Teachers

For two weeks in October, I returned to Pennsylvania to take care of hoof trimming clients, a trip I plan to repeat regularly. While there I went to work on three horses whom I first met just over two years ago and saw regularly for a year or so until financial and other difficulties made them and their owner disappear from the scene for a while.

Because this little herd runs on hilly, rough ground, the lack of trimming for almost a year was not as harmful as it might have been. The thoroughbred had had abscesses this summer (probably due to a bout of laminitis combined with long toes), but he'd broken off most of his excess hoof wall since then and was acting pretty sound.

Now these were the horses who really taught me about asking the horse's permission. The first time I went, the thoroughbred was extremely anxious, had nervous diarrhea, cowkicked, and wouldn't stand still - despite obviously being a sweet, cooperative horse. His buddy, a paint gelding, escaped from his owner's grasp and would not be re-caught when he saw the trimmer was here. The dominant mare grudgingly let me work a little after I got bossy.

I knew when I returned the next time that something had to be different, so I worked out a plan, described in a previous post. This plan, in a nutshell, if you don't wish to go back and read the whole thing, basically means allowing the horse to refuse to give its foot. It doesn't mean letting the horse eat grass or wander off, but it does mean the horse gets to keep its foot on the ground if that's what it really wants. Using this approach produced a dramatic difference, and I was able to get a lot of work done.

Now, I've had my ups and downs with these horses since then. Sometimes the thoroughbred is ouchy with laminitis and finds it much harder to stand on three legs. When his feet have gotten sore, he has reverted to having nervous diarrhea. The paint has stringhalt, which has gotten progressively worse, so although he tries to let me work on his hind legs, he often finds it too difficult. The mare has an ongoing stifle issue which causes her discomfort when I pick up one of her forefeet. However, we never regressed to the situation of my first visit, and I tried to continue to implement my principles.

When I went back this time, I wasn't sure how we'd all behave. Having overcome the initial hurdle of how to work with them, I fear I had perhaps regressed somewhat to a git-r-done way of thinking. They, on the other hand, had no doubts at all. They had remembered our m.o., and despite my uncertainty, they were able to show me how to behave. The first gelding began by assuming an air of unassailable calm. He stood  there radiating Zen waves, and absolutely would not pick up any feet. His demeanor was so convincing and kind, that I had no choice but to remember that he was demonstrating proper behavior rather than being "stubborn." Pretty soon, when I returned to ask again, he picked up a foot. He then allowed me to finish both forefeet and to rough out his hinds (harder for him, as it means putting weight on his recovering fores).

The second gelding did exactly the same thing. He began by saying some sort of equine version of "om," did his pranayama breathing, and wouldn't pick up a foot. But only for a little while. He too allowed me to finish his front feet. His stringhalty hinds were too much for him, and although he gamely lifted them for me, the lift would turn into an involuntary flexion, and he was unable to let me hold them. They chip and break well, and look pretty good, so hopefully this is not a problem. The mare was not quite so steadfastly serene, but I remembered my manners, and she was kind and helpful in return.

I look back with gratitude on the time spent with these horses and feel I can, even now, tune into their stillness and plant my own feet more firmly onto the ground. They remembered the proper way to trim, they embraced it and made it their own, and were able to offer it back to me.

The Bored Game

I can't quite remember how or why I came up with the Bored Game. Leading impatient horses from one pasture to fresh grass in another may have had something to do with it. Waiting with Bridget while she makes up her mind to step backwards when I ask may have been another cause.

Be that as it may, the Bored Game is a very useful tool.

It goes like this:

Rule No. 1: We Are Both Bored. Sorry, but there it is.

Rule No. 2:  No Eating.

Rule No. 3:  No Moving Feet.

Rule No. 4:  No Getting In My Space.

Rule No. 5:  No Scratching Your Leg To Distract Yourself.

Rule No. 6:  I Suppose I Can't Stop You from Pawing the Ground.

Rule No. 7:  No Taking An Interest in Anything.

Rule No. 8:  No Chit Chat

Rule No. 9:  The Human Must Always Insist Politely and Display Good Manners.

Rule No. 10:  Like I Said: We're Bored.

The first reaction of the horse (especially if her name is Bridget) is: "What? Are you kidding me? You're kidding, right? I know you're kidding - here let me chew your arm a little bit. What?! No??!"

In the case of Bridget, she raises her objections in an upfront, communicative way. Other horses continue their quest to distract themselves and get away from being in-the-moment-with-the-boring-person by pawing, trying to graze, pulling, or - as in the case of a little mini I was working with the other day - rearing. Before long, however, a magical change occurs, and boredom settles like a gentle mist upon the scene. Only when the horse stops resisting it, it's not boredom - it's peace.

I've had occasion lately to ask owners to play the Bored Game before the horse would agree to cooperate with trimming. Once that blessed aura of peace descends, you can see how futile it was to try and work with the horse's mind constantly darting off in all directions.

Today, I was trimming a very bossy, smart, dominant mare. She's done fine with me in the past, but today her owner warned me that she's been very difficult lately and that we might not get anything done, as she's been refusing to let her owner work with her feet. Sure enough, when I started working, she would give me her foot but immediately snatch it away again. She was very distracted, fidgety and absent. So I introduced the Bored Game. She surprised me by not taking very long to subside into an almost trance like serenity. I caught myself talking too loudly and agitatedly - the comparison between me and the horse suddenly showed me in a bad light, and I slowed down to join the mare in her tranquillity. The owner was pleasantly surprised by the mare's mood.

Maintaining this restful state, I asked the mare to give me her hind foot, which she quietly did, and I was able to work on both hind feet. However, when it came to the front feet, whichever foot I asked for she would calmly press into the ground, at the same time leaning gently into me with her shoulder. I don't know where this new reluctance has come from - she is sound, and I don't believe she is physically challenged by holding up her front feet - but I would prefer that she politely refuse to give her foot than that she give it and then snatch it away. I decided that it would be "against the rules" for me to use any physical effort to try and pick up her foot myself. She knew I wanted the foot, and for whatever reason, she declined.

But this was a conversation, and a polite one at that - very different from the interaction we'd been having just a short while before - the mare listening to distant sounds, thinking about the other horses, reaching for food, pushing into her owner, giving her foot, snatching it away, moving her feet.

This mare lives on dry, stony ground; her feet are good; and her owner knows how to rasp hoofs in between trimmer visits. So we agreed to let her off the hook. For a fearful horse, it's very empowering to be allowed to leave the feet on the ground. Somehow, even though this mare is far from fearful, I felt it was important to give her the same consideration we'd give to an anxious horse. Who knows - perhaps her hyper, pushy behavior might be a form of anxiety. This mare was an unlikely candidate to embrace the Bored Game, but she did, and perhaps she was thankful for it.

I'm very grateful for the opportunity to work with owners like the owner of this mare, who not only shares my "liberal" views about horses but is relieved that I share hers. We both agreed that "letting the horse get away with it" does NOT make things worse the next time, but can often make things better.  I'll be curious to see how the mare will process her experience today. Today I feel I really learned (again! - seems a lesson that I must repeat many times before it really sinks in) the importance of working from a place of peace and focus. Hempfling says (something like), "Everyday chaos accumulates to high danger," and I think this is a wise observation.

The owner and I drew the mare into a state of peace, but once she was there, the mare drew us in even deeper. The hyper mare teaching the humans a lesson in tranquility. Horses are perennially amazing.