Well, I’ve been holding back the news about my part in helping an author in the UK—who I believe will hugely benefit horses and their humans around the world—get his book and message out. We’re still working on his new web site, but I can’t wait any longer to tell people. The book is discounted until everything’s in place. It’s called Revealing Your Hidden Horse: A Revolutionary Approach to Understanding Your Horse. The author, Mark Hanson, grew up as the son of a veterinarian, exposed daily to countless examples of complex human-animal interactions. He noticed that the vast majority of our relationships with our animals are defined by—and strongly biased in favor of—the humans. This awareness started him on a journey that has culminated in defining a revolutionary new approach for training and keeping horses which promotes and maintains equal benefits for both horse and human. As soon as I came across his blog and then had the opportunity to read his manuscript, there was no doubt in my mind I had to help this man.
While reading the book my thoughts went from interesting… to really? to no-way! to ok, embarrassed to wow, I gotta do this! And now, looking back on how he flipped a really comfortable switch in my thinking, he did it by taking me step-by-step through a bit of history (a little goes a long way with me), a few stories, a lot of horse behavior, just enough biology, and a whole mess of common sense. Remember when “breaking horses” changed to “gentling horses”? Well, this book will evolve the “gentling horses” paradigm just as much. It’s got that much influence potential for the industry.
I can’t wait for the web site to be done, but meanwhile, get the “>book on sale if this has piqued your interest even a little bit!
I sure hope to keep in touch with Shannon and everyone I met during Dodger’s training in Cle Elum. All really great people. I love that he’s now familiar with so many different people, situations, obstacles, environments and skills, and have come to the realization that from this point on, I’m putting more emphasis on furthering our relationship than on drills in the arena. Before I resort to physical drills of any sort, I want to learn how to engage his heart and mind so he’s interested and willing to work with me.
I’ve learned a lot about Dodger’s horsenality (LBI in Parelli-speak) these last few months and it’s been incredibly fascinating and rewarding. I’m so grateful that Shannon succeeded in showing him that humans do not walk the earth for him to mess with and she introduced him to many physical skills he will need going forward. But much to my surprise (and chagrin) when he and I started working on the same exercises he’d learned in bootcamp, I could not continue down that path because for me, it felt like I had to turn into a drill sargeant to keep him moving the way I’d learned. And because I can’t stand exercise for the sake of exercise, I just couldn’t force my horse to do it when he didn’t seem to like it much either. I know that if I’m having fun, I’ll exercise all day and Dodger seems to be of a similar mind. So my new challenge is to figure out how to keep us both in shape without exercise drills and round penning as a daily occurrence.
I also wanted to try something that allowed more freedom and creativity in how we worked together so I’m using Carolyn Resnick’s Waterhole Rituals for building our relationship, allowing us both some freedom and some creativity for me.
My best success happens with Dodger when I’m NOT throwing big energy at him (depending on his mood and energy level, he will either ignore it or try to better it). He tries his hardest and does his best for me and stays most engaged when I ask things of him calmly and softly. If he has trouble with something, I move to something he can do well and reward him before going back to the new thing. I don’t force him through anything. When I stick to the list of things he’s willing to do, I can increase the number of things on the list, but if I push or force him, the list gets shorter; he’ll either disengage or get stressed and that’s no fun for either of us. I use “The Chew” as the sign that he’s understood something before I move on. “We take the time it takes.”
And we’re about good times, every day being a little different, increasing comfort zones, staying engaged, and me being the leader. It’s a fun, interesting challenge.
Dodger’s figured out what it takes to get a carrot around here, and some days he sees those jumps and runs right over to them and over them with very little suggestion from me. Others, well, he’s a little too hungry for that. He’s very clear on the difference between a half-hearted, walk-and-still-manage-to-trip-over-them attempt and a carrot-rewarding attempt (maintain speed over both or all 3 jumps). And it’s become pretty funny to watch his mind consider whether he’s really up to the extra effort or not. Well, today, he decided he wasn’t and just cruised directly over to the stash on the other side of the half wall. I mean really, why put out the extra effort when cheating is just so easy?
He didn’t learn that from me.
When I went to the barn today, I needed to take a photo for the class I’m in this month (every day a photo has to be submitted on a different topic related to horses) and I needed to make it happen before the sun sunk below the ridge, so I was in a hurried framed of mind…and doncha know Dodger just picked right up on that and wasn’t going to have anything to do with helping me hurry. Nosiree.
So today, unlike every other day, he decided he’s just not that interested in letting me halter him. Usually, he comes right over to me and sticks his dadblame head INto the halter! But not today, because I’M IN A HURRY!
So…I breathe. I chill. I say what the hell. Then I go get a couple of treats and put them in his bucket. He decides to make an exception in that case and saunters over to me. I get the halter on him and take him outside…just in time to notice the sun is now completely behind the ridge. Perfect. I put him in the outdoor arena to graze around the edges so I can go about my business of trying to get some passable shot of him for the class. He’s eating and moseying as I’m shooting his various body parts from outside the arena (thank goodness) against what light is left in the sky when all of a sudden, he snorts and stands way tall at attention with grass hanging out of his mouth, not chewing because he’s trying to listen, and he acts like he hears a tsunami warning and now everyone has to hurry and get to high ground or else we’ll all die! So he starts galloping around the arena, grass still hanging out of his mouth, and moving like I’ve never seen him move before. Up and back and around then over to where I’m standing for a snort, then a whirl around and back the other way, then over to me for another snort, then down the side and back around the arena full tilt boogie until he’s just a sweaty fuzz ball. By now, all the other horses have come out into their paddocks to watch, like he’s the Thursday afternoon show but not quite worth the price of admission, but I can see that Dodger’s not acting and I’m feeling bad that I have no idea what got him going.
Eventually, I get my shots, and take his worn out, sweaty self back inside. I let him cool off a little before going back into his stall to eat the food waiting for him on the floor. What he doesn’t know is that today his little hissy fit taught me that his gas pedal works just fine; he’s not suffering from some muscle-wasting disease; and he’s not exactly bombproof. All good information.
So that was my day. I had hoped to get my photo for the class and ride him, but it wasn’t to be. With a horse and a real life, there are just a lot of days that don’t turn out like you’d like.
Today started out like any day…with a roll to try to darken up all the prissy white parts.
After a slow-mo walk to the other end of the arena, Dodger noticed his shadow on the wall. Hmmm. What’s this on the wall and why is it moving? Oh bother. I’m leaving.
Whoa! Who’s that?
How exciting! More friends! Wait! What was that? Did you see that?
Who are you? sniff…
SNIFF! You’re not breathing! C’mon, breathe!
Whaaaaat? Can’t you see them?
Carrots have changed our life. So much so that we’re now able to play in the arena together with Dodger completely at liberty. He understands that when I’ve set up a couple of jumps in the arena, he will get carrot pieces if he jumps them both, but he has to do it with some speed and energy. Of course, he’s tried walking over them; tripping over them; walking over one, jumping the other; and avoiding them altogether. But because he’s consistently rewarded if he trots or canters to them and leaps over both, he eventually always does it right.
Every once in a while, if I ask for more energy than he had in mind, he may give me one of his “I’ll give you some energy” spurts and do a deliberate end run around the jumps, but he also understands he gets bupkiss for that and I’ll keep him moving, so soon his desire for his reward gets the best of him and he does it right. He’s willing to have fun with me within certain parameters, but he always wants me to know he won’t be a robot.
That’s fine. I don’t do robot well myself.
It’s fall in North Bend. That means a lot of wind and rain. People place bets on whether the power will go off every Thanksgiving. You get used to it. Squalls come and they go, quickly.
So I’m standing alongside the ends of a dozen or so paddocks at the barn the other evening under dark clouds traveling at warp speed. I’m filling Dodger’s water tub at the end of his paddock. All the horses have just been fed, and all is right in their world. I’m gazing into space toward the barn when suddenly all the horses tear out of their stalls toward me, mouths mid-chew, at precisely the same time. Except Dodger. Two seconds later, the downpour that had scared them out with its drumbeat on the metal roof, reached me. The horses continued to stand in the rain while I thought, “Where’s Dodger?”
Slowly he ambled over to his doorway to peer out at 11 spooked horses–hay falling out of both sides of his very full mouth, ears drooping contentedly. If it hadn’t been raining so hard, I swear I would’ve heard his muffled, “Wha-aaaaaaat?”
The other day we were alone in the arena during a very noisy, rainy windstorm. The metal roof amplifies everything to the point where you can’t hold a conversation often times, and Dodger kept glancing over at me from the center of the arena where he had just gotten up from rolling, as if to see if we should start getting scared yet. I wasn’t bothered by it, but then something in the far corner of the arena fell hard onto the roof, and Dodger lost his nerve. He ran directly over to me with a look on his face that could only be interpreted as “Save me! Save me!”
I laughed and reassured him. After my heroic save (as I told him it was), he stuck by my side. I walked, he walked. I stopped, he stopped. I backed, he backed. We companion walked in circles both ways. He was my velcro, I was his hero. And it didn’t require carrots! A little fear goes a long way when you’re a hero.
Carrots, pal. I knew Dodger would be motivated by food, but I didn’t know how much his overall outlook and demeanor would change when he realized there was something in it for him when we were working in the arena. My plan was to try to keep him from becoming arena sour like he had become at Mt. Si, so I wanted to start with a variety of groundwork exercises using carrots as a reward. I put the bag of carrots on a mounting block just on the other side of the arena short wall so I could reach them, then I asked Dodger to do a few moves that required his full attention, some fancy footwork and more than a modicum of try. I started by rewarding small things, then slowly built up my requests. He quickly understood that right responses got carrots; wrong responses didn’t.
It wasn’t long before he started offering me other random good behaviors he’s learned but that I didn’t ask for. His favorite was to just start backing up since he’d become so good at it with just a verbal cue in his stall. But it was became much more difficult for him to back up to the end of a 14′ lead rope then stand still and not move while I walked over to the carrots. After about 10 times of my turning around when he stepped forward, and not making it to the carrots, he finally understood that his standing still was the only thing that was going to ever get him one of those carrots. It was back up back up back up, whoa on cue and hold it for what for him was an eternity. I want him to learn to lengthen his response time in many areas, and thought I’d start with a game he already knew. But ohhhhh, standing still was hard for him. But even he knew it should be easy so he didn’t get frustrated. His ears straight up and eyes glued onto me, his look of hopeful trust and intent desire as he stood there, was palpable. He was totally and unequivocally relying on me, and, may I just say, it felt great!!
In fact, our time together this month has been so rewarding with his perfect gentleman behavior and looking to me for direction, that although I don’t want to rush to any conclusions, I think he’s decided I’m his leader. Either that, or he’s finally falling in love with me!
I’ve started putting Dodger back in his stall with a little game that is teaching him to back on just a verbal cue. I close the door, stand outside his stall, say “Back,” and when he takes a step or two back, I toss a bit of carrot into his bucket. He quickly understood the game, and after each carrot treat, he’d chew, wait for me to say “Back,” then take a step back.
Then yesterday, I decided to hand out apple pieces instead of carrot. After giving my usual verbal cue, he backed up his usual one or two steps and I tossed the apple piece into the bucket. But that’s when the pattern changed. As soon as he realized it was apples rather than carrots he was backing for, he wasted no time and immediately took 5 energetic steps back til he hit the wall. I hadn’t asked for anything yet! I just laughed and was amazed he was willing to perform so well on just the anticipation of a reward.
There’s got to be something I can take from this to encourage that kind of response when we’re riding in the arena in the dead of winter.
It’s October 1, and Shannon brought the graduate home today to North Bend! Dan even took the day off to celebrate his homecoming. Dodger’s now only 4 miles away at Countdown Stables compared to the 54 miles that separated us for the last 6 months. A stall was cleaned, personalized and ready for him when we got there, so he walked right in, checked out the fancy paddock and neighbors, took a long swig of clean water, then started munching happily. We received a warm welcome so it’s easy to be really excited about being there. Old friends from Mt. Si Stables even came over to surprise us to see Dodger and chat him up a bit then the human contingent took off for some lunch.
It was a banner day. I’m looking forward to going back tomorrow to take Dodger on a walk and show him around the place.