The Human's Training Progresses

I don't know what it is, but despite all the Spilkeration that has gone on in my life, I still have a tendency to want to turn the horses into minions. Not to beat myself up about this, but there it is. I'm working on it.

One form this hegemony takes is the desire to Make George Do Things. One thing I like to ask him to do is to move his shoulder away. I ask him to do this because he hates it, and for some reason I think I should be able to randomly make him do things he doesn't want to, just because he's a horse and I'm a human. Whenever I suggest he move his shoulder away (unless, of course, there's a good reason for it, in which case he is impeccably courteous), he gives me his best "You are such a bitch" look.

Yesterday evening, we were out having a pleasant time together - George getting his tummy scratched, me dancing about to keep my be-sandaled feet from being trampled - when I decided we would practice doing a teeny bit of shoulder moving. Only this time I was determined to be reeeaally nice about it, and make it completely optional, and not, well, not be such a bitch about it.

So I stood by his shoulder and pointed, not at his shoulder, but in the direction toward which I was asking his shoulder to move, holding my arm in front of his chest. Pretty soon he did move in the desired manner, with the result that his butt came round to a good scratching position. That works.

Later, I tried again. Before granting me my whim, George first had to focus on some other agenda items. First we had to stare into the distance at some deer, and then we had to scratch his chest. And also he first had to make me move away from him. He achieved this by the not-so-subtle means of nudging me over with his head. Fair enough. And then finally he did move away in the desired manner, again bringing his quarters back to scratching position.

But only for a moment. He disengaged from scratching, carefully backed up to re-position me by his shoulder, said, "Allow me to demonstrate once more," and again moved his shoulder away from me. Then back to scratching.

So he schooled me in patience, reciprocity, and shoulder moving, without ever once telling me I was a bitch.

This morning, as I returned from yoga, Chloe was waiting for me and marched up to the fence while I was parking the car. Clearly she was a pony on a mission, and as I assumed it involved Improved Grazing Opportunities, I opened the two gates which face each other on either side of the drive and ushered George, Bridget, and Rose out from their current pasture over into the barn pasture. Chloe did not follow - the normal rules do not apply to her - so I shut the others in and let her stay out.

She nibbled a little clover but then walked purposefully over to me. It's been quite a while since she's let me climb on her back, but today I was getting the feeling that maybe it would ok. So I got into - well, it's not mounting position cos that would be giving me too much credit - let's call it scrambling-aboard position. Chloe stood still while I plonked myself like a sack of meal over her back. Feeling that it might be nice if there were less flailing and more dignity involved in the next step of actually getting one leg over Chloe's back, I went in and fetched out the kitchen step stool to aid in the process. But when I put it next to Chloe and stood on it, she walked forward. Only a couple of steps though. She walked forward, stopped, and waited. Ok, no step stool.

I got back into scrambling-aboard position, and Chloe stood, planting her feet, giving that kind of solid, reliable feeling that seems to say, "That's ok, take all the time you need. I know you're a complete klutz; I'll just stand here til you're up." Once I was up, Chloe turned her head to inspect my leg, looking at it  rather indulgently. Then she set off. She's very careful not to unseat me, and at first she stops every step or two, as she can feel my wobbliness. (Tall person on short pony makes for an unstable situation.) She walked over to the gate where the other horses were and stopped. I got off and asked her if she wanted to go in, but the other horses were crowding the gate, and she didn't want to.

For a little while, I pottered about doing other things. Chloe wandered down the drive a little, and when I went to see what she was up to, she seemed to invite me on board once more. So I scrambled on. Chloe turned to inspect my leg again and then carefully walked up to the gate. This time the other horses were out of the way, so when I got off and opened the gate for Chloe, she went right in.

I don't know what Chloe's plan was, or even if it was a plan. But it sure seemed like one.

Further Adventures with Chloe

After my little ride earlier today, I was out with Chloe again, and she seemed to express a desire for me to climb aboard. With which wish I dutifully complied.

After a few moments' reflection, she set off through a gate which I'd left open to the other pasture so that she could have access to water while out on the lawn. She stopped for a drink, turned to face the other side of the field, and thought some more.

I said, "Chloe, do whatever you want, as long as it doesn't involve any rapid changes of direction or fast speeds."

She headed down toward the creek. The horses always cross the creek (whether dry or muddy) at high speed, so when Chloe stopped at the edge of the mire to evaluate the situation, I slid off.

She immediately became very imperious and demanded that I get back on. How did she express this? She looked exasperated, and shoved me with her head. So I remounted.

After a few more minutes, during which time she listened to me explaining the extreme precariousness of my situation, she set off across the muddy creek. She speeded up a little, but not enough to make me lose my balance.

Up the hill on the other side. Where does Chloe want to go now? Aha. The shelter. So in we went, and I got off. I don't think she was frightfully pleased about me getting off, but it was ok, because I scratched her a lot, and she dozed.

After a while, I think we both were thinking it might be time to return. We weren't sure (at least I wasn't) if I should ride or not. As I seemed to be going in the direction of her choice, Chloe decided that she could just walk beside me.

At the creek, we both stopped and looked. Chloe came up right beside me to assess. I found two dry hummocks to place my feet on, and made it across semi-dry. Chloe followed.

She was ready to go back into the other pasture. After I let her in, she waited for me to come in with her. The other horses were out of sight, so I walked with her until she could see them, and then she was happy to set off towards them without me.

So - the ability to make someone get on your back gives you the ability to command the services of a built-in buddy, who will accompany you wherever you go when you want to set off by yourself away from the other horses.

Saddle Up

Yesterday, when I got bored scratching Bridget, I decided to go to the barn and fetch out the saddle. Bridget followed me, but when she saw me re-appearing around the corner with an armload of rattly, clattery tack, she was startled and skittered off to join the other horses.

I walked across the field, hung the saddle on the gate, and went into the kitchen to cut up carrots. I'd decided only to do something with the saddle if someone showed an interest. I looked up from chopping carrots and through the window I saw Bridget, having crossed the field and knocked the saddle off the gate, pawing at it as it lay on the ground. I stuffed the carrots into my pocket and scurried out to join her before the saddle met an untimely doom.

Having ascertained that Bridget was in fact interested in the saddle today, I resorted to the un-pc step of tying her to the fence. It would be nice to tack up at liberty, but lacking a smaller space like a picadero or round pen, it's easier to tie her up, and if she's already signaled her interest, I reckon it's ok. As time goes by, I feel less conflicted about stuff like this, as I become clearer in my mind that my intention is not to force her into the venture, but to use tying (or whatever) as a convenience. If she says, "No," I can, after all, untie her.

Anyway, she was quite fine with the saddle going on. I gave her treats liberally. It's amazing to me how quickly they catch on about not grabbing treats if you just use your words (or your clear intention) and tell them. It only took a couple of tries before Bridget learned to quiet herself when a treat appeared and wait until I gave it to her. We wandered down the drive, stirrups flapping, and she grazed a bit. Then my daughter called, needing to be picked up. For fun, we charged full-tilt back up the drive, with me whooping my best rebel yell as we ran, and Bridget keeping stride enthusiastically, moderating her pace to suit my elderly, bipedal version of a mad dash.

I took the saddle off. Bridget was not happy about this. She walked over to where the saddle was laying next to the kitchen steps and pawed at it. Here she is saying, "What do you mean we're done? We only just got started."

Today, while she was waiting for me to come to the field, Bridget thought maybe she could climb out over the gate. She put one foreleg on one of the bars of the gate and then put the other foreleg on the second highest bar. She stood there hindlegs on the ground, forelegs on the gate, obviously pondering her options. I think she must have recognized that there was no obvious way her hindlegs could follow along and further her prospects of egress. Or it could be that she was trying to use her "hands" to open the gate, as she sees me do. What a girl.

The other day she had another psychic episode. The always-rewarding Journal of Ravenseyrie has a new link to another interesting blog, Horses and Humans, which has a link to these cool Youtube videos by Eva Roematt. The horse in these videos performs a gesture where he sticks one or other of his forelegs horizontally out in front, and he also executes a bow, where he stretches both forelegs out in front of him, lowering his chest, and bowing his head down to the ground. Shortly after watching these videos, I was out in the field with Bridget, and - in quick succession - she did both of these moves. She's always very expressive with her forelegs, but she'd never so explicitly stuck them straight out in front before. More striking was her bow, which is not something she's done before. Sometimes it's a little freaky.

I know what all y'all are thinking.

Playing with Chloe and Bridget

Chloe has been looking at me lately. And I've been thinking she and I should do something together.

Today the horses were out in the yard. I fetched a halter and rope and approached Chloe. A halter is always an invitation to dialogue where Chloe is concerned:

"Do you want the halter?"

"Yes, I do."

"Do you want to put it on?"

"No, I don't. I want you to follow me."

So I followed her for a little bit. She stopped. I asked to put the halter on again, and she agreed. After some hesitation, she also agreed to follow me toward a gate we don't normally use, but as we headed off, George et al came scurrying after us, making me feel a bit threatened.

Despite my determination to be calm and polite, I felt I had to be quite sharp with George to keep him off Chloe. Earlier today I saw him lunge at her, bite her, give a little kick, and then drive her off - and I wasn't going to have any such shenanigans while I was holding the leadrope.

However, to show how inept I am at reading situations, I was also determined to keep Rose away, whereas it turned out Rose was not threatening, and Chloe didn't mind at all when Rose came up and nosed her. Chloe and I made it to the gate, but as I was undoing it, I was reminded of the wasps who are currently residing there. One sting later, I decided we wouldn't go through.

Chloe was a very good sport, and more or less trusted me to defend her against George. After a certain point, it seemed like we weren't going to manage to exit the field and, besides, she'd put up with the situation long enough - so I cut her loose. She scampered off, with George and Rose in hot pursuit.

Cue Bridget, who came marching over to have a turn. I put a halter on her and took her out to graze on the driveway. Uncharacteristically, after a few minutes she raised her head and started whinnying for the other horses. She turned back and stuck her head over the gate. So I lead her back through, asked her to walk beside me toward the other horses without rushing ahead, stopped, called her back toward me, and then took the halter off.

She walked a few yards towards the others. Stopped. Thought for a bit. Turned around and came back to me and stuck her nose at the halter.

After we'd played around with a few things, I took the halter off again and stayed to hang out. Pretty soon I found myself hanging onto Bridget's neck, standing on my left leg, and putting my right leg up onto her back.

Took my foot down, walked a few steps away. She walked back up to me, we repeated the trick. She was quite interested.

Then it was time to go, but she followed me all the way to the house. She really likes activities. And I like this feeling of being able to be like a monkey with her, and sort of scramble all over her in a way that feels playful and comfortable, and seems to bear no resemblance to what I would normally think of as "training."

And now I must share a story about TIME. While all this horse stuff was going on, my daughter was busy getting ready for a soccer game, and once or twice she stuck her head out the door to call over to me that it was almost time to leave. I looked at my watch - 3 o'clock - loads of time, as we didn't have to leave til 3:45. Later, as I was leaving the house with her, she said, "Hurry up, it's 3:49." "What?! - It's only 3, isn't it?" It really was 3:49. Turns out my watch had stopped because I'd accidentally pulled out the button.

Here's the thing - I must have looked at my watch at least three or four times over at least a half-hour period, and each time it said the same thing: 3 o'clock. And that never struck me as odd. 

To resume:  The horses were put back in their field, we went to soccer, and after we returned, Chloe was waiting for me up by the gate, giving me the look. The other horses were safely distant, and so although it was getting dusky, I let Chloe come out.

She was actually not particularly interested in grazing and instead approached me to get scratched, and followed me when I stopped. I got the brushes and groomed her, which she enjoyed, and she even let me brush her mane and tail.

As I was about to leave her to graze for a little before dark, I thought I might ask her to shake hands, just for fun. I was turning toward her with the merest thought of this in my mind, and she immediately raised her foreleg and handed it to me.

When I went later to put her back in the field, she reluctantly agreed to put her halter on. Then we had to wait until George was properly positioned. She stood, refusing to move, until she saw George heading off toward one gate, whereupon she freely walked with me to the other one.

They're all just so full of ideas.

Rose and George Take It to the Next Level

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

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

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

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

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

Equal and Opposite

There's a section in Hempfling's book What Horses Reveal which shows various horses getting overly friendly with their owners. These owners are generally rather sweet-looking women, unable to stand up for themselves. The horse might have his nose shoved into the woman's face, while she looks long-suffering and amused in an anxious kind of way. (Sorry I gave away my copy, so I can't give page numbers.)

KFH says something to the effect that these horses need to be given boundaries, and that one shouldn't be made to feel put-upon by one's horse.

Well, yeah, I guess, kind of.

But here's what I realized today. I was hanging out with Bridget, and she shoved her nose into my face, as is her wont. And I experienced two possibilities - one, I could just be rather quiet and try to enjoy having this large mouth (containing large teeth) making free with my physiognomy. Or, two, I could respond with equal enthusiasm and force. (Of course, there's a third choice - to shoo her off, but I did not experience that as a possibility at the time.)

So I grabbed hold of her nose and blew raspberries onto it, and rubbed it hard, and kissed it, and blew at it. And she was very happy with this, and so was I. All potential feelings of put-upon-ness vanished in mutuality. And I find the same when she bumps her butt into me to make me scratch it. I just bump right back.

Not all horses are so benign as Bridget, and I know that there are times to object when a horse comes into your space. But if the horse comes at you with all this warmth and communicativeneness, I don't think the choice has to be between going all nervous-nelly or making them get away.

Here comes Bridget,

and here comes her leg to play the leg game.