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.

George Likes to Walk

I think George really likes the new barn. Certainly he enjoys exploring in a way that he didn't in his old home. Of course often when he comes out of the pasture, he wants to spend time eating the grass-that's-greener, but he always wants to have a tour of inspection too. And if it looks like I'm going to make him stop eating and go back to the pasture, he'll say, "No no! It's time to go out on Patrol!" And off he'll march, with me huffing and puffing to keep up.

There's a field of mares - very interesting - but he doesn't want to get too close.

We pass the gelding pasture. They must be shown that George is way more studly and important than they are. He snorts and struts and paws the ground. From a safe distance.

Sometimes he has to check out something unusual in the distance. The other day it was a big white crane.

I need to get my new helmet and figure out which saddle works for both me and George so that we can go out riding. He likes to walk considerably faster than me, and I hope he'll enjoy the opportunity to go out exploring at his own pace instead of my poky one.

Bridget Refuses to be Bored

Bridget and I had an interesting excursion today, which reminded me again of the many dilemmas and questions in life, such as when - or whether - to compromise, when - and whether - to stick to an agenda, and of the perennial necessity to stay in the moment and just hope you don't mess things up too bad.

I've been finding the Bored Game to be very helpful in trimming. Just the other day, I was trying to trim a TB gelding, who was restless on account of I had interrupted his Very First Day Out On Grass this spring. A minute or two of the Bored Game was all it took to bring him mentally present and allow us to finish his feet. Most horses get the picture really quickly.

Bridget is another story. While Bridget and I were out for a walk today, I lead her off the road onto the verge to allow a car to pass. She has no fear of traffic, but as the car went by, she was very distracted and not paying attention to me, which made the situation feel unpleasantly unstable. If I'm going to start riding Bridget this year, we need to have an understanding that we must both be present in the same mental space. So I decided then and there to play a spot of the Bored Game. Over half an hour later, we were still at it.

Bridget is what, if she had been a little girl back in the days of my childhood, would have been termed "a proper little madam." Nowadays I would say she possessed a flair for the dramatic and displayed excellent leadership potential. Be that as it may, thirty minutes and counting of the Bored Game and we weren't getting anywhere.

She looked into the distance, pawed the ground, plunged, walked into me, stared at phantoms, tried to sneak past me, nudged me, bounced, and altogether refused to accept the fate of boredom. The good thing about this game is that it is non-confrontational, which means that the horse might be getting mighty ticked off, but the human can remain serene. However, when she started barging into me, I thought this might be a bridge too far and decided to whomp her on the chest with the end of the leadrope, which is sort of against my principles, but, hey, no one likes an ideologue, right? Then - which is where I took it too far, I think - I whomped her again when she tried to run around me. I think whomping is ok to stop her running into me but not to stop her running around me. I guess. Whatever. Anyway, I got my head back into the right place, but Bridget was still refusing to be bored, finding ever-cleverer ways to circumvent my plans. And I admit it might not have been the best idea to play this game half a mile from home.

Then, in moments when she was momentarily [note correct use of "momentarily"] still, I started feeling on the leadrope to ask her to relax her neck and back a little. And as soon as she did, she would go into this paroxysm of opening and closing her mouth and twisting her body and contorting her neck, and lifting her foreleg up underneath her - as if letting go of the tension in her neck and back was just too, too weird-feeling. At first she resumed her head-up tension almost immediately, but each time I asked for the release she maintained the paroxysmic (is this a word?) behavior for longer and longer, until she dropped her head completely and began rubbing her nose on the ground like a bloodhound.

None of this bore any resemblance to boredom, but I could sense Bridget coming in closer - that the focus of her attention was now on this weird experience she was having rather than on outwitting me. I asked her to walk forward while her nose was on the ground, and she did so. When her head crept up, I stopped, re-asked for release, whereupon she immediately dropped her nose all the way back to the ground, and we started walking again. She could even trot with her nose on the ground. After a few stops, she would automatically drop her nose without being asked and start walking again. And in this manner we walked all the way home.

When we were almost back, a neighbor stopped to talk to me, and Bridget immediately reverted to her toddler-in-the-supermarket-fed-up-because-mom-is-having-boring-conversation-with-boring-grownup-and-toddler-wants-to-go-home-already behavior.

Bridget's willfulness was in clear view today - it's a quality I like in her, but I think we'll have to continue this conversation. I really do want her to understand that if I say "Be bored," then that's the way it has to be. I don't think she even really knows yet what I'm asking for. She and I had a similar loooong conversation a few months ago about backing up, and as I re-read that blog entry, I recall that I used the clicker to help me clarify to her what I meant. She was calmer then because we were at home - but it still took about half an hour.

Later today, I was out in the pasture, grooming the horses and hanging out. I managed to teach Bridget (by dint of bribing with scratches) to turn 180 degrees away from me, and then I started teaching her to keep going and turn the rest of the 360. She stuck around for ages, letting me teach her silly stuff. She's a good kid.

Oh Me of Little Faith

I came home this afternoon with good intentions. There was just enough time to fetch the lawn mower from the barn and accomplish half an hour's mowing before going out again.

However .... I looked out of the bathroom window and saw Bridget knocking on the gate. This morning she'd done the same thing - had separated herself from the herd to present herself ready for some action. I'd only had time to run out and give her an apple and a hug (plus a quick spot of backing-up practice), and now here she was again with the same request: "Take me out!" Yard work could not be as important.

Yesterday, Bridget and the others were out on lawn-mowing patrol, and I thought she wanted out so that she could continue this important and nutritious work. However, once she was through the gate, she decided to set off for a bit of a walk.

Our very short "training" interaction yesterday - which I thought she'd found slightly irritating - may have in fact rekindled her desire for human/horse activities.

We had a nice, short, convivial walk, stopping for snacks and snooping. A couple of times we enjoyed a run together, with Bridget moderating her pace to stay not too far ahead of pokey old me. When we run, I hold the very end of the leadrope in order to give her plenty of space.

When I returned her to the pasture, Bridget immediately cantered off, whinnying, to rejoin her buddies, but for a little while she'd cast her lot in with me, asserting her independence from the herd and exploring the world on her own terms. I hope that one day - soon? - we can explore further afield with Bridget carrying me on her back. Wow! Could such a thing happen?

Wind in machine make scary sound

Yum

Running with Bridget

And the Next Time ...

Yesterday, Bridget and I had another try at backing up. This time, things went a lot quicker, and she backed up almost immediately when I asked her, even when I repeated the request a second and third time.

After that, it was time to go for a walk. It was a beautiful day, my daughter accompanied us, and we set off along the road, turning up the lane toward the alpacas at Bridget's request. (I think she chose that route because it lead away from the sheep.)

A caravan of three scary farm vehicles - the kind which suck up corn and spew it out over their shoulders into giant wagon trailers - went by, and Bridget looked hard but didn't become anxious.

We stopped to chat with some neighbors on the way. Bridget always gets impatient when the grownups waste time talking. After a couple of minutes of perfunctory politeness to the new humans, she nudged me forward.

Bridget set a personal best in her distance-from-home-without-wanting-to-turn-around. We were a mile or more from home, approaching the alpaca farm, when Bridget decided it was time to turn around. Don't know what made her choose that spot, but she may have gotten wind of strange new creatures ahead. Maybe next time we can venture close enough for her to inspect them.

Here's Bridget indicating that it's time to turn around.

On the way out, she wasn't interested in eating, but on the return journey she wanted to graze. I just kept walking, and clever Bridget figured out that if she ran ahead of me, that would give her a moment or two of eating before I caught up.

Here she is ahead of me, catching a couple of bites before I come alongside.

Today, around eight o'clock in the evening, Bridget wanted to come out for some grazing. There was still enough light, so I gave in and brought her out. Before letting her eat, I asked her to back up, and she responded with speed and lightness.

On another note, here is George spotting his reflection in a window --

Rose on a Mission

Rose was conscripted to give pony rides to a couple of my daughter's friends the other day. I say conscripted, but she didn't have to be asked twice and exited the field eagerly, walking past George as if to say, "Ahem, you are staying here; I am the privileged one at this moment."

One girl "knows how to ride," so I gave her a leg up bareback, attached ropes for reins, and set off down the drive beside Rose, keeping a cautious hand near the halter.

Rose strode forward, almost in a rush. The horses (apart from Chloe) often seem so keen to set off for an excursion that I wonder if the rest of time they get bored, just longing to go out, and wondering what lies over the horizon. I think of what Imke Spilker says about horses being creatures of wide open spaces who are condemned by the modern world to live lives which are confined both physically and mentally; she says it's up to humans to return self-determination, or inner freedom, to horses in exchange for the physical spaces they have lost.

I let Rose pick our turnaround spot. As we approached home, the other horses came galloping over, and the noise of their thundering hoofs made Rose quite agitated. At the foot of the drive, however, she chose not to go home but to continue our walk in the opposite direction. I soon brought our expedition to an end, however, as the dogs had accompanied us, and I was worried about cars.

After Girl No.1 dismounted, I asked her to hold Rose while I ran and did something. Rose was grazing, and the girl seemed confident, so I thought everything would be fine. Wrong assumption. All of a sudden, there's a little commotion behind me - I turn around, and the girl is holding an empty halter, while Rose is cantering down the drive toward me .... past me .... out onto the road. Yikes.

Apparently Rose had stepped on the leadrope while grazing, lifted her head up suddenly, and broken the strap of the halter. I was very concerned, as the last time Rose got loose (admittedly a long time ago), she totally lost her ability to think rationally, and this time I had visions of her tearing down the road in a panic.

However, after turning onto the road and proceeding a few yards, Rose stopped. She turned to face home, peered over the fence, and stood looking at me. "Rose!" I called. She trotted back up the drive and stopped next to me. Phew. A potentially dangerous turn of events, but almost worth it to see the difference in Rose's reaction since the last time this happened.

The second girl has no experience with horses, so I said she could just sit up on Rose while she grazed. However, once the girl was on board, Rose had other ideas and set off on a tour of the yard. For Rose, there seems to be something liberating about having a person on her back. In the pasture, if she wants to go somewhere, she'll drive Chloe (the only one she's able to drive) ahead of her, so that she doesn't have to go alone. I guess the built-in buddy-on-board is another version of that.

After the pony rides, Rose was thanked with a carrot and returned to the pasture.

In a Mood

Today I took Bridget for a saddled walk. Before the walk started, things went rather well, I thought. First of all, she was on the lawn and saw me coming across the field carrying the saddle from the barn. I disappeared around the corner of the house to put the tack on a gate, and then came back around to find my husband in a state of some consternation as Bridget was hitting the house with her feet. I, in my naive optimism, think maybe she wondered where I'd gotten to and was trying to attract attention.

I've shelved the clicker for her and worked on standing still without the clicker, but still offering a treat reward. For example, every time I tried to move down her side to fiddle with the girth, she moved to keep me by her head. It took very little time and effort to show her that I was asking for her to stand still while I moved away from her head and back again, a little longer each time, giving her a treat when I returned to her head. I really don't think the clicker would have added anything.

We started out on our walk fine. But Bridget is in heat right now, and her behavior got more and more pixellated as we proceeded. First, she was all bent out of shape about a fly. I was sure it had to be a jumbo-jet horsefly, but it proved to be a couple of very regular-sized ordinary flies. Then when the cows came into view in the distance, Bridget became more and more agitated, to the point where she was plunging a little and contemplating a small rear.

And then there was the fact that I'd spaced out and put the wrong saddle on her, and it kept slipping out of position, and it was probably quite annoying for her.

When we turned for home, she would not walk beside me and wasn't interested in anything I had to say about it. We stopped about 1,000 times to re-arrange ourselves. Then I remembered that on our very first walk at Raintree in Mississippi, I'd had the notion that I should insist that she walk politely beside me, a notion which I quickly abandoned without regret. It's just that lately she has been quite happy to walk nicely, and I was getting frustrated at her refusal to cooperate.

Then we reached the pasture fence, and I let her go up and greet George and Rose, which involved a great deal of squealing.

And then we went home and I let her go.

As I walked back to the barn with the tack, Bridget followed me and kept nosing the saddle. Which I guess meant she hadn't had a totally horrible time. But I was feeling a little downcast. When I emerged from the house a little later, however, Bridget marched over and gave me a Bridget-hug. This involves her extending the Foreleg of Greeting, which you grab, and then she puts her head over your shoulder and then you squeeze her round the neck as hard as you can and rub her neck with your head while she rubs her head on you. The human can initiate this interaction by squeezing her neck, but this afternoon it was Bridget who started it. Which definitely made me feel better.

A Verray Parfit Gentil Knight

George has a new name, although he's still called George.

After we returned from vacation yesterday, Bridget was standing hanging her head over the fence, plainly wishing for some diversion.

So I went in to the pasture, put on her halter and leadrope, and approached the gate. George, of course, approached the gate too. Over a week has gone by, after all, since he last came out of the field. However, it's high time I started taking Bridget out for regular solo expeditions, and I was determined. I promised George that Bridget was only going out for exercise and training purposes, and that there would be No Grazing Allowed.

George still stood there. As I stood beside him, pulling his ears, and prattling on about how I really wished he would move out of my way, visions of Carolyn Resnick and Hempfling brandishing long sticks came into view - long sticks with which they would skillfully express their point of view as to the desired location of the likes of George. My eyes cast about in a desultory fashion, looking at various objects on the ground, as I wondered whether I could use said objects to similar effect.

But I just stood there, prattling and waiting, Bridget hiding behind me.

Then George took himself out of the way so perfectly and beautifully that Bridget and I were able to exit without the least rush, and he stayed in position long enough for me to take this photo.

You can see the edge of the still-open gate at the bottom left.

I was speechless with admiration. Well, actually I wasn't speechless, and as I rushed about pulling up handfuls of grass to hand over the fence to him, I continued prattling, telling him how absolutely fantastic he is.

And I told him that no matter what kind of a George he had been up until this moment, he was hereinafter to be known as the namesake of St. George, he of damsel-rescuing, dragon-slaying fame.

Bridget and I had a very nice walk - and although of course she snatched the odd mouthful, there was no actual grazing, in faithfulness to my promise to George. When we returned, George let us back in.

I am grateful that although I am pretty clueless when it comes to demanding what I want, my kind friend is nevertheless generous enough to offer what I ask as a gift freely given.