Anna Blake's Blog, page 14

The missing link to Bhim’s Training Diary.

Sorry about that. It probably won’t be our only runaway.

Here is the link to the event: https://relaxedandforward.mn.co/plans/263713

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An Invitatition to a Clinic in Your Home

I have a problem. I’m a clinician who loves her job and at the same time, wonders if there are better ways to do it. I’m obsessed with evolving clinics to be easier for horses and less stressful for riders. We love the camaraderie of a clinic weekend, if it isn’t our horse in a lather, screaming because he doesn’t know if he’ll see home again. Or our horse is Steve McQueen Cool but now that it’s the big day and seeing the clinician up close and personal is pretty intimidating. Every year I try different ideas, some of which are big improvements. Keyword: Some. 

A good clinic should have riding time, but not in a chaotic crowded arena. There should be individual attention and also group learning by watching others. Problem-solving time is important because if the problem mentioned isn’t yours, it has been or will be.

The welfare of the horses must come first, and safety must come first, and the satisfaction of the rider must come first. It’s a tightrope between what works for horses, what works for people, and the simple and ugly truth that clinicians are not capable of faith healing. Then there’s this: tick. tick. tick. 

Two parts have to work. First, the horse needs to be comfortable. If the clinic is happening at their home barn, it’s easy, assuming the farm being attacked by space-alien horses isn’t a problem. It works out if the horse is hauled often enough that we think they’re usually okay in strange places. Keyword: Usually. But if the horse doesn’t get hauled often, getting to the clinic might be so exhausting that they can’t do much when they get there. If the clinic is a week long, there’s time for the horse to adjust but if the clinic is just a day long, it can be a wash, and no one wants that. A reminder: On any given day, your horse may behave in a way totally unrecognizable to you.

The second part is that the rider needs to be comfortable. This is trickier. It helps if you like being watched by a group of strangers when you ride. (I hear crickets.) It helps if you enjoy being told what to do in the saddle while the same folks watch you try to figure it out. (More crickets.) And it helps if you can feel that the instructor, who you have just hauled your horse to, and wrote a check to, and have some desire to impress, is nothing special so you can breathe normally. You might think you’d never go to a horse show but going to clinics is a peaceful learning experience, until the similarities dawn on you …by surprise at the mounting block. And on this given day, you become totally unrecognizable to your horse.

My part is the simple stress of being away from home. Whether I drive or fly, the unpredictable nature of travel and weather and a hundred interrelated situations vex me. When I arrive at a farm, people tell me the exact same thing. “The weather is unusual for this time of year.” I’ve become a believer in global warming because I see it everywhere I go. I’ve had clinics canceled for fire and about any other ordinary anomaly you can imagine. And I’m concerned about my own carbon footprint. I worry horses won’t be the long-timers like cockroaches, we’re already dealing with related health issues. So, to be clear, I love my work and I love my home, both the farm and the planet. I won’t entirely quit traveling, but we have to get creative and evolve not only our methods but also how we learn them. 

Then Covid kept us all home and forced inspired me to launch the online school. A crazy thing happened. The loudest voice was from our horses. They all agreed they liked to work from home and blossomed. Simultaneously, the second-loudest voice was heard. It was the high-pitched whine of horsepeople spooked by technology. They shy from seeing themselves on camera. They shut down when shown an obstacle they haven’t seen before. Are you one of them? Well, snap out of it because if you have a horse, it already means you’ll be learning forever. And you’re missing meeting like-minded horsepeople from around the globe. If technology bucks you off, climb back on. You’ve ridden rougher stock than a cell phone. You’ve got this.

I confess, I can’t tell if the real training challenge is with horses or technology but let’s take it on. To start, just see how it works. I invite you to my barn to watch me work in real-time via video diary, followed by a meeting once a month. We’ll have the group dynamic we like at clinics but lasting longer than a couple of days. Horses have a safe place to progress and now, working from home doesn’t mean you being alone.  

A few years ago, I was asked to participate in a horse make-over reality show, one of those races to dominate horses and make a spectacle of training. I thought You don’t know who I am, do you? and I’m still laughing. Maybe a friend’s idea of a practical joke, but fair warning, this event will take as long as it takes. Come see what patience looks like. 

But wait. My horses are retired and I don’t have room for a new horse … but wait, I forgot. One of them is sound, but he came with a history. He struggles with fear and reactivity and personal space issues and nipping and poor ground manners and anxiety about touch and separation anxiety and body dysphoria and being stuck at training plateaus. He is nothing less than one of the top-five most complicated horses I’ve ever worked with. He’s perfect. 

Against the advice of friends who worry it’s too big a challenge, and others who can’t wait to watch, it’s game on! I have a plan and I assume we will immediately veer away from it. The question isn’t if it’s difficult; it’s how we stay inspired and negotiate when things go sideways because things always do. 

My goal is cart driving for a non-ridden horse, but the work is fundamental to any horse and any discipline. It’s about communication. Training is the process of collecting good experiences, regardless of end goals. In time, I’m sure that every other extenuating circumstance possible will come up, but we’ll start with separation anxiety and the simple problem that the horse hates me. I don’t take it personally. He hates everyone.

I’ll breathe a lot and use affirmative training and advanced calming signals. I’ll use peaceful persistence to rebuild his damaged training foundation. I’ll show you from a distinct perspective, with a GoPro camera strapped on my head so you literally see with my eyes. It gets a bit wiggly, but the vantage point matters. Our conversation in calming signals should be intimate.

Think of it as a clinic, one horse and one participant, and a trainer who gives 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, we’ll meet for a live chat to share progress and ask questions, also recorded for later viewing. You’ll need to join my Barn School, but the site is private. I’d never share your information.

No work is required of you. Use it as a case study for understanding the fundamentals of Affirmative Training. Or if you choose, make a training diary for your horse and work adjacent to us. 

You’re invited to audit this Evolutionary training clinic. In six months’ time, there will be 24 weekly sessions and 6 live chats, for less than the cost of two days of auditing at a live clinic. 

Here’s the information about joining us at Bhim’s Training Diary. Click here.

We start with Week One: He Doesn’t Have To Like Me. 

…

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 

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

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Loafing in Limbo: Hibernation as a Training Aid

We are in Limbo. It’s that week between Christmas and New Year when nobody knows what day it is. Not that it matters because that’s the point of limbo. If you are in the Northern Hemisphere you are in-between storms. Entire states seem to have traded places. Some of us have ice rinks, and some are in drought areas, miserable in the snow, and praying for more. Weather is a constant reminder that we control nothing. If you are in the southern hemisphere, you’re teasing us. Winter is personal, ours is always about us like yours is about you. I’m also suffering from a bread pudding hangover.

Maybe you are resting between shoveling out the pens and feeding more hay to keep the horses warm, some of which will hit the ground and be pooped on, so you can be shoveling out again soon. Better too much than too little, both hay and poop. Weather is not small talk. Winter came early, the weather is more extreme every year. We see changes in our horses, nothing scares us more. Old-timers say things like, “Never had to blanket in December before.” Yes, the old timer is me and I’m blanketing horses who are now old-timers, too. Gasp.

We can pass time warming up between chores by reading Best Of lists which are a good reminder for horsepeople that we’re out of touch with reality. Just as we like it. But then there are the lists of famous people we lost this year. And maybe we pause and look around and call the roll. Maybe we mourn friends or family members that have walked on, that kind phrase that Indigenous people use. Loved ones are just as dead though, for all our wishing it wasn’t true. Maybe some of them are hairy and have four legs. In limbo time we count heads for a sober profit/loss statement of the herd and then give the new dog a grateful scratch.

Depending on the number of limbos you’ve had in your life, you might notice your hands are stiffer this winter, and feel good about it, considering the alternative. And you do the math and worry about the years ahead, a kind of future limbo. Who will go next? Who will outlive you? How can we make friends with the passing of loved ones as it becomes a more common part of our lives? How do we survive surviving?

How am I doing? I hope I’m forgetting the worst things.

This is the end of our third Covid year. The first one was the scariest for most people but horsepeople stayed home with the horses and coped fairly well. Having to stay home is never a good punishment for us. It was restful except if your occupation kept you running. Or if it was deemed non-essential and you were out of work. Like me. Out of work, in limbo, watching the horses eat hay.

The second year was a confusion, not sure what would be safe. It was the most limbo-est of the years because everything we thought we knew had changed a few times until we just didn’t know much. It wasn’t over, we knew that. But nothing had returned to normal either. By this time, I started an online school and it was thriving. The zoom meetings brought us closer together and people shared their stories of loss. It was a bittersweet year.

This last year, we got out more but it was the world that had changed. We weren’t sure how, but a change had happened. It might not be more change than usual for three years, it’s just that a pandemic gave us dates to remember. Now that I think about it, the pandemic is its own kind of big fat limbo, still suspending us in weird uncomfortable ways even now.

We tried to perk ourselves up recently at Solstice, cheering the longer days ahead. But it’s still dark and cold. “Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark.” That’s a quote by Rabindranath Tagore that’s been on my wall for at least fifty years now. When I’m in limbo, I aspire to be a bird but I’m living on cough drops and tea. No songs come to mind.

Recently I found out there is such a thing as Cumulative Stress Disorder. Horse people are not generally hypochondriacs; usually we’re tough as old boots. We’d rather see an undertaker than a doctor. But… I might have it. I’m not the only one, either. I want to think I have Cumulative Stress Disorder because then the long-term pandemic limbo stitched together with the usual dark-winter limbo, with the added Christmas/New Year limbo would seem to be a valid reason. I say this while checking the clock to make sure it’s still ticking. It’s a new habit, I notice.

Then early one morning, a friend sent me a link to a YouTube Livestream of a water hole in the Namib Desert. She’d been staring at it for a while by then and it is highly contagious because I’ve been stuck on it for several days now. I especially like watching it when it’s nighttime and dark there. Because of hyenas and swimming owls. I will spare you the full list of species, but it’s a calming signal cornucopia.

That’s when I remembered the winter that I watched a Livestream of a bear hibernating. I’m a horse trainer, used to watching paint-drying minutiae, but this was truly spellbinding. Sometimes I dozed off watching her sleep. It felt so right. It was a sweet winter and when she woke up, I had a whole new energy. What if bears are right?

Horsepeople tend to be driven, a bit Type-A. Our work is never done. We eat holiday meals quickly so we can do chores. Even when we are in limbo between holidays we feel guilty about not doing enough. We have a pile of should related to tasks we haven’t gotten to, not because we’re lazy, but because we take on too much to start with. Mostly we feel bad that we aren’t getting as much done with our horses as we should in this arctic void between holidays.

Just a friendly reminder. Your horse’s memory is much better than yours. They do not forget their training. When it’s cold, they spend more energy staying warm and they don’t miss us. It’s their season to half-hibernate, standing in the morning light. They are resting deep inside. It’s a healing rest that changes them come spring. We don’t feel we have time for that kind of rest and we fight the idea we need to heal. Well, we probably do, and rest doesn’t mean we are wasting time. Horses don’t keep time, she says checking the time. Just stop. Horses. Don’t. Keep. Time.

The world will hold your place in line. Curl up in a dogpile with your head next to the dog who tilts his head far enough back that his lips part and you can see his teeth. Listen. Let a cat perch on your chest like a warm meatloaf. Let your heart soak up the juice. Let yourself feel exhausted because denying it won’t make it go away. Sometimes it’s healing to finally admit the truth.

It’s also true that we are strong and capable and have been dancing backward in muck boots long enough that we have nothing to prove. Let your scars show. Smile so big your teeth get dry. And for crying out loud, stop apologizing all the time. Finally give yourself the credit you deserve. We are here to change the world. Nothing less. But first, we nap.

…

A note of thanks to everyone I met this year on the road and to all who spent some coffee-time reading these essays. Mostly, thank you for sharing horses with me.

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 Loafing in Limbo: Hibernation as a Training Aid appeared first on Anna Blake.

Silent Night: The Truest Words Aren’t Words At All.

I was standing outside of a hotel at five in the morning waiting for my limo. Obviously, several things had gone wrong and it wasn’t even dawn yet. I was pacing, wondering if the limo would cost more than my flight home when I saw a horse sculpture. It was not quite abstract or realistic. The horse was rearing, but somehow it looked more like she was crouching to leap, like a mountain lion maybe? The horse’s huge eyes were almost human, her ears lateral, her nostrils thin and flared, but her lips clenched straight. It being December, naturally, she had a holiday wreath around her neck with a festive metallic gold ribbon in front.

I stopped on the spot to evaluate the horse’s calming signals. That is what I have become. I’ve been writing and speaking about calming signals for so long that they have become my first language. Maybe the sculpture true was meant to be an impressionist style. If so, this is an impression of horrible discomfort. Pain is always the first guess with such extreme emotion but if not, maybe fear? Her features contradict each other but the message is meant to be dramatic. I suppose it could be worse. They might have stuck a Santa hat on, and with the ears set so far back, it would have stayed there and frightened some children.

Perhaps I’m upped my game to being the loudmouth Grinch party-pooper, a redundant title, I’m sure. How often do we ignore a horse’s emotions or normalize their pain? Sure, just a statue in front of a hotel, but isn’t that what normalizing means? Egads. This sculpture looked as tortured as I felt. Now my emotions started to wring their tail, just as the limo pulled up. Oh, put a wreath on it, I thought as I got in and asked the driver to hurry.

European countries have traditional stories about animals magically talking at midnight on the Feast of Santa Lucia, others say Solstice, and others, Christmas Eve. It’s oxen and donkeys mainly. One fable says oxen knelt and welcomed the baby Jesus verbally. Some of the folktales have pagan roots; stories about animals talking, but not kindly. Some animals rebel and punish their owners for poor care or over-work. That idea always brightens me up. A revenge day for not listening.

But wait, we have a good excuse. It’s not like horses speak English. And it’s not like we don’t try. We make up stories about what we want our horses to feel all the time. Isn’t that what the artist did in that sculpture? Let’s give ourselves the benefit of the doubt. We’ve always been told to listen to our horses but what is it we are supposed to listen to? And then what?

We are literally drowning in what we should be listening to. Maybe we need more personal research on body language.

A friend told me about Albert Mehrabian, a psychology professor who did extensive studies on non-verbal communication and came to the conclusion that human communication is made up as follows: 7% are the words we use, 38% the “verbals” like tone and volume when we speak, and 55% are body language. Do the math, 93% of all human communication is not the words we use.

That means we already communicate much more like other animals than we think. Our problem is right there in that sentence. We think.

Let me add another expert’s insight. Gary Larson, in his Far Side cartoon, plays the “what they hear” game with a dog named Ginger, blah-blah-blah. The joke is that Ginger knows her name but all the other ranting has no meaning. Larson may draw comics but he’s often right. All our words are incomprehensible chatter to them, yet we yammer on, correcting or praising in sing-song voices, aware that words can change meaning, even lose their meaning, between our lips and another’s ears. Meanwhile, our body is telling the truth. When will we learn that non-verbal communication is not less?

It makes me wonder if horses give up on communicating and shut down when we don’t listen. If stoic horses limit their communication with us because our communication skills seem erratic and unreliable? Or if our general chaotic chatter, sometimes directed to them and sometimes to humans close by, is so confusing that they shut down to quell the noise?

It’s true that any cue that gets overused becomes dull and ignored. If our legs constantly bump their flanks, they become dead to the cue. Likewise, if we chatter all day, our voices get lost in the blah-blah-blah. Sing if it helps you, but it’s your breathing that soothes your horse. Give a running dialog if silence makes you nervous, but silence is peace to a horse. Fewer words keep them relevant. Even what we say as praise, when repeated constantly for ordinary things, loses its importance. To progress with horses, we give smaller cues. To them, stillness is welcoming.

If 93% of our communication is a similar body language as horses, how do we miss so much? Chalk it up to not knowing we’re bilingual, but if we study their language and use it politely, will that same stoic horse begin communicating again? Will an emotionally demonstrative horse decide they don’t need to yell to be heard?

For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be the person that stray dogs came up to. I wanted to be the one that abused horses could trust. I wanted it so badly that I howled it to the moon. What I didn’t know was that the communication problem was mine. I had to shut up so they could hear me.

There are many names for the awareness of body language but I like Calming Signals, the term Turid Rugaas uses in dog training. I like it because we want our horses to be calm and that name draws people in. Then they find out it’s actually the horses who want us to calm down. Animals give us calming signals to let us know that they are no threat. That we don’t have to be so loud or try so hard. They stand beside us, suggesting peace as an alternative. More than that, peace as a prerequisite for them to consider trusting us. Let the air rest. Prove that less is more. Prove it to yourself.

Focusing on Calming Signals is my primary training aid with horses. I can’t overstate their importance. I’ve been watching videos of some work I’m doing with a challenging horse and am aware it’s so quiet that some would find it boring, yet so much is happening for the horse. Training techniques come and go, but listening never fails. I want to share these ideas and so I write about them. In this loud world of YouTube and podcasts and social media, it’s a wonder people read anymore at all, but you are now. Maybe that’s just the point. We are able to hear better in a quiet place, too. It will be in that kind of quiet place where we truly meet horses on a deeper level.

Do I believe the folktales about animals talking? Do I hear voices in my barn? It’s so much better than that. Try for yourself. At midnight on Christmas Eve, make a pilgrimage to the barn. No, the horses won’t talk in human voices. They don’t need to; they’ve been communicating all along. Sometimes it takes a Silent Night for us to hear.

…

Anna Blake, Relaxed & Forward *new classes in Calming Signals start in January at The Barn School*

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 Silent Night: The Truest Words Aren’t Words At All. appeared first on Anna Blake.

Things We Should Refuse to Train Horses To Do

Warning: Loudmouth Party Pooper Rant.

I think we all know whose side I’m on in this horse training reality show. As an early holiday gift to my favorite four-legged friends, I thought I’d lob a few ideas to folks who actually like their horses. In a world where we normalize fear-based training, I hope to inspire a few rants in others.

A disclaimer: On the off chance you think I am the spawn of some sort of virgin birth, I can assure you I know frustration. When I started training in my local community, business was not great. I had only worked with good trainers myself, and only knew kind methods, but no one starts at the top of their game. There was lots of room for improvement; I could have done better for horses. I owe the biggest debt to good client horses who set me on a huge learning curve by giving me a kind of on-the-job training you just can’t buy. It makes perfect sense; I was the one who needed it. Years have passed, and I came by these rants honestly. Either that or there’s a mare working me like a hand puppet. Probably the latter.

Early in my career, I would often climb on a client’s horse and “tune him up” a bit. I was light and happy with them, and since I’d had enough riding lessons to pay for a Harvard law degree, I knew how to ride. A trainer should be able to reassemble a horse, but what trainers also know is that if we tune the horse up and send him home to the same situation that he was rebelling from, nothing is fixed. It’s a steady income for a trainer to keep fixing the horse rather than offending the rider, but isn’t fair to the horse. Horses work to the rider’s level. People need to learn to ride because riding isn’t intuitive. So the first gift to horses is I refuse to fix them. (I do work hard to fix riders.) You’re welcome, good horses.

I was so good at trailer training, so slow and so affirmative, that I could even show off a bit. But then some clients I really liked asked me to help with their gelding. They were good people who had a horse trailer that fit their horse like a string bikini fits Edgar Rice Burro. I told them the trailer was too small, and my clients said they were sorry. They didn’t have the money for a new trailer and in case of an emergency, would I train their gelding to get into this death trap? I am ashamed to say I did. The partition didn’t come out so his ribs pressed metal on both sides and his ears brushed the roof. He calmly loaded and unloaded, and my clients were happy with me. The gelding showed us grace that we didn’t deserve, I’ve felt bad about it for decades and I’ve never done it again. Buy a trailer that fits your horse, I’m proud to blurt out. Too late for you, kind Sir, but you became my gift to the others. I refuse in your name. You’re welcome, good boy.

For the startlingly beautiful black and white paint who returned from training as a two-year-old in a spade bit. Naturally, things came apart, and she spent the next few years in a pasture before I met her. At our first lesson, she stood quietly at the mounting block but then refused to walk forward. I refused to fight with her. It was a hard sell to her owner but the methods that broke her wouldn’t be what fixed her. After weeks of shallow breathing and yawning, she could walk out on a neckring. I’ve watched the tense horses compete in spade bits with riders, one hand on the reins, manipulating obstacles at speed. Do people know what is holding the horse’s head on the vertical, or see they cannot move freely or breathe deeply? I’ve been lectured about the “beauty” of training up to spade bits, maturing a horse gradually until they are “finished”, a literal term. How is this horsemanship? It’s more comparable to the slow-motion grooming of a young girl for sexual assault. Not destroying them all at once, but slowly enough that the worst soul-killing control is called an art, ignoring the horse’s eyes going black with dread. Yes, I went there.

The crazy part is that everyone agrees spades are the harshest bit, even those who use them. But too often untrained riders use a stronger bit when the opposite is needed. We’ll change a bit before we think to change our hands. So I ranted wrote, “Using a stronger bit is like winning an argument, not because you’re right, but because you’re holding a gun.” We use snaffles or the equivalent. Never a shank of any kind and most of my riders use bitless bridles. Our gift to our horses is a neckring on every horse. You’re welcome, good horses.

A whip by any other name… We explain they are just communication, just an extension of our hands when a half-blind horse can clearly see the truth. A rider might say, “Oh, no. I never use the whip. I just carry it and he listens.” That’s because it’s a threat! Say what you want, give it a pretty name, pet the horse with it. I have carried them and I have tapped with them, but that was before horses taught me that breathing is quicker, they are smarter, and the smallest cue gets a better result. Maybe people who use them haven’t given breathing a real chance because if they had, they’d toss their whips away, too. If you must use a whip, please don’t pretend you and your horse are partners. Whips or whatever saccharine term this week, allow us to dominate with no authentic energy of our own. My clients breathe and communicate with calming signals. We refuse to threaten our horse’s safety. You’re welcome, good horses.

Oh, look at the clock; time flies while ranting, so this last one is a catch-all, junk drawer of demeaning behaviors. Ours, not the horses. We train tricks that are dangerous for the sake of showing off. We “desensitize” horses to tolerate manhandling. We tease animals with treats. We humanize horses with made-up stories and pity instead of letting them feel their strength and confidence. At our worst, we use horses as emotional dartboards. We are trying to do better and for their equine perseverance with us, our gift is a horse-crazy girl love, as unreasonable and unmanageable as a wayward donkey. We swear to the god of green grass that we’re trying our best to get it right and we’ll never stop. You’re welcome, good horses.

Finally, how many of us are cleaning up messes made by people who couldn’t see the sentient life behind these intelligent eyes? I live with forever-frightened horses and dogs, as do my clients. I’ll work to rebuild their broken trust but I won’t hold my tongue while I do it. For the horses, dogs, and also, for my clients who are bucking the traditions that cause damage to horses, may we refuse to “go along to get along.” Our gift to horses is to work for change and sometimes toss a rant. You’re welcome, good horses.

…

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 Things We Should Refuse to Train Horses To Do appeared first on Anna Blake.

Nebulous Lameness. Nebulous Anxiety. And a List.

Your inner monster screams, “Just Kick Him!” but you don’t. You aren’t that person. You don’t use spurs or whips. You are so frustrated, so confused, so unhappy. Your horse doesn’t want to go forward and you’re at your wit’s end. This isn’t about one of my clients; this is about more than I can count over the years. This is about three horses in my barn right now. There should be a support group. Oh, wait. There is and we’re all in it. 

Trainers get the call because when a horse isn’t willing to go forward, we want to think it’s a training issue. Sometimes it is. Humans are imperfect riders, bits can be cruel, and saddles that we are certain fit our horses just don’t. Beyond that, aggressive corrections or cueing can shut horses down and a horse’s memory impacts their behavior more than most of us think. But that isn’t where we start.

First, I ask if the horse is sound. The answer is usually yes, we’re all smart enough to see a head bob. My client says there are no symptoms of lameness and I let that awkward comment hang for a moment trying to find kind words for the obvious. Not wanting to go forward is about the biggest pain symptom that a flight animal can give. Moving forward is self-soothing, it is the go-to resolution for most anxieties a horse has. Free movement is the epitome of normal. It’s a horse being a horse. The absence is a call for help. 

Some training questions are about aggressive horses who bite, strike, or kick. Surely this is behavioral? Most often pain is the underlying factor causing the aggression. Horses are remarkably willing to get along, tolerant to a fault sometimes. Being seriously combative is a horse not being a horse. Exceptions exist, but the first stop has to be an assurance there is no physical pain. A guess isn’t good enough.

Horses try to communicate with us constantly. Behavior is their mode of communication. Think about that. We think the conversation is about training but they are communicating about their emotional and physical reality. We are not in the same conversation. Often we’d rather dismiss the message or make excuses. Listening for something we don’t want to hear is hard. We don’t take our horses seriously but when we get quiet; we feel tightness in our gut. Now the conversation is starting to come together.

We’re stuck with the undeniable feeling that something isn’t right. Maybe the horse seems fine when we lunge him, or when we watch him trot away. Extremely subtle changes can be hard to see on the ground, but mounted, they became more obvious. But not all unsound movement creates a limp. We might notice personality changes, or we sense it by feel, if not literal unevenness. Footfalls seem especially loud. A bright, engaged horse seems empty, without personality. A normally brave and calm horse is good on the ground but seemed to lose confidence when carrying weight. Another might become hysterical over usually common occurrences. Horses seem to lose longtime skills that we thought of as normal in our routine. It can seem like training issues but smart horses are giving wrong answers. It’s not normal so we learn to trust our instinct.

Of course, you call your vet who does an exam and says, “Nothing I can find.” It’s a true statement. It also doesn’t resolve the question and both of you know the challenge ahead. More testing and more questions. Maybe you luck out and get a quick ulcer diagnosis. Yay, you found something. But ulcers frequently coexist with another issue and it’s a short-lived win. Perhaps the ulcers return, and you look again. Maybe you get a nasty diagnosis right away and have a perverse moment of genuine relief just knowing you were right. In what world is sad news a good result? Worst, you don’t get an immediate answer and the search goes on, even for years as one symptom reveals another. Eventually, the condition continues to degenerate until it’s easy to diagnose, then we feel stark but unfair guilt along with our nebulous anxiety. We love horses.

The most truthful thing a vet ever told me, two years into a tendon injury, was that it’s never just one thing. She was right back then and more so now. Horses are living longer but with more health issues than ever. We aren’t imagining it.

If you have a horse, you have had or will have a foggy time of nebulous anxiety, being high-centered over questions with no answers. You’ll wander in limbo between I hope we find something and I hope I’m wrong, with no idea how it started or what will happen next. Days pass while scrutinizing your horse like a lab rat, staring so often that you wonder if you’re making it worse. Now your horse thinks you’re a wolf who might eat him. You think the dream that is as old as your first thought about horses is at risk. Raging doubt has a slow-motion crippling effect. All of us are in this together, and all of us feel isolated and alone.

Is Purgatory a better word? In the darkest moment, your inner monster beats at the back of your eyeballs and squeezes your throat until you can’t utter your horse’s name. Okay, we aren’t in control of much but we can find a contrary peace in knowing that. Let’s get hold of ourselves. We are not quitters. We are list-makers.

The Top Ten Things to Do While Having Nebulous Anxiety caused by Nebulous Lameness:

No matter how much you are breathing, breathe more. Let your eyebrows breathe wide. Let your heart breathe open.
Start keeping an online journal or private blog noting the date and all you see or feel. Be online so you can import all vet papers. 
Add photos and videos from the first ones to the most current ones. Document everything in one place.
Remember your sense of humor. Laughter is a human calming signal. Keep the air moving in and out.
Don’t entertain horror stories. Don’t ask for advice from dubious experts. Protect your mental state. Say affirmations because they work.
Do research on possible causes, but not more than an hour a day. Keep a list of useful information sites in your online journal. 
Gain tools for better listening. Study up on Calming Signals. Read articles by Dr. Sue Dyson, especially this one. 
Exhale for both of you. Quiet time is necessary for healing. Wait longer than the vet says. Many chronic issues result from not having enough time off.
Respect your horse’s emotions. If you’re unable to postpone your worry, take a break from grooming and fussing. He has enough anxiety of his own. 
While you’re recording meds and supplements, take time to journal about how you met your horse. Write about achievements in each year you’ve shared.

Remember who you both are. Then fall in love all over again. Be proud of keeping your promises. 

…

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 Nebulous Lameness. Nebulous Anxiety. And a List. appeared first on Anna Blake.

Best Advice for Loading Horses on Trailers

I had a clinic stop in Flagstaff where the organizer was a long-time client and hero of mine, Barb. The clinic itself was at a facility a few miles from her home, but my dog and I were hooked up in the field behind her house. In the morning she and I were each driving. Barb needed to haul her mare, Scooter, and I needed to have the training gear in my truck.

At our agreed-upon departure time, Mister Dog and I were ready to go, waiting in my truck. Down the hill at a small distance, I saw Barb and Scooter in the pen haltering and preparing to leave for the day. The trailer was hitched and parked in the driveway with the back door open wide. Barb had prepared well which is smart because last-minute fumbling impacts horses. So much anxiety on both sides can be avoided by logical preparation. For all we can’t control, this part can be easy.

I am not sure why people think it’s so hard to get horses to load. Humans might be the ones afraid of trailers. At the end of the last day of clinics, it can be a challenge for some. People think the horses should know they are going home, but unless horses are trailered frequently, they have no idea. Mainly, everyone is tired. I help if I’m asked but I don’t loiter, always knowing that being watched makes the job a little harder.

This morning, we waited where we were. I hadn’t started my engine. Scooter would see me, of course, the truck hadn’t been there previously, but we sat back to watch the Barb and Scooter show.

Barb finished checking the halter and lead rope, opened the gate to Scooter’s pen, and led her out onto the drive. Scooter stood quietly as Barb closed the gate and then, on a long slack lead, the mare followed Barb’s feet more than anything. It’s instinctual with horses, Barb wasn’t being a genius. Yet.

Barb is a woman of a certain age, but always lively, with the brightest eyes and a quick laugh. She’s had a lifetime of experience, all the best and worst things have happened, and she’s survived with a kind heart, strong political opinions, and a great sense of humor. Barb refers to herself as The Elderly Cowgirl. I wouldn’t mind if younger horsepeople demonstrated her version of “elderly.”

One thing Barb and I have in common is hearing loss. She has cochlear implants and I have hearing aids, but from first meeting her, as she clipped a special mic onto my collar at a clinic, I knew I liked her. She asks for what she wants and does it with a smile. Being assertive is a wonderful thing, as any mare will tell you.

After a few strides, Scooter halted thoughtfully and looked up the hill at us in the parked truck. It was new, it didn’t belong there, and she is a mare with a job. She paused, thinking about us for a moment. Barb gave her time to process what she saw.

Scooter is a mare of a certain age with a chocolaty color, and she has tiny ears hidden in a thick mane. She is an Icelandic horse, tough and independent. Smart and steady. There are physical questions now and then, but Barb gets them sorted. Neither of them are quitters.

Scooter’s favorite color is red, and she and Barb like to dress to match. It isn’t cute, it’s their partnership made visible. They are on the same team. Barb also mades up songs in praise of Scooter that she isn’t afraid to sing right out loud for you. But don’t underestimate their skill, it isn’t that they haven’t had challenges. It’s just that they keep working on understanding each other.

Scooter exhales and they move toward the trailer, the lead still slack, looking for all the world like they are dawdling. The art of being with horses is to go slow, even if the clinician is watching.

Then Scooter sees something on her right. She stops to look and since Barb has no hearing loss where horses are concerned, she does the same. This wasn’t a big visible action, Barb didn’t try to find what Scooter saw, she just kept breathing and looking ahead to the trailer. When Scooter was ready, she brought her head back and they walked the rest of the way to the trailer.

Just to be clear, we don’t need to cue a horse when the back door of the trailer is open. We take ourselves so seriously that we think we need to train ordinary things every time we do them but horses are intelligent. They are perfectly capable of understanding an open door on a trailer. When we make a big deal out of ordinary things, horses think we are focused on something they don’t see. Our worry is palpable to a herd animal used to depending on the senses of those around them as well as their own. A horse is right to think twice if the human has trailer anxiety.

Barb trusted Scooter knew what the task was and the mare paused again, thoughtfully taking her time considering the tall step, and without swinging ropes or popping whips, without any fanfare at all, Scooter got up into the trailer. Barb gave her a pat, secured her for the trip, and closed the door.

Haven’t we had enough of chasing horses in circles, baiting them with food, flooding horses with sticks, and especially, talking trash about patience by those not able to demonstrate any?

Horses certainly have; they are often more afraid of the ground behind the trailer than the trailer itself. Afraid of the scene of the crime, where the fight happens.

Details matter. If your trailer is too small, it isn’t fair to ask them. You need a different trailer. If you are stressed out about time, keep it to yourself. It isn’t their problem.

Horses are always right because it doesn’t work to tell them they’re wrong. If your horse has bad experiences around trailers, it will take time to win their trust back. You stay affirmative in your mind and ready with praise. They will load when they feel safe. Aggression should never be an option; that’s how things got this way.

Watching this pair was not just a great start for the day, it was one of the best trailer-loading demonstrations I’ve ever seen. The mare never once said no, and Barb never once corrected her. They just continued on with their task. Is there anything more beautiful than choice and consent? Ever notice how those good at what they do make it look ordinary? Learn to see peace as the win. Then be consistent so your horse trusts you to not betray that safety.

Had five minutes passed? Ten? Time has no power over this pair and that makes the task go quickly. It’s all the micromanaging and bickering that takes time.

If you have problems loading horses, I’d suggest finding an “Elderly Cowgirl” to help you. They do the job right. They make the art of partnership look “ordinary.” Horses love that.

…

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.

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You Know I’m a Small Business, Right?

Do you like the writing I share? It’s free, and it always will be. That’s my gift to horses, hopefully. But do you know I have six published books, and three of them are award winners? If you’d like to read more, consider these. Stable Relation is a memoir and Horse Prayers and Horse. Woman. are both poetry. Barn Dance is a collection of essays and Relaxed & Forward and Going Steady are training essays previously on my blog. They are available on Amazon or any online bookseller or you can get signed copies on my website here.

And there is now MERCH! Go to my Zazzle Store to find t-shirts, sweatshirts, hats, etc. Zazzle sets it up so you can make the version you want, so there is lots of unique possibilities as well as ordering from the list. There is a large collection, shipping is free, and the quality is high. Be “More Interesting Than Grass” and ride for our brand! 

At the beginning of Covid, I started teaching online at The Barn School. It’s been very successful and your horse doesn’t have to go anywhere. All you need is a camera on your phone and the internet. Maybe the holiday gift your horse wants is a class with me. There are several beginning soon, but I always recommend to start is Calming Signals and Affirmative Training to start, but there are several courses and one-day classes. Learn your horse’s personal language. Learn how he thinks. Find us here.

Maybe it’s time to join our online subscription group.  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. More information here.

And most of all, thank you to my clients all these years. Without the knowledge I gain from you and your horse, I couldn’t improve my work. Without your financial support, I couldn’t continue. Not to overstate it, but you all are the wind that sails me forward to deeper understanding. I cannot do this work and study without your support and I am grateful.

Thank you to the organizers who invite me to give clinics, I appreciate the opportunity to learn from new clients and for the organizers who invite me back, best of all, I get to see the progress clients have made and we get to continue forward together. I’ll be traveling less next year but first dibs to the organizers who have been loyal. Thank you for all your time and effort, it is appreciated. I can’t do it without you.

Finally, thank you to the weekly readers, those who join me every Friday morning and share their coffee and comments. It’s been 1332 published essays (and Friday mornings) so far. You have been great company. Thank you so very much.

The words don’t match my feelings. THANK YOU ALL SO VERY MUCH. Still too small.

Anna

p.s. Really, thank you.

 

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Thank You, Mother: an Ode to a Farm

It’s late afternoon as I drive along the front of my farm to the gate. The field fence is shrouded with a bumper crop of tumbleweeds, some of the arena fencing has blown down, and only the wind hasn’t changed over the weeks I’ve been gone. It’s one season when I leave and another when I get back.

Twisting sideways in the driver seat, I dangle my feet and make the drop to the ground. Edgar Rice Burro, in the barn on the far side of the house, lets out a bray like a foghorn in the sandstorm. Home, sweet home. It sounds trite so I don’t kiss the dust and gravel, but this is my home. There is no other.

This little farm is nothing special. The fence panels don’t match, the trim on the house needs paint, and nothing grows here. About one month a year the weeds look pretty good. It’s the kind of farm they call a hobby farm, but it’s rare when even large farms pay for themselves. And this place is far more than an interest for my leisure time. We are an entire world inside a bigger world.

Here on the flat windy prairie, there aren’t many trees. We lost four big ones last year. None left in the backyard now, or by the driveway. There’s one elm that’s doing okay over near the barn, a testament to how often I clean water tanks. It’s an elm that holds the tree swings in the summer but also has a condition called bacterial wetwood which means it weeps. Although the bird population has dropped in recent years, this fellow remains, his mourning cries haunt the night.

This is an arid semi-desert prairie, over seven thousand feet high. When people find out I live in Colorado, they smile but it’s not where they’re thinking. I say, “No, not that part of Colorado.” I protect my pasture, meaning the weeds that grow there. When I first moved here, I wanted to be rid of every plant that didn’t look like it belonged on a golf course. Now I protect the weeds because without them, there is no ground cover at all. It’s weeds that hold us together.

We all end up feeding our horses hay year-round here. The drought, now being called “historic,” has meant more fires. I get the alerts on my phone but they don’t help much if I’m working a few states away. Hay prices are higher than ever, both where you live and where I live. I’m grateful to have a good hay dealer who sadly apologizes when the price goes up. His truck isn’t fancy; he doesn’t like it any better than I do. We rely on each other.

I’ve been blessed to travel and work with horses in some of the most beautiful places on the planet. The red dirt of Australia is unforgettable and the otherworldly beauty of New Zealand never leaves my memory. The north of Scotland possesses me someplace deep inside. The midnight sun in Alaska has kept me on watch for dawn. Clients tell me I should move to be closer to them. Some of the places even have cheap hay.

While here on my prairie civilization is encroaching. The town is building toward us from the west and north. A windmill farm east of us ran high power lines on mammoth utility poles just behind my farm, metal wires that slice through my view of Pikes Peak. There are new traffic circles constructed for the housing developments and a four-lane intersection with a stoplight I can watch cycle to red from my barn at night. Stop.

The best thing about a farm is the gray line between who is domesticated and who is wild. Deer and birds and other creatures mingle with horses and dogs. Animals don’t care about property lines. Boundaries become blurred, some change with the seasons, and eventually, ours change. We become owned by our land. We live this way because some part of us is still a pioneer. We’d rather try to make it here because we’ve never found a way to belong elsewhere. Because we can’t find a fit for our habits and although we can live with goats, we have a challenging time negotiating with our own species. We think of ourselves as independent but relatives call us bull-headed. Like it’s a fault, but we have the night sky.

There are a million reasons to go. This place is far from perfect. The house is old but not in a clever eclectic way. I have fence posts with six inches of cement showing above the soil but my commitment has not eroded at all. This farm has only one bragging point. It’s the first place I’ve lived that’s ever felt like home. Home, that word that quivers on the back of my tongue, almost too precious to say aloud for fear of angering the weather gods more than they are already.

I swear, there are days when Mother Nature seems angry. The light spoils to a sallow color and the ground looks filled with dread, the trees are black with cold. Try as I do to be a good steward of this precious land, I worry we are losing this fight for our Earth. Humankind is foolish to think we can survive without her. Farmers and ranchers know she will not be tamed by our business.

A better choice to protect her wildness, even those parts with fences. A better choice to stand with the animals. For all the farms I have visited, and for this dear farm that I call my home, my heart is full. I’m grateful to be one of a different breed. Which is it now? Stubbornly grateful or gratefully stubborn?

…

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 Thank You, Mother: an Ode to a Farm appeared first on Anna Blake.

Do You Need to Keep Your Horse Calm?

I can’t be the only woman of a certain age whose parents thought she needed to be muffled indefinitely. They wanted a quiet polite daughter and look how that turned out. And I’m probably the wrong person to write this since I have a rescue dog that hasn’t stopped barking since 2014. Here goes anyway. 

I was talking to an equine pro who told me about arriving at a new client’s barn to find a stressed-out human and a tense horse. He said the thing I know: if you’re good at reading horses, humans are transparent. He went slow and held his tongue, and the horse did well. By the second or third visit, the human settled as well. Things are great now, but I don’t blame his client. We get judged by our horse’s behavior, which is crazy when you think about it. After all, if an equine pro shows up at your barn, they are the thing that’s changed. Everyone was fine before. Maybe they should try to be less spooky?

I digress. What I mean is some of us have the idea that a horse should stand stock-still, spellbound by proximity to us forever. Never looking left or right, just throat-breathing until we ask them for work. In other words, they should be focused better than we are. Or we might constantly pull the lead rope back, correcting horses for having longer legs and a bigger stride than we do. We’d rather the horse lose balance than us have to take giant steps to keep up, even as we complain that these horses are just not forward under saddle. Or we think horses should surrender a hoof to us any time or place, regardless of age, soundness, or general distrust, yet we are spooked when they prick up their ears.

Why do we hold animals to higher standards than we do ourselves?

Wait, I know the answer to that question. They have to behave better than us because their welfare depends on it. If something happens to us, who will want a horse with bad manners? What happens to a kid-safe horse who injures a kid? And just because you don’t care about riding, that doesn’t mean that the world is full of homes for sound adult horses who were never trained. 

Does that mean our rescue horses need rescue from us? It isn’t enough to feed and care for them. They need to be solid citizens so they can be guaranteed safety. How many horses fall into neglect in the first place because they misbehaved and got in trouble? We need to do the impossible: Knowing there is no such thing as a bombproof horse, we set about making one. But sometimes, we put the cart before the horse; we create a bigger problem trying to solve something that is normal. 

“Horses mirror us!” If only it was as simple as chirping that trite slogan and putting a smile on our faces, but it isn’t true. That little mirror ditty denies horses intelligence or emotion, not to mention robbing them of their history. Mirrors are two-dimensional. No kidding. Horses are more complicated than a mirror.

About now, Preacher Man, who is still barking, reminds me criticism isn’t a balm for what ails us. I know this from the last decade of him barking. I’m sure he was told to shut up more than a few times. Punishment and threats won’t bring out the best in any of us, even if it’s our natural response. As deep an instinct as punishment is in us, fear is equally undeniable in animals. Does it seem the more we try to correct a behavior, the worse the behavior gets; the more we try to calm horses, the more frantic they become?

Your horse can’t ignore you; you are too loud. Is he truly being disobedient? He might be telling you he’s in pain. At least, it would help if we could stop being critical of other animals’ natures and instincts. There’s a German term, funktionslust, that speaks of animals being true to their nature. Let your horse move more naturally, let him express his emotions. You aren’t “training” him to be crazy or dangerous. That comes from dysfunction and drilling dread. It comes from correcting a horse all the time because you might need something once in a while. You know horses have emotions and expressing them is the quickest way to release them. Can we train ourselves to stop our instinct to punish long enough to see they do a better job at calming themselves than we can do?

To try to make a horse be calm is like telling a dog to stop barking or a baby to quit crying. It’s intuitive but it doesn’t work because it doesn’t address the problem. They are fearful, not defiant. Correcting that is telling them they are right to be afraid. It’s telling a baby we’ll give him something to cry about. Threats don’t get the desired result, and that’s why Preacher Man is still barking. It’s his memory barking.

Does that mean there are no boundaries, no lines of restriction for unwanted behavior? That’s silly. Horses need to be good citizens. They need to know what we want through thoughtful conversation. They are intelligent and capable of understanding. Horses are not naturally aggressive. They want to get along but they can’t learn if they are afraid. Rather than correcting him, tell him he’s a good boy. Build his confidence rather than tearing it down. Be on his side. Plant the seeds. Remind him he’s good, smart, and perfect right now. Remind yourself the same.

Does it work every time? Not at the beginning but habits take time. Blind obedience shouldn’t be the goal; it isn’t reasonable. If you want a partnership, it means two voices and one can’t be yelling all the time. We must relieve anxiety, not create it. Be constant in your support and quell your emotions. Know you are growing his tendency to trust by being trustworthy.

Does your horse need to be calm? Yes and no. Nobody thinks living in a corset is normal. Don’t waste his attention, reward it by staying focused and release him when he’s done well. Let him run and buck. He won’t get stuck there. Let his energy soothe him; moving is a calming signal; his natural way to both express anxiety and release it. Let being quiet be easy, not something to fight about. Let your release be the reward, your silence be peace. Rest there and trust him to join you.

As I finish this essay in the pre-dawn hours, Preacher is mumble-barking in his sleep. Ten years and I swear, if he is breathing he is barking. Have I “fixed” him? No, but now he trots to me mid-bark for a scratch and a good boy. Preach is still barking but the tenor has changed. (Aren’t I a laugh riot, a pun pundit? You learn it between barks.)

Emotions are natural. Holding them in or being punished for having them is the problem. When we make normal things bad we’re being unreasonable. We’re asking for dishonesty. 

We can’t deny an animal’s nature, but we can make friends with unwanted behaviors, and then together, we can steer in a better direction. Show a horse grace and understanding. Let it start small in easy situations until it’s possible to be consistent in challenging ones. Breathe. Let your patience become the air in his lungs. Don’t give a cue, be the cue.

Calm is a by-product of good behavior in humans. We aren’t training behavior, we’re demonstrating integrity and reliability. When animals feel safe, they are calm. 

…

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 Do You Need to Keep Your Horse Calm? appeared first on Anna Blake.