A general definition of a “horse woman” would be one whose life revolves around horses, who has a deep level of communication with them, and who isn’t happy unless she’s riding or working around them most of the time. Pat Buls (pronounced ‘Bulls’) is just such a woman.

Pat knew exactly what she wanted in life even before she met her first horse. When she was an infant her father would get down on his hands and knees and give her ‘pony rides’ on his back. He would rear and buck while her mother held her on—it was her favorite game. As a kid in a Los Angeles, CA suburb, she would climb high up in a walnut tree in her back yard and watch for a local farmer who had rigged up a mobile horse stanchion that he pulled behind a tractor. In each stanchion was a gentle old farm horse, all saddled up and ready to ride around the neighborhood! When she saw him coming she would shinny down the tree, find her mom and drag her out to see the horses. The farmer would lift her up high onto a horse and she held on tight, listened to the clippity-clop of hooves and creaking of saddles, smelled the saddle soap and leather, and swayed to the rhythm of their hooves on the pavement. She patted the horses’ soft noses, ran her fingers through their manes, looked into their eyes and talked softly to them. The understanding was mutual and a joyful chord was struck that became the defining factor in her life.

Another defining moment came about the same time when her father found her one night crying big tears before being tucked into bed. She had been crying all afternoon and evening. Pat told him about the wonderful Collie dog owned by a paraplegic neighbor confined to a wheelchair. The Collie had become a neighborhood pet loved by almost everyone, especially the kids. But the adjacent neighbor was a nasty old guy with a manicured lawn and the Collie had the unfortunate habit of making yellow spots right in the middle of it. The guy had the meanness to call the city and have the dog taken away. The dog catcher came, but couldn’t round up the Collie and demanded that Pat help him catch it. She didn’t dare disobey such adult, uniformed authority and held the Collie for him. She was devastated as she watched the Collie disappear around the corner in the back of the dog-catcher’s truck. She thought she would never see him again. Her father hugged her for a long time, then told her, “You must always stand up for what is right, and if you truly believe that something is wrong, you don’t have to do it, no matter who tells you to.” He informed the neighbor of the dog’s whereabouts and he was soon retrieved. Pat never forgot the fear, guilt and betrayal that she felt that day, and the relief in knowing that rules can be changed to better serve the highest good. Her father’s wise words stuck with her and became the foundation of her courage and determination to speak for those who can’t speak for themselves—the animals.

Pat’s father was in the military. From California her family moved to Alabama, where she started her horse training career at the age of ten. She joined a Pony Club and ended up helping start young horses and exercising an old stallion. From there they were transferred to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, an old US Army Cavalry Post. A retired Cavalry officer gave her riding lessons, taught her the military rules and regulations, and gave her a firm foundation of safety and respect for the animals. With over a hundred horses pastured there, Pat got a good education in equine (and human) behavior. She watched many expert equestrians become one with their horses and create living artistry as they rode. Other riders created their own problems with their horses and made both horse and rider miserable. Still others were oblivious to their horses’ problems and rode with an attitude that Pat considered abusive to the horse.

All this time she was pestering her father to get her a horse of her own. They tried sharing a horse with another girl, but Pat was so anxious to be with the horse all the time that she would run along side him when it was the other girl’s turn to ride. Pat was still not satisfied, but her running speed and endurance developed as she tried to keep up with the horse. She was becoming an athlete without knowing it. Pat persisted until her father got her a horse of her own and she was finally in horse heaven! She trained her grade ranch horse to jump and hunted to hounds with the famed Fort Leavenworth Hunt.

From Kansas the family was off to La Paz, Bolivia, where her father was assigned to the US Air Force Mission. La Paz is in a spectacular setting surrounded by the high peaks of the Andes Mountains, and at 13,000 feet bills itself as “the Highest City in the World”. Pat’s first mission was to find a horse which she was able to board at the Bolivian Military Academy, within a few miles of her house. The Bolivian Cavalry was a symbol of the country’s pride and it was a high honor to be one of the elite equestrian team. The Army accepted the top five cavalry cadets on the military jumping team, and one civilian. Pat’s fearless riding had not gone unnoticed, and she was accepted as the civilian member of the team, but not before a ‘trial by fire’. The Cavalry assigned her an unruly horse from Argentina that would bite, strike and kick at every opportunity. Pat had learned well how dangerous such an animal can be. She first spent time in the stall with him, just talking, sitting in the manger feeding him carrots, and patiently letting him get used to her. By taking her time and showing him only kindness she gained his trust and was able to bring him around. He blossomed into a happy and very competitive jumper. Pat ran the three miles to the stables to ride every day after school, and several times on the weekends—and back home again afterwards. She was blossoming into a star athlete as well.

Pat became so much a part of the Cavalry’s team that she was allowed to accompany the cadets on some of their training maneuvers in the Andes Mountains. A pair of Percheron horses pulled an old Civil War surplus cannon, and some of the cadets had machine guns. The cadets would practice war tactics, and the jumping team members would practice jumping any obstacles that they encountered along the way. Pat tells of one time they came to a chasm about 15 feet wide and a long way down—a death trap for an unaccomplished horse and rider. The Captain declared it jumpable. The five cadets on the jumping team jumped it one by one and then it was Pat’s turn. She was on a green horse recently imported from Argentina. As the horse approached the gorge, he decided to get a better look and skidded to a stop right at the edge of the gorge. Pat got a long look down from the neck of the horse. She was recovering when the captain came down with his whip on her horse’s rump and he crouched and jumped, leaving Pat behind the saddle, grabbing for leather! She hung with the horse and they made it across, much to the delight of her cheering teammates. What she lost in style points, she gained in appreciation for her courage.

While in Bolivia Pat learned to speak Spanish like a native, became the “Queen of the Cavalry”, and rode a 22 year old Argentine thoroughbred to a national championship in jumping, going over some grueling six foot courses. She accomplished all this before she turned eighteen. Those were her high school days. She also became a track star earning the title of the “fastest woman in Bolivia”, running the 50 yard dash in 6.7 seconds. “At 13,000 feet altitude, I thought I was going to die after every race!” She has fond memories of the Bolivians who took her under their wing and treated her superbly.

From Bolivia, Pat returned to the States for college at New Mexico State University, where she got a nursing certificate and became an LPN. But the call of horses and the back country was too strong. In 1977, one of the hottest, driest years in New Mexico on record, she mounted her American Quarter Horse mare, threw a backpack over her shoulders, and headed north, alone, from Las Cruces, New Mexico. She meandered up through the Gila Wilderness with nothing but her faith and independent spirit to protect her. It took three days for her horse to quit thinking about going home, and about three weeks for Pat to quit worrying about the pressures of the city life she left behind.

Finding food and water had become the focus of their existence. Five weeks into the trek they happened on a shallow cave in the Jemez Mountains, complete with a secluded hot spring below, an apple tree bearing fruit, fish in a stream, and plenty of grass for the horse. It was their own private Garden of Eden. They rested there for a week while Pat swam in the spring, fished in the stream, and bedded down with her horse at her side at night. She contemplated the simplicity of the life she had found and the profound faith in her Creator that she had rekindled along the ride. In the words of a poem she wrote later:

I rode across the mountains with only just those three--
Great Faith, and Hope, and Love, that’s all that was sustainin’ me.
I traveled twenty miles a day and crossed the Great Divide,
I met with bears and coyotes, never felt the need to hide.
All Nature was my friend, and I got to know that Peace
That surpasses understanding—God’s great love will never cease!
I determined then and there to be a cowgirl of the West—
To live a lifestyle I’m convinced has got to be the best!
Trainin’ horses in God’s Country, I’ll be runnin’ wild and free—
It may be tough to make a livin’, but a wrangler’s what I’ll be!

That was it. Her decision was made and she has been training horses ever since. The summer following her ride to Santa Fe, Pat continued her journey. She took a herd of green horses back across the Continental Divide and up to the Sky Ute Indian Reservation in Southern Colorado. This time she took her six-year-old son, a photographer friend and an old Texas cowboy-turned-saddle-maker along for company. Some of these horses were broke to ride, some were pretty wild, and none had ever been packed. By the time they arrived in Colorado, they were all seasoned saddle and pack stock.

One of the horses on this trip was an Arabian gelding—Pat’s first experience with the breed. One night, just after they had bedded down for the night, high in the San Juan Mountains, they heard the blood-curdling scream of a mountain lion at close range. The next sound they heard was the thundering of hooves, as the horses ran back down the mountain. They spent the night shivering in their tents, wondering if they’d ever see the horses again, and how far they’d have to walk to find them. That is, if they didn’t become the lion’s dinner themselves! They finally got some sleep just before dawn, having heard no further sounds in the night. When they woke up their horses were all coming back up the trail into camp, led by the Arab gelding, who was hobbled but slowly making his way back to his human companions.

Years later Pat had the opportunity to take part of her pay in horseflesh, while working for an Arabian breeder in Southern New Mexico. She picked an outstanding little mare that became the foundation of her own breeding program. That mare helped her train many young horses, and many more people to learn to ride the back country! She saved the day time after time in situations that could have ended in disaster, if not for the intelligence of that little Arab mare. Pat was so impressed with the breed that she acquired an Arab stallion closely related to that mare and began a breeding program geared toward producing the ideal trail horse. She still has that stallion, CJ Pirate’s Gold, (now 25 years young),a horse of such kind and gentle disposition that she uses him in her lesson program.

Pat still trains horses and riders at her Shining Heart Farm in Radium Springs, New Mexico, just North of Las Cruces. The ideal trail horses she breeds are Morabs—a cross between her very substantial Arab stallion, and some even more substantial Morgan mares. This cross produces a relatively short, stout, bold but gentle horse with near-human intelligence. They are strong enough to carry a heavy load, smart enough to get through rough terrain safely, have the stamina to keep going in the toughest country, and the beauty and grace to be extremely comfortable to ride, and to look good doing it!

When you walk back with Pat to her corrals, you can feel the place come alive. It’s like the curtain goes up, the lights come on and it’s SHOW TIME, folks! The dogs lead the way and a cat or two scamper close behind. The horses all come to greet her, get an affectionate rub on the nose, and learn what the new day will bring. Everyone wants to get in on the act. Her favorite, old “Cowboy”, the Arab stallion who has been with her for twenty years gets some special attention. Even the horses in training who don’t know her well yet, perk up and anticipate what may be in store.

“There are many different ways to communicate with animals”, says Pat. “In many ways they are more sensitive than people. Horses generally pay attention and read body language better that people do. They pick up on your mood and any fear or aggression immediately. They are almost always honest and consistent in their behavior, and they require the same from us in order to be comfortable. They are particularly responsive to touch.” Pat is working on a book on equine behavior, based on her lifetime with hundreds of horses of all kinds. Look closely at the photo of Pat with “Mick” and “the Hickox Kid” and see what she is doing with her left hand. Just a slight, affectionate touch is telling Mick everything he needs to know, like “Don’t worry; the guy with the camera is OK.” Later I watched Pat deal with a horse that was a nipper. The horse was like a kid that wanted attention and tried to nip her fingers, shirt, hat or anything it could reach. Every time it tried to nip, it got a sharp poke in the same spot on its nose. The nipping soon stopped and the horse finally got a rewarding rub on its nose.

Any conversation with Pat about horses soon turns to people and how she has to spend more time correcting their behavior than their horses’. “Over the years,” Pat says, “horses have turned out to be my best friends. They’re honest, consistent, faithful and true—it’s hard to find the equivalent in a human. It has become my life’s work to help horses learn what it takes to get along with humans, so that they will have a chance at happiness and fair treatment in this life. I guess that’s all any of us can hope for.”

I asked Pat if she thought women were better with horses than men. “Perhaps women do so well with horses,” says Pat, “because they’ve learned that age-old lesson—that kindness works better than force whenever possible. That’s more typically female nature, whereas men may know this to be true, but their nature leads them to use force more of the time. Horses are sensitive (very much like a cat) and don’t respond to force nearly as well as to kindness. This is true of all creatures, but horses are so powerful that some people are intimidated and resort to force when kindness would get better results. To quote the Dalai Lama, ‘Be kind whenever possible. (It is always possible).’”

Pat Buls, the Gentle Tamer is indeed a horsewoman who has structured her life around horses. She has earned her credentials and reputation as a top handler, breeder and trainer. Pat’s other interests include her growing family of grandchildren and writing her own special brand of "cowgirl poetry." Lately she emphasizes working with green riders to teach them safety, horsemanship skills, and care and consideration of the horse. It gives Pat tremendous satisfaction to start them off right and pass on the solid foundation that she was fortunate enough to receive as a child. They couldn’t find a better role model.

If you would like to get in touch with Pat, her email address is: gentletamer1@peoplepc.com. Many thanks to Pat for her contributions to this article. Her willingness to discuss her life, to add her candid thoughts and commentary, and to make time for the photos made this project a true pleasure.