Dominance Revisited

I've been looking back over old posts. Seems I used to fret over the concept and practice of "dominance" a lot. We've all read about herd hierarchy, alpha horses, speaking a language horses can understand, the horse respects the one who can move its feet, and so forth. The technique of "join-up," I believe is predicated on the practice of asserting one's place as a higher-ranking herd member.  On the one hand, Imke Spilker was leading me away from dominance, and on the other hand, received wisdom, and Klaus, were leading me back towards it, or towards a version of it.

There's been a good bit of water under the bridge since I first started blogging, and somehow I don't worry about dominance any more. For one thing, I met someone (now a friend) who actually spent time at Klaus's estate in Denmark, and she assured me that - no - we don't have to be Klaus. Au contraire. We have to be ourselves. For another thing, I've tried at least to take Imke's advice to allow the horse to be my teacher, and the horse doesn't seem to be super-impressed by any displays of dominance I can muster. And I'll admit it does take a bit of mustering on my part. 

I'm not much of a leader, or a boss. But on the other hand I'm definitely not a doormat. And somewhere in learning that about myself, I discovered that the horse doesn't need me to be a Klaus, or a fake horse, or a herd leader, or anything at all except myself.

I believe horses understand very well that human beings are not the same thing as a horse. That we have our own way of doing things. That we cannot be herded and dominated, but at the same time, we can be trusted to suggest things that are worth listening to for their own sake. Not because the safety of the herd is at stake, not because the food supply is being safeguarded, not because the strongest is the best one to breed the mare - we act for our own reasons that have nothing to do with hierarchy. Reasons that the horse is happy to consider. We think the horse is purely pragmatic and that we must talk to it in a mechanistic language of survival, but the horse is idealistic and delights in a world beyond that of daily necessity.

I think of George and Bridget, who jockey for position in their little herd, George always vigilant that Bridget shouldn't topple him from his position as first-in-line-for-good-things. When they were turned loose together the other day in the round pen, the place where non-survival values predominate, they beat their swords into ploughshares and stood together quietly and amicably for the very first time.

Not being dominant doesn't mean being dominated. A lesson that the whole world needs to learn. I think more and more of us are catching on - it's the zeitgeist. There's a good book by Mark Rashid called Horses Never Lie: The Heart of Passive Leadership which talks about the way a non-dominant horse can win the respect and cooperation of a dominant one. And I just finished a book called It's for the Horses by Dutch Henry, a book which made me happy, as it's the first time I've read a book by a man which goes as far as I would hope in its advocacy for non-coercive human/horse relationships.

In the horse world, respect is often thought to be the flip side of dominance - the one dominated respects the one who dominates. Why would horses be so different from us? I certainly don't respect a person who tries to dominate me, but rather the person who is polite, considerate, and respectFUL. Someone like George in fact.

And for this episode's pictographic content, here is Bridget on the trail with me on board, following our little buddy on his trusty steed:

No More Mrs. Nice Guy

My oldest daughter informed me that I must set up a website, as no one under the age of 35 was ever going to look for a barefoot trimmer by any means other than Googling. So I dutifully set up my site and on it proclaimed that I eschew all recourse to anger or violence in response to nipping, kicking, or restlessness.

Having made this bold statement, two days later I went to trim some new horses and, of course, one of them nipped me, and another kept swiping at me with her hind foot.

The nipper was a young, cheeky mare with whom apparently nobody had ever had much success trimming, and she turned around to nip me a couple of times as I tried to work on her front feet. The kicker was a bossy, middle-aged mare who didn't think I was to be trusted with her hind legs.

Rather more conscious than usual, having made my public proclamation, of the need for patience, I ignored the nips and kicks and attempted to reach a harmonious concord with the mares, who rewarded me by renouncing their incursions upon my person and becoming rather cooperative and helpful.

A triumph for non-violence.

And then there's Trooper. Trooper is the nicest, sanest, most affable horse you could ever wish to meet. But he has sore stifles, and he doesn't want to pick up his right front leg. He it is of whom my daughter said, "I've never seen a horse rear so politely before." The last two times I was there, he absolutely refused - in the kindest, but most resolute manner - to let me work on his right front.

This morning he had been given bute, but things were no better; in fact the unwillingness had now spread to his left front also.

I asked the owner, "Does it help if you get mad at him?"

She said, "Oh, yes." So I thought, "What the heck, let's give it a try."

So when he snatched his foot away and started pawing the ground, I got in his face and roared at him like a mean, angry lion.

Magic!

I had to roar two or three more times, but with longer gaps in between, and both front feet got done pretty easily. Trooper didn't seem offended or alarmed by my weird threatening behavior. But it sure did work, although I don't think it would have worked with the two mares the other day. Trooper is so calm and confident and good-humored that roaring at him isn't enough to damage one's relationship with him - but it does seem to be enough to convince him that you're serious.

It's horses like Trooper that I find the most challenging to deal with when trimming - strong, fearless, confident, smart, dominant horses - although it's a type of horse I like very much. That kind of horse is has a lot of noblesse oblige and will let you work on his (it's usually a gelding) feet if it's convenient, but will not be willing to give you his feet if there is much discomfort involved. I've tried "establishing dominance" over Trooper by taking the leadrope and making him back up and stuff like that, which can  sometimes help with a different sort of horse. With Trooper it had no effect. Today he either was very impressed and intimidated by my mean lion act or else he felt sorry for me at having to act so stupid. Whatever, I'll take it.

Each horse is so different - just when I think I've got "them" figured out, I find out again that each horse must be learned anew. I'm glad it's like that.

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.

Called to Heal

I'm writing this now, not holding back to "wait and see," putting it down before skepticism and the cold light of day get the better of me.

In my last post, I was wondering aloud whether George might not be a teacher/healer - whether he might, in fact, be wishing to exercise this gift.

If you read K's recent post about her  horse, there's a description of what I take to be an Epona procedure, where you, like, stand with your back to the horse and sense stuff and all, and then the horse gives you a message about this or something, and then you're all like "whoa" and have this big realization. Well, you'd best go over there and read it for yourself.

Anyway, I was getting ready to go out earlier today - I opened the kitchen door to let a cat in or out or something, and I saw George, who had perhaps heard the noise, standing in the middle of the field, staring at the house. So I thought, "What the heck." (I say that a lot.)

So I put on a sweater and went out in the drizzle, walked over to the fence, turned my back, and starting observing myself.

I noticed tension in my toes, in my hips, in my neck, and somewhere along the way I heard breathing coming up on my right side, breathing which I knew belonged to George. And my awareness was on the tension in my eyes. It drifted away and then back to the eyes. George stood, blowing occasionally through his nose, close to my side but not touching. I glanced at him. His ears flicked sideways, his head was relaxed, and he breathed. My eyes were letting go.

After a short time, George straightened up, looked into the distance for a minute, then turned and walked away, chasing Bridget in front of him as he went. He came back to a different spot along the fence and looked over, but this time his attention was off somewhere else.

For a long time, I've been getting more and more far-sighted. I started out with only reading glasses, but for the last maybe couple of years I've been wearing glasses all the time, as my middle-distance vision isn't so good, and I can't read road signs very well while driving.

I set off this evening in the dark to pick up the exchange student from a basketball game, about a 35 minute drive. For once, I didn't put my glasses on, but tried to remember what I'd let go when George stood beside me. As I drove, I realized I could see very well. Things seemed sharp and clear and lighter. Road signs whizzed past me in perfect focus. True, the dashboard was still fuzzy - but not as fuzzy - and once (just once), at a stop sign, I looked down and the fuzz was all but gone.

Now, I've dabbled in the past (half-heartedly) with the Bates method and eye exercises, but to no great effect - or rather, I felt that if I ever persevered and practiced diligently for months, I might get some good results. But this evening, there it was - handed over on a platter. I'm avoiding the temptation to try and preserve the effect with what I remember of those exercises. If the effect's real, it'll last, or return. It has faded over the last few hours, but I think I'll ask George for a tune-up tomorrow!

It's not that George did magic or a miracle or anything like that. But his presence somehow allowed me to feel exactly what it is that I'm doing to myself which is causing the problem.

One thing I have resolved: to stop training George. I'll still ask him to remember to be polite; and I'll still ask him to give people rides, as being taken for a ride on a horse is something which is dear to many people's hearts, myself included. But he doesn't mind those things. I've been thinking that I just need ever more tact in asking him to do things - but really, it's not the amount of tact, it's the mere fact of asking him to do things just to make sure he can do them - it's insulting, really. He's very polite and considerate about moving this way or that way when there's a real reason, but naturally he thinks it's an imposition to be asked to move in the interests of my demonstrating control. It's like at the end of Taming of the Shrew when Petruchio shows off Katherina's obedience. Later, if George decides that dressage-type exercises are something he finds valuable, well - hooray! but we can live without it.

Tomorrow I plan to tell him this, and to apologize for not coming to this conclusion sooner.

I didn't expect anything today from my Epona (or whatever it is) experiment. This was so much more than I could have imagined. I can feel my scepticism sneaking back up on me, and the Eeyore within re-awakens. I'm not a big Woody Allen fan, but there's a scene at the end of Manhattan when Mariel Hemingway's character is reassuring Woody Allen that although she's going away, she'll return and all will be well. Woody Allen looks up (y'know, cos he's short) at her, wanting but unable to believe her,  with this expression on his face that says it all. That's my expression most of the time when God is talking to me. Or George. Maybe George can fix that too.

Buck

Ok, hands up everyone who's seen the movie Buck Brannaman. Cos I'd really like to know what y'all think of it.

Thanks to my internet having been fixed (fingers crossed), so that the download speed is now like 2.65 megawotsits instead of only 0.14, I was at last able to view the movie all the way through.

Buck is a documentary about Buck Brannaman, a real-life "horse whisperer," who helped Robert Redford with Redford's role in the eponymous movie.

Buck Brannaman is a real likeable guy who has some fine things to say about horses. For example: Don't be critical - Don't discourage them or they'll shut down. There's some other cool stuff in the movie, such as the lady who works cows with her dressage horses, as she says it brings "meaning and purpose" into the dressage training because the horses know it helps them with their cattle work, which they love.

There's a sad incident, however, involving a three-year old orphan stud colt, who had been bottle raised and then, when his owner had a bad accident when he was three months old, had been left to his own devices for the next three years. After his difficult birth, he had lain without breathing for some time until he was revived, and there was some thought that this oxygen deprivation had left him mentally impaired.

This youngster was extremely aggressive, to the point where he would attack vehicles and charge fences to bite people on the other side.

Nothing daunted, Buck brings him into the round pen to see what can be done. From his horse, Buck ropes the colt's ankle and starts to be able to control his movements. From there, Buck's cowboy assistant is able to go up to the colt, sack him out, saddle, mount, and ride him. So far so good.

But on the ground, the horse continues to be a menace. Buck blames the owner, for allowing the horse's behavior to escalate to this point, and for not having had him gelded sooner. Buck says orphan horses are the worst, because they're spoiled and not taught respect as they would be if they were with their mothers. He's in a pen with the colt and has to continually fend off his aggressive charges by flapping sticks at him.

Later, they bring him back to the round pen. The colt has a halter and rope on, and the cowboy is holding the rope in one hand and a blanket in the other. It's not clear whether he's using the blanket as a kind of goad to make the horse move forward or whether he's trying to sack him out some more. They move around the pen a little, the cowboy apparently having a little success in getting the horse to move forward on command.

Then - seemingly out of the blue - the colt leaps forward, bites the cowboy's head, knocks him to the ground, and leaves the scene to go over to the other side of the pen.

The cowboy is bloodied and needs stitches in his head. The owner is distraught and realizes her only option is to have the horse destroyed. Buck doesn't disagree. Someone - sooner or later - is going to get killed.

The horse's death sentence is sealed, and he is hauled off in a truck. The next day, Buck talks to the other participants in the clinic about what happened. He says that human beings let the horse down. He says that perhaps the horse was a little retarded after being deprived of oxygen, but that this doesn't mean he had to end so badly. With the proper training, he could have been a good little horse, quietly "packing" someone around, leading a life which would have been of use to himself and to others.

Life doesn't have the option of instant replay, but Netflix streaming does, and so I replayed these scenes over and over until I got a sense of what really happened.

First of all: Buck in the pen with the colt. He has driven the colt off to the far side of the pen, using his flag-ended stick. As Buck talks to the owner, the colt sidles up behind him, chewing and licking. Buck senses his approach out of the corner of his eye and instead of engaging the colt and acknowledging his pacific intent, immediately turns round and starts aggressively flailing the air with the stick to drive the colt away. The colt instantly reacts by returning the aggression, rearing, striking, and trying to get at Buck.

Later: in the pen with the cowboy. The young horse repeatedly gives the cowboy a chance. He turns to face him, stands his ground, expresses his displeasure at the blanket onslaught. Finally, the cowboy approaches him directly. The horse takes a step backwards and stops, looking at the cowboy (who incidentally is wearing dark glasses). The cowboy ignores the horse's gesture of retreat, as well as his intentionality to connect, and moves in closer in an unmistakeably predatory manner, holding the blanket like a weapon.

Faster than you can blink, the horse leaps forward, mouth open and lunges toward the cowboy's head.

The humans present at the clinic, observing the terrifying attacks, presumably saw what I saw on my first watch-through of the scenes - chaos and fury being unleashed with no prior warning. It took me many re-plays until I could see more clearly what was going on. I imagine horses are able to see at that speed all the time. 

The first thing that comes to mind is that you can see the limitations of technique here. Any one method is going to come up against a situation where it is not the best method. This young horse was clearly far too dangerous to work with in a confined space, never mind at the end of a short rope. John Lyons would have fared better with his liberty work in a 60' round pen, working the horse from a safe distance. Mark Rashid's "Old Man" would have done even better with his technique of leaving the horse - for weeks if necessary - alone in a large pasture, visiting him twice a day only to feed him and dictate the terms under which he may eat. And where is it written that you must go from three-years-with-no-handling to sacked-out-and-under-saddle in one weekend clinic?

Secondly, far from being weak-brained, this horse is clearly extremely intelligent, extremely proud, and extremely courageous. Many times he expresses his willingness to work with Buck or the cowboy. But he has zero tolerance for any show of aggression on their part, meting out retribution with lightning speed. He tolerates the cowboy saddling and riding him on their first encounter, because the cowboy's behavior is very different when he knows that Buck controls the horse by means of the ankle rope. Because the cowboy is reassured that someone has control of the horse, aggression is absent from his demeanor.

Thirdly, I don't buy the orphan horse theory, which I have heard before. Here's my theory, or rather my working hypothesis: the problem with orphan foals is not that they are spoiled and fail to learn respect from their mothers. The problem is that they learn fear-aggression from being turned out with older horses without the protection of their mother. The two dozen nurse mare foals at Twelve Oaks in Mississippi were mollycoddled and coochycooed like you wouldn't believe, but they all turned out mild-mannered and pleasant, without anyone having to "sort them out." And here - according to my hypothesis - is why: they were all babies together, with no mean old grownups to chase them or steal their food.

The colt in the movie fit the bill - he had been turned out at the age of three months in a field with a bunch of adults and left to fend for himself. He could have become a wretched doormat, but because of his strong personality, instead he became a spitfire. If Buck or the cowboy had acknowledged his pride and his sense of self, I think they could have ended up working with him. 

Now, that's not to say I'd ever be willing to work with such a horse, or that it would have been safe for his owner to take him home. But, as Buck himself said in his post-incident talk to the clinic, your horse is a mirror of yourself - and Buck, for all his kindness, is unable to see something in the horse, perhaps because he can't see it in himself. 

This renegade colt was close to my heart as, of course, Bridget is an orphan foal, and George was/is fear-aggressive and studdish. I believe that given a large paddock, a lot of time, and a willingness to stand down, someone (not me, thanks!) could ultimately have turned that horse into a super star.

I turned to Youtube to see Hempfling at work with aggressive stallions, to compare that with what I'd seen on the movie. Two things stick out - Hempfling's willingness to stand down and back off, and his laser-like awareness of the horse as a unique individual in that moment. Compare that to Buck's cowboy's approach to the horse as a dangerous object.

Finally, I think, it all gets down to still - despite the kindler, gentler ways - treating the horse as an object of use to be controlled. When you look at the faces of the horses in the movie, you don't observe the stress, the anxiety, the pain, the sorrow that are so often seen in horses who are supposedly doing magnificent things. But neither do you see anything in the way of sparkly-eyed engagement.

(OK, yes, Buck's horses can canter side-passes, and I can get on my horse, period. Thanks for pointing that out.)

Positive Reinforcement

My husband is reading a book called Dog Sense, by John Bradshaw. He shares interesting snippets as he reads along, but the main gist of the book is as follows: We have all been sold a bill of goods with this idea of the dog as a sort of domesticated wolf, whose social life is rigidly controlled by a dominance hierarchy, and who will feel most comfortable if you "show him who's boss." Firstly, the latest research shows that wolves aren't pack animals who live within a military-style pecking order - they live in family groups, where trust and cooperation and flexibility are the norm. Secondly, dogs aren't really at all like wolves anyway. Thirdly, forget dominating your dog - positive reinforcement is where it's at.

Our first exposure to serious dog training was with a Koehler method trainer in Hyde Park in Chicago. All the neighborhood dog owners took this guy's class, and let me tell you we had a neighborhood of dogs who behaved with Teutonic precision and orderliness. Everyone came when called, everyone could heel off leash, everyone sat at the kerb. Oh yes, we were an impressive bunch, and for me the Koehler method has always been the gold standard of dog training. As Koehler himself said - reliability off leash is the standard by which you should judge training methods.

There was only one naysayer in our neighborhood - a Hungarian professor, whose family had been wiped out by the Nazis. He just couldn't stand all this barking of orders and rigid discipline. He was known to dive in to the middle of a training session, scoop the trainee up into his arms and commiserate loudly.

Now it looks like Hungarian Guy was right, as along comes the "latest research," and we find that all this yanking and yelling and pinching and showing who's boss is just not an effective way to train your four-legged friends. Sounds familiar.

Anyway, my husband and I have been on a campaign of playing Mr. and Mrs. Nice Guy to the dogs. And we've seen quite impressive results. Malcolm likes to run after trucks, and he's fond of heckling the horses. Since I've started lavishing praise and sweet talk upon him for everything he does, there's been a big improvement in his response if I call his name when he's off yelling at a horse or vehicle. You can see him trying to withstand  the magnetic force of my voice; but he can't resist it, and he turns and comes over to me. My husband has also noticed that the dogs come over to elicit affection more often - which is especially noticeable with Malcolm, as he is not a particularly outgoing dog.

Now, I can't compare this to a full-blown course of Koehler classes, which I'm sure would yield much more impressive results. However, the off-leash part of the training culminates in using a "light line" to fool the dog into thinking there's no leash attached when in fact there is. The dog disobeys - yikes! - and (barring Hungarian intervention) wrath descends. But the positive reinforcement also seems to set in place a force of action-at-a-distance. You can see it reeling the dog in, and it never gets tangled or caught on bushes.

Good Dogs

So ... I had occasion to think of all this today when I was riding Rose. Which I was doing because my husband and daughter started to complain that we have NO horses who are dead broke (as the unfortunate expression goes). Plus also, I just really had an urge to get up on a horse. Rose was very sweet about getting tacked up and seemed to enjoy the process. Plus also she's a lamb about mounting.

Once up, however, I realized that what we do in fact have is GREEN. This is only the second (I think) time I've ridden her, and the first time was with a halter and two thick, clumsy ropes for reins. This time I had the bitless and was prepared to be a little more fine-tuned.

I rode her in the yard with the other horses milling about - usually at a distance, although they did come over and interfere a couple of times. Rose was quite willing to listen, very blocked in the shoulders, and got a little irritated sometimes when I wanted her to do something she hadn't planned on. She's used to just riding out with George, which involves very little in the way of steering or direction on the part of her rider.

Whatever it was or is that people are supposed to do when they're training horses or whatever it was that I used to do, well all of that is kind of out the window for me these days. I started out not knowing exactly how we were going to proceed.

The positive reinforcement thing came into play, when I realized that the little tap on the horse behind the girth was no longer a resource I could fall back on. A few times Rose refused to move forward. And became a little cross at the idea, as it involved moving away from the other horses. So I just asked her to wait, pointed in the right direction. And eventually she moved forward, and we didn't come to an argument, which is the main thing.

I realized she's very blocked in the shoulders and that we could profitably have a very short ride, focussing on that issue. She's hard to "steer", and I discovered that rather than going straight to working on the bending while moving, it was helpful to come to a halt and draw her attention to her withers, which seemed to be all out of synch with her head and back. Once she felt herself a little more connected at the halt, she was able to move off into a more comfortable walk.

We worked for maybe 10 or 15 minutes, and then I let her go again. I think she sort of liked it and that she is so very clueless that any amount of work we do together will make a big difference. Right now, the idea that I'm communicating with her and making helpful suggestions is a totally novel concept to her. Hopefully as she becomes more accustomed to working, she'll start out with the expectation of a conversation.

The bitless does feel like rather a blunt instrument, but on the other hand, I can afford to be hamfisted and blunt, as I can't cause nearly as much discomfort as I could with a bit. Once Rose is tuned in more, I think it'll be possible to be quite delicate with the bitless bridle. The only other problem with the bitless is that you have to have a noseband, and I can see that, even loose, it constrains the movement of the jaw.

After untacking Rose, I left the saddle hanging on the gate. Bridget came over and knocked at it with her nose. So I put it on her, and then realized - hey presto! - I'd saddled her at liberty, which was something I'd been berating myself for not doing yesterday. It fell off again before I got the girth on, and I didn't bother putting it back, but Bridget and I worked (with treats) on backing, turning, and standing still while I move away from her head.

Then it was George's turn, as my daughter got him to take the foreign exchange student for a ride. Or I should say tried to get him, as he wouldn't be caught - most unlike him. She finally asked for my help, and I went over to him with my arms spread wide, halter dangling in one hand, saying, "George! This is your lucky day! You get to take the girls out!" He came right up and dropped his nose for the halter. Go figure.

He then adopted a rather resigned, martyred, but gentlemanly demeanor, and my daughter got the foreign exchange student situated on his back, and off they went for a nice long walk, nice for the girls at least.

And later, in the beautiful golden evening, I went out to visit with all the horses.

Another Appaloosa, and a Throughbred

Today I trimmed another Appaloosa. He could have been the triplet of two others I trimmed a few weeks ago. He was a handsome, strapping fellow with a good heart, but, as with the other two, my efforts to be considerate and polite could only take me so far. When asked, he gave me his feet right away but then took them back just as quickly.

One reason his owner switched from her old farrier was that the horse had knocked the old (in both senses of the word) farrier over by suddenly snatching away his foreleg, and the owner was afraid that the man would end up being injured. Using the hoofjack made things easier to begin with, as the horse's leg didn't have to be snatched out from between my knees. Also, the horse didn't lean on me, which the owner warned me he would - I guess it's easier and more tempting to lean when the trimmer has his body jammed up against yours.

You can usually tell when the horse's reluctance to let you keep his leg stems from discomfort and when the cause is impatience. With this horse (as with the other two Appies), I felt he just plain didn't want to leave his leg up.

Sweet talking was not helpful, so I went up to his head and said something to the effect of, "Your ancestors used to hunt buffalo. They were real tough. They were so tough, you know what they used to do? They ... er ... used to ... um ... stand completely still for hours on end. I bet you're that tough too, huh?"

Whether he understood my words, or whether my manner of communicating them made an impression on him, after that he left his foot on the stand in an exemplary fashion.

His buddy was a sweet ex-racehorse, with knobby fetlock joints, one flat forefoot and one contracted-heel concave forefoot, and a sore left hindleg. When I first went to pick up his forefoot, it was glued to the ground. But by dint of me asking nicely, the foot was given. The owner warned me that he sometimes cowkicked with the hind legs. I figured this was probably due to discomfort, so when I came to the sore left hind, I stood beside that leg, telling the horse that I wanted him to pick it up and rubbing the joints to let him know I knew something hurt, and then touched the leg just above the fetlock joint. After a try or two, he figured out in his own time how to lift it up comfortably.  I rested the hoof on the toe of my boot, as fortunately there wasn't much to take off, and I could complete the job quickly. I'm planning to get a mini horse Hoofjack when I have the money, and I believe you can fit the full-size horse cradle in the mini stand, which would be very useful for horses, like this one, who can't easily lift their hind legs very high.

The horses' owner was a very nice lady - I was happy to meet someone else who lets their horses out in their yard! She described how they like to look through the windows into the house and to try and help when she's hanging out the laundry.

Once again, I'm impressed at how willing horses are to cooperate and how well they understand what you tell them. The difference between the TB and the Appaloosa was also interesting - I find it easier to work with horses who, like the TB, are softer, sweeter, and more sensitive. The Appaloosa types challenge me to find a more assertive demeanor, while still being courteous and kind. This Appy had something else in common with the other two - namely he had been roughly (or even abusively) treated in a previous home, and had nicks in his ears to show for it. The owner and I agreed that the temperament of these horses does not take rude treatment lying down, but their challenging temperament often causes handlers (men especially) to be overly dominant toward them. Yet these horses have a reputation of being excellent with children and so clearly are to some extent magnanimous toward weakness and do not need to be "bossed around" as such.  This horse, and another Appy I trimmed, are both young, and not much time has elapsed since they were badly treated. Yet they have maintained their confidence and have quickly formed new trusting relationships with their current owners. Kind of an awesome breed.

Not Without Honor Except in Your Own Household

Unlike those polite equines who belong to Other People, my own horses are totally unimpressed with my sympathetic bedside manner. All right, all right, I know - it would go easier if only I did it more often.

Today, while Rose and George were out on the lawn, I decided it would be a good day to give them a bit of a trim. After an hour or so of lush grazing, surely they wouldn't mind standing still while I did their feet? Actually they would.

But I discovered a good way to deal with the George. First of all, you trim Rose. Of course, Bridget has to hover over the fence in order to chew my hair; and George, who is on the same side of the fence as us, tries to occupy the exact same space as me and Rose. So I pretend to be very stern and manage to keep him, oh, about 33" away.

Then, having established that I am the Bad Cop today, when it's his turn for trimming, I keep up the don't-mess-with-me-young-man attitude. When he wants to put his foot down, I just hang on for dear life and refuse to let go. He hops around on three legs and finally concedes that it is in fact possible to stand with one foot off the ground. It can't have been too traumatic for the dear boy, as when I cut him loose, he didn't go away. I'm glad I got to his feet (well, just the front ones today), as the heels were starting to contract. He has hard feet that just keep growing, with very little flaring or chipping. I think he'd need a lot of travel on rough ground to wear his hoofs down.

When Rose was having her turn, she was distracted and restless. However, persistence paid off again, and she ended up letting me get all four feet done.

Here is Rose's abscess slit grown almost half way down her foot.

I said I "pretended" to be stern with George - he responds well to a sort of jokey bossiness. He really doesn't like you to be for-real mad at him, but here is the sort of attitude that seems to make George go, "Oh she means business, but she's still my friend":

My son, aged 5, 1997

Speaking of Rapprochement ...

Look who was eating out of the same hay pile this morning -

An interesting little drama unfolded as I watched through the window, eating my breakfast. Every time George raised his head and then lowered it again, Rose turned her head and neck away before cautiously resuming her munching. From time to time, also, George stretched his nose out toward Rose, his ears flattening a little, whereupon Rose instantly responded by turning her head away (but leaving her feet planted). When George softened again, Rose once more relaxed into her eating. I think the distance between them here is the minimum presently allowed under George Law.

Rose got up to get a drink of water. She chose not to return to George's hay but instead joined Chloe at another pile.

Then the next tag-team member had a try. Bridget crept over toward George as far as she was able.

Seen through the window screen.

But George was looking at her, and she dared advance no further. The mares seem to be testing how far they can go with George. If they proceed too quickly, they risk entering the Danger Zone and inducing immediate reprisal. So they creep cautiously up to the edge and gently prod the perimeter, eliciting only mild reactions, which can be instantly appeased by an ever-so-slight retreat. If nothing happens, they can inch forward a little more.

It seems to me that the mares' behavior is similar to Bridget's dominant behavior toward Rose - a kind of determined pressure. The difference is that they fear George a lot, while Bridget fears Rose only a very little.

Rose's "rudeness" toward Bridget (and occasionally toward me) seems similar to George's reaction when the mares have gone too far - a defensive petulance, characteristic more of weakness than of high-ranking bravado.

Which jibes with my belief that a lot of George's behavior is not dominance related but the result of fear and self-protectiveness.

Which brings me back to a thought I had the other day - namely that I think everyone would be happier if Bridget took over. I think she's got a fair bit of growing to do still, both physically and mentally. Therefore, I have hope for the future. Go for it, Bridget!

P.S.
Breaking news - reporting from the upstairs bathroom window:
Bridget has insinuated herself into George's hay pile, after one or two mini-retreats (involving head/neck movement but no foot movement), and Chloe is advancing also!

Some Are Watching the Superbowl. I am Writing This Instead.

When it comes to deciphering dominance, George is not a very good example to follow. George gets what he wants, but getting your own way is not the be-all and end-all of dominance/leadership.

Dominant horses often enjoy very cordial relationships with others in the herd - sharing space, grooming, or playing. Sometimes they'll even allow another horse to share their food.

Between George and the mares, however, although a rapprochement is in progress, relations are little more tense. Dear George is, I feel, slightly dysfunctional, socially speaking. He doesn't really know how to play with the other children. He gets along very well with more dominant horses, but he has not figured out how to be dominant himself without becoming crabby. Noblesse oblige is a concept George has yet to fully take on board.

So I look to Bridget to explain things to me.

Bridget is clearly more dominant than Rose. If Bridget wants what Rose has, Bridget will get it. However, the two of them are friends and are able to eat together and be comfortable in each other's company.

What I can learn from Bridget is how a more dominant horse reacts when a less dominant one is "rude."

How does Bridget react? She doesn't.

If Bridget walks over to take Rose's food, Rose will give her the evil eye and snake out her head - even open her mouth and swipe. Does Bridget get mad? Not a bit of it. She just calmly proceeds with her coup de food. If Rose seems to be raising more objections than usual, Bridget produces the trump card - she turns around and backs up toward Rose, adding a ladylike kick if necessary - but the turning/backing usually does the trick. And no rancor or excitement accompanies the maneuver.

Bridget isn't always intent on taking something away from Rose - often she's simply saying, "Ok, I'm going to eat/stand here too, so move over!"

If Rose reaches out to nip at Bridget, Bridget sometimes flinches backwards, but she is not intimidated or deterred. Neither will she be moved to reprisal. It's enough that she knows she can win - she doesn't need to punish or scold in the process. And if all Rose wants is for Bridget to just stay out of her space, then -  no big deal - Bridget will shrug her shoulders and give in.

I have given up trying to be "dominant." However, I still sometimes need to be "in charge." Maybe it's a fine line linguistically, but to me there's a difference. I guess it helps to think of it in terms of children. When my children were little, I never thought it would be appropriate to "dominate" them. But there were (are!) many times when it was necessary to be in charge.

Bridget's example could be helpful for those times when I have to be in charge. I don't need to be superhumanly unflappable - Bridget flinches or startles when Rose produces one of her patented stink-eye swipes. Nor do I have to be punitive or defensive. I just have to choose - do I really want this? Or is it not a big deal? If I really want it, I can just politely insist, and if it's not a big deal, then I can let it go.

Scene from the Bathroom Window

George chases Bridget away from the water and goes back to eating his hay.

Bridget moseys over to her pile of hay.  I think to myself, "Bridget, I can't wait til you take over. George is a paper tiger - you should go for it."

Bridget starts creeping over to George's pile of hay, one step at at time, yawning all the way. She arrives at the edge of the pile and starts nibbling.

Every time George gives her a look, she backs off a little or turns her head away, but then resumes eating. George doesn't move, but after receiving one sour glance too many, Bridget leaves and goes back to the hay pile she's been sharing with Chloe.

Tag team - Chloe leaves and walks over toward George.

Nah, that's far enough. She turns around and goes back to the girls' pile.

They'll wear him down yet.


p.s. I know the water trough shouldn't be in a corner, but it's the only place the hose will reach.

Stress

I have a new hobby. It's called watching tv. Before bed, I've discovered it's nice to pick up the knitting, fetch a cup of Rooibos, and plonk yourself down in front of a good, educational PBS show. You can learn a lot.

Last night, for instance, I learned about what makes a Toucan's beak so light-yet-strong. I also learned about splicing spider DNA into goats, thereby producing spider-thread-infused goat's milk, whence high tensile fibers can be extracted. Yikes.

One programme last night, however, was particularly interesting - a National Geographic special called Killer Stress.

The programme (oh stop with the red underlining - I'm using British spelling) concerns two longitudinal studies, one carried out in England on civil servants in Whitehall and the other in Africa on baboons. Both the baboons and the civil servants live in hierarchical social systems, wherein the "top dog" can, and often does, terrorize his subordinates.

The lower-ranking individuals are subject to constant stress, brought about not only by persecution, but by lack of control over their own lives. Among the baboons, the persecution takes the form of physical abuse - among the civil servants, it takes the form of verbal abuse, lack of respect, and micromanagement. The higher-ranking individuals also have greater access to pleasureable activities.

Periodically, baboons of varying rank are anaesthetized, blood is drawn, and other health markers investigated. The researcher, Robert Sopolsky, displays stunning skill with a blow gun to achieve the prerequisite KO. Unfortunately Michael Marmot, the English researcher, didn't use this technique on his civil servants. I would have enjoyed seeing him lurk behind a telephone box with his blow gun, waiting for a be-suited clerk to come out of the Underground. However, despite this deficiency, the civil servants were also tested regularly.

The discoveries show that the Alphas - human and baboon - have much lower levels of stress hormones in their blood. They also have a significantly lower incidence of high blood pressure, clogged arteries, heart disease, and other illnesses. Surprisingly, findings also show that fat is gained more and distributed differently in the case of lower-ranking individuals. They are more likely to have belly fat, which poses a greater threat to one's health than fat accumulated elsewhere on the body. Furthermore, studies on rats show that stress can shrink brain cells and damage memory.

The plot thickened when one of the baboon troops suffered a reverse after a large number of their members died from eating contaminated meat in a garbage dump. Because the amount of meat was limited, only the alpha males were able to take possession of it - and only the alpha males died. After this, the troop was composed of females, and a reduced number of meeker, lower-ranking males. The culture of the group changed completely The females assumed a greater leadership role, setting a Summer of Love tone, with mutual grooming and other peaceful interactions replacing the former dog-eat-dog ambience. The health of the lower-ranking troop members improved as their stress levels decreased.

What is most interesting is that other young males who subsequently left their natal troops and joined this group (as is the custom among baboons) learned this new culture, gradually adapting their behavior to the more peaceful, passive modus vivendi of their adopted troop.

Stress causes damage at a cellular level, bringing about premature aging, as well as a host of other health problems. But the programme also touched upon the healing effects that positive interactions can have. Getting together with family and friends in an accepting, supportive atmosphere can actually repair cell damage.

Which of course brings us to the horse.

There does exist a dominance hierarchy among horses. However, a horse's place in the hierarchy doesn't play all that much of a role in shaping its daily life. Food is plentiful - or, if not, at least ubiquitous. A dominant horse might shoo a lower-ranking horse away from a nice patch of grass - but there's always another patch over there. Horses don't amuse themselves by bullying each other. They might get snarky in order to quick get what they want, but then it's over and done with.

Moreover, dominant horses don't have greater access to that wholesome cell-repairing activity known as mutual grooming. Nobody so far has offered to groom bossy old George, and it's only lately that the mares have started letting him buddy up to them a little. He can force the respect, but he can't force the love.

If we go among horses determined to impose our will on them, then we increase their stress and damage their health. If we go among them willing to wait and listen, then we allow them to decrease our stress and heal our bodies.

In the synchronous manner of the universe, an email appeared in my inbox this morning: the 252nd prohibition in the Sefer Hamitzvot is that Jews are forbidden from causing emotional distress to a convert. This negative commandment is in addition to another prohibition forbidding one to cause distress to any Jew. Therefore, the convert is doubly protected.

In light of the research above, it is clear that to cause emotional distress is to inflict damage on the health of the victim. We should refrain from causing emotional distress to anyone, but I think the horses are our "converts" - who have come to live in our land, whom we are drawing in to our way of life. As such, we have a double duty to protect their emotional and physical health.

I wonder what's on tv tonight?

Adversarial

Yesterday, my horse friend came over to help me trim Rose. She was cheerfully optimistic that good trimming will be able to correct Rose's dropped pasterns, aka coon-footedness.

It is always thought-provoking when my friend is here. As I have documented before, her approach to the horses is slightly different from mine.

We had Rose tied up at the fence inside the field. Bridget and George immediately left their piles of hay and came over to investigate what we were up to, trying to insert themselves in the middle of things.

My friend said that it was a dominance thing and that George was put out because we had taken "his" mare. I think George was saying the following:

a) this is where the action is, so I'd better be over here;
b) sometimes Rose lets me say hello when she has a halter and leadrope on - maybe she'll let me speak to her; and
c) but why do you have the halter on Rose anyway? You ought to put it on me - I'd like to draw your attention to some long grass over the fence there which looks like it might still be edible.

Bridget kept sneaking over and trying to interfere with Rose. When I wouldn't let her get into our bubble, she proceeded to charge around the field, looking very glamorous with her tail high. My friend said again it was a dominance thing and that Bridget was like a toddler having a tantrum. Whereas to my mind, she was just letting off steam because she got a little frustrated. After she'd had her fun, she walked over and stood quietly a couple of horse-lengths away.

When my friend wants a horse to get out of her space, she acts aggressive and drives them out. My approach is more to make contact with the horse and make my desires clear. My friend can make George and Bridget leave completely. For me, they will respect my desire to keep out of my bubble, but they'll keep hovering and looking at me, like "Are you sure? Can we talk about this some more maybe please?" My way is not as immediately effective a way of clearing the area, but it works for me, as I'm willing to wait for us all to learn and agree on behavioral etiquette - like waiting for George to cede the gate to allow the mares to enter.

When my friend spoke about George and Bridget, I found myself getting anxious, starting to feel that old emotion of fear, as if the horse were an adversary to be overcome. I had to remind myself: "No, this is Bridget - she is not trying to dominate me, I can trust her. And I don't need to dominate her either." Refusing to be a doormat is a very different thing from becoming a pair of boots.

And once again, I must remind everyone that my friend's horses are outgoing, confident, friendly, charming, and communicative. So what she is doing can't be bad. It works for her. I have to be willing to learn, but at the same time not be swayed from what experience tells me works for my horses and me.

Hay, Eyes, and oh yes, here we go again, Dominance

We came close to running out of hay, but are now back in business - phew!

A very nice farmer and his wife, who live nearby, brought it over, stacked to a perilous height on the back of their pick up truck. Mr. Burkman must be seventy if he's a day, and he scampered over the roof of his pick up, scaling the tower of hay like a mountain goat, to undo the ropes and then throw the bales down. We'll run out again in another month or two, but he said he'd have hay for sale until spring. It's nice clean, dry brome hay. He lets it dry for three days before baling, and frowns on farmers who bale sooner than that.

The horses prefer our own hay and will eat it first if I put both out, probably just because they're used to it. The bought hay is better quality, I think. Ours got a little damp due to its forcible removal from the barn during the wedding. It was in wagons and covered in tarps, but there was some severe rain during that time. Only a few bales actually got mouldy, but the rest ended up a little dusty.

Next year I'm hoping our own hay will last through the winter, because:
1) with any luck a severe drought won't make me have to start feeding hay in August;
2)  a neighboring farmer spread manure on our hay field, and we had some new seed drilled in, so we should get a better crop; and
3)  I'm planning to take back three of the acres which we have been renting out during our absence in Mississippi. It currently has alfalfa growing, which I'm planning to overseed with a grass mixture - giving us some alfalfa/grass hay mix to ration out to the horses in the colder weather. (Of course, I belong to the Blanche Dubois School of Farming, depending on the kindness of strangers to effect these little miracles on my behalf.)

Rose's eye is looking a little better. I have been mixing the Chinese herbs with a little apple sauce and serving them up in bowls. If I then pour the goop onto my hand, that's even more acceptable.

She will eat up all of her uveitis remedy in this way, but refuses the immune booster.

This prompted me to bring out the pendulum again and re-test the herbs. The uveitis formula produced the same reaction as before - alternate vigorous swings clockwise and counter-clockwise. However, the immune booster formula caused a different reaction - a strong back-and-forth swing, followed by a vigorous counter-clockwise swing, following by a short, weak clockwise swing, and then a halt. Ok, I won't insist on the immune formula.

I believe Chinese herbs really ought to be prescribed by someone who can check the meridian pulses, or whatever the heck they're called. However, I take comfort in the fact that the eye is improving, that Rose seems to enjoy the uveitis formula, and that the pendulum says, um, I don't know, that it's in balance or something .... ?

My good friend, who has slightly divergent opinions from me, was over and we hung out in the field with the horses. Last time she came over our different approaches led to a confusing and slightly upsetting situation. However, this time, I found I was able to listen to her, even follow her suggestions, and because I have a better connection to the horses, it was possible to try a little bit of doing things her way without losing that connection in the process.

She was trying to get me to move Bridget's shoulder over.  She saw me moving her hindquarters over, and remarked that the real test is moving the shoulder. She poked her finger (gently but significantly) into a spot on Bridget's shoulder. Bridget just about jumped out of her skin. My friend is trying to achieve what she sees other, more dominant, horses do - namely obtain instant obedience by a look or gesture. She is actually extremely good at this, and her own horses are devoted to her, as well as being very friendly and confident. So I wouldn't want anyone to think that she's really on a very different tack from me.

I agreed to try what she was suggesting. But it was confusing to me and to Bridget. As I am not trying to obtain instant obedience, I don't feel an immediate need to overcome initial resistance from the horse. So when I sense Bridget's reluctance to cede her shoulder, my instinct is to stop and re-assess rather than press forward to compliance. I believe she needs to take her time and agree to what I ask because she trusts me rather than because I'm mimicking mean old George. My attempts to do what my friend was suggesting only ended up with Bridget resisting or becoming anxious.

The next day, when I was out in the field on my own, I reprised the shoulder yielding exercise. I gave it some more thought and remembered how I obtained a good result with George. It is easier to cede the shoulder from movement than from a standstill. So I asked Bridget to move forward a little and at the same time indicated that I'd like her shoulder to move away from me. She moved away beautifully, even crossing one front leg over the other. A second attempt was much more muddy, and I called it a day.

Here's what I've been thinking: there's a difference between insisting and making. My friend has noticed that when she, or one of her riding students, is able to control the horse's movements at will, the horse becomes more confident. I would not disagree, and that's what Carolyn Resnick talks about. However, it is possible to insist without becoming coercive. I think that's what brought about the recent change in George - that I finally figured out it was ok to insist, and that it's possible to insist without forcing. I mean, gosh, isn't that what I've been doing as a mother for the past 24 years?

The difference between me and my friend is that I draw the line between insisting and forcing in a slightly different place, although actually we're not far off each other.

I think when you sense resistance in a horse, you have to try to get inside what's going on and unravel it from within, rather than trying to overcome it by remote control.

And here's another thing. This cold weather business. It makes it much less appealing to go out and just spend time, share space. I need to invest in some serious cold weather clothing. This won't help George, though, who is a little uptight in the cold. My friend, who knows a lot, says that the cold weather makes the fascia get tight, and tight fascia don't like to be touched. George is a tight guy at the best of times, and the cold weather exacerbates it. Still, he might like the company. So, I need long johns, vests, scarfs, balaclavas, down jackets ... oh well, Christmas is coming.

A New Challenge from George

I was just remarking the other day that George had - for the time being - stopped challenging me. He has been extremely accommodating and placid recently, leaving me alone when asked and keeping a much lower profile.

Today, however, he came back with something a little different. I went into the field with a pocketful of treats, gave George a couple, and then went over to let the mares have some. When George followed, I asked him to give me more space and allow the mares their share.

He did give me more space, but each time I headed over toward the mares, George happened to be in the way. At first, I hardly noticed what was going on, but after a couple of times, I suddenly realized what he was doing. Then, instead of walking around him, I told him I knew what he was up to and walked straight through him. As soon as I directly addressed his new tactic, he backed off considerably.

I pursued the mares with George lurking nearby. They edged away, looking nervously at George, and going "No, no, really, it's fine, I don't need a treat." Meanwhile, I'm shoving my hand under their noses, going, "You're going to have this treat, young lady, and you're going to enjoy it!"

If George was in the mood to interfere, he always used to be right up in my face; or if that failed, he'd try to intimidate the other horse into leaving, using mean looks and veiled threats. This is a creative new maneuver he has come up with - blocking my access to the mares, but subtly - not getting into my space, but positioning himself in my path. What goes on in your wee head, Georgie?

Another Visit from Dr. Justin

Well, Rose has always had this eye scar, and it's gotten worse - oedema and tearing - so Dr. Justin was called in again.

Rose put up with lots of eye interference, and I was left with a bunch of pharmaceuticals to administer. It's probably not moon blindness, there's no ulcer or abrasion; it may be a fungal flare-up. Anyway, we covered all bases. One of the meds was atropine, which enlarges the pupils, and so the vet said to put a fly mask on Rose. I'm afraid to leave nature to take its course with an eye problem.

When I returned Rose to the field, everyone went goofy and tore around galloping. I do love the sound of galloping hoofs on the turf.

Later I went back to administer the evening doses, taking treats. Of course George knew something was in my pocket and followed. I was very firm, however. I did let him share, but I kept him at bay while dealing with Rose's eye and giving her treats. Rose was almost afraid to eat her treats in front of George, but she managed. I find it easier to be tough with George now that we have more of a connection. Like when I say, "Look here, you...", I'm actually addressing the "you" to him, rather than just trying to stave off an impersonal force of nature.

Rose is very sweet. I'm going to have to get my husband started riding her. 

p.s.  Of course she's already lost the face mask.

Back to Basics

Yesterday, I asked George to turn his head, and he did. It was kind of a big deal.

I have all these grand ambitions for George - you know, fancy moves like walking forward, turning, backing up. But I also have found a quiet, peaceful place with George which I would like to preserve undisturbed while asking these things. Sometimes this can be quite a contradiction.

Yesterday, I went into the field to spend time. I put the halter on George. I re-discovered that he really doesn't like to have me touch his chest/neck/shoulder with any kind of intentionality, other than friendship. This gets back to the scar, put there by an angry pasture-mate, who was fed up with George being so stubborn about refusing to move his shoulders over, the scar which George's previous owner likes to point to as evidence of how much force is needed to make him understand the necessity for capitulating on this point.

I understand, from my limited exposure to Parelli, that the system works by breaking through such barriers in the horse. If you discover an area of resistance, you work through it. Again from my very limited, and possibly not very typical, experience of watching Parelli work in action, it looked like the resistance was broken through more or less by force, albeit mild force. In other words, the horse was not given a choice. Lack of choice = force.

Yesterday, every time I put my hand on George's chest or shoulder, he pinned his ears and looked very sour. My intention in putting my hand there was to ask him to release his shoulder in order to move toward me with a lengthening back. He trusts me quite a lot, and yet it was too much to ask.

I didn't insist. How can you insist on a release anyway? Instead I stopped to think. I stood by George's shoulder and pointed to it. I said, "Look, I'm only pointing, I'm not touching."

I applied a tiny amount of pressure on my end of the lead rope and felt a concrete barrier on the George end. I could tell that if I brought his head toward me, his shoulder would come with it, the whole head/neck/shoulder one big piece of fused hardness. So instead, I put my hand on his nose, and said, "You need to release this, so that when you turn towards me, your shoulder can release away, so that your back can lengthen - and it's all about the back, right? You want your back to feel good, don't you?"

After spending a little more time deconstructing the situation, I touched my finger to his shoulder while thinking about his head. George's shoulder melted away from me as his head curved towards me.

It was so beautiful, it brought tears to my eyes.

I took the halter off, and we spent time together in his favorite pose, with me on his left side. Afterwards, he was very nice about letting me go and interact with Rose and Bridget.

When I left, he followed me and kept looking at me after I'd gone.

So, gosh, things like, I don't know, a collected trot seem to be just a little bit far off. However, I remembered something KFH said in, I think, What Horses Reveal. He said that if you're doing it right, the result will be beautiful. Although you can't aim directly for the result, if you don't get the result, then you're doing something wrong. He says that when a toddler performs ballet even though the execution is simple, and maybe a little awkward, it can have a beauty of its own, appropriate to the level attained by the young dancer.

I guess George and I are in the just-learned-to-walk-never-mind-dance group of toddler babies, dressed in our bunny costumes - but yesterday, George offered something that, in its own way, was as lovely as a dance can be.