontation

becomes inevitable.

Raven may be outnumbered,

but at ten years old,

his maturity and experience

give him the advantage.

As he enters the fray,

his band stays put on

the sidelines.

Most clashes between stallions

are more about asserting rank

than inflicting harm,

and serious injuries are rare.

In the end,

the bachelors move on

unscathed but chastened,

and Raven returns to his mares

Occasionally,

even mature stallions

form alliances.

A stud named Starman

acts as a subordinate

or "lieutenant stallion"

to Flash,

who has a mare and foal

of his own.

Flash tolerates

Starman's presence,

but allows him no access to

his lone mare.

In summer,

a waterhole fed by

melting snow banks

attracts this small band.

The mare enjoys

a soothing mud bath,

while her three-month old foal

plays with the idea.

But for now,

the water holds no appeal for

Flash's lieutenant stallion.

Starman

picks up the scent of

another mare,

and sets off in hot pursuit.

The mare's yearling son tries

to intercept Starman,

but fails to impress

such a mature stallion.

This mare's own stallion

must be just out of sight

a boon for Starman.

Still,

she rejects his advances.

In the end,

she gets away,

and Starman can only observe

the tactics of

more successful suitor.

At times,

the Pryor Mountains seem

heaven-on-earth for horses.

Though much of the terrain

is arid

and winters are harsh,

summer pastures can be glorious

The horses have few predators

to fear:

most were eliminated by

ranching and land development.

With high fertility rates,

the horses' numbers can increase by 10,

even 20 percent a year.

And that means trouble

in paradise.

In the last three decades,

the Bureau of Land Management

has removed more than 100,000

wild horses from the range.

The round ups are intended to

protect public lands

from overgrazing

and ensure the health of

the herds.

Excess animals are placed

in adoption programs,

but supply far exceeds

public demand.

Horses deemed "unadoptable"

live out their days

in holding pens.

Even now,

the fate of America's

wild horses

remains an open-ended question

Some 4,000 years

of domestication

have failed to deprive the

horse of his wild instincts.

His natural impulse

is to flee the company

of humans.

Bryan Neubert makes a living,

not "breaking"

but-in his words-

"starting" wild or green horses

This two-year-old quarter

horse stud,

born on the open range,

has never been handled.

On his ranch in

northern California,

Bryan is about to

make first contact.

Bryan

will chase the horse until

he turns to face his pursuer.

The goal is capture

the animal's attention

and keep it.

I'll ask again now. Good.

Now let's see if he leaves

with the hindquarters

or if he leaves with

the whole horse.

See, here's the...

the first little part

is gonna happen here in

just a second, I think.

Subtle shifts of body language

keep the horse focused

on Bryan.

If his attention wanders,

I might see if I can get

another step closer.

As long as he's doing that,

I'll just let that soak in.

I'll take another step.

And I'll take another one here

He's having trouble with it,

but he's trying.

He's gonna have to leave here

pretty soon.

And I'll try to direct him back

There, he adjusted in

the rear quarters,

that's what I'm gonna

need here.

Within about 15 minutes,

the young stallion has

mastered the maneuver.

Now Bryan presents

a new challenge.

I might do just a little

swinging here

and see if he can stand that.

And I'll see about,

see if I can put that on there

without hitting him in the face

And I'll just,

as I come forward,

just let that go.

And it's kinda scary.

You can see that it's

troubling to him a little.

I'll just put

just a little pressure till,

till he finds his way

toward me

See, he keeps thinking

his answer is out of here,

but the answer's right there.

The horse turns to Bryan

for reassurance

a critical breakthrough.

Now he might reach for me.

Let's see if,

he'll come in here. I'll see if

I can get another half a step

without scaring him.

See how he's reaching for me?

Now here's a spot where you

want to watch their ears,

'cause some of them,

they'll take a run at you.

Now, I'll just wait here

till he reaches.

Like that.

See him smelling me?

There's the first,

second

time he's ever

been touched by a human

or he touched a human, I guess

Now, again, let's see

if this head shaking

will disappear. I'll just keep

a little tension there,

and I'll see if he'll reach

for me.

And pretty soon I'll reach

for him, like right there.

We sorta met one another.

Little bit of touching there.

Little bit more here.

See, he's finding out he can

touch me and reach for me now.

In a horse,

there's a spot

in there where

they can just turn

loose emotionally.

You can see in their eye

and their face

a change that comes over them

and they'll begin to

drop their head

and their eyes'll soften

and you can just see

that they're

beginning to trust you

and then you can

move right on and really

advance then.

I'll get my weight shifted back

He's feeling a whole lot

better about things now,

he's finding out I can touch

him and he won't get hurt.

Less than half an hour after

the first touch,

Bryan tests the saddle.

Very important to swing this on

so that it doesn't hit him.

I'll just grab it, gradually

just lays right over on

their back like that.

I don't mind seeing one buck

with the saddle,

because being a prey animal,

that's his responsibility to

not let anything stay up there

That's where the predator has

the best advantage.

If he can get above

and stay with him,

then he can have himself

a meal.

Pretty dreamy now,

but we'll see what

he's like when

he feels that saddle on there

I'd rather he test the saddle

before I get on than after

I got up there.

Now I'm gonna move him off,

but ever so softly,

if I can.

I'm not trying to

make him buck.

Okay,

maybe I'll give him

a little consoling.

Did you get scared?

It's been less than two hours

since Bryan began work

a fairly routine

"first session".

He'll leave the saddle in place

for a few more hours,

then give the young stallion

a well-earned rest

until morning.

Yesterday's fear gives way to

recognition and trust.

Today will be another

turning point.

Social animals feel safest

in a group.

As a comfort to

the young stallion,

Bryan has corralled

several other horses.

See, if he wiggles,

I'll just wait here

till he stands put.

Pet him over here as

if it was my leg and maybe...

get myself kinda set

here before he gets untracked.

Might let him go right out

that way.

And I'll just ask him to go.

If he gets upset,

if he gets scared,

wants to run,

I'll just try to go with him.

People ask me about

this new way of working

with horses.

Far as I know,

it's been around as

long as there's been horses

and men

interacting with one another.

I don't know how the

first man could ever get on

the horse for the first time

without having

something working for him.

I'll get a little bolder

as he gets a little more

confidence.

I'll ask him here

to come back to me

with this rein a little,

and he did.

The young stallion's

first ride

lasts no more than 15 minutes

and prompts a simple reward.

Hey kid.

This just kinda soothes

them sometimes,

give them a little hugging.

This is

a place where they,

a lot of them just can't stand

to have you that close.

And if you can show them

that it's okay

to be this close,

why it's a real relaxing,

soothing kind of thing.

They really have to trust ya.

By day three,

it's time to abandon

the security of the corral.

A whole new life is beginning

for the young stallion.

He's gettin' so he trusts me

a whole lot more today,

I see.

And Bryan

is left to ponder

an age-old mystery

about the nature of horses.

I often wonder:

How in the world would they

allow somebody to get up

on their back

and guide them around?

They'll take us

miles and miles till

they're totally,

you know, tired. Pull wagons and

pack loads and all kinds

of things,

when actually they could

kick us or hurt us

or buck us off any time.

And yet they'll just work

their hearts out for us,

if it's presented to them in

a way that they can understand

Pretty special animal, really.

Special, indeed.

No more than 60 years before

the first moon landing,

the world was driven

by horse power.

Every sector of the economy

relied on him:

transport and trade,

industry and agriculture.

No creature served us better

in the building of civilization

or its occasional overthrow.

For millennia, the warhorse

prevailed in battle.

If not for a horse,

would Alexander

have been great?

Who can imagine Attila the Hun

or Napoleon on foot?

Over a million horses served

in World w*r I.

Nearly a third d*ed.

In World w*r II,

tens of thousands perished in

a battle of b*ll*ts and bombs.

The Age of Horsepower

was over

And yet there are more horses

in the world today

than during the 1800s

some 62 million.

In an Age of Technology,

perhaps we yearn all the more

for the touch of something wild

The horse is no longer

changing our world.

But he can still change lives

one at a time.

In central Georgia,

Carol Wooley has loved horses

since she was a child.

In 1995,

a friend told her about

an old school horse

who had seen better days as

a fox hunter and jumper.

His name was Carousel,

and he needed a home.

Carousel was in his mid

to late 20s,

a little lame,

in fact,100 pounds

over weight.

He was a little swayback,

just a good quiet lesson pony

Carol took good care of him.

Local children rode him.

Soon

Carousel was a favorite.

In 1996,

two weeks after the summer

Olympic Games,

the Paralympics came to Atlanta

Some 3,500 athletes attended.

For the first time,

equestrian events were included

Sixteen nations sent teams.

It was up to event organizers

to provide horses

for 62 athletes

with a wide range

of disabilities.

Each would be judged

on precision,

smoothness, and harmony

of horse and rider,

while performing a set pattern

in the arena.

A call went out to horse

owners for calm,

well-trained mounts.

Carol Wooley volunteered

two of her younger horses,

but Games Officials were

desperate for more.

She thought twice

then sent for old Carousel

as well.

After a check-up,

he was quickly put to the test

And later in the day

they called him for Denmark,

and I met Brita Anderson

who's a very small woman

in a wheelchair,

and I thought to myself,

"There's no way she

is going to ride this pony."

She spoke English quite well,

and I asked her, "Have you ever

fallen off a horse?"

And she smiled

and looked at me and says,

"Many times."

Far from falling,

on the day of competition,

Brita and Carousel took Carol

by surprise.

Brita and Carousel

made a connection.

He knew exactly

what she wanted

and she knew how to get

the most out of him.

And he loved her.

I'm still not sure

how she did it,

but they just were

a perfect match.

The judges agreed.

The pair took first place

in their division,

and received the highest score

of all the competitors.

From Denmark,

Brita Anderson

riding Midland's Carousel,

owned by Carol Wooley.

When they won the gold medal,

it was

this little pony and a horse

trainer from no where

and a world-class rider,

and the thought that

they actually won that gold

and they earned it,

it was probably one of

the high points in my life.

By the time she returned home,

Carol had decided to start

a therapeutic riding school.

Horseback riding

can improve balance

and muscle tone,

as well as a sense

of independence

and self-esteem in people with

all sorts of disabilities.

For Carol

there's no greater reward

than to see someone like

take her first ride.

You're riding, kid!

You're riding!

When you take a child

out of a wheelchair

and put him on a horse,

he's immediately taller.

The walk of a horse mimics

the same movement

you get to actually walk on

your own legs,

it gives them freedom

of mobility,

it gives them control

over something

that they may have never known

before. They can control

where they're going.

Carol runs the school

on grants,

donations and volunteers.

And Carousel heads her fleet

of gentle horses

past their prime.

In August of 1998,

at a regional show for riders

with disabilities,

Carol decides to send Carousel

into the arena

one last time.

Nine-year-old Shawn Donalson,

one of Carol's top students,

has never competed before.

It's a breathless moment

for his parents.

Make the old man proud.

He's got a good horse.

Knows what to do.

Young boy and old horse

are picture-perfect,

and take a blue ribbon.

In first place,

Shawn Donalson.

A first for Shawn,

a final trophy for Carousel.

The competition concludes

with a ceremony.

As a symbol of retirement,

Carol removes the saddle

from a little horse

of unknown breeding

who has meant so much

to so many.

To him

go the full laurels

of a champion.

He was quite calm and stood

through everything.

He half way,

I think, understood

that we were doing

an honor to him.

I was a little surprised

that he didn't mind us

putting flowers on him.

He acted like, well, those were

his flowers. This was fine.

I think, he enjoyed it really.

He wasn't just an old sway

backed horse with a gray face.

He was everybody's dream

of a horse.

He served everyone

that's ever owned him,

every place he's been.

He's done everything

we've asked him to do

all of his life.

To me, he symbolizes

all the horses

that have worked hard

all their lives

and have given us

so much pleasure.

He's a fairly tale of a horse

But there's probably

thousands of them out there

just like him.

I guess he's the poster child

for all of them.

For all they have done for us,

for all that they are,

may they always

have green pastures

each and every one.