Keep on learning

This post on Buckskin and Bay not only reminded me of my lesson last week, but of the things I swore I'd work on after the Mark Rashid clinic we audited last year. Things like moving with the horse, balance, staying out of their way so they don't have to fight with us to do what we're asking.

Oops. I forgot.

Luckily, I remembered a little bit today. Damn. It sure felt good to be relaxed and happy in the saddle on my horse again. And Calabar responded to it. I won't say things were perfect, but I seemed to do a better job of directing while staying out of his way. My focus was really to be soft in my seat an hands, to feel the rhythm of his body and match it with my own so I could direct instead of react.

Still a little sore, I admit, but rocking with my horse's movement made it worth it. Having him respond and not fight me, actually seem like he was trying to figure out what I wanted and do it?? Not to quote a credit card commercial, but it was priceless. Absolutely priceless.

So he got to munch grass. And he got all the happiness I had to give him. (And isn't he looking good??!!)

Calabar and I have had an up and down road so far, but he continues to teach me. He also continues to learn. As long as we both keep giving, I don't think there is anything we can't do.

Love this horse.

What is this contact you speak of?

Armed with an overflowing brain after yesterday's clinic, I saddled up the boy wonder and headed down to the arena to work on some of the things we learned--starting with leading and ending with being soft with my hands in his mouth. Not literally, of course, but riding with much more contact than I've been using up to this point. Okay, more contact unless I'm asking him to stop or slow down.

Poor Bar. He really thought he had things figured out, and he did--based on our previous arrangement. But big kudos to him, he never once got pushy or aggressive. He just looked at me and tried really hard to figure out what I was asking and why I had changed the equation on him. I just kept calm, encouraged him, and tried to stay consistent.

Of course, changing the equation is not very consistent, so I'm not sure how much I'll push the arms-length boundary with him. He is very respectful of my space, he just likes to be close to me. However, he backs off when I ask, will move out of my space, and will stand quietly next to me. We'll play with that a little and see how it goes, and explore the concepts of softness and contact in the meantime.

Riding with contact was a whole new thing for both of us and it may take awhile to get the hang of it. I learned (and remember, this horse thing is relatively recent in my time-line) that riding with a loose rein is the goal. Lena knows enough to be collected on a loose rein; Bar does not. Bar learned to pick up the bit and haul butt down the track. To his credit, he has learned since then that contact means I'd like him to slow down or stop, so it was hard for him to figure out what I wanted from him when I asked him to move forward into my hands.

This is new, he said, ears flipped back at me as if to question my sanity.

Backing up for more than a few steps--softly--was also new, and we didn't get soft immediately. In fact, I think we only got a level of softness as compared to the HUGE arch in his neck as he tried to figure out what on earth I was asking for. "You want my nose on my chest? Is that it?"

I'm of course completely unsure I'm asking correctly--I actually think I need to ask a bit more gently--and, following that, recognize the try when he gives it. But we're both doing the best we can and figuring this out together.

Honestly, a year ago I'm pretty sure he'd have dumped me on the ground. But tonight, he just kept trying for me, kept thinking, and finally gave me a lovely walk, with contact and softness. It wasn't as fast as his normal walk because he couldn't figure out why I was holding his mouth and asking him to go forward--not normal Jessica behavior, he says--but he finally relaxed, stopped mouthing the bit, and moved forward with a nice, soft headset.

We're still working on the backing, and we didn't quite manage the sitting trot. I tried. I bounced. He tolerated me bouncing much longer than is really reasonable.

I told him he did a fabulous job with a bunch of new parameters and called it a night.

I also hear Lena got some work on being led and not leading. Steve said it only took a couple tries to get her to where she wouldn't go that next step forward. Smart girl, that spotty mare.

The journey is about to get really interesting, I can tell.

Mark Rashid clinic

Warning: This post may be a bit discombobulated. I have so much going through my head right now, it's hard to channel it all with any coherency. So much learning I didn't necessarily expect!

At one point, Mark asked if there were any questions and me being, well me, said, "Nope, you've managed to answer one with each session so far."

I did actually ask some questions, though.

Like... we were trained to ride with super loose reins, so how do we balance that with picking up contact and boundaries. Answer? Depends on the horse. If I interpret correctly (which mind you is very easy to do with Mark), it means if you're getting softness and collection on a loose rein, you're good. If you're not, you have some work to do.

We all have some work to do. Steve, Lena, Bar, and me. All of us.

For example, if we have "issues at the trot," well, we have issues. But not issues I'm particularly worried about now. One of us just has to be clear and definite and I don't mean the big, brown ex-racehorse. Oh, and patient. That, however, goes for both of us.

Steve learned that escalating with Lena is a sure way to get into a non-winnable argument and that patience will be a better path.

Separation anxiety: while watching a set of sister ponies who hadn't been apart for sixteen years, I got to see an example of how to deal with Bar's slight over-dependence on Lena for alpha-dom. Returning him to his Lena safety net while he's frantic, while human nature, is not the best plan for any of us.

So much to learn, lots to practice.

Oddly, I can't wait.

Our first horse training clinic

Steve and I are spending what promises to be a rather toasty Sunday auditing our very first horse training clinic. I know. What took us so long, right?

Mark Rashid, a well-known natural horsemanship trainer, happens to be in nearby Sebastopol--a perfect opportunity.

Some might ask why we didn't just go gung-ho and bring both horses. Aside from cost, I'd rather not put Bar into an unknown situation--despite the respect I have for Rashid's methods--until I've done at least a little observation. That is, some say, the point of a clinic. I'd rather be a little more cautious and set Bar (and me) up to succeed.

More later! Hopefully with pictures!

Bar may know his body better than I do

Bar's knee has been my nemesis (well, besides my own arm) since last month. We drained, then wrapped, and re-wrapped really to no avail. Anytime the wrap would stay on too long (and stretch) or slip, the carpus would puff up like a balloon.

Truly aggravating.

So when Steve and I went to visit the folks we got Bar from and see their newest up and coming racehorse--Ginger, in the photo below--I told them what was going on.


They recommended stopping the wrapping, starting to use DMSO, and giving him some Banamine since they are well-aware of his reaction to Bute.

So, Saturday afternoon, I soaked his knee in cold water and then did just that. He didn't like it, but he didn't pout as much as I expected, though he did stomp a bit after the DMSO was applied.

Sunday, Bar got very agitated in the cross-ties, whipping back and forth until Steve went to him and calmed him down. We decided to skip the Banamine and see how the joint did. If it was more swollen on Monday, he'd get more Banamine. If not, well, the less drugs he gets, the better.

Monday his leg looked better--not perfect, mind you, but better--so I decided to just run some cold water on it, clean the area, and put DMSO on it.

Bar had other ideas entirely.

Just opening a jar of SWAT (similar look and shape to the jar of DMSO) caused major agitation in the cross-ties--so much, I was half-way afraid he'd bust loose. He NEVER once threatened me, he just acted like someone was going to kill him. So, taking a few pages from Mark Rashid's book, I decided Bar was actively trying to tell me something. Very actively, since he's normally a pretty good patient.

All the doctoring supplies got put away and I went back out to him empty-handed. He immediately calmed down. Just to gauge the situation, I went back and got the DMSO, opened it, let him smell it--then watched his eyes get wide as the agitation come back ten-fold.

Okay. Obviously, he has an issue with it, and probably has good reason for that. That big, brown horse is sensitive--very sensitive--and DMSO is not a soft-spoken product.

So--as hard as it was---he got minimal doctoring. Again, back to Mark Rashid, it seemed that if Bar knew his body well enough to react to the DMSO, he'd be able to let me know if something was helping, too.

Watching him move was an easy test.

Yesterday, I walked him and let him play a bit in the round pen. He wanted to work but was very conscious of the joint. After he did a little bit, I ran cool water over the leg and prayed it was the right thing for him.

Turns out my horse may have been right all along. Tonight, the carpus is less swollen than it's been in a long time and he's moving on it with strength and confidence.

Luckily, some of us can admit when they are wrong.

Thoughts on being "the Alpha" -- or not

(Note: photo was taken in early March, prior to the recent rash of injuries.)

Working with Bar continues to educate me about horses, about myself, and about life in general. Working with both Bar and Lena has taught me to pay attention to individual horses and treat them, train them, according to their particular personalities and quirks.

Off and on in this blog, I've referred to myself as the "Alpha" and not thought too much about it beyond my own perceptions as someone the horses turn to for direction and leadership. Then I started reading Mark Rashid's book Horses Never Lie and it made me rethink what I meant by "Alpha." My methods are not what I would consider dominating and I'm usually trying to figure out how to give direction that makes sense to whichever horse I'm working with. Bar takes one kind of instruction, Lena another, but both of them are intelligent, playful horses and respond to making things entertaining and interesting.

Bar responds much more to a calm reaction to his antics than to cracking him on the nose. For example, he settles down faster if I say, "Okay, you want to come around me, then keep going around me. I'll just stand here until you're done," than when I smack the halter down on his nose and back him up forcefully.

With Lena, she needs to stop dancing and anticipating what she thinks I might ask her to do and use her brain instead. Some days that means letting her blow off steam until she can focus on something else besides her own energy level.

Trusting my own instincts about my horses and what they need on any given day has been something I've had to learn to do, and with experts all over it hasn't always been easy. I remember a parenting class I took eons ago where they talked about being sure to pay attention to how you're feeling about what you're asking you child to do. If it feels wrong to you--no matter what the "experts" say--it will come off wrong to your child. The times I've felt most unsure in training Bar and Lena have often been the times I'm doing the conventional things--using techniques and hardware others have assured me are the right things to use to show the horses who is boss. It occurred to me that--much like parenting--my horses can tell when I'm unsure and will have absolutely no reason to feel confident in my decisions.

Not to say I will always make the right decisions, but if I am paying attention to my horses and training from my gut--much as I learned to parent from my gut--it might work out better than simply following some proscribed method of horsemanship.

Bar is not like any other horse. Lena is not like any other horse. To train them with push-button rules does them a disservice. Figuring out how to work with them and teach them is as much a gift as it is a challenge.

That is the kind of leader I'd like to be, that is what the term Alpha has meant to me when I have used it in the past. I haven't decided if I'll keep using it or not. Mostly, I'd rather have a partner than a subordinate, so maybe that's a no.