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.

Battle of Wills

But it wasn't really a battle. More like a summit.

After George's little incident the other day, I decided we'd better do some more regular work with the horses. So I fetched George out of the pasture and decided to do six minutes of work. (Six, because it was like 12:34, and I planned to work until 12:40.) George did everything I asked politely and immediately, so I reduced the work time to four minutes and then let him graze on the lawn for a while.

Next up was Bridget. She walked forward and stopped and backed up once. After a minute, I asked her to back up again. The answer was a very definite no.

So, we stood.

For ten minutes, she nudged and nibbled at me. I kept pushing her head away, and if she came across as too aggressive, I bopped her (in a friendly way) on the nose with the end of the lead rope. After ten minutes, she stopped the nudging.

Just standing.

She became quite peaceful, and snuggled her nose up to my hand.

But every so often, she took a step forward with one foreleg. At which I turned her in a circle and resumed standing. The mood remained calm and cordial.

As the flies were bothersome, Bridget lifted a foreleg sometimes to swat at them. After 20 minutes of standing, she began replacing her foreleg into the same position, rather than taking a step forward. I clicked a "yes" every time she did this.

Up comes the leg.

Down goes the leg.
(Why is her chest so uneven - I hope it's just cos of the way she's holding her neck.)

Every few minutes, I repeated my request for her to step backwards, and every time I felt myself up against an immoveable object.

Finally, after half an hour of standing, Bridget began to place her foot just a teeny bit behind its original position whenever she picked it up. There were a two or three incidents of backsliding when she couldn't help herself and stretched one foreleg out and didn't replace it (at which I would lead her in a circle again). But there were also a couple of times when I said, "Ahem," and she put the foot back.

At last, she took a few steps backwards. So I gave her a treat and let her graze.

Bridget is, as my daughter would say, "Miss Sassitude." She is a dear, loving, warm-hearted, companionable creature. Also bold, brave, and strong-willed. Most of the time, she'll do what you ask without any fuss, but every so often, the bossy and dramatic side of her personality will emerge. In those moments, she is not always very ready to listen to my opinion or the opinion of any other human who happens to be around. So it was, I think, very helpful to have this difference of opinion, highlighting what great resources of stubbornness and determination Bridget has. It was good to be able to settle this disagreement without drama or rancor.

Most people, in my experience, resort to whacking the horse with the rope if it doesn't immediately step back when asked. This is pretty effective, and also takes much less time than 30 minutes. Also, it must be said that a dominant horse does not wait half an hour to exact compliance from a lower-ranking herdmate.

However, I feel it was a half hour very well spent. We explored the reality that I, in my humble, bipedal way, can be even more stubborn than Bridget. Plus we had a nice long stretch of just standing together serenely. And Bridget's acquiescence was not an outcome forced upon her, but a conclusion reached by her.

Finally.

Click

Inspired by Maire and Ben, I decided to have another go at some clicker "training." I put the word in quotes as it's a rather fancy-sounding word, implying all kinds of fancy results. In my case, it would be more accurate to describe it as clicker-messing-about.

Anyway, I loaded up with some chopped apple and headed out to find George. We've done a little of this in the past, but for one reason or another, I haven't pursued it. Today, I practiced having him be polite-while-knowing-I-have-treats - and then clicking and treating.

After a while, I started working with backing up. George will back up up when you lean forward, point at him, and whisper, "Back." So I just added the click-and-treat. But George doesn't like backing up very much, and after a treat or two, he'd get a bit sad and say, "Well, it's just not really worth it" and wander off.

This was ok, because 1) he learned that he could leave when he wanted, and 2) when George walked off, Bridget would present herself, saying, "I don't know what's the matter with him - I'll walk backwards all day for you if you keep the apple coming." But of course Bridget is a princess and can do silly things for the humans without losing self-esteem. Noblesse oblige.

Then I thought - why should we work on a behavior which goes against the grain? Why not work toward establishing an understanding of clickering by working on an enjoyable behavior?

So I worked on kissing to George and having him walk towards me. This went much better, as he didn't get sick of it. Sometimes he came over and parked me near his hip (presumably hoping for a scratch), but I wouldn't give him the treat until his head was somewhere near me. He stayed relaxed and engaged. 

I wouldn't normally want to keep asking him to do the same thing over and over just to practice. It's not so much that the treats function as bribery - more like they make it into a game, so that it's not boring or demeaning to keep on repeating the same exercise. And I think repetition could be helpful in order to establish a certain reliability of response to cues, rather than always relying on the moment-by-moment mutual responsiveness which we have at present. I am grateful for this - but it might be nice to be able to say "ho" and have the horse reliably stop.

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.

Operation Bridget

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We stopped for Bridget to eat some particularly yummy grass.

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

So, well, we're getting there.

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

George enjoying the fruits of his maneuvering.