The War Horse Who Was Forced to Dance

Gucci, an Andalusian gelding, a noble breed known for its prowess as a war horse,  joined our herd exactly one year ago… and what a year it has been! He came to us as a 7-year-old with “dancing experience,” advertised as a horse who could go anywhere, especially in dressage. When we first met him, he appeared calm, well-mannered, and quiet. He fidgeted a little at the mounting block, but nothing that raised a red flag. After he passed his vet check, though noticeably nervous throughout, we decided to bring him home.

When we unloaded Gucci and turned him out before settling him into his new home, something felt… different. Most horses, when set free in a new place, will run, snort, roll, or at least explore their surroundings. Gucci did none of that. He simply stood there, motionless, as if he didn’t know what freedom was.

Each of our horses has a stall with a large outdoor run where they can touch noses over the fence. When we placed Gucci in his new home, he stayed inside for weeks, barely venturing out. Unlike the others, he never rolled. He would lie down for a moment on one side, then get right back up,  as though he didn’t trust the ground beneath him.

Though he remained generally well-behaved, grooming sessions and saddling were a challenge. He would anxiously piaffe in place, trembling and unable to stand still. For about a month, he was fine under saddle, but soon became increasingly difficult to handle on the ground. In his stall, he grew defensive: biting, pawing, even kicking at times. It became painfully clear that Gucci had endured deep emotional and physical trauma. It was as if years of suppressed pain were finally bubbling to the surface like hot lava.

Then came the health issues. First, we discovered he was suffering from severe ulcers that left him unrideable for months. Once those were somewhat under control, he went lame on his front left. X-rays revealed that he had almost no soles. We fitted him with hoof boots and added supplements to help his hooves grow stronger. For a while, he improved, until one day he was playing too hard with his pasture mate, Bruce. Shortly after, he came in with a swollen left fetlock, a torn tendon sheath.

While we were still navigating his defensive behaviors, we now had a new task: daily leg wrapping. And this is where everything began to change. Because of his injury, Gucci’s only job became to rest, eat, wander, and receive massages and scratches. And for the first time, he began to let his guard down. Despite being extremely sensitive about his legs, understandable for a former “dancer”, he stood calmly as we wrapped them, as if he understood that we were helping him. After each wrap, he would nudge us gently, asking for his favorite leg rubs. His lips would quiver and pout in pure bliss, as though he were letting out a long, contented “aaaahhh.”

A kind friend and neighbor offered to do Reiki on him. Over several visits, she helped him release layers of tension and fear. His releases were intense. He would yawn incessantly, with his eyes rolling back. Slowly but surely, Gucci began to soften. His eyes grew calmer and less pain-filled, his energy lighter. He started to show us small but unmistakable signs of affection.

Now, a year later, we are finally seeing signs of his true self emerge. We have learned to understand and respect each other. We’ve come to recognize that some of his more spirited moments are simply remnants of his stallion days, habits that linger in personality even after the body changes. And Gucci has learned that while we may correct him, we will never hurt him. He has learned that he can be free. That he can be goofy, silly, or sensitive. That he can rest, heal, and just be. 

And above all, he has learned that we are with him - all the way to the end. 

What Gucci taught us (and keeps teaching us) goes far beyond horsemanship. His story mirrors how we humans, too, carry invisible wounds beneath the surface. Trauma, especially when buried deep in the subconscious, can cause all sorts of health issues and quietly shape our thoughts, behaviors, and relationships, keeping us locked in patterns of fear and self-protection long after the original pain has passed. Watching Gucci’s journey reminded us that true healing is not a quick fix; it is deep, intentional work that requires patience, trust, and, quite literally, the rewiring of the brain.

As we’ve learned in our trauma-informed training, trauma-based thinking originates in the amygdala, the part of the brain responsible for survival and reactivity, and healing involves helping those responses shift to the prefrontal cortex, where calm reasoning and emotional regulation can occur. It takes time for our thoughts to move from one side of the brain to the other. Gucci’s progress showed us just how long it can take to feel safe again after experiencing harm, and how profound that sense of safety feels when it finally returns.

Because of him, we now meet every client with greater empathy and understanding. Gucci is more than a horse; he is a living testament to resilience, the power of healing, and the courage it takes to begin again.

He is finding his way back to the warrior he was born to be, discovering slowly that even a warrior’s greatest power can be found in peace.