Shiny objects

Calabar and me, watching Lena and Steve as we wait our turn at the clinic a couple weeks ago.

Calabar, like most horses, is very concerned with the world around him, sometimes too concerned. We have worked a lot on learning that it's okay to be concerned, but let's just keep moving on to the next thing, shall we? Letting him see what's going on is mostly a good thing--provided you can quickly distract him should that be necessary. "Yep, that's a horse running around over there but it's nothing to worry about! I'm not worried, and you're okay and safe right here. With me. Let's go do this other thing, now, 'kay?"

Then we step away from the shiny object, whatever it may be, and go about our business. But what if the shiny object is actually the reward, as was the case with Lena at the clinic?

At the clinic, in a strange setting, he really wanted to be with the spotty object of his affections. It didn't help that she was calling out to him incessantly. "Yes, I know you're worried and we're in a new place and she sounds terrified and lonely. You still can't go crazy."

So we circled one way, then the other, over and over. As soon as he stood still, he could go look over the rails of the round pen at her or at the horses in the lesson group above us. It took a few rounds of this--and I wish I'd known the puddle in the round pen wasn't deep so I could have let him off his lead rope--but he did settle down. (I didn't check the puddle and only determined its depth the next day when Forrest showed us by splashing through it with great flair and panache--and absolutely no fear--that it was only an inch or so deep.) Luckily, my lead rope is long and Calabar and I have established that much is allowed as long as it happens all the way at the end of that lead rope--far, far away from the tiny human in the middle.

He actually calmed down long before she stopped calling for him, so I let him eat grass until she stopped hollering and started paying attention to Steve and Ellen. That's when we finally headed over to watch and wait for our turn.

These two horses are a herd and look to each other for reassurance. That's normal behavior and perfectly natural. It's up to Steve and me to shift that focus onto us as the leaders, so we have to earn it. Staying calm, not over-correcting Calabar, and only allowing him to get to Lena once he'd calmed down, seemed to work pretty well.

There is, however, always next time and always more work to do.

Mail order horsemanship

My great grandfather had horses, working horses, and apparently needed some assistance with training them. So, long before there were the Parelli's, Clinton Anderson, Mark Rashid, or any of their predecessors (like the Dorrances), there was Professor Beery. I have eight of his mail order lessons, including lesson number six--"Promiscuous Vices." Despite the title, it unfortunately does not describe how to get your spotty mare to stop backing defenseless geldings into corners.

However, there are some great tidbits so far, though not necessarily in the order they were originally presented:

"Watch the horse's eyes, ears and muscles, for they are the mediums through which it will convey it's intentions to you."

"By these means of expression, the horse will never lie to you; treat him just as frankly, and never lie to him."

"Since you must talk to your pupil through signs, do not become vexed if it does not respond to your signs correctly, but rather blame yourself for not having made the signs correctly."

"Whenever you lose your temper, you lose the power to reason and place yourself upon the same plane as the colt, where he has the advantage because he is stronger than man. Morover (sic), do not abuse your horse, for you lose his confidence and madden him. A man ought to be a shamed to abuse a horse that acts only from instinct, because he does not do what man has probably reached through a long process of reasoning."

I particularly like this bit about teaching a colt an early lesson in the round pen (or a reasonable facsimile): " Remove all feed or chickens, etc., that would attract the colts attention."

My mom's cousin found these in an envelope her father had been given by my great grandfather, sent them to my mom, who sent them to me.

What a cool gift!

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!