It’s been almost five years since Dodger and I started down the same trail in life. I’ve tried to document our ups, downs, and all arounds as they happened in this blog, and enjoy seeing how far we’ve come. Although I see him every day and either ride or play with him at liberty, I’m noticing there aren’t a lot of new things to talk about. This blog may have run its course or maybe I’ll continue to add to it and just miss a month now and then. Not sure which.
I’m so pleased with how comfortable we are around each other now and how, when he’s scared, he wants to be with me but doesn’t run me over. We’ve come so far over the last two years, especially.
A friend commented the other day as she watched Dodger “talk” to me. He was backing up in the cross ties with an expectant look on his face. To someone else, it looked a little odd, but I knew he was telling me he wanted to leave. Because he used to be very bargey out of the cross ties (and many other places), I got into the habit of asking him to back up before he got what he wanted most. For example, he used to barge past me when we entered the arena. Now he stands and waits for me to open the gate, enter and say, “OK,” before he walks, calmly, into the arena. When I feed him his “soup” (alfalfa pellets, carrots and warm water–yum!) each day, he backs up clear to the other side of the stall from where his feed bucket hangs. I say, “Ears?” and he consciously works at rearranging his ears (his left takes more effort than his right–so cute). When both ears are straight up I say, “Wait,” as I pour the soup into his bucket. I turn and check to see that his ears are still up then say, “OK,” and step back. If I want to add something to the bucket and step toward it again, he turns his head away for me to do what I want. He’s very respectful.
We’ve come a long way, and it feels so good to understand and be understood.
If we take on the notion (just for grins, in case you think it’s too weird to swallow) that our horses pick us in life to mirror us…what do I see in my mirror? [punch to solar plexus] Unh-can’t breathe—An easily distracted toe dragger. Seriously?
Yes, I will admit I have Shiny Object Syndrome which prevents me from walking a straight line through any store or accomplishing a single task when there are so many others that look more fun. Do I want to shut this down in myself? Not really—at least not yet. So perhaps allowing some distracted weaving across the arena from Dodger is fair to mix in with his training as its own reward. But the toe dragger part really bugs me. It’s way more embarrassing to admit. But, I will say that based on results, neither one of us has any problem doing the Arab floaty trot (rising to the occasion) when the reward is obvious to us, but if repeated high stepping is required without the rewards? Well, we’re lucky to get clearance over some ground level cavalettis [get to the To Do list].
[lightbulb flickers] Okay, so this might be why multiple musical instrument and gym teachers gave up on me. I’m incorrigibly independent, know what I’m good at, not likely to suffer in order to get good at something that doesn’t come naturally, and I’ll never make it past January 3 on a New Year’s Resolution to work out. I’ll sweat for short-term reasons and big rewards.
Now that I have a half-ton mirror to show me what that looks like, I can either fight it (why?) or make the best of it. We’ll mix it up while learning new stuff, do more of what we’re naturally good at and enjoy, and be clear on what we value as rewards.
Pat Parelli is quoted as saying, “Your horse can only be as brave as you are.” Lots of ramifications there for this trail rider. Plus it reminds me of Harry Whitney asking his student at the clinic I recently attended, “Are you standing there hopin’ your horse is going to do what you just asked or do you know he’ll do it?”
How many times have I asked Dodger to do something and then stood there wondering how long I’m supposed to wait to see if he’ll do it before I give up and try something else…Wondering? How long? IF? Give up? Embarrassing on so many levels…yes it’s all part of learning and gaining confidence, but what a Catch-22 horses are. The times you have the least amount of confidence are the times you need it most.
I’m brave, I’m sure. No, I’m sure I’m brave. No, I’m sure and I’m brave. Okay, I’m workin’ on it.
Does your horse know you’re sure? Brave?
I spent the last 4 days at a Harry Whitney clinic in Cashmere, WA, learning the importance and benefits of recognizing, tracking and knowing how to change a horse’s thoughts so he’ll be receptive and responsive to cues, replacing any worry with calm and any resigned obedience with willingness. Harry refers to his approach as “with-you-ness.” Watching Harry with many different types of horses presenting a variety of issues revealed what a master he is at reading a horse’s mind—able to reach through anything from dullness to explosions with a feel and timing that’s inspiring. He revealed many benefits to horse and human when the human prioritizes her horse’s thoughts above any agenda she might have. If my horse’s feet want to go wherever his thoughts are, it’s pretty clear it’s in my best interest to keep his thoughts with me.
Additional benefits that motivate me are that as I help Dodger spend more time in an attentive yet relaxed state of mind, it increases my leadership quotient in his eyes and builds his desire to keep me around as much as possible because it feels safe to him. I’m good with that!
I will admit, because I have trouble keeping on top of my own thoughts, this new approach feels like I’m going to have to become the new micro manager in town…both of my own thoughts and Dodger’s, but I’m going to give it my best shot. Although it was no surprise to me that Dodger’s thoughts tend to manifest in resistance and a general lack of forwardness, Harry handed me some keys to unlock both that worked so quickly and effortlessly I was stunned. Finding the “go” button on a horse nicknamed Stoner is pretty exciting, but to see Dodger enjoy himself—and even ask for more—was downright thrilling.
Once Dodger become more “forward,” it translated quickly into easy upward transitions, including the canter! It helped to have a huge arena to get in some long straight runs, so we cantered every which way and Dodger was loving it. Great fun! And of course, once we got into it, his old reliable whoa seemed to be gone with the wind, so Harry helped me get it back with well-timed one-rein stops and back ups. Then later, very specific exercises called out while riding with the group increased my awareness dramatically of what each foot was doing.
Bottom line: I learned how often I’ve been releasing on the wrong syl-LA-ble and my laid-back, loosey-goosey approach to riding brings consequences I didn’t realize I was unintentionally choosing. Ugh. Sometimes awareness sucks because it feels like it comes with more “have-tos,” but in this case there’s a lot of upside for paying much better attention. Ya gotta want it, and I do.
Every trail ride seems to come with a set of challenges. Last Saturday’s was no exception. My husband accompanied me on his bicycle to wait with me at the trail head until my friend (who lives near the trail) arrived on his horse. After I was finished tacking up, my friend called to say he was starting his 30 minute ride toward us. Dodger was eager to check out the surroundings, so I thought I’d wait to put on his bridle and let him munch grass on the way over to where the trail begins. But Dodger was, for the first time in his life, more curious than hungry. He quickly decided I was not walking fast enough for his desired rate of discovery; he began to trot off, immune to all pressure on the halter’s knots across his nose and suddenly deaf to my WHOAs. Picture it: Stupid human, trying not to run while hanging on to a trotting horse from behind because running would only increase the horse’s speed. I had a flash of “what if I have to let go?” go through my brain, but quickly changed that thought to “YOU WILL STOP NOW, Dodger.”
I looped the (14′ foot) lead around his butt and headed him off into some bushes. Curiosity temporarily abated, the grass now looked good to him. I used the opportunity to insert a bit, snug up the saddle and get on. Now I’ve got a brake, a gas pedal and the wheels turn both ways with soft cues. We’re good. Memo to self: Curiosity better tackled from saddle.
As my husband took the slow “lead horse” position on his bicycle (Dodger is fine with bicycles), we rode without other horses for the first time. In about 15 minutes my friend rode into view. Dodger was happy to see another horse, and we proceeded down the trail. My husband was originally going to turn around at this point and ride home, but he decided to stay with us.
Between us and our destination were about 4 bridges. One, I knew, was very long and about 150′ up, tree-top height. Don’t look down. My friend’s horse is an old pro at bridges and I was pretty sure Dodger would take his cue from him. We got to the first bridge over a very loud series of tumbling waterfalls. We stood at the beginning of the bridge and listened for a minute before starting over. Dodger checked out where the noise was coming from, but didn’t seem too worried. We crossed.
Although several bicyclists passed us at a leisurely pace and Dodger was fine, they were now coming fast and furiously from in front and behind. My friend and I tried to get them all to say something before they whoosh by, but they don’t know trail etiquette from shinola and probably can’t hear us for the air rushing past their ears and the gravel crunching under their tires. They often say nothing, even though we’re waving and saying hi….HI…HI THERE! If they even look at us, some of their faces say, “stupid horse people–do they really think we want to chat? We’re in training here!” The only bicycle that Dodger looked a little sideways at was one pulling a kid in a covered trailer behind it. But we kept moving.
The rest of the bridges were a non issue, as it turned out, even the one at tree-top level. The next challenge, however, wasn’t. A non-issue, that is. A section of the trail was being defended by some very stubborn, if not angry, bees. We’d done nothing, of course, but they were tired of having their territory invaded by all the trail users. One bee started buzzing around Dodger’s head; Dodger wasn’t happy. Another showed up. Then a third. Although I had been trying to lightly shoo them away, my efforts were ineffective. Finally Dodger had had enough and went into evacuation mode. I was fine with that, but my challenge was to keep it a controlled evac. Can’t say I was 100% successful, but we made it out fine. Memo to self: Learn to control canter.
The final challenge came in the form of Dodger’s hi-tech, ballistic plastic Renegade boots. This was the first time I’d tried boots on his hind feet and since all 4 of Dodger’s hooves are very different—his fronts are 2 different platter shapes and the backs are oval and different—it’s difficult to make the boots fit equally snugly. My biggest challenge had previously been his right front with its conformational and placement oddities, but my inserts seemed to be doing the job there. Now his left rear, with no inserts, was twisting around. I had to get off and fix that one a couple of times, and that made me rethink the Renegade solution. At the very end of the ride, Dodger got into some deep dirt. One quick rotation on his right front and the boot spun half way around. Not good. So much for saving money on shoes…
After this trail ride, I started wondering if obstacle courses in relatively controlled environments would be a better idea for us…next summer, new plan.
Today Dodger and I played with the big squishy green ball in the indoor arena while our summer-averse town at the base of the mountains figures out whether it’s going to dish up another rainy day or just begin fall and be done with it. While wind pelted the arena roof with so many fir needles it sounded like rain, our ball game began: Touch the ball, get a “Good Boy!” Kick the ball, get a “Good Boy!” and a carrot. Kick the ball while trotting, neck arched, nostrils flared, ears perked and fully, happily, energetically engaged, and I throw my arms up in a GOAL! sort of way, yell “Yay, Dodger! You’re the smartest!” and hand out carrots while rubbing his neck! No kidding, there’s something about playing with that ball that got Dodger so enthused and energetic–when normally he’s such a sauntering “if I have to” or “whaddo I get for it” slug–that I witnessed his gorgeous inner Andalusian. So beautiful. I knew he had it in him!
So he’s obviously a game boy. Makes me want to play a 2-rider/horse game getting the ball over a center line in the arena X number of times in X number of minutes! Who wants to play?
The last two weekends in a row were sunny. That never happens. Fortunately, though, Dodger and I were able to make hay while the sun shone, because our friend Chris invited us to join her on the Squawk Mountain trail that connects to her barn at Equinox Stable in Issaquah. The first ride was successful yet tense as I was way too preoccupied with anticipating all that could go wrong before it went wrong so it wouldn’t go wrong. The second time out, however, I knew it was possible for nothing to go wrong, so I anticipated nothing going wrong and it didn’t. I really like all such worrying to be behind me. Seemed to be one of those scaredy cat milestones I had to get past.
There was one dicey spot on the steep, muddy, narrow spur trail on the way to the main trail because it had a 12 inch rivulet crossing the mud that made noise, moved, appeared shiny and therefore looked just WrongWrongWrong to Dodger. Not going to cross it. Can’t make me. I’m turning around. No really, I am. You. Can’t. Make. Me. Cross. It.
So the first time, I believed him. I got off and bushwhacked along the uphill side of the trail as I led him across. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked. The second time, Chris and her sweet steed, Nikki, tried to pony him across. Good idea in theory, but when all forward motion stopped because Dodger again said NoWayNoHow and the lead came to its inevitable end, the mounting pressure on his poll from being connected to his halter caused him to take desperate measures and jump like it was 5 feet across. This only succeeded in burying his snout into poor Nikki’s posterior. And sweet, patient, understanding Nikki just stood there. Needless to say, discussion among the humans began immediately about what I might want to do differently next time.
Note to self: Absolutely no jumping allowed while ponying. Check.
But the good news was that Dodger had no problem walking over several narrow wooden bridges perched over noisy streams. And on the way back during the first ride, he even walked across one of the streams instead of taking the bridge. He had to be encouraged more than usual and I will say there was quite the hurried sense of urgency about his approach to crossing it, but he didn’t leap and he didn’t freak out. He just got it over with in a hurry. I can accept that.
Also, the first time out was way more ouchy for his bare feet than I’d hoped, so the second time I put his Renegade hoof boots on and he was a different, nimble horse. I can highly recommend them! He went from laggard to trying to pass the horse in front of him. That’s a first!
So all in all, it was a great pair of trail rides! I’m loving my new trailer, I’m loving the calm, curious horse that backs carefully and slowly out of it when we get to our destination, and I’m loving the horse I saddle up easily, hop on and move out with.
I do declare I have myself not just a trail horse, but a darn good trail horse. He seems to be a natural.
My aunt has 65 years into horses and just sent me this!
The Seven Stages of Aging on Horseback…….
Stage I: Fall off pony. Bounce. Laugh. Climb back on. Repeat.
Stage 2: Fall off horse. Run after horse, cussing. Climb back on by shimmying up horse’s neck. Ride until sundown.
Stage 3: Fall off horse. Use sleeve of shirt to stanch bleeding. Have friend help you get back on horse. Take two Advil and apply ice packs when you get home. Ride next day.
State 4: Fall off horse. Refuse advice to call ambulance; drive self to urgent care clinic. Entertain nursing staff with tales of previous
daredevil stunts on horseback. Back to riding before cast comes off.
Stage 5: Fall off horse. Temporarily forget name of horse and name of husband. Flirt shamelessly with paramedics when they arrive. Spend week in hospital while titanium pins are screwed in place. Start riding again before doctor gives official okay.
Stage 6: Fall off horse. Fail to see any humor when hunky paramedic says, “You again?” Gain firsthand knowledge of advances in medical technology thanks to stint in ICU. Convince self that permanent limp isn’t that noticeable. Promise husband you’ll give up riding. One week later purchase older, slower, shorter horse.
Stage 7: Slip off horse. Relieved when artificial joints and implanted medical devices seem unaffected. Tell husband that scrapes and bruises are due to gardening accident. Pretend you don’t see husband roll his eyes and mutter as he walks away. Give apple to horse.
Trust me. Despite a lack of bounce-ability, aging on horseback isn’t so bad, as long as you know what lies ahead. And as long as you keep your sense of humor.
Today Dodger and I started out with Stacy Westfall’s clever, 5-cone, clover leaf pattern for learning shoulder control. He was doing great both ways, keeping a consistent distance around the cones. It’s spring so the weather changes every five minutes and thunder rolled in the distance as we concentrated, but Dodger didn’t care. We were doing great at the walk and I wanted to move it up to a trot, but before I did, I quickly reached into my jacket pocket to make sure the flap was over the top of the pocket to secure my keys. Just my hand brushing against the fabric of my pocket, however, was enough to cause Dodger to stop and turn his head as if a carrot was coming out (because that’s the pocket they come out of usually). I couldn’t believe he heard my hand go into the pocket and just laughed and had him start up again. But I had the thought, My, what great ears you have, Dodger!
As an aside…I’ve been so pleased with him lately during our rides because he’s been such a consistent, wonderful, willing participant. Mostly it’s become very apparent to me that the secret to Dodger having fun is for me to have fun first. He very willingly goes where the fun is.
With keys secured, I asked him to trot. He went right up into it, but lurched to a stop after a few steps. That’s not typical. Let’s try it again, buddy. “Trot.” Couple more steps, lurch to a stop. I turned around to see if he had to poop. That wasn’t it.
“What, Dodger?!?” Ears forward. Listening.
“Can’t go.”
“Whaddyamean you can’t go?”
“Something’s coming.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
Now I hear it. Thunder’s a little closer.
“Alrighty then. Tell ya what. I’m going to believe you and just get off now.” He stood calmly while I got off and unhooked the reins from the bit to hook one end onto his halter instead. 30 seconds later, FLASH, kaBOOM! and hail starts pelting the metal roof. I looked at Dodger and he looked at me with the widest eyes and the question written all over his face, “Is this BAD?”
I had to laugh because he looked so concerned, but mostly I loved that he asked me. “No, we’re fine, Dodger. But I sure am impressed with your hearing! I’m so glad you told me it was coming! Thank you, buddy!”
We stood and watched the hail as the other horses in the barn tried to decide where the safest place to stand was–in the stall under the scary-loud metal roof or in their paddocks, out in the hail. There were a couple of times when it got really loud that Dodger just couldn’t contain himself and spun around me, but I could tell he wasn’t trying to leave, he just couldn’t help himself. The calmer I stood and more interested in the hail I became, the more willing he was to stand and watch if that’s what I wanted to do.
Our ride may have been cut short for today, but I loved seeing how far we’ve come together in other ways!
Yesterday Dodger turned 7. As I thought back over the last year, I realized somewhere during it he must’ve turned his “bitey” corner. Someone told me when he was 3 that her horse turned the bitey corner between the ages of 4 and 5. I remember thinking about that as he turned 6 and he still hadn’t stopped. I also remember giving up expecting it. Now I’m wondering if that was all he ever needed from me. To give up. Stop worrying about it. Stop expecting it and being upset he wasn’t over it. So I did. Others would mention it, but I started letting the comments just float on by without picking them up and holding onto them like I used to.
Then a couple of weeks ago, I became aware how often he’s been allowing me to hold his head softly as he closes his eyes, and just how sweet he’s been. And it’s become how I think of him.
Maybe he’s a late bloomer. Maybe I just needed to stop concentrating on the things that needed fixing and love the things that didn’t. Maybe we’re both late bloomers.
The Artful Dodger. The way he sees his world.
I won’t lie. Not only do I believe animals have opinions, I think they might even have distinct worldviews. So I let Dodger share his. I filled a book with photos of Dodger’s friends and environment, and let him tell the story.
Warning: There’s one gross shot because Dodger’s still in 4th grade. Held back.
This is taken directly from a post in a blog I enjoy reading at hiddenhorses.com. It talks about the emotions that can be expected from a prey animal other than fight or flight. It made me ask myself, “While most horse owners shoot for respect, how often do we settle for compliance, rather than trust?”
The third reaction [after fight or flight] of a horse is more subtle. Horses by their nature are survival animals and consequently they will do what they have to to survive. Many horses work out what they have to do to avoid coercion. I call this reaction compliance and it is one of the commonest behaviors you will see in the domestic horse. Compliant horses are usually robotic, they have switched-off from their environment. In many senses they become automatons that simply perform repetitive tasks over and over again. The most obvious place to see this type of horse is in a riding stable where horses continually carry first time riders round a familiar trail. These horses have learned what they have to do to survive. Compliance is really a form of mental flight. They have learned physical flight is not an option, neither is fight so the only decision left to them if they are to survive is compliance. For some people compliance is not seen as a bad thing after all one word used to describe this type of behavior is ‘obedience’. But compliance has one really bad consequence:
The horse will only ever make a minimal effort, it has no incentive to do anything else other than do the minimum to avoid the coercion that is being used against it.
Some trainers actually see this as a desirable outcome of their training. Usually these trainers will explain the horses lack of response as the horse being ‘lazy’. The ‘cure’ for this idle tendency? Usually a stronger form of coercion which will of course create more compliance. This is why it can often take years to train a horse to even a minimal level of performance.
Imagine a rider on a horse where the horse has total faith and trust in the rider’s decisions. The rider makes all the decisions, calmly and assertively. If the rider decides to canter the horse canters until the rider decides to stop if the rider wishes to turn right they both turn in an easy and relaxed way. When the rider cues the horse to do something to an observer there is no sign that any instruction has been given, it is so subtle it is as if the rider just formed the thought and the horse performed. These two also seem to have a special relationship. The horse actually seems to seek out the rider’s company and wants to spend time together with them. When the rider trains the horse, the horse shows enthusiasm and interest in what is going on and makes the maximum effort to learn what is being taught. The rider never uses physical tools and coercion to get what they want instead they actively work to present choices to the horse, choices that when the horse responds in the right way the rider just rewards the outcome they want. There is nothing negative in this relationship. The rider does not see himself as a horse and the horse does not see itself as a human being. They have a relationship built on total trust, respect for each other and from that flows all the positives of that special relationship.
When I watch a horse at work, I can sense whether the horse is operating out of a compliant, rather than trusting, emotion. It breaks my heart to see a robotic, compliant effort. And my heart breaks further when I see a rider punish a compliance that fell minutely short of some expected measure of perfection. I’d take a refusal over a robot any day. At least that way I know I still have a horse with a mind in the game!
Happy New Year! It’s clear and beautiful but really cold (for us)! It’s been in the mid 20s at night so Dodger’s wearing his 2-layer jammies. He’s been a good boy under saddle lately. A balking/refusal thing in the corners worked for him for awhile because I was afraid of escalating his new act of shouldering into the closest corner to do a head-shaking, pawing, kicking-at-the-wall routine when I asked for the trot. My riding instructor only needed to see this new tantrum development once when she hopped on to quickly convince him trotting was oh-so-much easier than any tantrum he might choose to display. I then had to hop back on and show him I was now the proud new owner of each of the arena’s four corners. It made me really sad that my quiet-but-insistent approach to the tantrums (which had only gotten him out of the corner but hadn’t prevented another one at the next corner) had to be replaced with a much more dominate attitude. However, it immediately bought me the sweet, participating horse he had been before it began. I was stunned at the turnaround in his attitude. I kept saying, “I have my horse back!”
So then my instructor explained…Dodger is the horse world’s equivalent of Eddie Haskell. He wants to appear as if he should be #1, but he’s really only happy and comfortable as a #2 guy. Even if he were in a herd…he swaggers like he’s #1 material, but there’s not a mare on the planet that would allow him near her for a minute. And when he’s full of energy, the swagger attitude is his default, but it’s disingenuous, mischievous, and he turns on the charm when there might be something in it for him. Once you make him spend a little of that energy, you start seeing the horse he really is: The Happy-Go-Lucky Implementer. You hand him a plan, he implements it. Gladly. Just don’t ask him to think or make decisions. If he has to do that, he loses sight of the plan. If he loses sight of the plan, his stomach goes all squirrely on him, he starts mouthing the bit and he gets worried.
He wants me to be in charge. The tantrums were him, begging me to be in charge. And as another horsewoman at the barn said upon hearing this story, with a horse like Dodger, if I don’t insist on his doing what I just asked, he doesn’t take it as me simply changing my mind or letting him help on creating the plan, he takes it as I’m lying to him.
Lying? Okay, I get it. I won’t lie.
I forgot to post about the Word-a-Day Challenge in the Equine Photographers Network that I took part in in October! All the participants were given a new word each day to translate into an image. The word for the last day of the month was “Blessing.” If my husband had not been at work, I would’ve asked him to be in the shot, for sure, so Dodger had to do his best to look the part!
Dodger’s an LBI when inside the arena, and an LBE when outside. I recently came across some fascinating Horsenality Do’s & Don’ts from Parelli for LBI’s that had me nodding my head in agreement and smiling as I read them. My favorite “Do” was “Give him time to think. He’s not a slow thinker; he’s just got to stop thinking resistant thoughts before he can be more in tune with you.” Truer words have not been spoken! It’s so interesting to experience Dodger’s mental process going from resistant to participant.
And I had a couple of favorite “Don’ts”:
1) “Push him. He’ll have you working harder than him!” There are several who have tried to work Dodger in an indoor round pen who have the sweat marks in their hat bands to prove this one… If you want to get a workout, try getting Dodger to run around a round pen and change direction with speed. On most days, that’s about as pointless and repetitive as it comes to him. Doesn’t matter what intention, flags or lariats you use, you’ll work for every step.
2) “Get fooled into thinking he’s lazy. He’s just unmotivated by you, so figure out how to make things more interesting.” Note to self: Pointless action (literally, anything not involving going from one point to another, e.g., circles) is not interesting!
3) “Make him work. He uses energy only for the things he thinks are fun.” This is why he’ll make the perfect trail horse. He loves an adventure.
In a way, this horse on trainer Farah DeJohnette’s video reminded me of Dodger. The aha I got was in watching how much the horse relied on the human’s energy level. I got to thinking that when Dodger and I are at liberty, I might do better to put my focus on me and keeping my energy consistent than on his and just watch him for my own timing purposes. I’ve noticed that when my focus is more on him than on me, my energy level is all over the place. As he’s mirroring a lull in my energy that I’m not aware of and I react with more energy, asking him to up his, he either gets annoyed or confused. At least this horse stays in the game. But Dodger quickly gets bored and distracted…at which point I have to start over to get his interest back in the game.
Dodger conserves energy better than any other horse I’ve seen. Unless something scares him (and it takes a lot) or someone ends up annoying or frustrating him, he’s not going to move unless there’s something in it for him. There’s no shred of work ethic or need to please in him. So…whether with him in a round pen or on a longe line, I’ve watched trainers put out about 3-5 times the energy they get from him. You can get absolutely winded and wasted trying to make Dodger sweat. But when he’s at liberty in the arena, and the choice is all his and there might be carrots in it, he will participate and get into it. Same with riding. If the person on his back is not having fun, he’s not having fun. When he balks at something, the only way out is to put humor into your voice and make it a game. For example, if he ducks into the corner to gaze at his best friend in the mirror, rather than try to stop him from going into the corner and losing my momentum, I quick say (with a smile on my face!) “Rollback Time!” and we launch out of the corner and away we go. Coming to a stop and choosing a war of wills, assuming you’ve got the cajones, results (best case) in a surly, checked out robot for the rest of the ride. Who wants that?
I think it was about this same time last year that I had my first memorable trail ride. I thought of it as Dodger’s graduation from boot camp. It was in the open brush environment in the Teanaway area near Cle Elum. It was where Dodger received the endearing nickname of Stoner after his laissez-faire attitude. We rode calmly on a rein swinging walk and Dodger didn’t care or notice if he was last in line, falling way behind or if another horse was jigging past him. This year we faced a narrow, windy, wooded, slick trail with lots of roots to trip on, in a claustrophic nose-to-butt line of 7 horses. We were in the middle and I was riding a very different horse…
The first half of the ride was comprised of a pretty long hill. Dodger got much better this year at getting his butt under him, but his back legs kept slipping and that stressed him out. Fortunately we were following a very careful, methodical horse that didn’t care if Dodger’s nose slipped under his tail every once in awhile. I had to maintain more contact on the reins than I wanted, otherwise Dodger wanted to tackle the hill on his own terms. Cming back up the hill required similar contact to keep him from climbing over the horse in front of him. His ears were on me and he was paying very close attention to very light leg cues to keep from banging my knees into the trees and we were walking around things jutting up in the trail well.
The second half was along an old converted railway, and was much smoother going. He got to walk through crunchy leaves, by pools of dark water, past river sounds, and see several bicycles (one with a dog running along with it). He was always on alert and very cautious but didn’t do anything stupid. Very intent the whole time, he ended up pretty sweaty and stressing about what the horses around him were doing. It took a lot more concentration on my part to just keep breathing and relaxing into the saddle to make sure I didn’t add to his stress quotient.
Today I went to the stable to brush off what didn’t get hosed off him yesterday, and get my trailer. He was lying down and snoozing with his eyes open. I walked in and kneeled down in front of him, cupping my hands. He put his chin in them, closed his eyes and started snoring. Sweet…I let his chin down to the ground and left the stall to go talk to some people. About a minute later he stood up and nickered to me, asking me to come back, so I guess we’re still pals after yesterday’s ride. It was great experience though, and great to have under our belt/cinch!
This evening I had my first lesson on my new bareback pad and was just blown away by what Shalimar was able to get out of me and Dodger…I finally got to feel what it was like to trot, bareback, WITH Dodger. Not just sit through a trot, but trot WITH him. Comfortably. Without posting! I don’t know if I ever want to go back to a saddle! It was that great! Needless to say, Shalimar has a lot of patience and even more ability to know just what words to use to get me to do what I need to do. Sure I mess up, and I don’t get it right sometimes, but at least I know what I should be doing so I can try again and do better.
I just kept trotting, laughing out loud and loving the feel of riding bareback that I honestly don’t know if I ever want to ride in a saddle again…Dodger gave me his best rounded back, and curved, soft neck body positions ever. It was a banner day for both of us.
Fortunately a friend of mine visiting me from Connecticut witnessed the ride and took some iPhone pics, so when she sends them to me, I’ll post them. I’m still reliving the fun…
1st time:
I was really careful because I wanted Dodger to love his new trailer. Dodger’s always been a curious sort and has loaded onto trailers easily. He’s never been really calm during the ride, but I especially wanted him to like this trailer and feel calm in it. Someone had kindly tipped me off that a good way to get rid of that new trailer smell that only humans like, was to be sure to christen the trailer with Dodger’s poop before introducing him to it. So…Poop strategically positioned at the loading end, hay bag with fresh hay and carrots rigged up at the other, how could he not love this?
I went and got him out of his stall, and after just a few cursory snorts and sniffs, he walked right in and started eating. Success! After that, we just hung out together getting used to being in the trailer.
2nd time:
This time I was hoping to try to put up the butt bar and close the ramp on him so I put on his trailer helmet just in case. But no worries, he was just as calm as the previous time and was happy to walk right in. I backed out the escape door and let him experience what that was like. He was good. Munchin’ hay, sayin’ hi, happy. When I put the butt bar up, he got a little nervous, but no big deal.
The fact that the poop had been marinating on the floor now for a few days probably added to his happy thoughts. But I was noticing how it had gotten spread all over the ramp from all the entering and backing out we’d been doing and I realized I wanted to clean it off before pulling it up and closing him in. Before I had a chance to clean it off, however, I was distracted by another horse at the barn that had gotten himself cast against the paddock fencing, so I put Dodger back in his stall and went to help remedy his situation. By the time I got back to Dodger and the trailer, I needed to leave, so I decided to clean the poop off the ramp at home and finish up another day. This proved to be a big mistake…
3rd time: (no photos of this attempt)
I brought the cleaned up trailer back a couple of days later along with a savvy trailering friend. Between the two of us, I was sure we’d have Dodger in the trailer, butt bar up and ramp closed in record time. I’d take him for a quick spin around the stables and let him out. Perfect first ride. At least that was the idea.
But the second I walked into Dodger’s stall to get him, he flew out the door into his paddock. Say WHAT? He’d never done that before. Our typical greeting consists of my walking in, stopping at the door; he saunters over to me, sniffs, we say hi, check in, I give him a few calm strokes, and he puts his head down into the halter. Sweet. Predictable. But today, his knickers were in a knot. The last time I’d been with him, the day before, had gone so well and had ended beautifully after an incredibly successful first-time bareback riding session with my new bareback pad. This reaction couldn’t have been from that. Was it the new supplement I just put him on? Did I smell like an agenda? Was it the fact I’d brought a friend? Who knows.
Eventually he was willing to put his head in the halter so I led him over to the indoor arena to let him run loose and hopefully work out any bugs. After awhile, he seemed to connect up with me, so I put the lead on him, put the trailering helmet back on, and led him out to the trailer.
And it went downhill from there. Maybe it was the missing poop. Maybe it was my nerves. But whatever, he was a sweaty mess before we even got to the trailer, and he was having nothing to do with the ramp. I tried working him everywhere but on the ramp. That only made him more anxious and more sweaty. He was not happy and not himself; his energy level was way up and his ability to focus was almost non-existent. Finally I resorted to a carrot bribe. I got him to walk in for a carrot, where I hooked him up with the safety release strap, and my friend set the hook on the butt bar. That started him dancin’. We quickly got the ramp up and closed, and the rockin’ and rollin’ began. Although I’d promised my friend I would just walk away until he was calm, I found it impossible to do. I tried to calm him down from outside. He would be quiet for a few seconds then start up again. Another horse went by in a trailer, and he let loose with a few commiserating, screaming whinnies. He was not a happy camper. I started up the truck and pulled him around in a circle in the parking area to see if movement might distract him. It did, but nothing like it does with crying babies.
I stopped the truck and opened the escape door to let him know he was fine in there with me outside. Sweat was dripping off the chest bar in front of him and he was sweatier than I’ve ever seen him get. Opening the door so he could see me helped a bit, but he was still pretty frantic. He calmed down a little and I got into the trailer with him at his head. We’d drawn a crowd by this time and as my friend let the ramp down, we were all concerned that he would make a backwards run for it as soon as the butt bar came down, so it was up to me to keep him calm and keep him from doing that. He was at an angle and I had to straighten him so he wouldn’t walk off the side of the ramp. I probably make him move over more than any other cue, so he did that easily.
I breathed out and gave her the signal to lower the butt bar. I kept very still and kept his eye on me then said very quietly, “Okay, Dodger, back up very eeeezzzzz…” And what amazed all of us, he did. One careful step at a time. Straight back. He was almost to the end of the ramp when he stopped, raised his head high, perked his ears at me, and appeared to say, “Why on earth did you make me do that, Woman?!”
I just told him we’d talk about it in the wash rack…
Must’ve been the blistering heat at the Evergreen Classic that made my brain accidentally slip into monopoly money mode (a mindset I save for traveling so I don’t get too hung up on the cost of things). Except I wasn’t traveling. All I remember is that I passed the $1,500 custom riding boot booth, then fingered some investment-level leather bridles at another booth, when my eyes had to squint against the gleaming brand new Brenderup Baron One SL trailer, attached to a 2011 opalescent sky blue BMW SUV. The SUV I could pass up, but the Brenderup? My friends with traditional horse trailers may say it looks like a Porta-Poty, but they’re going to want one when they see how strong, safe, mechanically genius the inertia brakes are, and how cool (literally) it is and easy to pull. I’ve been a sucker for Danish design since I lived in Denmark during my junior year in college and since I have no desire to buy a gas guzzler truck, I am their target audience.
I chatted with the same representative I had visited earlier this year. She was really nice and informative and gave my friend and me the full tour…showed us how the sliding tack room wall offers a dressing area and much easier access everything in the tack area than just the side door would. At the time I thought, “I don’t show. I don’t need a dressing room.” But she ended up offering me a deal I couldn’t refuse after a few more days of sleeping on it and still waking up wanting it.
So tomorrow we pick it up. Stay tuned for Dodger’s first road trip!
Dodger wants to go places so I’ve been out coveting trailers. Brenderups, to be exact, but they’re too expensive new and too hard to find used. Being in a trailer mind set makes me notice articles about trailer safety. This article was a particularly good one, I thought. Hope it’s of use to you!
I created this digital watercolor from a photo using various Photoshop techniques, and now I’m enrolling in a traditional watercolor course that will be a much tougher challenge. It’s being taught through CreativeLIVE’s online classroom by my friend and fellow graphic designer and artist, Molly Murrah. It’s a FREE, 5-week webinar course if anyone wants to watch/learn online!
Original Photo
Dodger has been such a fantastic, willing partner under saddle these past several weeks. His mouth is getting super soft to rein cues, he has a really nice, comfortable extended trot (others who watch him and know these things say his is not an average QH trot, that he extends much more and lifts his knees much more than most QHs) and he stays in it willingly without me having to nag him. And he’s doing really well at the walk with just cues from my seat! I feel like he’s progressing faster than I am…so the pressure’s on…
Well anyway, I was working on his canter the other day, and because he has always preferred his left over his right lead, I just stuck with the left. But I wasn’t getting him into it no matter what I was trying. It was pretty hot, but I was giving him (and ME, who am I kidding) breathers, but it just wasn’t happening. I got huge anticipation and participation at the biggest trot he has but I couldn’t urge him into the canter! Finally, I just changed direction.
And for whatever reason, on the first try, he cantered with his right lead! We were cantering around the whole arena, beautifully when I suddenly realized I was sounding like Meg Ryan in her famous delicatessen scene! My laughter ruined our momentum, but Dodger was rewarded with lots of Good BOYs (he loves those), the wash rack and some grazing in the shade.
I’ve discovered that by leading him to all the best patches of grass, he’s learned to trust I’ll take him to even better stuff if I give him the “head up” cue. And, because he’s as food motivated (and instinctively bargey) as they come, now there can be a flake of fresh hay in his stall directly under his head, but he won’t even try to put his head down to eat it until I’ve removed his halter and given him the “head down” cue.
We’re getting there…
When you’ve got a horse that just generally enjoys “messing with” people, how do tell the difference between a little testing disrespect and a power struggle?
As I watched Dodger pull a significant “mess with” play with someone much more horse savvy than I but that he doesn’t do with me, she described it as a power struggle from seeing her as more alpha and not liking the lower rank. When I asked why he would do it with her and not with me, I was told he just sees me as his equal.
I have to admit, that thought set me back. There’s no doubt in my mind I finally conquered the problem of our first two years together in which he was the undisputed leader in our herd of two, but it never occurred to me that I might’ve stalled out in a status called mere equal.
I thought every member of a herd had a rank considered either above or below every other member. I didn’t know equality was a possibility, so when I felt the tectonic shift in Dodger’s and my respect dynamic, I stopped raising my expectations. I was happy to have respectful, not robotic. If I have to start raising my expectations again in order to get out of this pergatory of equality, I’m not looking forward to new forms of power struggles.
Is that what I’ve got to look forward to?
July 4th weekend! We’re going to hit the dusty, well, make that somewhat muddy, trail connected to the stables my friends just bought. Can’t wait. They’re coming early to pick up Dodger so I feed him his breakfast a little earlier than usual. He’s happy to oblige with eating while I put all my tack and stuff in the car. The trailer pulls up. I lead Dodger into it still savoring his last mouthful. The panel closes him in. He realizes he’s in a space not even large enough for his ego, and he looks at me like I just sold him out to the dog food guy! Not happy. Must paw my way outta this metal box.
So he paws in protest all the way to the trail head. When he comes out, he’s amped up and sweaty and worried about what I’m going to surprise him with next. Everyone else proceeds to tack up. Dodger is in no state of mind for tacking up, let alone standing still, so I start doing some groundwork with him. As the riders mount up with water bottles filled with double strength margaritas, I realize this may not be the trail ride for us.
So we hung back and walked around the property and did some groundwork, just generally trying to calm Dodger down to his normal self. We do pretty well at getting to that point. Then, about an hour and a half later, the riders come galloping back with horses so sweaty there’s not a dry hair on them. During their whooping and hollering and energetic riding around the property, Dodger reverts back to his wide-eyed and freaked self. He’s among the horses chosen for the first trailer load out. He’s not as eager to load this time and it doesn’t take much to understand the look on the faces of the guys trying…”And remind me, Michelle, why did we bring you and your horse?”
Once back at Countdown, Dodger was put back in his stall, tired, nervously sweaty, and confused about what could possibly have been more important than finishing breakfast. As I’m muttering, “Next time, Dodger. Sorry, buddy. I had to make the call, and this wasn’t how I want to ride the trails with you.” he went back to munching.
What. Ever.