Anna Blake's Blog, page 10

Horses Measuring Intelligence in Humans

It’s my fault for asking for blog topics. She writes, “Can you possibly do a blog post on why your horse isn’t your therapist/best friend/ emotional support, etc etc etc? I am constantly inundated with rubbish “feel good” toxic positivity meme things.” Well, I will take the challenge, but I think I’ll come at it from the back door. Humor me…

The horses are talking. (No, horses don’t talk but since we are exploring the idea of horses in a human construct, like being a therapist or friend, why not?) The gray sees a 3-year-old child in their pen. The child has just noticed them and is coming toward them, but trips on a pile of horse manure and bumps its head in the fall. It screams, startled and hurt. The horses know it’s a small human. A predator, but it smells like sugar. They saw the child long before it came into their pen; they know the child is unpredictable. It just tipped over. Not alert to the environment, a foal would do better. Now it’s being noisy. What’s the point of that?

The bay horse keeps a passive eye and might send a calming signal to let the small human know they are no threat to it. The kid doesn’t acknowledge him, but horses know humans are poor communicators. Their bodies constantly send conflicting messages, and they lose focus, so scattered in their minds. Humans spook at things that aren’t even there. It’s like humans are always talking to imaginary friends. Beware.

Maybe the child comes to them and pokes a finger in a horse’s eye. Not that horses can see what’s on the ground in front of them. They are “seeing” with their muzzle nerve endings. Startled, they shake their poll and roll the child a few feet away. In time, the child cries because it’s hungry and can’t find food. Or it’s scared and can’t find its home. It’s a pasty bug that’s afraid of the dark. Really, is this the king of beasts?

Scientists have stated that horses possess the equivalent intelligence of a 3-year-old child. Meaning most horses can recognize themselves in the mirror, understand some human emotions, and can learn tricks or commands. But out in a horse pen, a 3-year-old is not anywhere near as intelligent as a horse, as any horse will tell you.

Why do we measure other animals against us? It is the ultimate arrogance for a human to judge an animal’s intelligence against our own. We think we are exceptional animals with our fancy frontal lobes. As if we are the be-all in intelligence. Do they see us as clever or lost, fearful or bold? What does human intelligence even look like to a horse? No wonder they constantly look to their own safety. In their view, we seriously lack peace, clarity, and common sense.

Sometimes I’ll read a scientific study about horse intelligence. The research process begins by taking a horse out of its herd so that it can be tested. Horse people understand that separation anxiety will now be part of the answer. Would they take a fish out of the water to test it? Jane Goodall wouldn’t. Animals must be studied in their natural habitat.

Warning: Looking up information about equine intelligence isn’t just diving into a rabbit hole; it’s falling in the dark for a mile or two and passing out after hitting hard at the bottom. Forgive me if I just ask some surface questions and hold this essay to under three hundred pages. Let’s talk about human construct only.

Some of us will want to romanticize the horses into caretakers of that child because they sniff it. Maybe nibble it’s clothing. Maybe a romantic would donate a child for research. But if a dirt devil rolls through the pen, or a wolf is nearby, all bets are off. The horses won’t nudge the child carefully to a protected area. Their survival instinct is involuntary. Hardwired to run and save themselves. The child doesn’t exist, it’s a matter of the horse’s life or death. They step on the child, and pushing off to a run, break bones. Again, they can’t see much on the ground close up. But no one posts a cute selfie of the child after it gets stepped on.

Do you notice I use “it” as a pronoun for the child? Awkward, but if you don’t think horses have intelligence, emotions, and autonomy, then neither do kids. If we demean horses, then we demean children.

We might use horses like childhood teddy bears or see horses as knights riding to our rescue, without the man. In other words, we see them in ways that comfort us in human constructs but don’t respect their intelligence. We are so busy trying to fit them into our emotions, that we ignore their needs. Instead, we’d rather they didn’t pay so much attention to the environment (impossible for a horse) and just hug us. Is that what we want from children? To stay home and hug us?

Science says horses exhibit high levels of emotional intelligence and can read facial expressions and body language. No surprise there, “calming signals” are their birth language. But they don’t read us because they love us. We are predators, but more complex than wolves. We keep them trapped in a pen but care for them. As long as I’m playing devil’s advocate, Stockholm syndrome is defined as “a psychological response wherein a captive begins to identify closely with his or her captors, as well as with their agenda and demands.” Is it a choice when we barter survival needs, like food, for behaviors? Oh my, now I’ve done it.

Back to the original question. There is a simple answer:

If your horse is your therapist, get them to prescribe a med that will help you think more clearly. And therapists don’t work for minimum wage, so find out where they hide the money. They can buy their own hay.

If your horse is your best friend, why not leave a baby with them to care for? Not while you watch, but overnight. You trust your best friend, right? Why ride with a bridle at all? Come to think of it, who needs a halter? My friends don’t tie themselves to me. And a friendship is reciprocal. If you are their friend, why do you micromanage them? Why not trust their decisions and autonomy?

If your horse is your emotional support, do you expect them to carry your darkest parts? Do you feel good about swearing and throwing temper tantrums? Do you hug them when you cry, dragging them along in the wake of your feelings? Would you share that with a 3-year-old? A child who has emotions of their own, personal challenges, and fears? Or would you keep your problems to yourself and try to encourage the child toward confidence, knowing their nature?

Instead of thinking we know everything, let’s assume horses are smart and we’ve stopped treating horses like 3-year-olds. Let’s say we are researching whether horses mourn a loss. A better question might be how they get over a loss so well.

Or we could stop thinking horses are all about us and let them be horses.

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If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School.

Anna Blake, Relaxed & Forward

Want more? Become a “Barnie.” Subscribe to our online training group with affirmative demonstration videos, audio blogs, daily quotes, free participation in “group lessons”, and live chats with Anna. Become part of the most supportive group of like-minded horsepeople anywhere.

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training at The Barn School, along with virtual clinics and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

Visit annablake.com to find archived blogs, purchase signed books, schedule a live consultation, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses.

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

…

The post Horses Measuring Intelligence in Humans appeared first on Anna Blake.

Undomesticated Women. Anecdotal Evidence from the Road

30 states, 2 oceans, 14,000 miles, 8 months

Welcome to our year of living compactly. My dog, Mister, and I rolled out on the road pulling our A-frame trailer, the Rollin’ Rancho. I work as a traveling horse trainer/clinician, who became a non-essential worker during the COVID-19 lockdown. Then in 2022, we bounced back. We were nomads looking for horse training adventure and liver treats. Work paid for the trip; it was part clinic tour, part travelogue, part squirrel hunt. But mostly an unapologetic celebration of sunsets, horses, RV parks, roadkill, diverse landscapes, and undomesticated women.

It’s a book made of made of adjectives and nouns, blue skies and tornado watches, resorts and reservations, open roads to the horizon and one-lane dead-ends. We emerge from the truck in a cloud of dog hair and sunflower shells, like disoriented and scruffy rock stars in a GPS haze, not entirely lost or found.

This book isn’t about training, although there are horses in it. It’s a follow-up of Stable Relation, my first book, but my life changed in ways I would never have guessed, so don’t expect the usual sequel. Undomesticated Women is a travel memoir, a peek behind the curtains of what my job is like. I wanted to see this beautiful country, do some time travel, and talk about thoughts and memories that are not related to horses; things I wouldn’t talk about as a clinician.

Mister would tell you it’s his memoir about being tasked with the unreasonable job of guarding me against a wild range of dangers. Like eating dinner late. He’s a dog unimpressed with my tiny fame.

During the lockdown, I started an online school. Taming technology took more courage than working with horses, but who knew horses would do so well working from home? Now that hibernation was over, I wanted to go scratch those horses and celebrate their success in a victory lap. I wrote about some brave and fine women who represent aspects of the horse world I wanted to touch on. I wrote about challenging parts of the horse industry, things I usually keep to myself. Most of all, I pondered the question of domestication in horses and women. Of course, I wrote about my dog. Mister’s view of the world is at least as interesting as mine.

Why women, you ask? Shouldn’t I use a gender-neutral term? That’s something I’ve wrestled with over the years. Statistically, women own 92% of the horses in the country. Here’s another fun fact. My social media followers are 97% women. Initially, I thought there was a smart area to extend my business and I went to work to engage more men with my blog and in my clinics. I failed profoundly. A few came and stayed, but most ignored me. Eventually, I gave in; I couldn’t stand around holding the door for men indefinitely.

Then I switched to she/her pronouns in my writing. I did it way before it was a thing; it just made writing easier. I focused on the women I worked with who were doing exceptional things and living extraordinary lives. Many like me had stopped listening to the false science about herd dynamics and outdated fear-based training methods. We saw intimidating horses into submission as a failure. In other words, I worked with the people who are changing the world, and it’s inspiring. I introduce you to twelve of my heroes in this book. I am wildly lucky to know them.

May I share something? Ironically, whatever notoriety I have comes from sitting alone in my room writing. Introvert alert! I never expected that it would turn into a reality show that I’d take on the road. Or that I’d be invited to travel the world. Meanwhile, I work longer hours than ever, judging arena footing by how much my feet ache, while delivering messages people might not want to hear but are dying to know. Whew! People pay me to tell them what’s wrong, so I’d better find an affirmative way to be critical. I play the part of a clinician who’s more charming than me. I pretend to love being in public. Then I crawl back to Mister and recuperate in the Rancho. In the morning, we tuck ourselves between semi-trucks, letting them pull us along across mountains and plains, RV park to truck stop, from sea to shining sea. It’s a crazy world out there and I love this tightrope life.

And now can I share something else? I probably share way too much in this book. I worked with three professional editors, and each of them told me it was a very personal book. The word personal hung in the air until it smelled a bit fishy. I wonder if I went too far. Subtlety frequently evades me and I’ve always had lousy boundaries.

It was time to update my bio for this book. Have you done that lately? At what point do we get a break from proving ourselves? When are we done being shy? My new bio is a blunt thirty-seven words long, including these: “I’m sixty-nine years old. I’ve done everything and done it damn well. No longer auditioning.”

Everyone has a story to tell, and every story has as many perspectives as there are people involved. This is my story. Mister would tell you it’s his.

Undomesticated Women will be available in early November at all online booksellers, with signed copies on my website. I’ll keep you posted.

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If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School.

Anna Blake, Relaxed & Forward

Want more? Become a “Barnie.” Subscribe to our online training group with affirmative demonstration videos, audio blogs, daily quotes, free participation in “group lessons”, and live chats with Anna. Become part of the most supportive group of like-minded horsepeople anywhere.

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training at The Barn School, along with virtual clinics and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

Visit annablake.com to find archived blogs, purchase signed books, schedule a live consultation, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses.

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

…

The post Undomesticated Women. Anecdotal Evidence from the Road appeared first on Anna Blake.

The Difference Between Peaceful Persistence and Nagging.

Today, I’d like to use you as a human demo horse. Please, play along with me.

Let’s say you come to me for a riding lesson. It’s the first time and you’re on my horse. He’s tall and athletic and you don’t know him. And let’s say I’m a total idiot. I tell you to mount up. We’ll start with some canter work. You’d like to tell me why that’s a bad idea, but I don’t listen. I keep ordering you around. Just do it, I say. You stare at the ground, maybe mumble under your breath, but mount up. Trot, I say. Your feet are barely in the stirrups. Now I raise my voice. Just send your horse to the trot, right now. Do it. You tell me you need time; the horse isn’t ready. You tell me you have questions; you need a moment. But I yell back STOP BEING AFRAID as if that’s a cue anyone can take, but now I’m mad, marching towards you with a lunge whip. Pause right here.

Growing up, I was told that my horse needed to respect me. That meant my horse had to do what I wanted the minute I asked. Some trainers use the phrase “Ask, Tell, Make.” The theory is that the horse will do what you want responsively on a smaller cue because they know a bigger cue is coming. In other words, the threat that danger is coming. Threats make perfect logic to a human. Not so much to a flight animal.

We were told that horses should give to pressure, so we don’t stop cueing until the horse submits. Hold tension on the rope until the horse gives. But horses don’t naturally give to pressure, and neither do we. Or with the same theory, you kick your horse to make him move forward, but if he doesn’t move off, you keep kicking. Kick harder until he goes, get spurs, or add a whip. How far can you escalate? It becomes a war of wills until we find out they’re lame or have ulcers from stress. Not going forward isn’t always a training issue.

A lot of horses shut down when the cues get loud. They are smart enough to know a big cue is coming, but instead of obedience, they brace their ribs. They wait for our violence. They withdraw and go into freeze mode mentally. He can look like a push-button horse. Or a horse with eyes that are too still and dark. Hope you have your helmet.

Other horses will react unpredictably, and be hollow and tense. Maybe you are “man enough” to ride it out and that makes you cool. You either can’t tell the difference between forward energy and fear, or you like adrenaline sports. Your horse seems to get injured often and has chronic lameness. There’s white around your horse’s eye when you come near.

Once I was told that my horse should be more afraid of me than anything in the environment. I guessed that fear and respect meant the same thing.

Repetition of the cue again and again makes the horse dull. Whether it’s the slapping of a leg, the tapping of a whip, or the endless chattering of our voice. The more we repeat, the less they can hear, and the more frustration we feel. It’s not working. Everything has devolved into a wrestling match with anxiety on both sides. It’s hard to remember what we liked about this. This is how you can tell you’re nagging. It feels bad.

You can teach a horse to give to pressure, but that can be pretty damaging to their confidence. That’s the part that’s missing in some training methods. The results look good short term, but how long can a horse tolerate being pushed? It’s emotionally damaging and eventually, the horse becomes spookier and less willing. One problem with fear-based training is we have to hold a combative edge.

In Affirmative Training, we use a method called Peaceful Persistence: Not aggressive. Not conceding. Not emotional.

In this method, I’ll inhale, I might cluck, or say “walk on.” I might squeeze with my calves, but I’ll do the least I can get away with, and the next time I ask, I’ll use less. After I ask I’ll give my horse a moment to consider. He needs quiet to think, so I don’t interrupt him by repeating the cue he’s already thinking about. I’ll ask once and wait. If I get anything remotely like what I’m asking for, even if I can tell he’s thinking about what I am asking, I’ll reward him. Then wait a minute and ask again. My requests are not incessant, and I give him time in between to ponder.

Maybe he can’t answer because he’s braced for that big cue. It’s in his memory that it hurts now. He waits and I breathe. I let my silence tell him I won’t attack him. It takes time until the horse releases enough anxiety to even be able to think about the question. It isn’t disobedience. He needs to feel safe, and we need to listen patiently. I think of this as doing penance for those who train with harsh methods. When he can, the horse will volunteer. In the meantime, we want to kick. We don’t trust the horse is trying. Finally, we remember to breathe and take a step back.

Does it sound more like therapy than horse training? It is. The same methods that caused their problems won’t heal them. We want a confident horse, but the training has to support that option. Constant correction and nagging will not get us that horse.

Now back to being the demo horse, the beginning scenario. I was barking at you, the rider, so endlessly that I couldn’t listen. Does it remind you of something? You can’t get a word in edge-wise with me, just like your horse can’t get one with you if the cues never stop. They think we don’t listen and they’re right.

Horses are like the shy kid in the back of the room, too nervous to raise their hand. Horses are the wild kid acting out, trying to distract you from his insecurity. They’re waiting to see if you’re going to escalate the cue; waiting to see if they should brace their ribs. Once they’re satisfied they’re safe, they can think about the question. But again, it’s going to be hard for them to speak right up if we’re chattering away. Horses don’t interrupt or talk over us. They need a lull in the conversation to find their voice.

In the end, the short answer is this: the difference between peaceful persistence and nagging is our ability to wage peace. Do we listen to the horse, or better, let the horse speak up, or do we demand an answer immediately? Counterintuitively, listening needs to be prioritized over the desired result in order to achieve the result. Praise, not punishment. We pause and give the horse time to think because we care about his mental health as much as biomechanics and training.

Training is all about respect, but it’s our issue. We must respect the horse as a partner, not a prisoner of war.

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If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School.

Anna Blake, Relaxed & Forward

Want more? Become a “Barnie.” Subscribe to our online training group with affirmative demonstration videos, audio blogs, daily quotes, free participation in “group lessons”, and live chats with Anna. Become part of the most supportive group of like-minded horsepeople anywhere.

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training at The Barn School, along with virtual clinics and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

Visit annablake.com to find archived blogs, purchase signed books, schedule a live consultation, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses.

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

The post The Difference Between Peaceful Persistence and Nagging. appeared first on Anna Blake.

Letting Edgar Rice Burro Get Old

Edgar Rice Burro runs with a gang of misanthropes. A goat whose broken leg healed stiff, so he has an even wonkier gait than most goats. A mini horse that doesn’t like people, so he’s been hiding behind Edgar for a decade. He practically raised a quirky mare until she was mature enough to get along with horses. That took fifteen years. In his prime, Edgar was the bad boy break-out king (a wiz with latches) who then let his best friends (not everyone) out to join in the debauchery that followed. Think of him as Travolta’s character in Grease. He always acts a little cooler than he is. In the end, not that cool, and his heart rules him more than a tough guy’s should. Edgar always pulls for the underdog.

He wasn’t here on the farm at the beginning, it just feels like he was. When I was training locally, he took charge of settling the new horses who came to our farm for training. They went into a pen with Edgar. He refused to fight and shared his hay. If he got chased off, he never took it personally. A believer in affirmative training from the start, he persisted in being good company.

He hasn’t been the only long ear on the place. Edgar is one of eleven donkeys and mules who have come here for training over the years, but he has stayed the longest. He blew his “cool” cover right at the start by braying every time he saw me. When I drove in or out of the farm gate, Edgar let out a squeaky-hinge of a howl. When he heard the back door open, the rasping gasps of a crosscut saw. When he saw me through the window in the shower, he gave a wheezing moan that cranked up into wailing longear blues, interspersed with farts like a backbeat on each heaving honk of his bray. He is that irresistible.

We did horse agility, ground drove, and hiked together. He is reliable with children, a remarkably rare skill on my farm. He protected those smaller or weirder than he was. Edgar would like me to mention that in a herd of extremely handsome horses, he is the real lady killer. He even had a brief theatrical career.

Mostly, we spend hours mucking together. If time was going too quickly, he blocked the muck cart so I had to lobe the manure over his head like a long-distance three-point shot, into the cart. He played the long game, patiently waited, and watched for his moment. It was like a chess game, planning moves ahead until he planted a hoof on my muck fork and checkmate! I pay the donkey toll.

Back when we first met at his previous home, Edgar was hard to halter. Donkeys are deep thinkers and often misunderstood. He’d had some rough handling, as most long ears do. There were some fear issues. The vets hadn’t been patient with him, a farrier had messed up a trim, still oozing when he arrived. Edgar still remembered.

I trusted we could work it out. I’ve done it often enough with sour horses, even troubled long ears. Soon his bawling yells lessened, and he slept in the sun. We had some really good years watching sunsets together. Edgar is a poet.

Nothing about Edgar has ever been frail, but just like me, the years are taking their toll and mortality runs through our barn like mice, scattering as we enter, hidden but still there. Edgar has degenerative suspensory ligament disease (DSLD). His fetlocks are giving up on him. It’s a painful predicament with no cure. When the word degenerative is in the name, well, there you are. Mortality mice everywhere.

But that isn’t the worst thing. He has lost his trust. The old fear has all come back now, dark and primal. He is braying more insistently when he sees me and sometimes wails in the dead of night. He pins me against fence panels and holds me there. Many elders grow into a doddering age, sweeter for their slowness. That kind of peaceful retirement will not be Edgar’s.

I get him haltered for the farrier an hour early and he barely tolerates it. There is no version of slow that is slow enough. He is done, aged out on behaving. The pressure on the standing leg doubles when he lifts a hoof and he can’t trust his leg to hold. When the truck pulls in, he bolts. His fear is wild terror, crushing all in his path. We can cajole him, but I pray he won’t need a trim this time. A vet visit is worse. Is it a kind of donkey dementia?

We lost an important herd member this year. I’m still dragging my toes, but the herd seemed to be doing well. There is always a shift when the herd changes, but they started pushing Edgar around. He is not all that stable on his feet, so he became afraid of the horses he’s always lived with. I moved him, with safe company, into the shadiest, best pen. A month later Edgar colicked. I couldn’t get a vet out till the next day, so I ran next to Edgar to give him a shot of Banamine. Then I watched him paw gigantic holes for the rest of the night.

The next day, I prepared him as I could, and after a very stressful exam, the vet confirmed ulcers behind the colic. I’m the one who’s good at recognizing ulcers using calming signals, but I missed it right under my nose. Edgar, so stoic that he refused to give a hint, was struggling. He is so cranky, he gets his meds in an apple now. He is aggressive about that, too.

Sometimes I think of Edgar’s poor fetlocks struggling to hold the weight of his body as I fidget support hose onto my own misshapen feet. Each year gravity seems to pull Edgar’s bottom lip a little longer and a little softer. Gravity isn’t doing me any favors either. Somehow, Edgar and I have both become elders. Those younger than us don’t know what we know. It’s not their fault, it’s the blessing of our years, but we are on the downhill side. Now and then when I’m working, someone will grimace, thinking I’m an ass. I put a big old smile on my face, and stubbornly bray on. It isn’t an insult to me.

How old is Edgar? Chronological numbers are deceptive and expiration dates are not up to us. Scoring lives by numbers is just another man-made competition. Living the longest isn’t a win if it’s all pain.

I’ve been writing essays about Edgar Rice Burro since the start but when his time comes, I won’t mention it. Death is too common, so ordinary that it isn’t worthy of him. But we aren’t dead yet, there is a new season on the way. The nights are cooler and the prairie sunset will hold us dear, even as the things we love become a little less tractable.

Lately, I worry more while I’m gone for work. It’s been a donkey’s years we’ve been together. I think too much about death, wanting to plan for things beyond my grasp. It’s about making peace with where we are, but some of us are cantankerous by nature. So, I’ll listen for a certain sound like a foghorn in a sandstorm, a gasping honking yodel, the song of my people.

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If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School.

Anna Blake, Relaxed & Forward

Want more? Become a “Barnie.” Subscribe to our online training group with affirmative demonstration videos, audio blogs, daily quotes, free participation in “group lessons”, and live chats with Anna. Become part of the most supportive group of like-minded horsepeople anywhere.

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training at The Barn School, along with virtual clinics and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

Visit annablake.com to find archived blogs, purchase signed books, schedule a live consultation, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses.

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

The post Letting Edgar Rice Burro Get Old appeared first on Anna Blake.

The Difference Between Training and Retraining a Horse

Lesson #1. Learning to Lead

Horse Training is the process of collecting good experiences. Let it be that simple. We start with something small and then add to it. It’s a simple, patient process we call successive approximation. Let’s say the horse is young, and we introduce them to new habits in short sessions. We begin slowly haltering and picking up one foot at a time. The hardest thing we do is not let ourselves get too enthusiastic and ask too much. Good trainers teach the horse that curiosity is confidence, and peace equals their safety. We offer each next step lightly, almost letting the horse lead us while we remain quiet and generous with praise. It’s like simple addition, just one step after the other.

Or it’s different. The young horse gets over-worked, over-corrected, and over-intimidated. The horse holds it together for however long they can because horses are not natural aggressors. Some horses are stoic enough to tolerate harsh training for years while others rebel from the start. Just as simple a method, but the answers are not reliable, the youngster has little confidence. Their eyes turn black with dread at the sight of a human.

But regardless of the training methods they were started with, those fundamental lessons, and the emotions the horse felt at that time, will remain deeply embedded in their brain. They remember the first time, just like we do. You could say their first experiences with humans form their worldview. It’s history, but remember, horses have excellent memory. Their first trainer never leaves them.

Hold on, I am getting to the point, but the thing you might notice now is that one voice is missing.

Maybe you have a horse that you purchased after the previous owners raved about his history. Or your horse might be a rescue horse that’s older, and you don’t trust the rescue actually knew his history. Maybe they’re a career change horse, previously a barrel horse or jumping horse and you are certain he’ll like his new life better than the old one. New horse, new life, we want to think. Nothing but good news.

But even if the horse had a fabulous start, understand that moving a horse to a new home is traumatic for the horse. You know change is hard, but now is a good time to truly understand how disorienting this experience can be. Imagine being kidnapped and airdropped into a strange place, like a huge parking complex at night, where you don’t know anyone. But now imagine that the mental tools you have are memory and emotion. Horses don’t have the problem-solving skills we do. Living in the present, they don’t plan a future. They can’t placate themselves by saying tomorrow will be better.

This is the moment where initial training matters the most. A confident, mentally balanced horse will still feel stress, but be able to cope better. There will be an adjustment period where the two of you get acquainted and form a new language between you. Trust will build over time, and normal training continues.

Or maybe the horse that was perfect before you brought him home seems to change or unravel in small ways. Suddenly he’s not leading all that well, or he’s frantic when you canter. So, you try to patch up the weak spots, but it doesn’t help. Soon it feels like every training technique you’ve ever learned isn’t gonna work on this horse. Everything feels miserable, you have buyer’s remorse, but that is also totally normal. Now you remember this horse had a handful of owners before you and what that means to a horse finally sinks in. Meanwhile, your horse reads the anxiety in your body which you are not even considering hiding.

This is what they don’t tell you: Retraining a horse is a different process for the horse. You don’t have the advantage of newness that we have with youngsters. The horse may not need more training; he may need to recuperate from previous training. That means he needs a process of subtraction before we can begin the addition of new skills. He has to let go of the old training as a part of the process of beginning with you. You are his rebound relationship, and you know how that goes.

Retraining a horse has to go slower because the horse has to process what’s happening now and compare it to his memory of what usually happens in a similar situation. I hope you disappoint his expectations. I hope you are slow and affirmative, as if the new horse was still that precious foal. I hope you start from scratch because those patches won’t hold. Starting the horse all over again, with haltering, is actually the shortcut.

If you have a horse that was trained in a more fear-based method, it feels to us like that should be an easy transition to make. We think it’s good news and they should be pretty enthusiastic that we’re so kind. Grateful even. Meanwhile, the horse is concerned for his safety, like every other day of his life. Horses need time to balance those things out in their head. It’s nothing less than behavior modification.

You actually know how your horse feels. You hear railbirds in your head telling you what you do is wrong. Most of us have struggled to learn a better way, but in the process been frustrated with ourselves and lost in the process. We stared at our horse’s calming signals and saw their stress. Then we are in a big do-gooder hurry to fix it all as quickly as possible. With the best of intentions, we scare them. Intimidation can be done with hate and frustration, or with love and hope. If we’re honest, we have so much emotion about horses that we are like a searchlight, a little too bright.

Instead, go join the horse in that metaphorical parking complex at night. Acknowledge that it’s a little scary for both of you. Rather than scream and rush to save him, breathe into your anxiety, so your horse can do the same. Then settle in to rest together in the dark. You have more in common than either will admit, but in this uncertain moment, be worthy of trust. Let your horse know he is perfect in this dark place. He doesn’t need discipline, and he doesn’t need a savior. Domination, done with fear or love, is a stumbling block we can move beyond. Be his equal, no less or more. That’s what partnership means.

It was never about the horse’s shortcomings in training. For good reasons and bad, it was always about our impatience during the first training sessions down to this very moment. The secret of retraining is to not do it. Instead, offer what was truly missing, safety and security in his home. Then wait. Let the horse choose to follow you back, just like that first walk.

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If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School.

Anna Blake, Relaxed & Forward

Want more? Become a “Barnie.” Subscribe to our online training group with affirmative demonstration videos, audio blogs, daily quotes, free participation in “group lessons”, and live chats with Anna. Become part of the most supportive group of like-minded horsepeople anywhere.

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training at The Barn School, along with virtual clinics and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

Visit annablake.com to find archived blogs, purchase signed books, schedule a live consultation, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses.

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

 

The post The Difference Between Training and Retraining a Horse appeared first on Anna Blake.

Human Calming Signals: Help Your Horse to Take Your Cue

You think it’s a simple task you’re asking your horse to do. You use an affirmative approach, not willing to intimidate your horse. Then you calm yourself and breathe, and your horse does nothing. Why isn’t it working? That Anna person says it isn’t what we ask a horse, it’s how we ask. Well, you’re not being mad or frustrated. You’ve seen other people who seem to do nothing and get a huge response from their horse. Why doesn’t it work for you?

This is the part that no one wants to talk about because it makes us defensive. And it’s intrusive and creepy. Yay. Here goes. 

Here’s an example: I might have a client who is a good rider, but she isn’t used to riding in the arena. All I’ve asked is for them to walk out and it doesn’t matter where they are, just begin walking. I don’t give more directions because the horse is just warming up. You’d think it would be a pretty simple thing, but surprisingly often it isn’t easy at all. Maybe the rider has it in her head that her horse should travel very close to the rail. She thinks the rail is the right place and any other place is wrong. I have not said ride on the rail, not once. But she wants to be right, of course, and the more she tries to steer the horse to the rail, the more the horse pushes away from the rail. It’s a little like a wrestling match and it shouldn’t be this hard. [Horse: What’s wrong with that fence? It’s like others. Don’t see a problem, but the human sees something bad. Do I trust her?]

Here’s an example: An owner needs to load a horse in the trailer. The horse had been hauled before, and she has loaded horses before, but today, she was having a hard time even leading the horse up to the door. She’s got her hand on the rope and she is barely pulling, but he just won’t come. She doesn’t know what the problem is. It’s a brand new trailer, promised to be a good one. There’s a railbird suggesting a whip. She remembers articles about different tricks for loading. Then, while she’s worrying about the time, she replays every horror story about loading or trailer wrecks she’s ever heard. The railbird is watching as if there is a cliff up ahead. It should be easy, but it isn’t working. [Horse: Why is she so nervous about the trailer? Does she see something? She isn’t breathing. I’ll look away or graze, to let her know I’m no threat. I’ll give her a calming signal, so she’ll relax.]

There’s more: You have a month of $30 Gastrogard syringes to use and your horse isn’t wild about a wormer once a year. Your new farrier thinks you’re an idiot. Your new horse arrived, and he isn’t the horse you thought you bought. You get my drift.

It isn’t what we ask a horse, it’s how we ask. It’s a pithy little phrase, but you are not dominating anything. And for once, you, your horse, and I all agree. At this point, it isn’t about what your horse is doing. It’s about what you can do to help your horse. So far, it’s all been a conversation with yourself in your head about your horse. Your horse hasn’t been part of your mental obstacle course. 

Start with settling your mind. Oh great, fine and dandy. That worthless drivel. What does it even mean?

Exactly! We approach horses having logical human conversations with them and then wonder why they don’t respond. Meanwhile, in their world, they read our body language. We are sending messages every second and humans are pretty easy to read. Our body is a billboard next to a dirt road. Our body is a narc, squealing our deepest secrets to the police (horse.)

It isn’t enough to have a flimsy plan and hold it in front of your horse like tissue paper in the wind. The bigger question is do we believe it ourselves? Don’t just nod; your horse reads your body more honestly than any action in your frontal cortex. It isn’t a question of whether the cue is too gentle or too harsh. Any horse will tell you the more dominating you get, the more they doubt you. They understand that bullies are weak. At the same time, when we are so gentle that we fail to give a solid cue, they see all the way through us as if we are ghosts. And can’t give a confident answer.

Read something, get inspired, and feel you really do understand on a deeper level than ever before. It isn’t enough to know. Sorry, but our mental calisthenics read as confusion to a horse. Learning the cue is just the first step.

We have to actually trust the method enough to internalize it. It has to feel natural and undeniable in our mind, so it comes out that way in our body language. We have to embody what we want, in a consistently concrete way. Leave the mental chatter in the bathroom. The human calming signals in our body will always say more than whatever verbal cue we give. Once we trust the method enough to embody it, then horses will trust it, too.

What is this mythical cue of which I speak? C is for confidence, that shy nebulous requirement needed for us to believe our own minds. The requirement for horses to feel safe enough to be responsive. It will be a bridge of fog until we step out on it and wave to the shore.

But we are the silly sort that confesses all our failures but rarely brag about our successes. That’s just wrong. Do you hear me? It isn’t just your horse that reads that in your body. It’s a poison that no one wants you to drink. But sometimes self-poison is easier to swallow than standing in our own light. Can we finally let that go? 

In a nutshell, this is another way of saying we are the ones who must change. We need to embody the cue honestly and hold it until the horse believes it. It will be slow at first but let that be okay. Then, overnight, your disobedient, lazy horse becomes the horse of your dreams. Just remember that dreams aren’t real to a horse. Your body will always be his truth.

When your body and your cues come into alignment, your horse will be the first to know. Have faith in yourself. Your horse is learning more than trailers and syringes. See the big picture. You are building an iceberg while standing on the tip. 

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The photo: I’ve been working with a reactive horse who couldn’t be haltered reliably in January. If you want to see how this training approach works in real-time, join The Barn School and follow us at Bhim’s Training Diary Click here.

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If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School.

Anna Blake, Relaxed & Forward

Want more? Become a “Barnie.” Subscribe to our online training group with affirmative demonstration videos, audio blogs, daily quotes, free participation in “group lessons”, and live chats with Anna. Become part of the most supportive group of like-minded horsepeople anywhere.

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training at The Barn School, along with virtual clinics and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

Visit annablake.com to find archived blogs, purchase signed books, schedule a live consultation, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses.

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

 

The post Human Calming Signals: Help Your Horse to Take Your Cue appeared first on Anna Blake.

Nube: How to Train a Horse to be Patient

I don’t like cameras. How you can tell is my neck swells up and my double chins flare out wider than my ears. I’m trying to suck my head down between my shoulder blades and inside my chest so I’m invisible. I always needed an animal in my business photos for my confidence. Otherwise, all you would see was my hairline. I had to get over it when I became a clinician. Now I dance at clinics and the participants are the ones who are embarrassed. Progress, isn’t it?

When Nube was young, I’d been asked to make a PowerPoint presentation about Calming Signals by a therapeutic riding center. I agreed, but having never seen a PowerPoint, I had no idea they were that dull. No pictures of horses at all. How is anyone supposed to stay awake? Thus, I produced my first series of videos. I enlisted a friend who worked at a local equine program and a photographer to video.

My plan was to ask all the horses the same question and then video their calming signal response. There is nothing more important than our first interchange with a horse, so the question that we asked all the horses was silent. We held a halter. The horses took it from there.

The wind was howling. A good day to cancel, but we plowed on. The horses were very communicative with lots of looking away, freezing, and grazing when not hungry. Some horses were new to the program and reluctant. All horses in programs tend to be stoic, so lots of signals were subtle. A few of the videos were five minutes long, the equivalent of a Fellini movie in a PowerPoint presentation. I’d get to talk about patience. I wanted to demonstrate haltering with a shared calming signals language, so at the end of the day, the photographer set up to videotape me and Nube (rhymes with ebay).

I had been using calming signals as a foundational part of my training for several years by then, but Nube was the first youngster I started this way. Calming signals had been our language since he was two months old. Years later, haltering him or any other conversing, happened at a similar speed to human conversation, so we would demonstrate that it wasn’t slow forever.

I could show you the video but it’s more fun if I do a verbal video. To halter, I always stand with my feet parallel to the horse’s hooves because I can’t reach the horse’s head from there. They have to arc their head around to the halter. That’s their volunteer. Nube was 17.2 hands and had a lovely, long neck. I stood at his shoulder and the photographer started filming. I asked for Nube’s eye, by quietly exhaling and glancing at his eye. He immediately arced his head slightly toward me. I opened the halter and exhaled again, and he dropped his head so I could pass the crown piece under his neck and hold it in my right hand on top of his neck. On the next exhale I offered the noseband of the halter. He had to arch his neck a good distance, bringing his muzzle around to slowly drop his nose into the halter. I moved the nose band up his muzzle and did the buckle. With each question asked and answered, I stepped back and exhaled. When the camera stopped, I had a goonie grin on my face because my lips were stuck up on my gums. It’s my competition smile. I didn’t notice what I’d done until then.

I have a dozen different PowerPoints now, but this first one is still the best. I’ve updated most of the videos as I got better ones, but this one of Nube and I stays in. Every time I show it there is a nodding acknowledgment from the group. We are the Fred and Ginger of haltering. People throat breath at our elocution, they think we’re geniuses. That’s when the fun begins. I point out that the nose band is so tight that hairs are bent back underneath it. Then I tell them I had no idea where this halter came from and it’s true. If there was an equivalency of geeky high-water pants in halters that’s certainly what’s going on here. Now my Iberian dream-horse looked as dorky as my competition smile. I made a mistake. I should have stopped the video and found his halter, but it had been a long day.  The photographer and I wanted to be done. I keep this video in because a sense of humor is required. Because it’s easy to get a little holy about horse training and good to remind people I’m no saint.

Sometimes your horse isn’t perfect. Sometimes your horse feels that way about you and that was Nube in the video. He showed me patience. Nube was a young horse then, but it wasn’t a big deal. He had better answers than I did lots of times. On this day, Nube made me look good when I didn’t deserve it. We were consistently partners, every day through to the last day. What is a relationship if not standing in for each other when needed?

The title of this essay mentions patience, but for horses who had a harsh start, it’s more like tolerance. Fear-based training is easy, but how do you train a horse to show you goodwill or even grace? It’s how you treat them every day from the first day. You never bully or threaten, with treats or whips. You build them up, teaching peace. You are generous with your breath. You show respect by learning their language and staying consistently on the horse’s side, trusting their intelligence. It’s a revolutionary idea for a predator.

Some think affirmative training is fine for a silly halter video, but when things get tricky, the use of force is necessary. Fighting their fear with a bigger fear is a doomsday plan. Horses are right to not trust humans who throw temper tantrums. If a horse has a constant fear of correction, it’s no different than us having a similar fear of getting hurt. Our real work with horses is to trust them, to listen for better ideas, and like Nube, give things a chance to work out before we jump to “fix” them.

Nube would be the first to say no thanks to kissy-face selfies. Cameras made him as uncomfortable as me. But even as a youngster, he had my back. Not that I was special, but because horses understand reciprocity, being a member of a herd, from the start. Calming Signals are the entry door, but it takes us a while to learn to leave the human drama in the house and become as reliable a partner as we want them to be.

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If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School.

Anna Blake, Relaxed & Forward

Want more? Become a “Barnie.” Subscribe to our online training group with affirmative demonstration videos, audio blogs, daily quotes, free participation in “group lessons”, and live chats with Anna. Become part of the most supportive group of like-minded horsepeople anywhere.

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training at The Barn School, along with virtual clinics and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

Visit annablake.com to find archived blogs, purchase signed books, schedule a live consultation, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses.

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

The post Nube: How to Train a Horse to be Patient appeared first on Anna Blake.

Human Calming Signals: Actions Louder than Words

“Anna, after reading this piece I realized that I know how to do this; just not with horses. As a nurse, when I approach a frightened child or anxious adult who needs a potentially painful procedure, I change form. The angle of my head descends slightly, my gaze softens, my shoulders drop. I lower my voice and exchange my toothy grin for a closed mouth with only a slight upward turn at the corners. My movements are steady, but not rushed. I recognize their cooperation for this difficult task and I thank them.”

This comment is from Laurie, on a recent blog about when we have Coyote Eyes. It’s a beautiful description of human calming signals. She describes how she changes her body to support a patient. The message is “I’m no threat to you.” Read her description again. Easy to visualize, isn’t it? The words paint a picture that we understand because we all read body language. Because calming signals are our language as well; actions are always louder than words. But when Laurie says she knows how to communicate, “just not with horses,” I wondered if she was selling her skills short or being self-deprecating.

Then Laurie continued, “I think that 1200 pounds of muscle, bone, hooves, and teeth that can move as quickly as a snake’s strike, is surprisingly sensitive and vulnerable when interacting with us human predators. I imagine that reframing how a horse interprets humans is as hard as how a human interprets a horse, but so essential for both.” 

This is so perceptive. She gets a piece here that is complicated to understand, and so difficult to get right. On one hand, is it really that different? Is talking to people different than talking to horses? Do we scare them into submission, or do we kindly de-escalate the situation? Do we show more respect for an elder? Do we respond to young horses with patience as we would children?

I hope Laurie is shaking her head at me now as if a romantic idea of being a nurse was all hand-holding and tissue passing. Do we romanticize her job as we do horses? She knows toddlers who are afraid and in pain can’t be reasonable. That adults aren’t much easier, often fearful of medical procedures or just exhausted by feeling bad. She works with people who are not at their best and she can’t control the outcome. But the only thing in her control is how she behaves. She can yield to the situation during work hours, and be who patients need her to be. 

But no kidding, humans are so much easier to read than other mammals. We are transparent compared to horses and those same behaviors that work between humans will not get the same result between other species. She is right about those 1200 pounds of survival instinct. Horses are not capable of surrendering their flight response for our convenience when they feel pain and can’t get away. As much as we understand human caretaking, it is different for horses. Kissing their nose won’t make them love us. Laying on the ground next to them won’t teach them to relax. And no matter how much we love them, they will always be horses and never our children. For many horses, our affection has a dominating quality that common their horse-sense doesn’t respond to. Are we willing to listen?

The reason training techniques don’t work is that the conversation we have with each horse on any day has to be individualized. A frightened horse needs a quiet body, not threatening. We have to convince them of the impossible; that we aren’t predators and are trustworthy. Mares need us to stand tall as their equals and agreeably negotiate for what we want. I’ve never met a horse who liked people tisking and feeling sorry for them. Even when we know horses have emotions similar to ours, we have to understand those aren’t the same emotions in the same situations. Comparisons might help us have compassion, but at the same time, impede helping them. I think that’s why we get confused. 

Being a nurse means that it isn’t about how they feel about the patient, it’s about how the patient feels. It’s the selfless quality in caregiving that is also required in good work with horses. It shouldn’t be how your horse makes you feel; it should be how the horse’s confidence grows with us. It isn’t that we bait them into being more human. It’s understanding that a horse’s well-being is deeply rooted in being a horse. Being true to their nature rather than having it pushed down. Listening to hear them requires us to truly release our ego so we hear what we don’t want to.

The challenge is that we must be compassionate, but we can’t see horses as human. We know calming signals, a universal language, but we need to learn the equine version. Chimps sit around hugging each other but horses have a hard-wired fear of restriction. Some run to escape, and some shut down. When rocking a child might work, horses need to move to soothe themselves. It can make us feel hopeless that our human skills don’t work.

When we go through a gate or enter the barn, we are crossing into horse territory. We are not missionaries sent to bring them salvation. It’s our job to see their side, to understand and respect their instincts. Horses are not problems to be solved or diseases to be cured. They are perfect, and in order to work with them, we have to start with accepting them as they are. In Laurie’s language, can you give the same care to a grandmother, a skinhead with swastika tattoos, or a little boy with a broken arm? Is that different than working with an elder donkey versus an off-the-track Thoroughbred or a mini-horse?

The best people at training are the best listeners. It was never about training techniques. As much as each one of us wishes there was a simple method, there isn’t. We ask questions, listen to their honest answers, and ask again but with more nuance. There are no simple answers when a predator and a flight animal negotiate a partnership. We will never have a roadmap to the stars.

Seeing it from the horse’s side doesn’t mean they never have to get vet care or that we never ask them into a trailer. It means we seek a place beyond human instinct or horse instinct. That we understand that we have to give some of who we are, as we ask the same from the horse, knowing that making either side wrong will never bring trust. Beyond human arrogance and false bravado, it’s knowing that we have as much to lose as they do.

And then putting on a small smile, “only a slight upward turn at the corners,” we get to the business of giving the horse what they need to survive in our world.

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If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School.

Anna Blake, Relaxed & Forward

Want more? Become a “Barnie.” Subscribe to our online training group with affirmative demonstration videos, audio blogs, daily quotes, free participation in “group lessons”, and live chats with Anna. Become part of the most supportive group of like-minded horsepeople anywhere.

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training at The Barn School, along with virtual clinics and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

Visit annablake.com to find archived blogs, purchase signed books, schedule a live consultation, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses.

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

The post Human Calming Signals: Actions Louder than Words appeared first on Anna Blake.

Undomesticated Women, Anecdotal Evidence from the Road

Amanda and Stable Relation at the Pan Am Games.

I don’t know if I told you… I wrote a new book.

An Undomesticated Sequel to Stable Relation

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Focus is Active Listening. Horses Do It Naturally.

I had a friend who used to write me little vignettes about the antics of her and her horse at their self-care boarding barn. I always looked forward to each installation. Usually, they were hen-cackling funny, but this one took a bittersweet turn:

“This morning at the stables, someone asked my opinion. About 20 seconds into the conversation, she answered a text on her phone. 30 seconds after that, she began telling me about her broken toe, and as I steered the subject back to what she called ‘Blatant Disobedience’ from her horse, she loudly began shouting over me, saying he COULDNT POSSIBLY be that tight in his glutes to stop him wanting to canter.

When she answered another text, I walked away, back to what I was doing, and then it hit me right between the eyes. BOOM. We loathe that behaviour in people, but it’s exactly what we do with our horses. They want to tell us something but we are too self-absorbed, too distracted, too set in our ways to listen. Conversation with us must be heartbreaking, but still they try.

I collected Bruce from his field, and in the short walk back to the stable I vowed to keep a clear, uncluttered mind, focus on his footfall and let go of random thoughts as they floated in. Even for that short time, I failed miserably.

Reward the try; awareness is a good start. We will find our quiet place together.”

Remembering this note again, what “hit me right between the eyes. BOOM.” was the challenge of learning to focus (listen,) is that our brains are too busy to notice that we aren’t. We’re multitasking so fast, we don’t notice we don’t breathe. It’s almost like proving a negative; it takes focus to notice we aren’t focused.

We think our horses should focus on us, but do we seem like butterflies who have random fits? But how many times do we absentmindedly contradict cues, crowd our horses, or interrupt their processing by fussing with their forelock? How often do we pull on their face when we don’t mean to, or not focus long enough to give our horses time to answer? We hold our breath while we hold the lead and focus on something we don’t care about. Want proof? Take a video of you and your horse and see what you missed. Meanwhile, our good horses keep trying.

Focus is easier for horses. It’s their nature; it’s how they communicate. Their survival depends on focus. Horses are incapable of not focusing on everything all at once, with senses so much sharper than ours. Think of focus as active listening. It isn’t problem-solving or explaining or overthinking; it’s staying tuned in with our senses.

Focus is the good habit that then encourages other good habits. It gives us a chance to help sooner, to encourage the horse when confidence begins to waver, to avoid big issues by noticing them small, and a breath will be enough to resolve them. It means we don’t need to correct our horse because we are so inside the moment, that we can prepare ahead, and the horse’s quick reaction time works in favor of both of us. It isn’t that some horses are perfect, it’s that some riders can be there for their horses before things come apart. It isn’t constant correction, it’s focused support. It’s catching the glass before it falls rather than picking up the pieces later.

I think you have noticed that focus is not natural for humans. Our brains are drawn to bright shiny thoughts. We have to school ourselves in slowing down, noticing details, and staying in conversation. Aware of our surroundings but not distracted by them. This is a good time for a martyr to draw a knife and stab themselves, but please understand, that is a distraction, too. Kindly take a breath and excuse that inner-railbird. Return to your good horse.

The bittersweet part of this vignette was the self-awareness my friend found in the interchange. She didn’t make a joke, and acknowledging that she failed, she chose to do better. She is right, the fact that horses keep trying should inspire us to pick up our game. When we make a mistake, we have to understand that it’s good news. We can’t change until we notice what needs to change. Awareness is the true path to a quiet place with a horse.

Start small. Let it be this simple:

Inhale. Focus on one small task. Complete it. Notice.

We have to pry the sticky old habits loose and practice holding a bright soft focus. Show yourself the patience your horse likes. When you fail, as we all do, reward your try because we don’t get the praise we deserve either.

This woman got on my friend’s nerves. I thought she was a caricature when my friend mimicked her glass-shattering voice. But I got to visit my friend’s barn a year later and meet her handsome maxi cobb gelding, Bruce. As we were admiring him, we heard a rattling disturbance coming closer, trash cans being moved, and someone muttering squeaky swear words and not exactly under their breath. I touched my friend’s shoulder with my eyes wide and mouthed the words, “Is that her?” Incredulous she was so recognizable. As she stormed by the stall door, complaining someone had stolen her muck fork, my friend said, this is Anna from America.  The woman waved over her back and continued slamming her way, now she would be late, she said. My friend gave me an I-told-you-so smile.

Trainers always say that horses need consistency. Well, not this kind. Later as my friend and I were taking muck down the alley to dump, a horse struck at us, teeth bared and ears pinned flat, out the half-door of his stall. I recognized the woman’s horse just as quickly. Pain will do that if we don’t listen.

I’m not sharing this story hoping to hear all the complaints you have about stupid people. Trust me, idiots are not in short supply and I am sick of hearing about them.

It’s time to make a choice about what we focus on. They don’t deserve our precious attention. Maybe we could practice focus by refusing to let ourselves wallow in disgust. It leaves a mark on us and our horses notice. Instead, we might belligerently keep our eyes lifted, our breath clean, and when our minds wander, gently call them back to something affirmative. Here’s my secret: I remember I love horses and re-focus on the one in front of me.

We were almost finished; I was making Bruce’s bed for the night and my friend had gone for more shavings. Deaf in one ear and I could hear the woman’s voice clang down the alley, calling my friend. As she neared the stall, I ducked behind Bruce, and he closed his eyes. She didn’t see us.

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If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School.

Anna Blake, Relaxed & Forward

Want more? Become a “Barnie.” Subscribe to our online training group with affirmative demonstration videos, audio blogs, daily quotes, free participation in “group lessons”, and live chats with Anna. Become part of the most supportive group of like-minded horsepeople anywhere.

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training at The Barn School, along with virtual clinics and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

Visit annablake.com to find archived blogs, purchase signed books, schedule a live consultation, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses.

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

…

The post Focus is Active Listening. Horses Do It Naturally. appeared first on Anna Blake.