Further Adventures with Bridget

How do you get a Bridget to go forward?

Answer #1:  If the Bridget is not used to a rider and legs, even a little amount of pressure will cause a Bridget to go, "Yikes! What was that?!" and walk forward.

Answer #2:  When the Bridget is used to the rider and legs, pressure will cause the Bridget to turn her head all the way around to inspect the leg closely, asking, "What is that annoying thing you're doing with your foot?"

Answer #3:  After you've spent several intervening days pondering the issues posed by Answer #2 and how you're going to induce the Bridget to proceed forward without resorting to Old Fashioned Means, the said Bridget will have solved the issue in her own little head and will walk forward on your first or second request.

Why does a Bridget approve of being ridden?

Because when the Bridget is being lead around, the human on the end of the rope is very slow and boring.

Because if a Bridget is turned loose into the wide world, it's TOO SCARY to go across the farm to the far side all by herself and See What's There.

Because when the rider is up, Bridget can go ANYWHERE SHE WANTS, and her buddy has no option but to accompany her at a reasonable pace and without being slow and boring.

When does Bridget's rider get to lay down the law?

Sometimes Bridget's rider says, "No More Eating!" Bridget will toss her head and maybe say a bad word, but then she's like, "Oh ok, whatever."

Sometimes Bridget's rider says, "Slowly please!" Or, sometimes, "Stop!" Bridget will accommodate such requests without demur.

Sometimes Bridget's rider will say, "Let's make a circle here, just for - y'know - like, practice." Bridget will get into the spirit of this somewhat willingly-ish.

Sometimes Bridget's rider dismounts, takes the saddle off, gives Bridget a shower and then tries to take her back to her pasture. Bridget usually says, "No, no, no, no, no, don't want to." So it might take a loooooong time to get her back there.

Why does a Bridget walk away when you appear with the halter?

Aha! We have a rather different answer to that now. Now what she's up to is getting away from George before she's confined at the end of a leadrope and at his mercy. (Mea culpa? Should I make Bridget feel safer?)

How do you know this?

Because, while I suspected this for some time, it was confirmed the other day when I appeared with the halter and she walked away from me across the field toward the other gate. When I caught up with her, she stopped. Then, just to check, I left her and walked the rest of the way toward the gate. She followed me and then was totally fine with me putting the halter on. And today, when I appeared ditto, she did the same thing and was thoroughly put out when I took George out instead of her.

Why does Bridget have a gash under her arm?

Because that George lunged at her, and she wheeled around to get away, and there was a fence in the way, and she reared up and came down with one leg in the fence. She is almost all healed.

Here is a fun item Bridget found one day while exploring with a rider.
(Sorry, I don't  think the video works - but you get the picture.)

A New Friend for George

My husband is not a horsey person. He'd sort of like to be, and he fancies the idea of going for a nice ride, but our horses are not exactly dead-broke, and he doesn't enjoy all the ancillary activities preceding and following a ride - catching, grooming, tacking up, etc. etc. Not to mention all the activities preceding the preceding activities - the stuff I'm interested in - e.g. hanging out in the field, taking the horses for walks, finding out what they want to do, that kind of thing.

However, now that we live in the city, he appreciates a jaunt to the country and an opportunity to let the dogs run free, so off we went yesterday together to the barn. He hadn't been counting on having to do this, but he girded up his loins and agreed to take George out for a walk, while I took Bridget.

It's fun to see how keen the horses (well, some of them) are on going out. Bridget was really eager, especially as it's usually George who gets to venture forth. However, I have to say my poor husband could not be said to enjoy the expedition very much. He felt like he couldn't keep up with George and was constantly being pushed into thorn bushes.

Then when we turned the horses loose again (at the first possibly opportunity at the nearest gate), he wasn't really interested in staying in the field and made a beeline for the far gate. I'm not sure if this is because fundamentally he feels nervous around them, or if he's bored, or what.  I told him to not let them do anything he didn't feel comfortable with and not to let himself get wedged in between them, which unfortunately I think added to the feeling of danger.

Be that as it may, the horses thought it was awesome to have a new person in their field with them. They wanted to follow him and get close to him. He did hand out some treats, but that really wasn't their main interest. George even came up and put him in the friendly spot on his left side. George likes people who aren't very familiar with horses and enjoyed being with him on the walk.

Much more tension in the human than in the horse.

The human is now paying attention to the horse, and look how sweetly
George is taking in the presence of his walking companion.


Here are the horses with their reluctant new friend.

I've yet to get to the bottom of why this human is not very keen on spending time with horses. Even if you remove the threatening scenario of having all the horses clustering round, he's still not interested in spending time with just one horse. He loves dogs. But here's what I'm doing this weekend, which I'm SUPER-EXCITED about: I'm going to a day-long workshop, run by a yoga instructor, which is designed for people who are attracted to horses but fearful of them (part of a program called Authenticity Training Through the Yoga of Equine Wisdom). Maybe I can gain me some insights into how to help my husband enjoy the horses. And the new barn owner has already agreed to give him riding lessons, which unaccountably he's more interested in than ground work/play. Because, gee, you can't fall off the ground, but whatever.

Wee Stormy

One of my mini horse clients, who is also a neighbor and friend, has a new addition to her little family - five-month old Stormy, full brother to one of her other minis. The breeder gave away this youngster, hoping just to find a good home for him, and a good home he has certainly found.

I met Stormy for the first time last week, when I took the foreign exchange student and my daughter over to visit, and then went back a few days later to see about trimming his hoofs - they're looking decidedly duck-billish. But on arrival, it transpired that this was only Stormy's second time ever wearing a halter (the first time being when he was moved), and he didn't think too much of the idea. In fact soon after the rope was put on, he flung himself backwards and ended up flipping over onto the ground. As he is a smart little guy, as well as spirited and stubborn, he did not repeat this.

I trimmed the other two for the first time at his age, but they were more accustomed to human handling. Stormy didn't want me even touching his legs, never mind picking them up, so rather than work on trimming, we worked on being-with-the-humans-while-the-rest-of-the-herd-is-out-of-sight, and leading.

Initially, rather than trying to convince him to be lead by me, I let him lead me for a while. I kept hold of the rope and followed him. You could see him thinking, "Wait a minute, that's not what I meant - I meant to get away from her, not have her come along too." But, hey, connected is connected, no matter who's got the lead.

After a while, he began to get the idea, and we even managed some semblance of "leading." The owner and I also practiced sitting with him beside the mini barn (oh, so cute!). He settled down and started grooming me a little, so I guess he's on his way. He even started letting me scratch his legs, and a few times when I touched his leg, he picked it up in a reflex kind of a way, whereupon I got enthusiastic and praised him a lot. He must be all, like, "What is up with the weird lady?" Here's where a clicker and treats might work wonders.

We decided to shelve trimming for another day. I think Stormy definitely experienced being with humans in a new way that wasn't so bad after all; hopefully he'll mull it over and be ready to let me have his feet the next time or the next.

Little Stormy on the right.

Playing that perennially favorite game - "Follow the Lithuanian."
(You can just see that Stormy's dorsal stripe goes right down his tail.)

p.s. These little horses are very intelligent. Their owner tells me that they enjoy playing the game "Put the Ball in the Bucket," which they figured out all by themselves.

Operation Bridget

The good news is that Bridget is flat-backed and so Kelsey's (R.I.P.) old saddle fits her. The bad news is that Bridget is flat-backed and so, no matter how tight you fasten the girth, when you put your weight in the stirrup, the saddle is guaranteed to slip.

I've been looking over my journal from last year, and I realized I was spending a lot more time doing things with the horses last September. Having the horses loose in the yard on a regular basis means I can pop out for a minute or two here and there to say hello; I can sit on the porch and have a cordial chat with whomever happens to stick their head over the rail, or hand a carrot out the kitchen door. However, I think this interaction has meant I haven't felt the need to devote more time just to the horses.

So I decided Bridget and I have to get going with whatever it is we're going to get going with.

Today, I got out the clicker, filled a pocket with tiny carrot pieces, and fetched a saddle and bridle from the barn.

The first trick was learning to wait for the click, as of course once Bridget got wind of the pocketful of carrots, she was intent on getting as many as possible as quickly as possible. Anyway, she got the hang of that, and then we tried backing and turning. Maybe I shouldn't do so many things all at once, but Bridget's smart, and I'm impatient!

I'll need more time to work with the clicker to decide what I think of it. Having read on Song of the Black Horse that using the clicker creates a fast track in the learning process, I decided it was worth a second look.

Then I tied Bridget to the gate and put on the saddle. Hopefully one day we'll have a small space where we can tack up at liberty. I put on the bitless bridle, and it fits Bridget better than Rose, as Bridget's head is deeper, which means the cheek pieces are well away from her eyes.

We went for a walk. I was just determined we were actually going to go for a walk. Bridget stopped a few times, but she resumed walking each time, as I was clearly on a mission. I got fed up with being pushed off the dirt lane and onto the grass so she could eat, so I pushed her back and kept going.

I promised her a grazing break when we got to some shade trees at the bottom of the hill. She grazed for a while and then saw the COWS. She marched further down the lane to get closer to them, and they came scurrying over to the fence check her out. (Fence = 1 strand of wire, not electrified.)

Bridget was breathing fire and levitating, but happily she kept in touch with me and showed no signs of taking off. In fact she reallyreally wanted to say hello to the cows, but it was all a bit too scary. They were two-year old Holstein heifers. I know this, as their DOBs were on their ear tags, as were their names. Some of them had normal names, like Cayla and Caren. Others had weird ones, like Portage and Vision.

After the exciting cow interlude, we headed home. I asked Bridget to walk next to me without forging ahead. Whenever she got out in front of me, I stopped and waited for her to put herself back in position. And we practiced going real slow and then picking up the pace. I figure that if we're going to go out riding together, we'll need to have a sense of doing things together, listening to each other, being a unit. Walking together is a good way to start.

We stopped for Bridget to eat some particularly yummy grass.

At this point, Bridget was standing in a conveniently located ditch - hmm, good opportunity .... so I stuck my foot in the stirrup and hoisted myself up so all my weight was in the stirrup and I was leaning over her back. And - yes! - I clicked, then doled out a treat. We did this two or three times (putting the saddle back into position each time), and Bridget remained largely uninterested due to the profusion of herbage at her feet.

So, well, we're getting there.

Later, I went out for a dusk social call to the pasture. First Bridget came over for a visit, then George, then Bridget again. When George came over for a second time, he carefully placed himself into position behind me and proceeded to nudge me over to the gate. So I put the halter on, took him out, and let him graze all the way down the driveway and back up again before I turned in for the night. I thought it was very clever and cute of him to figure out how to tell me what to do.

George enjoying the fruits of his maneuvering.

George Deals with his Frustration

I was up giving water to the horses today, and George was standing with his head over the fence. I stood on the other side of the fence next to him. I really wanted to give him a big hug, but with George it's best to hang back a little. He was wearing his put-upon face - not the same as his cranky face, more like he's inwardly shaking his head and sighing. We stood. Finally he reached over and nuzzled my hair a couple of times, before resuming his martyred expression.

Ok, George, I get it. I come back with the halter, George waiting for me at the fence.

Yes, we had 5" of snow on Monday night.

We exited the field, and all that snow meant there wasn't much to be found in the way of  food. George set off ahead of me to see what was out there.

He found one or two interesting items to explore.

This is more like it.

He scraped off some snow to uncover the grass, but only once. I had to stop him from eating the box hedge. (Is box poisonous?)

Then I decided it was time to practice some maneuvers. George and I seem to be progressing in an odd direction these days. Part of it is that he's allowed to express his frustration. Which takes the form of grabbing bits of me or my clothing with his mouth. This is not biting. If it starts to feel like biting, I get crabby. He understands this. 

So - for example - we're standing there, and I'm saying: "George, just chill for a moment, relax your neck, and then take a step forward. It's good for you." And he wants to go off and do his own thing maybe. Or maybe he doesn't like the feeling of being controlled. So he gets hold of my sleeve and holds it. I don't get mad. Maybe I wait a little and ask again, or maybe I rub his ears really hard and tell him he's a silly billy. Or maybe I snort and shake my head, because that's what he does sometimes when he just feels that pent-up frustration but doesn't want to do anything rude.

All this feels in some ways like we're moving backwards. I can't help thinking back to our round pen days, when George would move forward, and turn and stop and speed up and slow down, all on command. But in those days, he was much more of a cipher to me. Occasionally I would see little flashes of resentment, like tips of an iceberg, without really knowing what was under the surface.

Now when he is frustrated or resentful, it's out in the open, laid out on the table and part of the negotiations. I know many people would be horrified at the way I let him use his mouth and would say that I'm opening the door for him to press the advantage and become more and more aggressive. But he's already bitten me, and when he did, it was not the culmination of a process of ever greater liberty-taking - it was more or less out of the blue.

I would rather be with him in the moment, and have him present his feelings to me- I'm having a hard time with this. And then I can respond - It's ok, we can work this out together.

I do have doubts. I think that when you allow humans to continually express frustration, sometimes it can breed more frustration and lead to an inability to focus. On the other hand, supporting a fellow human through the frustration block does not necessitate becoming punitive. Sometimes you may say, "Come on, just get on with it." But that is a different thing from saying, "Shut up, you bad person" - which is what hitting a horse amounts to.

I always used to say it takes two years to get to know a horse. Although I first met George more than two years ago, I've only really known him for a year and a half. We have a ways to go yet, and I'm sure the situation is further complicated by baggage from the past - both his and mine. If I had to characterize the difference between our old way of working and the new, I'd say that before I was working outside George's bubble. In some ways it was a safe place to be for both of us. Neither of us really had to deal with the other - it was all remote control. Nowadays, I'm inside the bubble with George. It was he who let me in initially. When I'm in that close, I have to allow him to wriggle and fuss and complain - anything else would be like having him in a stranglehold.

My thoughts and words on this subject are abstract. I can only describe what I think is going on in impressionistic brush strokes. The way forward is not clear (although I have ideas), but despite our ostentatious lack of achievement (what? no riding? no lunging? no "training"?), I feel ok about where we are.

Tricks for Chloe

A recent comment on an old post got me thinking that maybe Chloe should come out and have some activities rather than just graze the lawn.  Perhaps the Chloe Rule - Chloe Never Has To Do Anything She Doesn't Want - doesn't have to mean that Chloe never actually does anything.

So I went into the field with the halter to fetch her out. She saw the halter and wouldn't let me catch her until she was good and sure that George was not going to come and play the boogie man while she was helplessly caught on the end of a rope. After I'd managed to convey to George three or four times in a row that this was not his turn, Chloe must have been finally convinced, and she stood and waited for me to come up and put the halter on - her assessment of the situation is always superior to mine.

Then we had to get out of the gate. Chloe hid behind me while George stood nearby making evil big brother faces at her. I didn't chase him but stood and talked to him for a little while, feeding him a few treats and asking him to back away. Finally mollified, he walked away, and Chloe and I were able to exit the gate without drama.

We ran around together a little bit. Then I lead her over to an upturned bucket. First we shook hands, and then I asked her to put her foot up on the bucket. She immediately struck the bucket with one foreleg, and on being asked again, struck it with the other one. About five years ago, I briefly taught her to put her foreleg up onto things - did she remember that, or perhaps she just understood what I was asking ... ?

Then we ran over to the brick ledge of an old outdoor firepit. She stopped dead a few feet away and refused to budge. I cajoled and coaxed to no avail. When I sat down on the ledge and said "It's ok, you can stay there," she stepped forward. Again I asked her to put her foot on the ledge. She reached out and pawed it. But I wanted her to leave her foot there, so I put my own foot up and waited. She looked, thought for a moment, and then lifted one foreleg, placed her foot on the ledge beside mine and left it there. But not long enough for me to get a photo!

We did the spinning trick, went for a very short walk, and then I took off the leadrope and let her get on with the important business of lawn grazing.

There then followed the action-packed interlude recounted in the previous post.

Chloe was the last one back into the pasture, and of course George was guarding the gate as usual.

I stood in the open gate, Chloe watching and waiting for the right moment to enter.

Eyes on George

George stood by the gate opening next to me, and no way was Chloe going to walk past him.

Again, I had a conversation with him, although this time I had no treats left to give. He knows I need him out the way to let Chloe in, and before long he switched to the other side of the opening, positioning himself behind the gate so that there was a barrier between him and Chloe as she entered. She walked right in, and George didn't follow us when I took Chloe's halter off.

Today, I took a leaf out of Spilker's book and doled out treats as encouragement rather than just as rewards. I gave Chloe treats when she refused to move, or when she looked confused, as well as when she did a trick. And I handed them out to George not only when he backed up as requested, but also before asking him.  Hooray for warmer weather and getting out and doing things!

I know. I'm such a great guy.

George Has to Muster Up His Courage

George has been acting all distant towards me. Can't blame him - the poor lad is probably feeling totally bored and neglected.

Today was a nice, relatively warm Sunday - with the snow still pretty on the fields, but no ice on the road -  so I took him out for a walk.

There's got to be some grass under here somewhere.

He set off at a fine pace down the road, veering off now and then to see if he could find anything growing along the verges, and stopping occasionally to survey the distant fields. At times, I had to run to keep up with him. Other times, I stopped and waited for him. And sometimes I said, "George, I'm bored, let's keep going."

Checking it out.

Wonder who lives here and if they keep any grass about the place?

Paydirt.

Then terror loomed on the horizon in the form of our neighbor's flock of sheep. George has seen them once before, but once was not enough to convince him they are not a serious threat to life and limb.

Actually he looked much more alarmed than this.

From this point, he proceeded by prancing and jogging and circling. His attitude towards my ability to handle the ovine menace was evinced by his continually pushing in front and placing himself between me and the ghastly flock.

Here I am, safe behind George.

Hmm, what does that tell you about George's esteem for my leadership capacity? I can't even be trusted to fend off a few sheep.

We continued our walk down a lane, George very much on edge with the sheep now behind us. We came upon two horses in a paddock. George whinnied at them but remained much more concerned about the sheep.

After we'd turned back toward home, George's worry began to subside.  Finally I thought he was calm enough to practice a couple of things.

We practiced yielding his shoulder over at the walk. Quite good. And we practiced the duckling walk, i.e. I am the mother duck, and he is the duckling, and he walks nicely tucked into my shadow. Well, sort of. The deal is that he can walk a little ahead of me if he wants, but if I feel put upon and dragged about, I go on strike. As soon as I feel uncomfortable, I stop in my tracks and repeat, "Duckling!" in an annoying voice. After a couple of repetitions, George turns his head back toward me, quite kindly, and then we continue walking side by side. 

Back in the pasture, I realized our excursion had restored me somewhat into George's good graces. After I released George, Bridget came over and was very affectionate towards me. George returned to shoo her off. She crept back and was banished a few times. Finally George, almost grudgingly, put me next to him and stood with me by his shoulder.

She may not be good for much, but dammit, she's mine.

I guess our walk restored our connection a little bit. George is a mighty complex guy, who doesn't hesitate to show his annoyance, but who nevertheless does not wear his heart on his sleeve. I really think he feels things quite deeply and doesn't always know what to do about it. We need to go for walks more often.

p.s. Today Bridget mastered the technique of completely undoing my anorak zipper.