George and Rose are Slightly Unhinged

I was out in the field, playing with Bridget, when along comes Rose, sidling into position close to us so that she can be part of the company.

When I reached out to touch her, she gave me a cranky look and swiped at me. I was startled and swiped back, whereupon she walked away. Oops, sorry, Rose. I walked over and stood by her. She drooped her lashes and said, "Well, I'm sorry I guess, but I'm just feeling funny."

As I was playing with Bridget again, Rose stepped right into my bubble and drooped her head and said, "I'm just going to stand here ok, but you don't have to touch me."

George came over. He was in one of those loony moods where he bites himself.

Reaching round to bite his own leg.

He came to stand by me and proceeded to try and use me instead of his leg. To be fair, he was much gentler with me than he had been with himself, but when he grabbed my sleeve and wouldn't let go, I said Enough's enough, and walked away.

Soon the cause for all this angst became apparent. Rose is in season, and George is beside himself because she is not In The Mood thank you very much.

Look at Rose's cross face 

Rose walks away.

Why doesn't she love me?

Bridget was in a very mouthy mood too. She was intent on chewing my clothing and would probably have chewed my fingers and face too if I let her. Not hard, mind - but still.

We wandered down into the trees, where I found a stick to offer her. She held it for a moment. I picked up a big stick and started banging the snow, which made a satisfying noise as the stick broke through the thin layer of ice on top. Pretty soon, Bridget grabbed a stick of her own and, I think, tried to do the same thing.

I went to get out a new toy which I'd discovered lying around in the barn.

Rose and Bridget figured out how to move it around with their forelegs.

While they were thus engaged, George came over and stood by me for some sympathy.

He was quiet for a while. Suddenly he could contain himself no longer, reached over, yanked my hat off my head and grabbed my sleeve.

A little snack always cheers everyone up. I got out a bale of hay, and pretty soon they were all munching harmoniously.

When George wants something, he usually just demands it. For instance, when he wanted to look at the tire today, he marched over and drove off Bridget and Rose in his usual peremptory fashion. But when the thing he wants is attention from a pretty lady, he can't force it, and he becomes all bashful and pathetic.

She knows he's there; he knows she knows; she knows
he knows she knows. She's not having it.

Today I had cause to reflect on how different an approach I now have toward the horses. Two years ago I would not have permitted myself to be chewed on in the manner I often am now. Two years ago, if Rose had swiped at me, I would have chased her - today I apologized for reacting. George is a formerly/potentially aggressive horse, who has badly bitten me; yet I indulged his desire to use me as teething ring, and confined my reaction to simply walking away when I felt he was carrying things a little far. And Bridget is allowed untold liberties with my person.

There's another side to the coin, however - I'm not the only one who is making allowances and being considerate. The horses modify their behavior for my sake too. As I said before, when George was gnawing on me,  the way he was he was chewing was distinctly milder than the bites he had administered to himself. Rose swiped at me, sure, but she swipes at Bridget too, and Bridget is the dominant one. It's a defensive, pouty move - not at all aggressive. Bridget is quite cautious in the way she uses her mouth in her investigations. All the horses seem aware of the difference between clothing and flesh and appear to know that they can be rougher with my jacket collar than with my ear, for example. This is not to say that I shouldn't be vigilant, but their mouths are a bit like our hands, and I feel that it's oppressive to deny them the ability to investigate with their mouths.

And it may sound funny, but I was sort of glad Rose and George came out of their shells in this way today. Rose was emboldened to "talk back," which was fine. And George, who is often so very buttoned down, was all pestery and annoying, which actually I was glad to see. Hormones. The equine recreational drug of choice.

And where was Chloe in all this? Keeping her dignity and her distance, and waiting until I came to my senses and served up some food.

Rose and George Take It to the Next Level

Today was a dank, damp, dreary day.  When I went outside this morning to feed, Rose turned up lame - her left hind leg looked stiff and sore, maybe something in the hock area. She's walking ok, but has to sort of gear herself up for it.

I put this condition down to a slip on the wet ground. That is, until I saw her interacting with George this evening.

She seems to be in heat, and George is acting all kinds of studdish. Looks like maybe her hock problem may be the result of a George Incident. I have never seen them contact each other before unless there was an intervening fence, or Rose was on the lead rope.

The wet weather has two upsides - one is that there is a nice little fresh creek running for the horses to drink out of. And the other is that it's not as cold out as it has been. So this evening, I spent time in the field hanging out, mostly with George and Bridget. George is very testy in the colder weather but was also in a mood for some company. Mostly he wanted me to stand by his tail, whether or not to scratch I couldn't figure out. He rubbed his head on me a lot, pulled my gloves off a couple of times, and once indicated that he wanted me to scratch his side, but when I did, he pulled an awful face and pinned his ears. Once he even put me into the happy spot by his shoulder, but that didn't last long. George has this really weird new habit of biting himself when he gets ... I don't know - frustrated? He'll do it sometimes when he's waiting for food. Today he did it when I was standing by him. He snatches with his mouth at his upper arm or chest. I wondered if he was itchy, but uh oh, when I scratched the place where he'd bitten, he got all bent out of shape. He's radiating the do-not-touch vibe these days, so I don't, unless he indicates to the contrary. Maybe one day he'll mellow out. My friend's Arab gelding used to be like this and now is all cuddly, so we'll see.

Bridget and I played. She followed me around and kept asking me to hold her legs or scratch her tail. She was following me to the gate as I was leaving when the above scene between George and Rose started to unfold. She immediately went over and stood nearby - feeling a little left out maybe?

Bridget's New Game

Bridget has devised a novel entertainment for us.

When she gives me her right foreleg, she still likes for me either to stretch it out (she gives a little grunt), or to scratch it (I think).

But she's been experimenting with some freestyling when she gives me her left foreleg. Sometimes, she'll brace against me with her knee and lift her other foreleg off the ground too. Or, she likes to have me hold her left foreleg while she hops along on the other three for a step or two.

I was thinking again of something Sandra said about her two mares.  She realized that each mare approaches her differently, and that this personal style reflects the way that each mare would like to be approached herself.

Bridget just loves physical contact. If you vigorously rumple her ears and face with both hands, she laps it up. When she positions herself to have her hindquarters scratched, she plonks herself into position beside me with a big ker-thump. But for her, that isn't rudeness, because she herself likes to be ker-thumped. (Funnily enough, I have a daughter like that - if you want to make her smile, you start punching her!)

George, on the other hand, for all his tough-guy persona, is very careful not to bump me at all when he maneuvers me into position beside him. And he in turn prefers to be approached delicately.

I've also been working with Bridget on a couple of things out in the field - backing up towards me, backing up away from me, moving hindquarters towards me, coming towards me and stopping in front of me. Those things work pretty well. Moving shoulders towards me sometimes happens. Not so smooth is moving hindquarters away from me. I don't want to accomplish that by physically pushing - I want to use energy. On the lead rope, we're also working on halting when I lift one arm in the air and say "ho."

I read with interest Kris McCormack's latest blog entry about Thunder the wonder horse. Although Thunder knows what's being asked, and remains engaged and cooperative, he still might choose to say no to a request. With Bridget, most of the time (there are exceptions involving her or my safety, for example) I want to work in such a way that she is free to say no. Often, my explanations are not clear, and a refusal amounts to saying - "Could you re-word that, please?" Nothing I'm "training" her to do can be enforced. If she refuses, or doesn't understand, we'll just try again, either right away or another time.

Bridget and Rose appeared both to be in heat this morning. George was acting uncharacteristically subdued. He let first Chloe, then Bridget, then Rose come up to me, without asking for attention himself.  He claimed the first pile of hay as usual, but didn't bother to also claim the others before finally settling down to just one.

Sometimes when food first appears, Rose will try coming at Bridget with a fierce snaky neck, flashing eyes, and bared teeth. Bridget has discovered exactly what to do about that. She wastes no time on rancor, but simply turns around and starts backing up toward Rose. And she can deliver a very precisely-aimed kick. Rose has not found a way to counter this threat - Bridget's back legs trump Rose's teeth.

Most of the time, though, the two of them get along just fine -