Anna Blake's Blog, page 11

Do You Have Coyote Eyes? How to Look Without Looking

Can you tell when someone’s looking at you? Or maybe a child in a waiting room, or it could be your mother. They are big at staring. It’s easy to feel your dog’s eyes, a language without words. What about a stare from someone who doesn’t look like you in a coffee shop? What about walking down an unfamiliar street at night while someone across the road walks parallel while looking at you? Of course, you notice. This last example is probably the closest to how horses feel when we scrutinize them for a calming signal. Can you imagine the glare white-hot glare experienced by animals, especially prey animals, when we stare at them? Wait, do you even notice you’re staring?

At a recent clinic, we moved as a group to a close-by farm where some participants kept their horses in a well-settled herd in a large turnout. The sight of a group of strangers standing and staring respectfully totally undid them. On one hand, we saw lots of calming signals, but if they do them because of us, we have intruded over the line of watching and into the realm of stalking prey. Owners didn’t recognize their horses. We were coyotes. Want another example of staring causing stress? Any vet visit.

My colleague and friend in Australia, Megan, asked if I would say something about the art of looking without looking. This comes up a lot when we talk with clients about calming signals. Earnest students stare with the intensity of a double-barreled lighthouse and sure enough, the horse looks away. A lot of horses close their eyes when our intensity is overwhelming. Others might graze frantically, stress eating. Or drop and roll for a reset when the incident is over. There are a few reasons a horse might use these calming signals, and there is much for us to learn. But do we want to be the cause?

The problem isn’t how limited our senses are compared to other mammals. It’s that we think we know everything. The language of horses is subtle, and we roll in loud and abrasive without intent to disrupt. Daydreaming rather than being aware of the environment. Our senses, never that sharp to begin with, get dull and rusty from lack of more than cursory use. It isn’t that we never inspect a wound, for example. It’s that we have enough self-awareness to adjust our volume to be easier on the horse the rest of the time.

The idea of looking without looking means to focus your attention by unfocusing your eyes. Alert in your senses, but quiet in your body.

I first learned this way of seeing while studying martial arts. The instructor asked us to look at a thing, but then soften our gaze and quietly notice what else we could see in our peripheral vision. The things we could see without moving our heads. It is not having a laser focus on a point, but a soft focus on a wider view. It’s a way of picking up movement in a crowd or having a wider view. The more you use it, the clearer it gets. In our case, it’s seeing the space the horse’s body inhabits instead of glaring into his eye. We become less aggressive in our bodies and less of a threat to our thousand-pound partners. 

I’ve seen folks approaching a horse, doing strange things, trying to mimic them. Turning bodies at weird angles, pretending to do horse behaviors, yawn to make the horse yawn. Or sitting in a chair as if they are distracted. We are obvious; they read us like a comic book. We would do better to not try to fool animals whose senses are so much more acute than ours.

I want to listen, but not cue behaviors. Not pretending to be another species, I’d rather try to turn myself into a safe place. Think of it as a cloaking device that makes me slightly less visible. Softening my vision cools my energy. If I need to adjust the energy of my body, I’ll use my breath to inhale and let the energy in my solar plexus percolate or settle. I might move my feet, but my hands are the last resort, the choice of a predator. Let calmness start with your eyes.

Instead of mocking horses (sorry/not sorry) I will train myself to soften my vision. I will notice my breath and if I’m not breathing, I’ll make a new habit of rhythmic breathing. I’ll practice and give myself affirmations that I’m doing well. And while I’m doing that, I’ll let my vision go wide, I’ll make a new habit of softening my eyes, looking without looking, and practice that as well. I’ll have to train myself because I’m only human. I have limited senses compared to other mammals.  

Something about this exercise should seem familiar. Yup, it’s the way horses see the world. They can’t see directly in front or behind themselves, but use strong peripheral vision in a sweeping arc from both flanks. We’re learning to see the world as a horse does, to use our senses rather than leaping to conclusions with that overbearing frontal cortex of ours. We quiet the noise and try to sense movement outside our stillness. It’s a Zen-ish concept. We look without looking.

Here’s how you can tell you’re doing it right:

We notice we can focus longer; more engaged in the environment, less distracted by chatter and bad advice. 
We notice we’re standing farther away because we can see the stress we cause being too close.
We notice the sweetness in the air, the comfort of the Earth holding our weight, the quiet thrill of breathing. 
We notice dogs come to us with a slow wag and lay at our feet.
We stop asking, cuing, nagging, and start listening. Our horses begin to relax.  
We wait for the horse to communicate. It will take time because horses expect us to interrupt.
We wait some more, and they become responsive. Not really, but we notice it now.
We oil our gate hinges because the noise is suddenly offensive.
We can never sneak up on a horse, but sometimes they pretend we haven’t disturbed them.
We groom like it’s a slow dance because their calming signals say they like it that way. 
We change anything else they ask us to. It’s not about us. (for Megan)
We notice the horse is calmer, more confident. We are ridiculously grateful. Amen.
We hear their breathing in rhythm with ours. Then we get over ourselves, but keep breathing.
We stop being so boy-howdy holy and let out a fart. The horses blow, and we relax more.
We notice that our horses willingly volunteer for any task.
We stop being anything we used to think we wanted to be. We are almost invisible.
We don’t worry about whether the horse’s eye is soft because ours is. We’ve changed teams. 

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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 Do You Have Coyote Eyes? How to Look Without Looking appeared first on Anna Blake.

Peaceful Persistence, a Horse Training Manifesto

 

What does “not conceding” mean? Oh, I can’t wait to bray about this, says this trainer whose spirit animal is a donkey. We train with Peaceful Persistence which means we are: Not aggressive, Not conceding, and Not emotional. This week I’m writing in response to a reader’s question. We met at a clinic in Australia and she’s been following Bhim’s Training Diary at the Barn School. Thanks, Susan. It’s so much easier when I don’t have to come up with all the ideas myself!

But first, a little about the concept of Peaceful Persistence, which is the core of Affirmative Training. From the beginning, there have been two schools of thought about training horses. One says domination and fear is the best method because horses are all about fighting for herd position and we should do the same. The other says horses are not aggressive and work together for the safety of the herd, so training with cooperation and affirmation is the best way. It’s dictatorship versus democracy. Domination versus partnership.

As we learn more about the nature of horses, and how their flight/fight/freeze response works, we reached the conclusion that fear-based training is ineffective. Horses can’t learn when they are afraid, common sense should have told us that, but humans want results. Fear will get a response quickly, but intimidation trains horses to not trust us. At the same time, we become callus to the chronic violence, we become hard in our hearts and refuse to understand the other side. Define partnership as two voices, rather than compulsive obedience.

But horses do need to get along with us for health care if nothing else. The big question then is if the old intimidation and correction plan is ineffective, then what do I do? Simple. Say yes.

Not aggressive. Instead, give the horse time to think and process. We don’t body slam them or batter them with flags and sticks, or tease and cajole, claiming their space as our own. We train that a respectful distance is more peaceful. We give them room, literally to stand on their feet, which equates to room to think, with us standing a few steps away. Then we begin to build a language with that horse, one of partnership rather than domination. We give the horse a voice and then listen to their calming signals. Sometimes when asking for something, the horse visibly braces, afraid of what comes next, but we affirm less is more and don’t escalate because the cue was too big already. Less correction; more direction.

We show strength by not taking the easy way out. We don’t give a bigger cue, but rather pose a smaller question to the horse and give them time to answer, trusting their intelligence. Rather than forcing a quick answer by intimidation, we give the horse time to settle his emotions. Flight is an involuntary response, so we slow down, so they might do the same. Then we engage the horse’s curiosity rather than demand compliance. Our goal is confidence because a confident horse is less likely to spook, injure themselves or others, struggle with health or lameness issues, or agitate the herd.  Domination is easier for a predator than listening, but we do not fight time, either. We let it take the time it takes because we treasure time with horses.

Not conceding. We don’t give in to impatience or the judgment of others. We don’t allow ourselves to be dominated. We hold to the truth of our horse’s need for autonomy and find ways for the horse to be right, be acknowledged, and be confident in their own intelligence. And we do the same for ourselves. Knowing there are faster ways, we choose patience. If we have a challenging day, we come back tomorrow and try again. We will never concede the horse’s mental health for a trained behavior. We love horses for their nature, never quite tame, and we respect them enough to not confine them to subservience. We don’t expect them to fit into our world; we build a world where they can remain free, and join us by choice and not force.

We show strength by saying yes, and refusing to be punitive. We hold to seeing the best in horses, when it’s human nature to find fault and to want everything on our terms. At the same time, we do not surrender our own autonomy. We are not doormats or punching bags or love-struck girls. We strive to be the equal of horses, the true meaning of partnership. We earn value by not surrendering to our horses but by holding our own self-respect as worthy. We don’t settle for less, we ask for better. First in ourselves, knowing that we model the confidence we want for a horse. When things are challenging, we refuse to be held back, but rather rise above our base nature. We prove ourselves to be predators capable of understanding rather than giving in to the ease of fear and violence. We wage peace with horses.

Not emotional, because horses have emotions of their own, we choose to not pile ours on top. We don’t make excuses because nothing is personal. We take responsibility and resolve our issues on our own time because the horse needs our clarity and affirmation. We learn to focus on the horse and leave our quirks out of the conversation, as they only distract our horse from their task.  If the horse has anxiety then we give them time to soothe themselves. We don’t prize our emotions and martyr ourselves for horses. We are far from perfect, but we don’t give up. We accept that we are each a work in progress. A work of art in the making.

We show strength by letting the horse be the priority. We don’t allow our anxiety to become our horse’s problem. Being unemotional is what it means when we release our ego, that big rock we are always stumbling over when we judge ourselves. We demonstrate maturity and trustworthiness by focusing on the horse. We never surrender our own autonomy and we avoid self-blame by holding close to “the better angels of our nature.”

Peaceful Persistence is a manifesto. We don’t fight. We don’t give in. We put the horse first.

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Watch what I mean:

Join us in Bhim’s Training Diary, Part One here. Or Bhim’s Training Diary, Part Two here.

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 Peaceful Persistence, a Horse Training Manifesto appeared first on Anna Blake.

Calming Signals: What If Horses Are Meant to be a Mystery?

I’m not sure when I started sitting on horses, but I hadn’t started school. You couldn’t really call it riding. When my parents needed me out of the way, they put me on the back of a tall gray mare named Lady. We were in a pen, and she wandered about grazing. They left and did the work they needed to do. The only thing I remember for sure was how much I wondered what Lady thought. It was worth asking because my half-brother rode her for chores and routinely came into the house bruised and bloody. He would be spitting mad, saying Lady wouldn’t listen, and she needed to be taught a lesson. She might have thought he didn’t have a temperament for horses.

Lady fascinated me. I wanted to understand horses, and what the world looked like through their eyes. I didn’t want to be told stories about horses. We were not a family of fairy tales or children’s books. That benefited me. I was there in real time trying to understand their language. Not as a joke like Mr. Ed, and not in a musical way, like Dr. Doolittle. I was more like a baby Jane Goodall. I watched and listened, trying to see through their eyes, always asking, what does it mean to a horse? Before I had words to describe it, I wanted to speak horse like some people spoke French. Talking to horses? That’s as good as crazy for a 50s farm kid.

Sixty years later, I have more words, education, and experience, and the desire to understand horses continues as fresh as spring grass. I’m very aware that horses have emotions. We didn’t all think that back then. I know equally that horses and humans don’t share the same emotions in the same situations. But horses can suffer emotional confusion and challenges just like we do. It’s complicated.

It isn’t that I’m at odds with training or riding. I’m against misunderstanding horses. Throughout history, horsemanship has had two approaches. One is understanding horses, for the sake of the work to be done, be it transportation or plowing. The other focuses on the method of how to train, prioritizing the work, without considering the horse’s nature.

Training methods have always been attractive to us because we want a linear plan for getting what we want. We are process-oriented and want to believe if we do it right, the result is guaranteed. Like saying if I go to college, I will be rich and have a nice house. If I lose twenty pounds, I will meet the perfect life partner and we will live happily ever after. We want the clean path more than the jungle on either side. It’s sweet but shouldn’t we know better by now?

It’s just that we want something easy and quantifiable. Some training approaches try to put horses into boxes, not that they fit but because we wish they did. People are so quick to define their horse by training failures and personal disappointments. Rather than telling a fairy tale about horses that we want to be true, or making excuses for horses because of things that bother you, isn’t it time to finally not just listen but trust what the horse says in his body and behavior?

Oh, don’t blame yourself. For all the cheap talk about listening to horses, has it ever been clear what we should listen to? Bluntly, a training plan is only as successful as we are at listening to the horse’s emotional response to the methods. It isn’t what we train, but how. An understanding of a horse’s language, their Calming Signals, is the difference between a confident responsive horse and one that is unreliable and fearful. That should sound obvious, like old news.

The tricky part is that listening is nebulous and confusing, when all we want is a simple method, in three easy steps, for a perfectly behaved horse.

Meanwhile, horses are intelligent, with a strong memory and total awareness of their environment. They are born perfect and don’t think they need fixing. Define fixing as training and molding, correcting and manipulating. Horses are also born with a willingness to get along with humans. It’s their best and worst quality, depending on the humans they encounter. Ask yourself the important question. Am I getting the relationship with my horse that I want? Am I being the person I want to be for my horse?

So, I teach humans a language course called Calming Signals. It bears no similarity to fortune-telling or astrological readings. It doesn’t take second sight in any way, there is no woo-woo attached. The language is literal, and the requirement is only the ability to focus with a clear mind. Okay, that mind part can be challenging, but it should always be a requirement. Horses would benefit if we paid attention to their emotions, instead of being lost in a training manual while marching around with a whip. It’s the missing link in understanding our horses. It’s the difference in seeing horses as a unique and interesting, rather than a problem to be solved.

Maybe their mystery is what hooks us about horses. Listening to horses should be like reading a book we can’t put down. It would be less about us, our training success or failure, and more about following clues and finding hidden messages. It would be a daily attraction, that desire to sink into the narrative and be engaged as the story unfolds. We allow for plot twists and surprise endings. In that way, we prepare for their brilliance to rise above the pedestrian training we expect. What if horses were always meant to be a mystery?

It’s not a failure on our part. It doesn’t mean we give up training. We get better at listening and the more we understand, the more we stop thinking we own everything, including what it means to be a horse. Maybe we look at them with more curiosity than control. We see more potential for conversation rather than failed training.

Is the arrogance of thinking we know them a form of dominating them? Who are we to own the mind of another? Give up the frustration of thinking we can dominate a nebulous thing, and if you need to do mind control, use your own brain.

Sure, traditions are hard to quit. Long-held habits take time to change. What would we do if we weren’t correcting behavior we don’t like? We’d focus on our own communication skills. Let questions and praise be our language, because constant correction is soul-killing. We would finally understand that curiosity is genuine equine currency. Wouldn’t we be more interesting if we were less bossy? Ask Lady. Then take up exploration.

Start here: Ask the horse you’ve known their whole life, “Who are you today?” And then listen to their answer without correction.

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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 Calming Signals: What If Horses Are Meant to be a Mystery? appeared first on Anna Blake.

Legacy: We’re Riding for the Next Horse

Driving home through northern Colorado yesterday, I passed the Berthoud off-ramp. Otherwise known as the Grandfather Horse off-ramp. I’ve only taken it twice; once when I went to look and once when I went to buy. I think there should be a birthplace monument there, one that would dwarf the Statue of Liberty. Beware. An off-ramp might be an on-ramp. Back when we met, he was just a skinny yearling stud colt. And I’d been saving up for a trip to Belize. 

People say they wish they’d known me forty years ago. A certain colt would be the first to say, I was no prize back then. This is photographic proof. In hindsight, I was damaging his confidence and his balance because I thought I knew how he should walk. I did plenty wrong, and that was what doing my best looked like. 

Most of us are so busy training our horses that we don’t think much about how humans learn. We all feel we have frustrated, confused, and failed our horses at one time or another. We dutifully recite the “know better, do better” quotes but get little satisfaction. We tell the same stories about horses from our past. Once we stop fighting them, we are happy to call them our teachers, but it always comes with a bittersweet sadness. We didn’t know then what we know now. 

Well, of course, not. Learning isn’t a straight, clean line. It isn’t a precise answer like you get in a math class. It is always as nebulous as an art class. If you haven’t had one, here’s the problem with art classes. If they say you’re good, it doesn’t mean you are and if they say you’re bad, it doesn’t mean you fail at art. The best thing you learn in art class is that the art world is nebulous and fickle. It’s perfect training for the horse world where we never start in kindergarten and wind up with a master’s degree by putting one foot in front of the other. Horses are nebulous and fickle.

The challenge in learning about horses is not just that it’s endless, but it’s also easy to get lost because the learning goes off in all directions at once. It’s a spherical experience. Learning involves each of your senses, just as important as your brain. Read everything from memoirs to research papers. Keep an open mind and keep reading. Watch others. It isn’t enough to see the idea. You want to see it done well and done badly and see it done with different horses. Video yourself and watch others. Teach yourself to focus. Then talk about it and listen to trainers and friends talk about it. Write it out in a journal because it is another way to learn. Collect data and compare it. Go hear another person teach it, not that you don’t know the idea, but because they might use different words that would deepen your knowledge. Listen, digest, ask, digest, repeat.

Keep understanding as your top priority. Believe your horse because they are intelligent. But what they say might not make sense, so learn their calming signals. Ask again. Then listen better and dive deeper. Don’t let tradition hold you back because science is our friend. Learn until you can’t fit another thing in your brain, and then trust your intuition. But keep reading.

Get comfortable knowing you don’t have a finish line. It isn’t a race. Let go of right or wrong, and instead notice more. Gain perception. No two horses learn alike, and no two people do either. We can’t measure ourselves because we are unique. Let that sink in. It’s fantastic news. Then feel your body change. Understanding is more important than knowledge, but that wisdom takes longer to collect. Now stop worrying about your age. Slow down, your horse needs time to process. And surprise, so do you. Relish the time spent communicating because that is the magic part. It’s the part we never want to be over. 

Eventually, we figure out it was not about finding the right method, and as much as horses might be our passion, not one bit of it was ever personal. It was always about the horse. We do not direct the movie of that horse’s life. We only play a supporting role but playing that part well will make all the difference.

Of course, that good horse dies because they all do. The next horse is different. It feels like nothing you know works. You might even blame the new horse for being alive. Things come apart for a while, and we can’t tell if it’s them spooking or if it’s us. We collapse in doubt, thinking we don’t know enough. Maybe we must hit bottom to be reminded the foundation of a horse is always where we start. Never where we left off with the last horse. We learn to depend on the fundamentals and we’re lucky to have so much experience there. Then you remember it isn’t a road or even an overgrown path. It’s still a nebulous sphere of understanding. Even better than that, everything in that sphere is working for you, not against you. You notice you are breathing again. Breathing is the price of admission to all things horse.

We act like horses do math, counting our mistakes. Like horses blame us for what we don’t know. See it from their side. When we feel bad, we stand around like coyotes. But not normal ones; we’re coyotes barfing up rodents and apologizing to their little corpses. Get over it. It’s the circle of life. If we are breathing, we are learning. Our regret or guilt is a waste of time, but more importantly, it makes horses nervous. Why bring it up? Do we make children apologize for being childish?

In every moment, when we’re learning for the horse we are with, we’re also learning for the next horse. It’s how we thank them. We are their legacy. They bequeath us to others and we become the legacy of those horses, too. How else can it make sense? We must learn well and trust our best will always be good enough for them. Then we kindly let it be good enough for us, too. We have nothing to apologize for.

Forgive yourself, so your horse can be free of your past.

As for that skinny colt, he got old and died, of course. And he is alive in every word I write and every lesson I teach. He and I explored the infinite mind together. Who needs Belize?

…

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 Legacy: We’re Riding for the Next Horse appeared first on Anna Blake.

Bhim: Through Life Drama and Training Plateaus

It’s been six months now since starting Bhim’s Training Diary online. But time is a fluid thing for a horse. Bhim came to my farm for training, only a month or so, in the fall of 2013. So yeah, it’s been nine years. Or ten.

Recently someone said, “Well, it’s not like you’ve been working with him all that time.” Well, I kinda have. He certainly had to have his feet trimmed and vet care, and I had a dream. I’d like it if one day someone else could halter him. Or even touch him. Every year we inched a little farther, only to lose some ground back the next. But that’s still progress.

So often with rehab horses, they just need time to decompress. Benign neglect is a miracle cure but not with Bhim. It was as if he was desperate to be anxious; he found a way to be feral in my peaceful herd. So we continued to chip away in small slow ways, giving him time to regulate his nervous system.

The first seven or eight years that Bhim was here, I never saw much of him. Just his feet. He held a safe position behind other horses. I had a quiet method of getting the halter on him in forty minutes or so. Every few years we cut a few minutes off that time. Some years it felt like a training plateau but we couldn’t hold our position. If he got a fright, it took a long time to win that precious ground back again. We made progress, we lost progress.

There are quicker methods, but trauma is a part of this horse’s experience and he won’t be healed by more of the technique that damaged him. And I know enough about humans to halfway think Bhim is right about us. I had to play against type and prove I was not the person he was so certain I was. But I believed in my methods even if he didn’t. So, we slogged on negotiating every inch.

Last fall I felt there was a tiny but fundamental change in him at long last. He gave a Calming Signal while on the lead rope. Just one, but he was in my proximity, and it was the first crack in his world-view of dread, a tiny opportunity. If I could stay steady, his sharp pointy edges might soften.

I did something different this time and invited everybody to come along by offering a six-month-long window into our work together. I share videos of each of our sessions, even on the days we go off the rails. Those are the days of possibility; the most important days are always the less-than-good days.

Friends warned me against it, and they might be right. Even now, it is uncharted territory. Bhim is one of the most challenging horses I’ve ever met, but I’m betting on him. Besides, if I’m not willing to practice what I preach, what do I have to lose, anyway?

Bhim and I will never be YouTube stars. If you’re looking for the drama and wild hijinks of a colt-starting competition, we are the wrong choice. But if you’re looking for a sloth-slow, patient demonstration of Affirmative Training with a horse who thinks those words are an oxymoron, we are the perfect choice.

I wear the camera on my head which doesn’t always make for the steadiest shot, but it’s important that you see him through my eyes. I’m mostly silent when I train, so I do voiceovers to explain what I’m hearing and thinking. We work in short sessions andBhim gives an advanced course in Calming Signals.

I like to think I’m a particularly courageous trainer because the horse I’ve chosen to work with is 34 inches tall, and more horse per square inch than a Clydesdale. It’s a challenge I don’t see other pros take on.

The session started in January and we’ve just completed six months. As usual, things didn’t go as I expected. The year started with a death in the herd. The last thing any of us wanted, this beautiful gelding was the hero we all looked up to. We had to navigate the huge hole he left behind.

A month later, just as it started to look like the herd was settling into a new normal, Edgar Rice Burro, our moral compass, had a dangerous midnight colic. I found out my ulcer supplements weren’t working the way I hoped they were. It took a very visible toll on our elder donkey and I made turnout changes in the herd.

For good measure, I broke my wrist, as one does, and got to do some non-dominant hand work. Hand use is over-rated, says Bhim.

There were bumps but we made remarkable progress. I bought a cart and harness because I think it’s a possibility at long last, but the work we do is fundamental to any horse and any discipline. It’s about communication. Training is the process of collecting good experiences, regardless of end goals.

Think of it as a master class, given by one horse to one human, with a trainer giving commentary. Each week, I’ll post a video of several of our work sessions, with a voice-over explaining my process and the changes I see. View them at your leisure. You’ll be able to comment on the feed with other auditors and me. Once a month, there’s a live Zoom to share and ask questions, also recorded for later viewing.

Use it as a case study for understanding the fundamentals of Calming Signals and Affirmative Training. Longtime blog readers tell me it’s the missing link; the visual study guide for what I’ve written. Now we begin the second session of training in real-time.

Warning: Bhim still doesn’t like me. I still don’t take it personally. He still doesn’t like anybody.

Finally, a word about Bhim’s name. When he came to the rescue his name was Batman and considering his behaviors, it was decided he could use a new moniker. I was told Bhim was a Sanskrit word for “great one,” but it took me till now to look it up for myself. It’s true that one definition leans toward “huge, mighty, powerful,” and that is a good fit for this horse. But another definition chooses the words “dreadful, ghastly, fearful, frightful.” That’s a bittersweet truth, too.

But don’t we always have to go deeper than the surface in our horses and ourselves to reveal who we were meant to become, before the bumps and curves of life got hold of us?

Join us in Bhim’s Training Diary, Part One here.

Join us in Bhim’s Training Diary, Part Two here.

…

I was able to regain my identity on my Facebook business pages, but I’m not willing to give them that kind of power again. If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to the blog or come 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, Affirmative Training, and more at The Barn School, as well as 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 Bhim: Through Life Drama and Training Plateaus appeared first on Anna Blake.

Nube: Ulcer Nostalgia and What I Didn’t Know

I get nostalgic for the days when I didn’t know what I know now. I miss the bittersweet, marginally innocent time.  My sense of humor was better then, too. It was 2005 and not many of us knew. We surely do now.

Nube (rhymes with eBay) was two years old. A tall Iberian Sporthorse gelding who was perpetually curious and as agile as a cat. He was the kind of youngster so willing to learn that I went extra slowly. He was lighthearted, not reactive or overly stoic. It felt like we thought the same thing at the same time, so easy to work with.

We were at the vet for a routine visit, when the vet asked me if Nube could be a demo horse. The practice had just purchased a scope and planned a demonstration event at a local arena to introduce scoping for ulcers. They said don’t worry, they already had horses who did have ulcers. Nube would be the one who didn’t. They wanted a healthy stomach for comparison. I was flattered we were asked.

The day of the event came and as instructed, I withheld hay overnight so his stomach would be clear for the scope. Nube jumped into the trailer and we drove less than five miles to the facility. When we got there, friends who I hadn’t seen in a while waved and called out. There was a jovial feeling in the crowd. Nube was precocious and well-behaved.

He was the first horse I started from scratch in my new training method that I would eventually call Affirmative Training and he was the perfect representative. I handed his lead rope to the vet and went to sit in the stands and watch the demonstration.

Nube walked on a slack lead with the vet, to the middle of the arena. He looked around with soft eyes, interested ears, and a quiet young confidence. As the vet introduced him and began, there was some banter and Nube seemed in on the jokes and was so engaged that the vet was clearly taken with him. Nube entered a set of stocks and was given light sedation for the scoping.

The vets explained how the scope worked and gave a little bit of information about ulcers, knowing that they had ulcer horses coming in after Nube. The scope went in and on the screen, all of us saw too big ulcers. They looked like puss-filled open wounds; like huge canker sores. They were undeniably painful to see, and the vet didn’t hide his shock. It was obvious the demo was not going as planned and he was working that out in real-time.

In the years since I’ve reminisced about that day with the vet. He said it’s a story they tell in the practice. Their version is funnier than mine.

I was devastated. It was like getting a failing grade before starting school. It’s hard to deny the visual but I couldn’t believe it. I was well-educated in horses and keenly observant. But as much as I wanted to say it wasn’t true, that Nube didn’t fit the list, somehow he did. I was filled with shame for smiling when we came in. Shame that I had missed such a serious thing or worse yet, that I had caused them.

Previously, I’d known two horses with Equine Gastric Ulcer Syndrome (EGUS). One died of colic and the necropsy showed them, and the other was a Thoroughbred off the track. But I was about to learn so much more, as the world did the same.

I began doing research, asking hard questions, and reading everything I could find. The options for care and treatment in those days were very limited. Over the next couple of years, I ran courses of  GastroGard, thirty days and almost a thousand dollars, and the ulcers returned on day thirty-one.

I found articles that gave the same simple list of causes. Being fed two flakes morning and night and being left without forage the rest of the time was at the top of the list. Horses that lived in stalls were more prone to have ulcers. Horses on the track and performance horses were more prone to ulcers. Nube didn’t fit the profile in any way I could find. I learned in hindsight many of the horses in his bloodline had it. But then all bloodlines do.

I read dozens of studies on the topic but the statistic that stuck the most was that of the horse who were scoped and diagnosed with ulcers, half show no symptoms, according to owners. Or did the owners not recognize the symptoms, as I hadn’t?

I focused on that, I had to make up for my failure. I learned to read pain symptoms, especially the Calming Signals related to gastric pain. I am very skilled and it gives me no joy. It is necessary knowledge for a trainer. Too many horses that people think have training issues are in pain and I end up diagnosing ulcers as frequently as vets do.

It still didn’t make sense, because ulcers don’t make sense. Horses are so much more frail than we want to believe. Twenty years later, vets say they don’t really think about curing ulcers so much as managing them. The only good news is that the options for management are so much better.

Would I trade the experience of learning about ulcers, and going on to help so many client horses since then, for having Nube ulcer-free? I don’t ask myself. It was not a choice I had.

I have a sad brag: I can spot ulcer symptoms very easily, even in stoic horses. They do ask us for help with pain but too often we misread the message, as I misread it all those years ago with Nube. It’s for him that I deliver lousy bad news.

Every week someone tells me about behaviors their horse does that they read as any of a list of flattering things. It’s a total misunderstanding of their horse. The horse has ulcers. It isn’t my business and it’s no fun to put people in that place of shame that I know so well. But I’m a horse advocate. I put horses first.

So I ask that question in the least confrontational way I can. “Are you certain your horse is not in pain?” They assure me their horse is perfectly fine. My heart splits a bit farther. I am most nostalgic for a time that I felt that confidence about any horse.

Then it’s up to the owner. It’s not my job to be the Ulcer Police. It’s your job.

…

I was able to regain my identity on my Facebook business pages, but social media isn’t reliable. If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to the blog or come join us at The Barn School.

[ Please don’t miss a week : Subscribe here ]

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, Affirmative Training, and more at The Barn School, as well as 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: Ulcer Nostalgia and What I Didn’t Know appeared first on Anna Blake.

Human Calming Signals: I Want my Horse to be Fearless.

 

So, you want a horse that doesn’t spook? Don’t we all? Great, you wanna look for something over 25 years old. Not a bad idea to plug cotton in his ears and put blinders on his bridle. Not what you had in mind?

Then a railbird has a suggestion. “You know horses can read your fear.” Hearing this always makes my blood boil. It only encourages riders to think they can control the universe. Or it batters down any shred of confidence a rider might have mustered and now they think everything the horse does is their fault. Blaming the human is as silly as blaming the horse. Besides, the railbird probably overheard a 4-H kid say it. I was a 4-H kid; it’s a good start.

The keyword is start! Step one in any training plan is to stop listening to railbirds, especially the one in your head. Railbirds are such fatalists. Besides, it isn’t that horses read our fear, it’s that they read everything. Try a new perspective.

If you want your horse to be fearless, you must not use fear as a motivator.

We trust that you don’t hit your horse or lunge them into a lame stupor. But we have been using fear-based methods for so long they look normal to us. We are the ones numb to loud, nagging cues. We recognize harsh hands… unless they are attached to our arms. We pull on their faces without noticing. We corner horses to halter them and swing ropes if they aren’t quick enough for us. Call it passive-aggressive, we’re in a hurry. There is no blood, it doesn’t rise to the level of cruelty. But we often intimidate horses in quiet ways that matter to them.

Now imagine your senses are as keen as your horse’s. Is it possible that you’re a teensy bit loud as you overcue? Does the lead rope pull his face because we leave without asking them to walk along? Maybe during savasana in your yoga class, you plan what to cook for dinner. It’s easy to miss messages and calming signals if we haven’t trained our minds to focus. Maybe we confuse our horse’s behavior with our own fear and constantly try to slow the horse down but end up unbalancing them enough that they lose confidence. They taught us to be quiet around horses but if it leaves us acting like a coyote, it scares horses. Maybe we are so bound up in our love for a horse that we seem grasping and needy. Is our love an anchor, but in the worst way?

The question isn’t if horses can read our fear. It’s that they read our dull wits, our complacency. Our worry and our neediness. Our blank pain and confusion. What if we are so much in our own thoughts that they can’t read anything in us at all? What does an overthinking analytical mind read like? Is it a mass of letters and numbers gibberish floating around?

Horses give us calming signals constantly. Are we aware of the human calming signals we send? Everyone says they want a better relationship with their horse, but it’s a nebulous goal. And it gets worse; relationships are built on a foundation made of tiny bricks. Little unintentional habits that we aren’t aware of. When working with horses, we should be focused on those tiny mannerisms because they are important language.

Try an experiment, give it the benefit of the doubt. Remember a horse will always be a horse. Their instincts will always take over. Consider this good news because it means there are no wrong answers. So much pressure for perfection falls away. Now we can proceed to listen with clean ears and no blame. We’re better already.

Rather than always looking for the response we want, and not liking the one we get, let’s look to ourselves first. Behavior is communication, every single time. It’s true for horses and it’s true for us as well. We might need to clean ourselves up a bit, from a calming signal standpoint. Here’s my top ten list:

Hold your distance. Stand a few feet away and let the horse have his space. Yes, it’s his space. Be a polite guest.Look at the horse less and inhabit your body more. Breathe rhythmically.Use your peripheral vision more and soften your eyes. Notice the full environment rather than using tunnel vision.Be quiet. Hold your tongue. Listen. Let your breath speak.Use hands very little, and never above your waist. Horses see nuance and don’t need semaphore.Feel the earth under your feet. Think with your feet; move with eloquent purpose and warm focus.Feel your heart beat, feel energy in your solar plexus. Let your body be fluidly alive. Percolate.Relax your face and jaw and smooth your forehead. A smile is a human calming signal horses understand. Empathy and sympathy faces look a little creepy.Discipline yourself to one emotion. Let it be affirmative and readable. Become reliably consistent.Video yourself. Learn to like what you see. Have patience. Humans aren’t trained in a day.

I know some of these things go against worn-out traditions. They didn’t get me the relationship I wanted so I had to change.

Instead, try leading by example. Hold a quietly confident intention of “safe equality.” Be the calming signal you want to see.

…

I was able to regain my identity on my Facebook business pages, but social media isn’t reliable. If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to the blog or come join us at The Barn School.

[ Please don’t miss a week : Subscribe here ]

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, Affirmative Training, and more at The Barn School, as well as 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: I Want my Horse to be Fearless. appeared first on Anna Blake.

A Message from Heaven (for my professional friends)

I am a woman who possesses an interesting range of enviable skills. Getting surgery is not on the list. One month ago, I broke my wrist. Later, an old friend said she thought with all I did, my bones would be strong. I told her they were. I had to use my full body weight and fifty pounds of horse supplement to do it.

A week later, I was getting seen by an Ortho and I got the “surgery candidate” question. Yes, I’m that old. I’ve told clients to think about it for their older horses. It’s how old dogs get out of more teeth cleanings. It’s that question about diminishing returns. The Ortho says my wrist can heal fine; I’ll lose some strength. But after 65, fewer folks get surgery. She looks at me and adds unless you’re active. I just listen. Like if you do yoga. I said, just the last fourteen years. Or if you are active. I tell her I’m a horse trainer. She asks if I lift heavy things and I don’t mention the supplements. I’ve already broken the rule about not saying what I do.

Stick with me. I’ll get to the horse part. 

So there I am, getting prepped for surgery. I repeat my name and birthday a dozen times. The Ortho stops by long enough to sign my arm with a Sharpie. I try to be sociable, another skill I lack, because I’m nervous and want them to like me. I’m under a space blanket that is inflated with warm air, and I’m trying to hallucinate myself into believing I’m at a spa. One more skill I do not have, but it’s easier than the alternative.

People in blue scrubs filled the room. My hospital gown was seductively off my shoulders to make room for sensors and wires hooked to machines. A man’s voice asked if I’d like a nerve block as if he was offering chocolate. Yes. As he began the process of turning my arm into a boneless lump of tepid meat, we watched the injection on an ultrasound. He explained and I told him I understood. My vet uses one. Then he said his wife was a vet. Large animal? I ask. He said yes, she was valedictorian of her class at Cornell. Even in this delicate position, I had to say it. I told him he married up. Now we’re best friends and I’m lucky. 

He tells me she retired. She does some small animal stuff a few days a month, but no more horses. It’s my first moan of the procedure. I’m two months away from losing my favorite horse in the ugliest, most violent death throes I’ve ever seen. It took an hour of calls until the fourth vet said they could come… in about 45 minutes. There are fewer large animal vets than ever, both in practice and in college. It’s a lousy job with brutal hours, but at least the college bills are astronomical. And now there is one less.

As if this was strange news, he said I won’t believe her reason, but I already know. I tilted my head; he was still injecting my shoulder. He says the ranchers were difficult to work with, with so much disrespect and general arguing. I said I knew. He talked about how rude they were, this man who was so kind to all the techs and nurses working on me. He didn’t need to convince me, but he works in a different universe. I was thinking of friends of mine who have quit vet work or training or teaching. They are fabulous with horses, but the human aspect wore them down. We lose a few each year. I try to encourage them, but sometimes I work hard to convince myself. Aspects of the horse world are pretty divisive these days. 

But I was distracted by my blanket being unplugged and they wheeled me to a stop under huge banks of circular white lights. Everyone wore green scrubs now and when the mask came to my face, I took deep breaths. Finally, something I’m good at.

I was sitting on the ground. My body felt soft, and the ground was warm. I was in a field with tall prairie grass that was pale tan and nearly waist-high on a blue-sky-white-cloud day. There was a light breeze, the kind that touches your skin barely enough to notice. It was not my prairie farm. I was not alone. Sometimes when the breeze would part leaves of the grass, I could see a flash of a horse. Just a knee or part of a hock, or a slip of brassy bay coloring, and then the breeze moved the grass back.

A longer gust came, and I saw the face of a horse I knew. It was that rusty old Appaloosa who got a one-way trip from a rescue I worked with to my farm because their elder pen was overfull. He made a soft landing and was euthanized a few months later, but he was moving well now. I knew the field was filled with many horses; they didn’t need to come to me and I didn’t need to go to them. We were all fine.

Then there were beeping noises and glaring lights. A nurse tried to wake me up, but I was paralyzed. I fought my eyes to stay shut. I was crying, I was gasping as if I had drowned.

You know the rest. I went home with a list of instructions and threats of infection. I couldn’t do chores, but if I covered my arm, I could go to the barn. Naturally, I had some rectal exam gloves, so I shuffled around my herd and did some non-dominant-hand training with Bhim. Years ago, I taught myself to not remember my dreams, but this surgery dream stuck with me, as clear as the conversation about the vet.

But why did that horse come? Why not the one I lost? I was almost angry about it. This decrepit gelding had been used hard, with blown knees and a swayback. He was shy and didn’t like people, so I let him be. After a few weeks of mucking, he blocked the gate one day and let me lay a quiet hand on his neck. It gets worse. His name was Cupid.

By late fall, his knees failed him; he stumbled too often and could barely get back up. Winter would be even harder, so I offered to be his predator. I gave him a good death. He was one of many who traveled through my farm, but he was never mine. It was years ago, I nearly forgot him. I wanted my beautiful Iberian who didn’t come.

Do you look for signs, for guidance in life? I do, but never from horses. The thing about horses is that no matter what, it’s never about us. It’s always about them. They are like bad boyfriends. It’s not what I need, but what the horse needs. So, I guess Cupid needed to stand guard while I slept. Maybe he owed me a rest. 

To my professional friends, yes, we do exhausting work in a competitive field. We’re doubted, heckled, and disrespected. We don’t get paid for our experience; we work for longer hours than we charge. Some of us are half-lame and past retirement age. The dream gets rusty and beat up. It helps to be reminded it was never about us. 

…

I was able to regain my identity on my Facebook business pages, but I’m not willing to give them that kind of power again. If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to the blog or come join us at The Barn School.

[ Please don’t miss a week : Subscribe here ]

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, Affirmative Training, and more at The Barn School, as well as 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 A Message from Heaven (for my professional friends) appeared first on Anna Blake.

Training Tip: Improving Your Eye

Sometimes we look back at how we kept horses as kids, and it seemed so simple then. None of them had any of the complex problems that we deal with today. But it isn’t possible that all of these issues materialized after I got my first horse after leaving home. Horses didn’t wait to invent ulcers and bowed tendons until I had a checkbook. I think I was incapable of seeing anything other than beauty. It was enough to say I know what I like, and I like the spotted one. That’s how most of us started with horses but it only worked for a while.

Then we started having problems. Head tossing, spooking, and bucking. It took some evolution to get past thinking when horses don’t do what we want, it wasn’t personal. In those days, it was always a training problem we could fix. Except that some things got worse with more training. Some behaviors were pain related. We had to give up what we wanted for what our horses needed and a little bit of the romance of horses died. Not that we noticed. Part of developing a good eye involved looking at things we don’t want to see. We will never see horses as a liability.

Maybe we began working with a good trainer, and lesson one was when we realized how much we had to learn. Really? More to horses than bareback rides in cutoffs? That was fine, learning about horses was all we wanted to do. But it wasn’t just that we didn’t understand what the trainer knew. We didn’t even see what they saw. And it made us feel stupid. It’s probably the real start to being a better horse owner. So, we began to train our eyes. Whether it’s standing next to the vet and watching our horse trot out or watching a trainer work with a frightened horse. If we want to learn, then we must see beyond the surface in most situations. We want to find the cause and not be distracted by the symptoms. Or the spots.

Finally, I get to my point. Training our eyes isn’t about our vision at all.

Our first eye problem is that it’s our nature to look for things that are wrong. It’s human instinct. It’s important to understand the distinction because it isn’t personal. Maybe it started when we were babies and our parents wanted us to understand right from wrong at birth. It doesn’t matter, it’s why railbirds exist. And the biggest screeching railbird is in our own heads. But no need for shame and guilt, it is instinct. Looking for things that are wrong is an ingrained habit, but we have a choice. When we can change how we see and that will make it easier to resolve what we see.

The challenge in trying to train your eye is understanding the difference between perception and judgment. Perception is free of emotion and judgment is bound and gagged by it.

Experts say judgment is a defense mechanism we use to try to boost our own self-worth. We lift ourselves up by putting others down. I repeat, this is our natural instinct. Blaming ourselves for being human is not helpful.

The judgments we make about others are small compared to the ones we make about ourselves, followed by explanations and apologies, and once we start that process, we have stopped seeing and perceiving. Now we are taking mental laps of CSI work. We investigate the scene of the crime and begin weaving a story, assigning blame, and making excuses. This emotional process gets in the way of having a good eye. It puts us floating above like a know-it-all angel and we never get our boots dirty. Aren’t we the ones who like dirty boots?

Perception is our ability to become aware of our surroundings by using our senses. It’s being present in the moment. It’s noticing the colors of that sunset without having to explain how the earth rotates. Perception is freedom and possibility. It opens the door to a better response than we imagined. And isn’t the world of senses where horses live?

Step one in improving your eye is understanding the difference between these two processes. Perception is the act of noticing things unfold in front of your eyes. Judgment is calling it right or wrong. Perception is a moving thing you can learn from and participate in, and judgment is something usually sealed and finished. Our minds slam shut right after.

When working with horses, start by training your eye to keep an open mind. Focus on what you see with acceptance. Let it feel like a stream-of-consciousness observation because that is what a conversation with a horse is. It’s one thing after another. Don’t let yourself be distracting by making up stories. Then we are talking about it rather than being in it. When we assert our voice over the horse’s, it’s a kind of dominance.

How much do we just listen without interruption? Without trying to fix their problem, but rather letting the horse finish expressing all the calming signals. Letting a horse resolve their own questions and anxieties is the bedrock of confidence.

But listening without responding isn’t our default nature. Start small. For now, let it be a one-way conversation. Let the horse have his say. Only after listening and understanding, do we have the right to voice our thoughts back.

It takes absolutely no skill to find fault. Why do we think having a critical eye is a gift to anyone? It only diminishes our horses and us. As if that is hard to do, and then sets us on a path of always looking for something to fix, rather than affirming what is good and focusing on developing that. When we change this about ourselves, our horses are immediately different, too.

Finally, I think I understood what I envied in that first brilliant trainer. She studied and learned everything she could. Then she laid it all aside, and let her curiosity run wild. Horses did anything for her. Being unstuck in her mind made her seem nearly mystical. That’s the secret; a human who truly listens is irresistible to a horse.

Making judgments is all about blame and excuses. Eventually, we wear ourselves out playing Whack-a-Mole. Our horses lose confidence, but the biggest loss is ours. We never get the real relationship we want with horses. Oh, we think we know our horses because we can tell our stories about them so well.

But when we take a breath, isn’t their mystery one of the things we love most about horses?

…

I was able to regain my identity on my Facebook business pages, but I’m not willing to give them that kind of power again. If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to the blog or come join us at The Barn School.

[ Please don’t miss a week : Subscribe here ]

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, Affirmative Training, and more at The Barn School, as well as 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 Training Tip: Improving Your Eye appeared first on Anna Blake.

Affirmative Training is Fine, But What-if…

 

A few years back, a pretty well-known trainer made a statement about using force with horses. Flat out, the craziest thing I’d ever heard. The short version was if you wanted to lollygag around your pasture, and ride like a girl, fine… but if you competed, you had to win and that meant dominating your horse into submission. The first thing I thought was cheap talk from a full-grown man on a 14.3HH Quarter Horse. Let’s pop you up on an 18HH Warmblood and see how that works. But that’s just my testosterone shooting back. And it’s silly because I’m a dressage trainer and in my discipline, women dominate the competitions, not their horses. Dang, there I went again.

It’s also a serious question that comes up from thoughtful horse people trying to get their heads around a different way of training. At the wrap-up session at the end of a great day of affirmative training, the what-if questions come. What-if it’s Sunday night at a clinic and your horse won’t load, what-if there’s a fire, what-if I’m up in the woods and the sun is setting, what-if it’s an emergency? Notice a pattern here? They are trailering what-ifs, so my answers will be about trailering, but it translates to everything we do with horses.

I think the real devil’s advocate question is, “When is it okay to hit my horse?” What do I do when it all comes apart? Is there a situation where I get a special dispensation for cruelty? (Ouchy the way those words came out of the end of my fingers.)

Let me be clear: If it is truly life and death, not just inconvenient but a serious emergency, then you pick the least of all evils, and if that has to be unkind, you will do it against your better judgment. In this horrible moment, I will startle my horse rather than touch him. But if you do, in the split second after whacking them, have something really positive on the tip of your tongue because he will need it. And then you may not do it twice. Understand if you have no alternative but force, you are not where you hoped and you have work to do to make it up to your horse. He may be in the trailer, but it isn’t a success.

The problem with these what-ifs is some are not within our control, like fires, but most of them result from mistakes or poor planning. Our responsibility.

Now let’s go on to the what-ifs. First, if the questions that come to your mind are about trailering, you have trailer anxiety. You’re not even in the situation, but it’s on your mind. Your horse will always have anxiety, he’s a flight animal, but he shouldn’t have to carry your anxiety, too. You must resolve yours because you’re asking a lot of your horse and it’s not fair. Horses shouldn’t get in trouble for what we do wrong.

Never, under any circumstances, work with a horse when you’re angry or frustrated. That rule isn’t about our manners; it’s about equine temperament. Fear-based training isn’t wrong because it’s cruel; it’s wrong because it’s incongruent with how horses think. Learn self-control. Is the horse resisting the trailer or resisting the fight he knows is coming?

What-if it’s Sunday night at a clinic? Clinics are all about things being different; that’s stressful. Your horse is exhausted. What-if you’re up on the side of a mountain and the sun’s setting? Maybe you think it’s fun to be gone that long, but your horse is tired and flooded. If separation anxiety kicks in, a sure sign he’s anxious about your anxiety. Please notice you are tired, too.  Instead of thinking he should want to go home, understand that his brain doesn’t work that way, and this isn’t a training issue. He isn’t disobedient; he is overwhelmed. Upping his fear isn’t the answer. Can you spend the night and go home the next day?

When your horse who normally goes in the trailer refuses to, it’s a calming signal. It’s him telling the truth. It isn’t fair to take him away for a day or weekend, if you have not built that habit gradually. If you plan to take your horse off-property for clinics or trail rides, take short trips first. I mean, haul him, let him graze, and bring him home. Give him gastric support every time. Stop riding sooner, do less. Consider it an endurance ride, because it is for him, and then train for it. Do some serious conditioning, mentally and physically. If your horse is struggling, he’s asking you to prepare better. 

If it’s a fire or a serious injury, it’s a genuine emergency, you’d better have the trailer your horse fits in easily and likes. Stock trailers are made for emergencies. With fires, depending on the situation, it can be expedient to use a chute to load. It’s given me peace of mind to know this option. If a horse is already in their sympathetic system, flight response, it’s the smartest way. Make sure you have a first aid kit because horses can get hurt if we scare them into the trailer. Plan ahead and have what you need before leaving home.

Here is the real answer: Emergencies happen. Chaos always exists. No one is perfect. But please, understand that if you train affirmatively on a good day and then fall back on dominance training in stressful situations, you’ve shown your horse your inconsistency and erratic moods. You’re unreliable. Being a flip-flopper can confuse your horse enough that neither approach will work. And in the process, you’ve destroyed trust.

Let me give you a what-if. What-if your horse’s hesitation is him processing the question? Maybe your horse is weighing your request against the fear you might hurt him. What-if in the moment you doubt affirmative training, your horse is doubting the exact same thing? Calming signals happen at the intersection of conflicting thoughts in humans and horses. Like a game of chicken, which of you will break trust first? Because training isn’t about technique, it’s always about relationship.

You’re the one that has to prove Affirmative Training works, especially when it’s inconvenient. It takes more self-control and respect for your horse to be consistently kind. Much more strength to NOT lose your temper and patience. Let your horse read your confidence and focus, not your anxiety. Sorry to nag, but when was your last full breath? No one is perfect; it takes a lifetime to train a horse, but we must learn from our mistakes rather than punish theirs. If you are consistent it will work for you because consistency breeds consistency.

This is when the rubber meets the road; when trust matters. Exactly because you aren’t lollygagging around the pasture. Your horse really needs help now. He really needs you to ride like a girl.

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Anna Blake, Relaxed & Forward

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Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

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