Stick a hot poker to my ass and that's the least you can expect!
When I was six my dad had a a tour in Korea. Mom and I lived with my grandparents in northern Wisconsin for a year. Uncle Frank had a team of Belgians for hauling pulp but mostly local competition. Grampa took care of them, he had a great affinity for horses.
He taught me about horses, how to approach them, how to read them and essentially how to communicate with them. After he saw that I had learned the lessons this little six year old was allowed to approach great big Belgiums. Jerry was particularly friendly. Nary a problem or a threat of one. (Though Momma about crapped every time but Grampa mediated.)
As always, it's properly conditioned animals and people understanding them. Now cows, they're crazy!
