Drama and Developments

So this happened: wild dogs killed a horse at our barn here (welcome to Texas). Not one of mine - a mare, one of a group of three horses retired to pasture. I found the horse because of the vultures already swarming, and discovered the wild dogs because one of the other horses told me when I went to check up on him. He gave a tiny gesture with his head - I looked in that direction and saw two of what I thought must be the biggest coyotes in the land. Further reflection caused me (and others when I described what I saw) to think they must be feral or stray dogs - their color was too monochrome and their size too large for coyotes. I saw one of them a week later also.

The barn owners are installing a game camera to see if these felons are still in the area, and we also moved the victim's pasture mates and my horses (who were in the field next door) to a location closer to the barn and house. If the dogs are still around, they'll try to shoot them - or (last resort) use humane traps. These are not ideal, as random innocent coyotes will be caught, which are hard to release without harming or killing them.

Because of the pasture re-shuffle (long story, not worth telling), George is now in with a group of geldings, and Bridget, Rose, and Chloe were moved in with the survivors of the dog attack - an old mare named Sasha and an older gelding called Jack. George is content to be one of the boys and established himself as No. 4 out of 5 without much fuss. The barn manager says he's much easier for her to handle - more laid back. No pesky females for him to keep in line. He and his mares (Rose and Bridget - Chloe doesn't give a damn) are still very bonded and congregate by the dividing fence in a spot where there are some large friendly trees for all to rest in the shade together. The other geldings join them sometimes.

So little Bridget is now Queen of the World. She's the youngest horse in the pasture and in the top spot. Heavy is the head, and all that. She's lording it over the others, but has become anxious about leaving them too. New responsibilities - moving on in life.

I went away on a hoof-trimming visit to Pennsylvania right after George moved ne and Bridget got her promotion. On my return three weeks later, I found things were not quite the same. Bridget was reluctant to leave the pasture and eager to get back - she who used to stand banging on the gate to be taken out and never really wanted to be put back again. She was still just as glad to see me, but not keen for me to put the halter on.

But here's what she did the first time we were together after my return. She saw me, walked over, stood in front of me, took a step backwards, and - I swear to God - bowed.

She knew I would have treats (which I always bring and offload in the first few minutes, and then we're done), and she knows to turn her nose away before being offered one, which she's always done in a rather peremptory fashion. But this was way, way more of a gesture than that.  I don't know where it came from. Another thing: she's always been slow to move for me - if I ask her to back up, the gears have to grind, and she has to unglue her front feet from the ground first. But since her promotion, it appears that she is quicker and more responsive - in backing and turning, her forehand is lighter. Clearly there is a sea change taking place in her psyche and body. We'll see where it all leads us!

 As for Chloe, for the first time since she's been with us, she has her very own best buddy. She and Jack have teamed up and become partners in crime, a term I use justly as they are allowed to roam the property at large and lately have been invading the workshop and barn and generally causing minor mayhem.

Jack and Chloe

Co-conspirators

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:

More Riding

I love going for a ride. I really do. Of course hanging out with the horses on the ground is fun and satisfying too. But I do love riding, and there it is.

I wasn't sure I'd be able to do much riding anymore. It's not always obvious whether the horse is 100% behind the project or if you're projecting your own wishes onto the situation. Several years ago I decided that if it's not what the horse would freely choose, then it wasn't worth insisting on. Because what's the point otherwise? I want a friend who enjoys our activities together and not a servant who conforms to my wishes.

So how do you KNOW whether the horse is really on board?

Well, how about if you put the horse into the round pen and he/she goes over to where the saddle is hanging on the rail and tries to pick it up?

Works for me.

Bridget has been doing very well on the trail, and I decided that the time had come to see if she and George would enjoy riding out together. So the plan was for Claire-the-barn-manager and I to give it a try. 

As often is the case, either the two of them had read my mind or they were the ones whose idea it was all along - because when Claire and I arrive at the pasture, George and Bridget come marching over side by side (they who never walk together), while Rose stays away. We lead them up to the barn and turn them loose together in the round pen. As they are often very rude to each other (and George can be extremely threatening to Bridget), my plan was, if necessary, to enforce good mutual manners in the round pen by means of the lunge whip. But they both seem to have decided that the usual laws of nature do not apply inside the round pen. They converse together amicably, and even stand close to each other without twitching, kicking, squealing, lunging, or otherwise tweaking out.  I've never seen them act like this before. Amazing. 

Then they both make beelines for their saddles.

Still at liberty, they're tacked up, each free to walk away as often as they like in the middle of the process. (Occupational hazard = occasionally saddle may fall on ground; but that doesn't happen today.) I've finally (FINALLY) gotten into my head that George does not wish to be "trained" nor is it necessary to train him. It's ok to ask, and it's ok to ask more than once, as long as each time you accept "No" for an answer. If he's free to leave in the middle of being saddled, he stays benign throughout - no ear pinning, no stink eye, no grinding of teeth. Just a happy George. Even fastening the second side of the girth elicits no negative reaction or emotion. 

Once the saddle's in place, I feel a surge of energy from him. Happy energy. So I ask if he'd like to go around the pen - yes, he would. I sense a canter coming on, so I ask if he'd like to run. He doesn't need to be asked twice, and off he goes, cantering and bucking around the circle. It's a joyful movement - playful and exuberant - and his face is soft. Claire saw him bucking in the field earlier today. I've never seen him buck in the round pen before, and it's very rare for him to buck in the pasture. I point this out to show the confluence of human decision and horse mood/response. You never know which causes which, or if it's one thing.

Clare mounts Bridget, and I climb up on George in the way which currently works for us, i.e. I place the mounting block beside him and step up, he walks off, I reposition the block and step up again, he walks off, etc. - maybe five or six times. No attempt to do anything different - just reposition, try again - no recriminations, no clever techniques, just keep asking politely. He remains sweet and calm, and then magically on the next attempt, he stays put, and up I get.

A happy trail ride ensues. What bliss. 

Second and Third Rides

Bridget has remained leery of the halter, and the other day I was feeling quite sad and that I had screwed everything up. However, the horses were so sweet and affectionate when I left the halter lying on the ground that I couldn't be too down. RIDING looms like a sort of huge obstacle for some reason. I can't even bother to find all the words to express how this comes to be - but I feel it's to do with a fear that being ridden is something the horse would not choose to do on his own. 

Here's a convoluted anecdote which sort of expresses how this loom-large aspect can distort one's view of reality:

Once upon a time, George used to be really aggressive, and he would bite people and threaten them. This was the Main Feature of George and one which had everyone jumpy. So he comes to live with us, and he gradually becomes less and less aggressive, but it's still there - out there in the universe, lurking. The other day, I read a sample report by Klaus Ferdinand Hempfling about a horse who is part King and part Child. It sounded a lot like George, even looked rather like him. The owner's trainer had warned her that this horse was liable to become aggressive. KFH said to put such thoughts far away, as you don't want to raise a specter which then cannot be put to rest. He also said that this is a horse who is unlikely to ever cause anyone any problems.

And I was like lightbulb moment. George never causes anyone any problems. He is unfailingly courteous, considerate, and affectionate - gallant even. Yeah, he still doesn't like his saddle put on. But he's never tried to dump a rider, or kick someone, or take off, or rear, or do any one of a number of things that a horse might do. And he hasn't offered to nip someone for a long time. It is time to put the specter of George's aggression to rest. It colored all my thoughts of him, and continued to make me fearful of some kind of bad reaction well beyond the time when he was likely to actually do anything. This is a horse who doesn't cause trouble.

Same thing with Bridget. She doesn't mind giving me piggybacks at all. She had an extremely adverse reaction to having her head messed with, and in my angst-y way, I immediately went to the default hand-wringing position of "Oh no, she doesn't want to be ridden, what shall I do, maybe it'll never happen." Which of course IS always a possibility. But apparently not in this case.

The saddle arrived. An 18" Wintec, from which I extracted the medium gullet and into which I put the extra-wide one. Cos that Bridget is, well, extra-wide. I sat it on the rail of the round pen, got Bridget (who was still not eager to be gotten) and then set her loose in the round pen. We were hanging out, doing a little of this and that, when the trainer joined us and asked if Bridget had shown any interest in the saddle. As if on cue, Bridget walked over to the saddle and nudged it with her nose. We saddled her up, leaving her free to come and go as she pleased. But she stayed put. I put some reins onto her halter - no more messing with stuff on her head. I got up. We walked around. All was serenity. And it really helps having a three-year old child in the ring - keeps the mood light. 

I go to the barn more than once a week, but we have one day scheduled to work with the trainer. Today was that day, and when I went to get Bridget, she was happy to see me, walked away when I tried to put the halter on, but accepted the second attempt. She's spooky walking along the wooded path away from the pasture - perhaps she has seen the cougar that I saw the other day. But the round pen has become a safe space for her, where she becomes relaxed and confident. After a few minutes, our trainer said she'd like to see Bridget walking around the rail quietly, so I invited Bridget to come do that with me, but instead she made a beeline for the saddle and nudged it. So we put it on, and I climbed aboard, and then we had a quiet time pottering about, Bridget following the trainer, or wandering off on her own, or stopping at the mounting block to allow the little boy to hug her face. She turned around to inspect my foot. She rested one hind leg and dozed for a minute.  We scratched her ears. Everything felt nice and safe and cozy and friendly for her.

I'm heading north on a 3-week hoof trimming trip, and I've asked the trainer to - not work with Bridget - but take her out and bring her up to the round pen and hang out and put the saddle on. I said I want Bridget to be able to say no and refuse, just as the human has the right to do the same. Also I want her to be able to make suggestions and have them accepted, even if they're not strictly with the program. 

The head thing started, I believe, on her trip down to Texas. She was never in the least head-shy, but when she arrived in Texas, she didn't like having her halter pulled over her ears. The lady who transported them is lovely and I'm sure would never be rough or impatient. But they spent two nights at horse motels en route, and it could be that someone there manhandled Bridget when putting her halter on. So I think persisting with trying to "desensitize" her to the bridle was not a good idea. Today, after I snapped her reins onto her halter, she balked a little at first when I went to put them over her head, fearing that there was going to be some interference. She still loves to have her ears rubbed and scratched vigorously though. She's no fool - she knows the difference.

I think the trainer enjoyed our no-stress, non-training hour. She had a good idea - let's put random stuff into the ring for Miss Curious to inspect. Here's hoping the two of them will have fun together while I'm away. 

She loves the boy.

George in the Rain

Although our cold snap has been replaced by more usual Texan temperatures, George knows that winter is coming. The food supply is undiminished, but he is anxious about food again. From the minute I arrive, he stands with his head over the gate, waiting to be taken out to the greener grass. After his grazing excursion is over, he returns to his gate vigil, staring after me, even as I drive away.

Today it was raining quite heavily when I took him out. We were accompanied by the barn manager's little boy, and we wandered about, looking at machinery and eating clover. Then the little boy found a lovely big puddle in the round pen to splash in, and George surprisingly left off eating and expressed an interest in entering the pen too. We did, and I turned him loose.

The boy and I pretended to be horses running around in circles and sploshed around in the puddle in our wellies. George came over to see what all the fun was about.

He dipped his nose in the water a couple of times and then wandered off to potter about the pen - peering over the fence, nibbling strands of grass, and finally settling with his back to the wind, patiently enduring the rain. He was kind and patient with the little boy.

When he finally walked to the round pen gate and stuck his head over, it was time to let him out again to resume his grazing. For a little while, he had chosen to leave his food and spend time with the humans and their enigmatic activities.

Time and Trust

The much-anticipated workshop of November 15 has taken place! At Harmony Ranch in Van Vleck, Texas, I joined Christin Staszesky Harper, her five horses, and seven other students for a day of the Yoga of Equine Wisdom.

There's a lot to unpack from this workshop, and a lot to say, but I won't try to do it all at once. One thing - "Yoga" in this case has the meaning "Union," not a bunch of asanas.

Among the themes which emerged during the course of the day, trust and taking time were two which stood out. The issue of trust was introduced initially in human-to-human exercises, such leading each other and falling (not very far) backwards into a partner's waiting hands. Then as an exploration of horse/human trust, we took turns picking up a horse's foot. Most of the people at the workshop were not experienced with horses, and so this was something which might induce a degree of trepidation or uncertainty, perhaps on both sides. The human had to trust that it was safe to pick up the foot of the horse, and the horse had to feel confidence in the human in order to allow its foot to be picked up.

One horse had already picked up his forefeet a couple of times, and when the next human approached and asked for his foot, he refused. Very calmly and politely, but a refusal nonetheless. Then again, refusal is probably the wrong word. In humanspeak, we think of a refusal as a loud, or least emphatic,  "No!" The horse's No was more like the No of a rock that is just too heavy to lift. Our coach did not try to coach the human in a better or more explicit way to induce the horse to pick up his foot. And the student did not get flustered. The coach eventually questioned the student as to whether she perhaps could find some inner resistance on her part. No, she really couldn't. Then finally, our coach said, "You see - being with horses takes time!" And no sooner were the words out of her mouth than up came the foot.

Coincidence? Hmm.

Thinking back, there were many examples during the day of trust and taking time. And when I went to the barn today, I pondered the many examples I encountered there.

I bring some treats with me to the pasture. George, Rose and Bridget all come up and stand in a semi-circle around me, each waiting politely for their turn to receive a treat. Each one trusts that they will get their share and trusts that the other horses will not steal from them or bite them or drive them away. I trust them not to hurt me. It has taken a long time to reach this point - four years. Chloe still doesn't trust the others and stands in the background. But she trusts that I will throw her a treat and waits expectantly.

George is fearful of the cold; he doesn't trust the future food supply and feels he may starve. When I arrive he stands by the gate, trusting that I will take him out and let him graze. I take the time to stand beside him for an hour while he tries to satisfy his craving for calories.

Clover has carbs!

When it's Bridget's turn to come out of the pasture, I hold her leadrope and stand with her by the gate. George stands there too. It's hard for him to let her leave. At times, George comes between Bridget and me, his chest pressing against the rope. In the past this would have been a dangerous situation which I would have avoided at all costs, otherwise he would end up biting her and driving her away, possibly causing her to run me over in the process. Today, however, Bridget trusts George to control himself. She stands alert, but calm and patient, on the other end of the rope, giving George the time he needs to relinquish the gate. Which eventually he does - he ups and walks definitively away, allowing me plenty of time to open the gate, extract Bridget, and close the gate again.

Bridget, having been well-fed since birth does trust the food supply. While she is very happy to have snack breaks, she's more interested in exploring. Sometimes we run together.

Chloe has been giving me the Look since I arrived. She stands in the background, fixing me pointedly with her eyes and intention. The Look generally means, "Take (or let) me out." When I return Bridget to the field, George decides to stay near the gate, Bridget goes for a drink, and Rose tries to do what she always does when she wants to be in charge of where to go - she tries to gather Chloe up and shoo her ahead. I defend Chloe, who stands close by me, trusting that I will keep Rose away. Finally Rose, slightly huffy, walks off, and Chloe and I walk together to the far gate. Bridget follows us, but I convince her to keep her distance. Still Chloe trusts that I will keep her safe. When we reach the gate, I open it and invite Chloe to exit. She watches and waits for the right moment, then out she goes. When I first began allowing Chloe to say No, it took time - six months - before she trusted me enough to leave the pasture with me. And I trust Chloe to behave appropriately outside the confines of the fence, wearing no tack.

Chloe and I have a little walk, Chloe grazes, I sit down, and Chloe remembers her foot trick. She puts her foot on top of my bended knee and then looks for a treat, but I'm all out. She doesn't mind.

When it's time for me to leave, I realize that I have actually no way of getting Chloe back into the field. She doesn't buy me leading from behind - she knows I don't really mean it. I try taking off my belt and using it as a collar but that's about as much use as trying to move her by blowing at her. In the end, I run back and fetch a halter and leadrope (and apple). As soon as halter and rope are on, Chloe moves off readily, and we run together back to the gate. Rose is waiting, and the two of them stand trustingly side by side while I hand them bites of apple. Bridget comes up in time for the last morsel.

Sometimes Chloe lets me climb on her back. She trusts that I will not insist and will only go ahead with her permission. Today was not one of those days, but last week she allowed me the privilege. For me, that is the biggest leap (scramble!) of trust of all. Usually, I try to get up quickly, uneasy that she might take off or move. Then I realized that on those occasions when she decides it's ok, it really is ok. Last week, when Chloe stood still to let me clamber aboard, I think I managed to let go of my uncertainty and allow myself to take all the time I needed to climb up, allowing myself to feel her trustworthiness.

After Saturday's workshop, I feel I have a clearer mandate to continue waiting and trusting. Trusting not just the horses as individuals, but the whole process of unfolding. As Chloe and I were walking to the gate today, I felt a moment of anxiety - Will she come out? Will I fail? And then I realized that it didn't matter - that if I was serious about trusting the horses and trusting the future, I would accept with equanimity either outcome. There is so much to be grateful for; and so much in my life for which I am grateful was unplanned and unforeseen. Unexpected gifts can be better than the ones we hope for.

George's Entourage

George and Rose's friendship took six months from first meeting to the point where they could be together in the same space without Rose feeling fearful or George feeling the need to bite her. Then they went through a short phase when George broke the ice by acting all studdish and mounting her. And gradually from there they developed the beautiful relationship they have now, where George has nominated Rose as his mom, but he's still in charge. Rose's sweetness has been a balm to him, I think, and her presence has given him a safe place to relax and unwind. He has grown generous toward her and will stand by while she takes treats.

Rose is a nice napping partner.

George and Bridget's relationship, on the other hand, remained stormy and tense for much longer. For four years they couldn't occupy the same space. There was a certain curiosity between them, however, which they would sometimes try to satisfy by talking to each other over a fence, or even over a person. At home in PA, there are two adjoining fields with an open gate between, and I've observed them use that set-up to go one on each side of a fence in order to squeal at each other. 

Finally, this year there has been a rapprochement. They can stand fairly close together, and occasionally they'll touch noses or one will nose the other's flank without ensuing drama. I feel that their long journey to Texas together has helped their relationship.

As for Chloe - she has absolutely avoided George; no way was she ever going to allow herself to get anywhere near that dreadful ogre. And his behavior pretty much justified her fears, as if Chloe got in his vicinity, he'd usually offer to bite her. Even with a barrier between, the George-bites/Chloe-flees scenario remained.

Until.

Yesterday, I prevailed on Chloe to exit the field with me. She was very engaged in the process of getting through the gate and did not change her mind or want to quit when we had to run the George gauntlet. My strategy was basically to keep nicely reminding George that he was supposed to let us get out and to keep plying him with treats (not as rewards, but as morale boosters). He was in a high state of tension and clearly fighting with himself, but Chloe (a more acute George observer than I) did not falter. We dodged and sidestepped, and I kept swiveling to keep George in my sights, and we made it through the gate with no bites and no unauthorized escapees. 

Chloe then spent some time grazing, and (on account of she's a little angel) she let me clamber onto her back and sit there. When it was time to take her back, George stuck his head over the gate to greet us, and - lo and behold - he and Chloe touched noses FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME. Only for a micro-second to be sure, but they did it again, just to be sure I didn't think I'd imagined it. And then George nicely let us back into the field.

This photo makes it look like Chloe is huge and I am tiny,
whereas in fact, as everyone knows, the opposite is true.

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.

George's Practice

Our new barn in Texas boasts a 60' Round Pen.

Now, a round pen is a useful accessory, and I'm glad to have it, but not nearly as glad as I once would have been. On account of, thanks to Ms. Spilker, my horses no longer really have to do anything they don't want. So, pretty much, those round-and-round-we-go-this-way-then-that-at-this-speed-then-that-stop-only-when-I-tell-you days are over.

What we do we instead, you might ask?

Well, here's something George has been working on, and the round pen was part of his equipment.

Our formerly aggressive horse, George, hates for you to stand by his shoulder and ask him to move it away from you. At one time, such a heinous suggestion might have elicited the threat of a bite. At the very least eyes would narrow, ears would pin back, head would snake - drama drama drama.

I've backed off more and more to the point where I'd be standing about two or more feet away, gently just point a little finger at his shoulder, and whisper, "Georgie pie, would you like to move over maybe just maybe?" Even this would cause the smoke to start coming out of his ears.

He'll move over if you ask him other ways, but that shoulder spot is super sensitive, and it just irks him no end.

Well, the other day we were in the round pen. Sometimes when we go in there, George'll go, "Oh yeah, I know what we do - I'll trot round this way, and then I'll trot round the other way once or twice, and --- that's enough now! What else shall we do?" And of course I don't make him go around any more.

So we might do a little shifting his quarters over, and maybe backing up a bit (all at liberty). We might visit other ways to ask him to move his shoulder, or we might just stand still together. The nice thing about a round pen is that the horse and human are contained within a limited safe space, both free to come together or separate as each desires.

The other day, in the round pen, after a few preliminaries, George came up on my right side and stopped with me in the BAD SPOT next to his shoulder. (Normally he likes to put me by his waist.) Then he reached around away from me and bit himself. After a moment, one of us moved away. But immediately he returned to the same position and did the same thing - tensed up and reached round to bite himself.

This continued several more times. I really didn't say anything - I just stood there and let George use me to probe his fears. He kept returning to the dreaded spot, biting himself each time.

Finally, after several tries, when George came up beside me, he sighed, settled, and dropped his head. Here he is. All his own work.

Later that day we were all out in the field together. When I headed back to the gate, the horses all came with me, and George walked beside me, shoulder to shoulder. He's a fast walker, and after a while I couldn't keep up with him and fell behind. I thought he'd keep going, but he stopped and turned back to look at me. When I caught up, he nudged me with his head, and we set off again together.

George's work is a witness to how seriously a horse can approach his life, his relationships, his fears. George seems aware of the conflict that sometimes exists between his own inner demons and an ideal peaceful world. He faces that disconnect and seeks ways of reconciliation.

I've been enjoying the educational author Alfie Kohn, who has written many interesting books, including one called Punished by Rewards. I believe it's obvious that using negative reinforcement to "train" George to give up his hostile ways would pre-empt and stymie his own dedication to self-improvement. But observing George practicing in the round pen really brought home to me (again) that to offer positive reinforcement is not necessarily benign; it can trivialize and distract from a person's accomplishments and efforts. If I were practicing a difficult piano piece and finally mastered it, how inappropriate and beside-the-point it would be for my teacher to say, "Good job! Now you can have a cookie!" Punishments and rewards are for work that others are making you do.

When my friend who gave us George first encountered him, he was an angry young horse called Buddy. I feel that back in his early, early days, before whatever happened that turned him fearful and mad, there must have been something about him which made the person who named him think of him as a "buddy."  I changed his name, because I call every male animal and every little boy "buddy," but I hope he is re-discovering his original self, which does indeed seem to be a true friend.

George and his sweet friend Rose

My Other Job

For the past nine months I've been discovering what it means to respect the "No" of children. It's all Imke Spilker's fault.

An opportunity came up last summer to teach Latin two mornings a week at a tiny "Classical Education" school to kids ages 4 to 14. Thinking it would be fun to keep my Latin up, and not wanting to be a wimp, I rashly stepped forward. I am not a teacher. I home(un)schooled my children for most of their growing years, I've tutored a little, and I taught part-time for a few weeks at another little school before dwindling enrollment forced it to close. None of this remotely qualifies me as a teacher.

It probably seems like a really dumb idea for an advocate of unschooling to get involved in classical education. However, classical education has its merits, and I was quite impressed by some experienced CE teachers who came to our school before the year began to clue us in on how it all works. I won't go it into here, but somehow I developed a nice little fantasy of happy children chanting their chants and learning their lovely learning, eager to grasp whatever knowledge might be put in front of them.

So, here we are, nearing the end of the school year, and what am I doing? I'm unschooling these children. I tried. I had fun ideas, I wrote songs, I played the guitar, I made up chants, I developed hands-on materials. They liked some of this stuff, but as time went by, I realized: this is not what they want.

Just after the school year started, we had a faculty gathering where the principal asked each of us to say something about ourselves which would give an insight into who each person really is. It was a helpful and bonding exercise. Of course I said that the most important, recent thing about me was my discovery of the importance of respecting the horse's "No." Well, I fleshed it out a bit more than that, and I also added some details about a long saga which recently witnessed first-hand, involving some children I know being court-ordered into the custody of an abusive father against their wishes. So, yeah, my thing was... children and horses ought to be given a lot of say in what happens to them.

The school has been very tolerant of me and even asked me to stay on next year. This is likely because, despite my divergent ideas, I managed to get the 7th and 8th graders prepared for the National Latin Exam, and one of them was even awarded a merit certificate (with much less preparation time per week than most schools which take the exam). The other faculty are also just really nice people. However, I'm likely to be moving soon, so I'm opting out of next year. This is just as well, as where I'm headed is probably pretty much over the cliff as far as the school is concerned.

I should stress again that the other faculty are really good people. The kids are happy, and there's a positive atmosphere at the school.  The parents, the board, and the administration have the right to have the kind of school they want - it's not up to me to try to make the place over in my image. However, I can't be with the kids in any way other than that which seems right to me, and if I can't fit in, it's probably best that I leave. Also, given that the other classes are more conventional, this one class that they attend twice a week can't bear the weight of giving them everything they need in the way of self-determination while at the same time satisfying the school's desire to provide Latin instruction.

There are many twists and turns in the story of this past year. But one way into the heart of what has been going on involves the "problem" children. Now, this is a little school where all the children come from functional, devoted families; there are NO real problem children. There are, however, those who make it hard for one's nice little fantasy of education to play out. For example, an extremely bright, precocious boy, easily bored, can't sit still. Or a boy who struggles with reading, easily bored, tunes out what you say, thinks he's "stupid." Such kids can single-handedly undermine any plan you might have for the class. I don't know what the other teachers do with them - I guess they impose "consequences." Or maybe they just know what they're doing. I gave up using consequences and have zero classroom experience, so I'm powerless.

Or at least I was, until... until... I gave up. I'm not sure how it started. Possibly with allowing the 1st/2nd grade class to make paper airplanes. I realized that the old saw, "Give them an inch and they'll take a mile" was false. The truth is more like, "Give them a mile, and they'll only take a couple of yards." I realized that you can relinquish tight control without losing appropriate control. They all listened to me if I only asked reasonable things, e.g. time to tidy up, stop climbing on the furniture. Kind of like kids in real life, as opposed to in school, where normality does not apply.

Precocious Boy and Nonreader Boy are now cooperatively engaged in building a highly elaborate Clash of Clans village. We name items in Latin for the sake of appearances. They are focussed, calm, cheerful, and polite. But before this happened, and after I stopped trying to obtain compliance, we had to go through a period when Precocious Boy spent the class napping in the cupboard under the sink (he's very small) and when Nonreader Boy wandered aimlessly around the room, not quite sure what to do next. The Kindergartners are on a mission to be left alone to decide what they want to do. The preschoolers love anything you give them to make/do, as long as you let them do it their way. I do have some kids doing Latin projects - two girls translating Frozen into Latin (with a lot of help from Magistra), three boys making a board game with Latin prompts. A 7th Grader with an IEP who actually asks to translate Latin! (And does a good job.) For the rest, we throw in Latin wherever it'll fit. I teach the little ones to say, "Viridum cupio, amabo te" when they want the green marker.

The kids have settled into a routine whereby they come into my classroom, help themselves to what they want to work with (duct tape, cardboard, scissors, glue, computer, plastic lids, paper), and get busy. If they become noisy, I can make an appeal involving the plea that I find it personally disturbing, and they quiet down. It is not all sunshine and roses - sometimes they mix glue with sand in huge quantities. Had to put a stop to that. We often take votes on things: should we stop throwing paper planes as this is the second time one has hit someone in the head? (The answer was yes.)

I've discovered Alfie Kohn and his book Punished by Rewards, which details research showing that awards, grades, praise, gold stars, etc. all undermine students' commitment to and interest in the very behavior which the rewards seek to promote. Extrinsic motivation doesn't work. This is a well-researched concept which you can discuss with educators without sounding crazy and which ultimately may lead to serious education reform. Here's hoping. In the meantime, I told the kids that we were doing away with extrinsic motivation. They were confused for a minute until I compared it to your father giving your mother a token every time she gave you a hug. "Good job hugging your son! I like to see that! When you have enough tokens, I'll take you out to dinner!" They thought that would be really weird. And I said well that's how weird it is to bribe you to do Latin.

Several educators I admire have remarked on the same phenomenon which I observed - you can come up with the cutest, funnest, most innovative, creative, scintillating lesson plan in the word, but if the kids have no choice in whether or not to participate, ultimately it's just drudgery. At Summerhill, the lessons are informal, but pretty conventional. Because the kids are free to attend or not, the lessons do not have to be, in the words of the principal, "served up with jam." The kids who choose to attend are happy to become involved in the lesson which is offered.

I've discovered that there are a growing number of "democratic" or "free" schools around the world, many in the United States, modeled after A.S. Neill's above-mentioned Summerhill School in England, which was founded almost 90 years ago and is still going strong. I told one of my classes that it's fine for them to want to play paper airplane wars all day and that some schools would happily allow them to spend their days thus engaged. And that kids from those schools still end up becoming doctors and engineers and teachers and so on. They didn't believe me at first, but I assured them I Knew All About It. I wanted them to know that even if we sometimes ask them to follow our agenda rather than theirs, it's not because our agenda is the only one which leads to success in life.  I could probably find one of these democratic schools and teach there. But I'm not a teacher. I like these kids. If I wasn't moving, I'd want to stay with them.

Intrinsic motivation - how do you find it? I think the hard-to-swallow truth is that if you really commit to intrinsic motivation, you have to commit to a willingness to allow the child to refuse to participate. I think as teachers we can turn ourselves inside out, trying to develop wonderful lesson plans which will fit all sizes and lure each child into interest. Or else we blame the child, or the child's "problem," or ourselves, for their failure to get with the program. It says on the Summerhill website: "As a teacher you are there to do your best and create an attractive atmosphere but definitely not there to 'lure children' into your classroom." It all comes back to Imke Spilker, who says you go out to the pasture, you put a halter on your horse and invite him to come with you. If he doesn't want to, you take the halter off, give him a treat and go find something else to do, like play with your dog. Summerhill gives similar advice: "Since students do not have to attend lessons it follows that they sometimes won't. You should not take this personally....If you find yourself alone then do some creative work, some admin work, pursue a personal interest, or take a break and have a cup of tea or coffee!"

This has been a strange and challenging and humbling year for me. I don't know if teaching will cross my path again in the future, but I'm grateful for this year's experience.

For Teacher Appreciation Week, someone at school arranged for the kids to make bouquets of paper flowers, colored in crayon, and arranged in a paper vase for each teacher. On one of my tulips, one anonymous kid had written, "Thank you for the freedom." I hope Chloe would approve.


P.S. Here's a photo of George looking rather happy to have my daughter spend some time with him.

A Pleasant Jaunt

On Friday evening, my husband surprised me by saying, "Let's go riding this weekend." He never says that.  So, hooray!

On Saturday, we saddled up Rose and George and off we went, me on George, my husband on Rose, and our daughter tagging along on foot to make sure my husband was safe, him not being a confident or experienced rider and all.

George lead the way, very keen. Rose came along behind, a little anxious. It was a beautiful, sunny afternoon, warm - but fall definitely in the air. When we came to a crossroads, George picked the farm lane, and off we went towards the creek at the bottom of the hill. George startled when he saw the light reflecting off the creek. "What is that?!"

While George was pondering this strange sight, Rose seemed like she was getting a bit stressed out at being so far from home, so we decided to head back. I took my turn monitoring Rose on foot, and my daughter mounted up on George. I walked beside Rose on the homeward road, and she relaxed, lengthened, and strode out, taking over the lead from George.

When we reached the end of our drive, she did what she has done before - she declined to go home and instead wanted to continue on the ride. We happily agreed with her suggestion and continued on a  circuit of the fields. At one point, George looked like he might take the lead again, and Rose said, "Not likely!" and pushed ahead in front of him.  She does like to shake off that subservient position and be her own woman sometimes.

My husband proclaimed the Cashel Soft Saddle "hands down the most comfortable saddle" he has ever sat on. I wasn't sure that his stirrups were long enough (or even), but he was quite happy - so that's a success, as he is quite picky about how he feels up there, and who could blame him, as he's not used to it.

After the ride, I asked my husband to let Rose graze on the lawn with him for a while to Encourage Bonding, plus Rose really likes that.

Everyone had a nice time.

More Riding

Inspired by my ride the other day, and also by my Animal Communicator client's claim that horses are worried about hurting their humans' feelings, I resolved that we should do more riding around here.

Cos I reallyreally like riding, and maybe they wouldn't mind indulging me.

Plus I have a Cashel Soft Saddle on loan to try, and I needed to give it a whirl.

Here's the thing - there's this fear associated with mounting up. Fear and a feeling of seizing control from the horse - of creating a disconnect between human and horse.

So that's what I wanted to work on.

I got Rose out and put the Cashel saddle on her. It has a Western cinch, which I'm not used to, but I figured it out; plus the stirrup leathers are set on low, so the stirrups are long, even on the shortest hole. But I got it sort of sorted out, and when I brought out the bridle to put on, she turned her head all the way around towards me, because she knows it's the bitless now - back when she was expecting a bitted bridle, she used to turn away.

Next, we headed over to the kitchen steps for the purposes of mounting.

I just wanted everything to be calm, and relaxed, and unforced. So I lead Rose into position, gave her a treat, and when she broke position, I peacefully lead her around in a circle back to the same spot. Once she started holding that position, I stepped up onto the bottom step and gave her another treat. When she moved off, I just lead her around again and re-positioned, keeping the reins loose.

After a few times she stayed put, so I advanced to suggesting that I put my foot into the stirrup, again keeping the reins loose. When she moved away, we just quietly walked around and back into position.

After another couple of times, she stood still and let me mount. Of course the treeless saddle slipped, and I had to tighten the cinch. But on the next attempt, everything worked fine, and there I was sitting on top of Rose with no sense of having had to hold her still or take control.

Rose is a horse who likes to take her time and say no at first. Allowing her to do that gives her confidence. I liked the feeling of being able to mount because she agreed to let me - not because I trained her to let me, but because I asked and she said yes.

We pottered around the yard a bit, sometimes Rose choosing where to go, sometimes me. I think she'd've opted to go down towards the road, but the dogs were out, and I didn't want them to follow. Rose is a very listening horse. The bitless bridle we're working with is a bit of a blunt instrument, but nonetheless I think we made a little progress in the short time I was riding.

The soft saddle was ok - I need to try it with shorter stirrups. I think it'll be a good addition to Rose's saddle wardrobe, but I expect that it won't work for Bridget as I was hoping, as because she is so very cylindrical, it'll probably just slip at the slightest provocation.

Then it was George's turn. It seems that being tied to a fence and having a saddle put on and a person climb aboard is less of an imposition than being asked to walk backwards at liberty for no particular reason. He totally didn't make his mean face or get grumpy even when I tightened the girth. We approached mounting the same way as with Rose. He didn't need as many re-positionings and let me climb up pretty quickly.

As with Rose, we just had a short ride pottering about the yard. I think George will be a good riding teacher, because as soon as my hands start to interfere at all, he pulls the reins out of my grip. But if I'm very careful, he stays connected and listening.

I'm looking forward to my next ride!

Horse Party

Today the horses and I had a festive gathering.

First of all, I let them out into the yard and played some tricks and training with Bridget. Then I tried to mow the lawn. When the lawnmower broke down (yet again), I pondered for half a second whether or not to go inside and do inside chores, and ditched that idea in favor of staying outside and messing about with the horses.

The center of fun was the open back of the station wagon. Bridget pulled my trimming bucket out onto the ground, so I decided that if she was so all-fired interested in the trimming equipment, I may as well try and tidy up her toes. She let me, after a fashion. George came over to see what was up and amused himself by pulling everything else out of the back of the car and then licking the carpet to see if years of spills had left any tasty remnants.

Rose, uncharacteristically, came over and planted herself in front of me, so I did her toes too. I don't think she was saying, "I volunteer to stand quietly while you trim my feet" - it was more like "Hey, my feet are just as important as Bridget's, right?" George had a little manicure too.

So we did a spot of trimming, and threw objects around, and stuck our heads inside bags, and attempted to dismantle parts of the car, and just generally had a convivial time.

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.

More Fun and Games

Today, I went out to the pasture intending to work some more on George and Bridget's stand-stay. But it just wasn't working out quite as well as it did the last time. I eventually realized that the difference lay in the fact that the first time I introduced this, I was all motivated to instruct George and Bridget to behave in an appropriate way when I wanted to give out treats to all four horses; and standing and staying was part of that. Today, however, I went out with the intention of just "practicing" their stand-stay. To practice it mindlessly caused - not so much them as - me to lose focus and direction. If I had focused on making sure that everyone (i.e. George and Bridget) behaved nicely while I handed out treats to Rose and Chloe, I feel that things would have been clearer. By the time I realized this, I'd run out of treats, and so I put the issue aside for another time.

Instead, we just started goofing around. I played with George with the game of choosing between pinkie and thumb, each one standing for something. (You have to watch the video.) I have absolutely no idea if he had the slightest notion of what the heck we were doing, but he was pretty engaged. I also played drawing on the ground with a thick stick, which made George want to play at chewing the same stick. And we (that is me) put sticks in a bucket, and George took them out. And of course I had to spend time scratching him.

George has a new way of being with me, which is that he comes up head first and drops his head and stays in that position for a while. He still does his sliding alongside maneuver too. Another new thing is that he is more worried about the proximity of Bridget. When he was with me today, he kept giving her the evil eye, and a couple of times he left to run her off. Whereas in the past, he had supreme confidence that she wouldn't dare interfere. I notice lately that the two of them seem to be getting a little closer. One time I even caught them fraternizing over a fence without me standing in between them. I wonder if this rapprochement is making George more susceptible to Bridget or giving Bridget more confidence in her demeanor towards him.

George finally got tired of playing and picked up Rose and left. Which allowed Bridget to come over. She offered me her legs and was very interested in me talking about them, as in, "Yes! That's your right leg! And now, look! You're picking up your left leg!" We also discussed her ears and her nose and her mouth. The fact that she didn't turn her butt around to be scratched evinced her high level of engagement in this naming activity. I had the grooming box out with me, and of course Bridget had to empty it out and chew the contents and try to pick up the empty box.

I must try to think of some other interesting activities they might enjoy. I think they might get a kick out of a tarp.

Fun and Games

Today I thought it would be fun to get all the horses to be polite and stand still while I doled out treats. I pictured how calm and pleasant it would be if they would all hold a position and quietly wait for me to pass around goodies. I actually felt very enthusiastic about this project, and bounced out to the field with a pouch full of tasty morsels.

Naturally, George came over to claim first dibs. We worked on George standing still, resuming his position if he broke it, and then waiting in position while I walked away and returned. At first he got grouchy when I asked him to replace his foot back into position once it had moved forward. But I did the bridgey thing and kept the treats coming, and pretty soon he was rock solid.

So rock solid, in fact, that when I turned to work with Miss Bridget, George just stood in position looking cheerfully expectant, and every now and then I would send a congratulatory intermediate bridge word over to him or step over and give him a treat.

Bridget was less cranky (not at all cranky, in fact) about being asked to move back into position after stepping forward. But she was a deal more persistent about trying to move.

However, for a moment or two, I had George and Bridget secure enough that I could walk away and give a treat to Rose, without either of them breaking position.

It all turned out to be remarkably enjoyable and gratifying.

Next I started with George on the amazingly clever game in the video in the post before last. I do believe he started to figure it out.

As my kids used to say:  "Oh the fun-ness!!"

Gold Stars All Round

Yesterday, I girded up my loins and sallied forth into the pasture, armed with three new tubes of ivermectin, generic brand - purchased, to my surprise and delight, for like only four dollars each.

I felt there was some necessity for loin-girding in as much as my little darlings are all totally spoiled and accustomed to molly-coddling and to having their opinions taken into account at every turn. They are like the offspring of those earnest middle-aged parents whom you encounter in 57th Street Books kids' section, intent on having an intellectual discussion with their 5-year old on the merits of a Paul Klee art book. Which is the way I want it, mind you, but sometimes, well, sometimes you kind of have to summon up a bit of emotional slash mental energy to discuss Paul Klee with a five-year old.

Pah! Silly me! George was, like, a complete little angel. He opened his mouth and ate his medicine and then his carrot, and then stood aside and let me get to the mares. Bridget, too, was a perfect little paragon about the whole thing.

Rose, of course, did not want to have anything to do with the procedure at first. She did her cute, rather pathetic, Rose thing of turning her head away so that her nose is all the way over touching her shoulder. Or the not so cute thing of jerking her head up into the air. So I let her do all those things to her heart's content and persisted with naming and explaining, inspired by Kayce Cover and the rhinoceros. (Synalia  press site, scroll down a little.)

I thought perhaps we might actually be there all evening, but after not so very long she stopped turning away, stood quiet, and opened her mouth. She even let me back to squeeze a little more in after a dollop had dropped on the ground. Wow!

Chloe was let off the hook as the tube of wormer I had on the shelf turned out to be past its expiration date.

And on the topic of Kayce Cover, here is a really cool video, which inspires me to try out the awesome game they are playing therein. Whaddya think?