Anna Blake's Blog, page 20

For the Fragility of a Horse…

“When we see horses galloping with ears sharp, tails flagged, and hooves churning up the soil, they are the epitome of strength and sensitivity, intelligence and timeless beauty. Even the most cynical people pause and stand a bit taller, just existing in the same world with horses.”

Like we any of us need to see galloping horses. They can take our breath away just by chewing hay with half-closed eyes. It doesn’t take much when you’re as besotted as we are. Life pushes and pulls in different directions, tugging away time and resources and common sense, and yet we persist. Having horses isn’t easy, but we aren’t the sort to give our hearts lightly.

I’m convinced that part of the magic is a horse’s sheer size. A thousand pounds, give or take a few hundred, makes an impression. What other animals are that massive and somewhat domesticated? We let the earth go and they carry us, held by nothing more than energy and motion. Do you ever think about how amazing that is? Humans have been riding for a few centuries but every time a leg moves across a horse’s spine, it’s a journey to an altered reality. Sitting astride a horse, feeling each step ripple through your body as you allow the release, surrendering control to the rhythm and sway of a horse’s gait.

We had a plan with our horses. Some of us had a dream of flying over jumps or dancing light steps to silent, shared music. Some wanted to travel through time wandering down a nature trail -as if that didn’t require just as much skill. It was ambition, but the very best kind. We wanted to build a relationship that went beyond superficial, more than looking out the window or sharing breath over a fence. We wanted a literal stinky, hairy, sweaty connection, and we were willing to risk what we had for the chance.

Horses don’t have plans. Horses don’t dream or make promises. It was never their goal to be our horse. They live in the moment, and while our thoughts might gallop away like a horse on the track, horses don’t share that mental luxury.

That’s okay, as much as we love horses, overthinking every detail, wallowing with indecision, and cogitating between options, we avoid thinking about the thing we wish we didn’t know, just how fragile horses are.

“How many horses do you have to own before you have one to ride?”

We might flash a wry smile, but we all know it’s no joke. Having a horse isn’t the guarantee of a ride. Not all horses are born sound in body and mind. It isn’t just the elders who have retired, some are younger with injuries or disabilities. Sometimes vet care can put the horse right eventually, and some infirmities are never able to be found by vets. You know in your heart the horse is plainly not okay. You know what “normal” looks like and your horse isn’t. And not in a clever way, but in a sad, cannot-do-this sort of way.

There is much we don’t know about horses. It’s a challenge to diagnose horses with conditions like cancer, pinched nerves, mental disorders, or structural defects, to name a few. Veterinary medicine improves all the time, but horses still can’t talk.

Then there is what we do know about horses. They are prone to lameness in an infinite number of places. They have small hooves for such a large body. Their digestive system is easily upset, resulting in ulcers or colic. It seems metabolic disorders are more and more common. Horses are stoic by nature, knowing that showing weakness would alter their position in the herd as well as being a message to predators, so they hide their pain and limitations from us as well. Finally, even if the riding dream unfolds well, we face the negotiation of age. If we wait to start them until they are fully grown and listen to them as their joints wear with age, their riding years will be fewer than their living years. We aren’t wealthy, yet we’ve spared no expense in the search to heal our horses, hiring specialists in various practices, often finding the injury caused by others before us. We’d pay anything to slow the pace of time.

“Why don’t you ride them?”

It’s the question we hate the most, not because the answer is elusive, but because repeating the reason again opens the wound in us, the pain we share with that horse. The person who asks this question doesn’t know horses. They don’t know that the potential seen in young horses is a gamble against so many ordinary experiences and random luck. That just because a horse grazes in a pasture, there is no promise more than watching.

Perhaps our initial dream is a dark cloud now, as we use kind training methods to administer daily meds or do quiet groundwork, or weirdest to the unknowing eye, take that horse for walks. You may not be galloping together, but he waits for the hay you’ve soaked for him, he offers his eye for the drops required daily or lifts his hoof, as you hurry to pick it out, knowing the shift in weight hurts him. We are humbled to find trust in the most vulnerable times. It’s far beyond a superficial bond, but not what we’d hoped for, except perhaps for the joyful success we feel at the sound of hay being chewed and a half-closed eye.

Here’s to all the horses who might have wanted to join us in our dreams but just couldn’t, and the people who keep them close as kin.

Here’s to the lives we share with horses who are unsound in some diagnosed way, or in some way beyond diagnosing. It isn’t the journey we would have chosen, but it’s where we are. Here’s to a relationship of intimacy beyond riding to a fragile negotiation of well-being. Here’s to the commitment of sharing our lives, no matter what comes. Of giving up even our dreams, to live in the moment with a creature so magical that we will never let go. It was always about them. With that awareness, the horse’s fragility becomes our strength.

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward 

Want more? Join us in The Barn. Subscribe to our online training group with training videos, interactive sharing, audio blogs, live-chats with Anna, and the most supportive group of like-minded horsepeople anywhere.

Ongoing courses in Calming Signals, Affirmative Training, Fundamentals of Authentic Dressage, and Back in the Saddle: a Comeback Conversation, as well as virtual clinics, are taught at The Barn School, where I also host our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

Visit annablake.com to find over a thousand archived blogs, purchase signed books, schedule a live consultation or lesson, 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 For the Fragility of a Horse… appeared first on Anna Blake.

Beyond Legal Whiskers

The International Federation for Equestrian Sports unanimously banned horse whisker trimming, effective 1 July 2021. Horses snort and rub their noses on their knees with relief. Clipping whiskers has been a habit passed down among most riding disciplines, in 4-H clubs and breed shows, as well as international competitions. Hooray, times are changing. I’m betting most riders are cheering, too. Those out-of-date and inane competition rules should be reevaluated for the well-being of the horse. Yes, the change is slow, but that’s how change starts, and momentum comes later. The FEI gets a happy dance from me.

The rule changed, as all rules change when the majority of public opinion have changed. Just like working with horses, it’s up to us to change if we want a different ride. So, with rules and habits, it’s up to us to take a critical look at what science tells us, balanced with the things horses tell us if our egos let us listen. Then horse advocates and lovers apply some logic and see the next thing to begin changing our minds about, whether we like it or not, for these creatures we respect, as well as love.

Horses would remind us that they aren’t whiskers, they are called vibrissae, sensory hairs have their own nerve and blood supply. Horses can’t see what’s at the end of their nose or close to their face, so these hairs are critical to a horse’s spatial awareness, with such sensitivity, they function almost like another set of eyes. Muzzles contain more than 4 billion nerve endings.

Pause. Don’t just read the words, but imagine their awareness so much more acute than ours. What does that feel like? Is any part of our body that wildly electric as a horse’s muzzle?

I’m sure at some point in my horse education, I was told that I should be able to touch any part of my horse, any time I wanted. That a well-trained horse should tolerate manhandling or tickling or any other rudeness my hand might perpetrate simply because I did it. So, we arrogantly mangled ears and grabbed noses. Twitching was commonplace. We half expected our horses to be head-shy or we ignored their dead eyes, thinking we were in control. We were their leaders and we dominated to have our way.

Then at some point, leadership began to feel like bullying and lots of us changed our minds about that, kind of like the FEI and whiskers. Leadership became a code word for fear-based training. With more understanding and a little help from scientific research, we landed in the same place that classical riders have been for centuries. We saw the immense value to be gained by respecting horses rather than punishing them for their instincts and natural behaviors. Partnership became our goal, and we were more clear about what we didn’t want to do than the kind of handling we wanted to move toward.

We notice anxiety easier when clear cruelty happening. We recognize tense lips and a clamped jaw. It’s their most vulnerable area. It’s why harsh bits give us leverage over hundreds of pounds. Horses do not get hard in the mouth; the pain receptors cannot be numbed or deleted. A harsh bit will hurt every ride, but snaffles are no different in hard hands. Some of us ride bitless finding that the anxiety our horses had was not about being ridden so much as the fear of pain in their mouth. Eventually, we learn to control our hands, control our emotions, and ride softly. We become the peace our horses seek, not the danger they fear.

But the funny thing about listening to horses is that once they feel heard, they just chatter on, letting us know more of their anxiety. They let us know we can do better, and most of us try. We listen to things we don’t want to believe. If we agree whisker trimming is wrong, is that muzzle ours to touch? As much as we love that velvet-soft skin so close as they sniff us, could we acknowledge them in a way less invasive?

When you think of the size of a horse’s body, why would we focus on the last four inches of his face? What draws us to their most vulnerable place?

Sometimes horse lovers act like adolescent boys disrupting the class with spit wads, just agitating horses to get a response. We bait them with treats, so they trot to us. We hyper-stimulate them with such intensity that their lips curl, as if evoking a strong physical response is the same thing as honest connection. We know that horses crave safety, but standing and breathing aren’t dramatic enough. We want our love to be loud and obvious.

the biggest problem with clipping whiskers, harsh bits, or even mugging a horse’s face is that they give calming signals with their muzzles. It’s a primary “voice” to let us know about pain or anxiety. While we think we’re playing kissy-face, the horse could be sending a serious message.

Rather than falling back on old harsh methods or assuming every calming signal is a sign of affection, we could consider being polite by their standards. Is the horse intruding in our space or are we intruding in theirs? We may own the ground or pay the board, but they still own their space. In the past we’ve been taught to behave like petulant children, insisting the horse accept any intrusive touch and a moment later, be insulted by their proximity, loudly asking them to move away by flapping and poking, when it would create less anxiety if we demonstrated peace by stepping out of their space ourselves. Didn’t we just create the situation we are punishing the horse for? Do we tickle that vulnerable muzzle and think it’s cute when they “smile”? Is their agitation something we smile about, or do we want to understand what they are communicating and relieve their anxiety?

When horses have confidence in their own position because we provide safety, they become calmer in ways that benefit everyone. We need to understand, boring as it seems, that safety is the top priority for a horse. Like the herd matriarch, we should value the horse’s peace of mind and safety as if we were prey animals electric with sensitivity.

If we hope to bring change that horses need, we must see beyond habits and behaviors that flatter us and politely move toward behaving in ways that support the confidence and well-being of horses. We are each the International Federation for Equestrian Sports to the horses in our care.

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward 

Want more? Join us in The Barn. Subscribe to our online training group with training videos, interactive sharing, audio blogs, live-chats with Anna, and the most supportive group of like-minded horsepeople anywhere.

Ongoing courses in Calming Signals, Affirmative Training, Fundamentals of Authentic Dressage, and Back in the Saddle: a Comeback Conversation, as well as virtual clinics, are taught at The Barn School, where I also host our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

Visit annablake.com to find over a thousand archived blogs, purchase signed books, schedule a live consultation or lesson, 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 Beyond Legal Whiskers appeared first on Anna Blake.

Affirmative Training: Misunderstandings About Control

You have made some changes in how you work with your horse and you’re both much more relaxed. You’ve evolved beyond the old voices that demand you show your horse who’s boss. Those debunked methods threatened and shamed you as well as your horse. Now, you believe in building the horse’s confidence and training affirmatively. It seems obvious in hindsight that fear and intimidation would never get the best answer from either of you.

You’ve learned the value of going slow to understand your horse’s particular calming signals, and you’ve learned to exchange human calming signals back. You keep your lead rope slack and stand at your horse’s shoulder, leaving clear space for the horse’s head. You take the time to acknowledge your horse’s emotions. Things that were problems have been mutually resolved. Both of you are quieter, you listen to each other. When the initial change happened, it took a while for residual resistance to soften. First, the threats had to be eliminated, whether it was a harsh bit or other kinds of chronic corrections, but then the changes started to happen. You taught yourself to breathe, or your horse has taught you patience, but either way, it means less anxiety for both of you and more of a conversation. Rides are peaceful, progress comes easily, and crank up the music, this is fun. 

Meanwhile, for those who believe in dominating horses, everything else looks like weakness. 

Then comes a day when you call a new vet or equine dentist or farrier. To keep it simple, we’ll call that person a specialist. You liked your old specialist, and it can take time to break a new one in, but change is inevitable. The specialist arrives in a bit of a hurry. You are a woman of a certain age, not new to horses, and your herd has experience as well. You can see a question wash over your horses but has there ever been a time when you’ve seen a horse or dog behave “normally” around a specialist?

The work with the stoic geldings goes quickly and it’s time for your young mare. You ask the specialist a question in hopes of slowing things down a bit. But before the specialist can answer, the assistant takes the lead rope from your hand and pulls. Your mare tries to look away, a calming signal to let the assistant know she’s no threat, that the assistant doesn’t need to pull. But humans get defensive so quickly. Now the assistant has a death grip on the mare’s halter and the specialist has joined in, pushing her into a fence panel, and pinning her for a shot. Your young mare looks to you in full panic. 

Talking will do no good; it’s too late to slow down and they’re too far in to stop. Your mare is looking to you for an answer and telling the specialist what you think isn’t going to help. Breathing is the only rational response. You hold her eye and exhale slowly. Then a rhythmic inhale and as you exhale for the second time, your mare’s eyes soften. She stops trying to toss her head; a horse’s response time is seven times quicker than ours, not that the specialist notices. For humans, it’s hard to quit fighting once we start, so they push on, gripping and hurrying, the work done quickly, as if it’s a race to win.

Are you meant to be impressed? How have we come to a place of normalized aggression? How does a peaceful herd animal learn to fight in the first place?

A flight response is normal for a horse, as we all know. We talk less about the human response to fear, which is frequently transitioning into fight mode. Humans usually get defensive, if not physically then verbally. Ever noticed how ineffective it is to tell a professional how to do their job? It isn’t just traditional vets who keep a twitch handy or farriers who hogtie horses. No one likes to be criticized. You won’t get a palmed forehead and an embarrassed apology.

The woman understands how things work A friend had recently complained that her trainer wouldn’t agree to work her horse the affirmative way she wanted. She thought the trainer was wrong, but it wasn’t a fair request. You can’t order specialists up like an ala cart dinner. Each specialist works their way intentionally. You can’t insist a dominating specialist be gentle any more than you can insist an affirmative specialist use a whip or see-saw a harsh bit. Right or wrong, your only control is to take your business to another if that’s possible in your area.

But there you are, a woman of a certain age, why bite your tongue? It isn’t the first time something like this has happened and you can’t change even the recent past, but maybe you can learn something to use in the future. You decide to ask for the specialist’s opinion. You say you’ve never seen your mare react so strongly. Does the specialist know why? Well, she was resisting, the specialist explains. You ask was the mare being aggressive? No, she wouldn’t stand, the specialist responds. Was she afraid? Now the specialist gives you the withering look. That’s when it dawns on you. You ask if it could be something in her environment that sent her to a flight response. No, the specialist says, it was just her.

The specialist doesn’t see himself as part of the horse’s environment. You let this sink in. 

The specialist might notice the change in your tone but if so, won’t imagine their behavior made you change. It’s just how women of a certain age are.

You wonder how many less experienced horse owners look to specialists for training advice, assuming if they know about teeth or hooves or colic, then they must know about problem-solving. You wonder if while attempting to heal one part, the specialist does more damage to other parts of the horse.

But now you have your mare back, standing at your hip with her neck long and her eyes half-closed. Unconsciously, you match your breath with hers or she matches hers with you, it no longer matters who cues who because that’s what partnership means. You know she’s processing what just happened. The mare has only had her face manhandled a scant number of times in her life, and always by a specialist. She’s is smart enough to recognize a predator when she sees one.

Rolling down the driveway, the specialist looks in the rearview mirror and sees an older woman and a badly behaved horse.

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward 

Want more? Join us in The Barn. Subscribe to our online training group with training videos, interactive sharing, audio blogs, live-chats with Anna, and the most supportive group of like-minded horsepeople anywhere.

Ongoing courses in Calming Signals, Affirmative Training, Fundamentals of Authentic Dressage, and Back in the Saddle: a Comeback Conversation, as well as virtual clinics, are taught at The Barn School, where I also host our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

Visit annablake.com to find over a thousand archived blogs, purchase signed books, schedule a live consultation or lesson, 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 Affirmative Training: Misunderstandings About Control appeared first on Anna Blake.

Calming Signals and Feculence

I’m responding to a request to write a few words about poop. “BM, defecation, excrement, fecal matter, the deuce, sh*t, meadow muffins, fertilizer, dung, feces, number two, crap, guano, manure, night soil, or my personal favorite, horseplop.”

There you go. A few words. Get it? But alas, I’m just not willing to be all that funny about manure.

Here is how I lost my sense of humor about all things fecal. I know people who think their horse has a master plan to embarrass them at a show by dropping a load at “X” or spraying a green arc out from a 20-meter canter circle. Some take it as a personal insult if a horse poops within 10 feet of them. Some go nuts because seven days a week, their horse’s stall looks like a frat house on Sunday morning. Some rage against the inconvenience of a horse peeing in the horse trailer or their stall. 

Or you might be like me. I might pick up a turd for a closer look and there’s a good chance I’ll smile. You know the glee of colic resolving with moist manure. Or the call to the vet for the old horse with chronic guano stains. You understand the need to help a horse with projectile excrement. There is always a message being sent by way of poop. Some of the messages are health-related and some emotional but every action a horse takes is a message. The horse is telling us something about themselves. 

A bowel movement is just one part of the horse’s digestive system that starts with the horse’s muzzle and travels through a digestive system that is truly frail, considering ulcers and colic, and on to the anal end of the path. Humans say we get a ‘gut feeling’ but for horses, it’s even more literal. Many internal changes happen when a horse goes into a sympathetic system (flight) response. Heart rate goes up, but the digestive system slows. Body tension, muscle constriction, and pain can impact (sorry) the system to a life-threatening point. Horses that are anxious or overwhelmed will have several large bowel movements in a short time, including mass elimination and eventually diarrhea. A stress poop is a call for help or calm. 

How about crap as a calming signal? Have you noticed some horses leave a deposit just before stepping into the trailer, or starting a jump course, or approaching an obstacle? Imagine that it’s a release of dread like a lick or yawn, but on the other end. In some situations, when a horse leaves a turd pyramid, it’s an affirmative answer, right before the physical volunteer. It’s a release of a lower level of anxiety, he is ready for the task. That deserves a good boy. It’s a sign that the constipated logjam of over-cueing and anxiety is ready to clear. 

I had a young horse who was proud to drop-and-pee, splashing a circle of people standing close, and know others that needed to go back to the privacy of their stall to pee. Those are statements about confidence. A horse who is relaxed enough for a normal sort of urination or bowel movement close to us feels safe. When I’m mucking and one of the horses walks over, turns his butt to me, and loads my fork, I say thanks for the trust.

I swear, some of this is basic common sense. Horses don’t like to splash wee on their legs any more than we like to clean it off. Best to wee in deep shavings. That’s what they’re for, right?

Some horses have a habit of seasoning their water bucket with shite, a message of discontent or not feeling safe, in the limits of the stall or other areas of their life. While some stallions will stack several efforts into a soft cairn, other horses will pulverize each fecal fleck, you really want to listen there. Horses are herd animals; confinement and isolation are hardwired causes of anxiety. Not a choice for them. Your horse needs room to move. We might see a stall as a convenience for horse-keeping, but it is solitary confinement for them, something that can cause humans to rub their feces on the walls from stress. 

Perhaps you take poop personally? Do you think your horse’s digestive eliminations are meant to embarrass you or mock you? That your horse has a long-term goal of driving you mad with planned feculence, creating a landmine field of meadow muffins precisely timed and located for your demise? Do you fantasize that horses are capable of intentional negative behaviors for psychological purposes or manipulations? Are you spending emotion and anxiety complaining about your horse’s personal habits? That their sole purpose in life is to get your silly white clothes dirty or mystically insert horsehair in your underwear. Do you think you should be able to control a horse down to the insult of a deuce pile in an inconvenient time or place? In a world where horses can dance, where the goal of oneness in movement with another species exists, are you kidding? That’s just horseshit, a word synonymous with nonsense and foolishness.

The science is in on this but maybe it bears repeating. Horses do not have the same neocortex that humans do. Our frontal lobe is used for higher cognitive functions such as like problem-solving, social interaction, and impulse control, not that you can tell by looking at our bank accounts. It’s also the part of our brain where we criticize and disrespect ourselves and others; where we make up stories that are hyper-romantic or demeaning and paranoid. These are mental activities horses are free of. Horses do not cheat or pretend to be stupid or plan elaborate practical jokes. Horses are not capable of deceit. Isn’t that why we prefer their company to humans half the time?

The gift for humans who strive to understand calming signals and work with the horse in an affirmative way is that we learn to welcome all information to support our horses more deeply, in the hope we can become more trustworthy in their eyes. If we are in horses for the long run, if our commitment is true and our passion aimed for their welfare, we should be more concerned with the horse’s emotions than our own. Part of that is making friends with poop, embracing it in all its varied beauty and eloquence. 

Because eventually, we face the saddest day; the last dung pile you will ever muck up from a heart horse. You might leave it where it fell for a day or two, sentimental and reluctant to let go of this final organic blessing. Can you really love a horse without loving his horseplop too?

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward 

Want more? Join us in The Barn. Subscribe to our online training group with training videos, interactive sharing, audio blogs, live-chats with Anna, and the most supportive group of like-minded horsepeople anywhere.

Ongoing courses in Calming Signals, Affirmative Training, Fundamentals of Authentic Dressage, and Back in the Saddle: a Comeback Conversation, as well as virtual clinics, are taught at The Barn School, where I also host our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

Visit annablake.com to find over a thousand archived blogs, purchase signed books, schedule a live consultation or lesson, 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 and Feculence appeared first on Anna Blake.

Calming Signals: Planning for Stress

Calming signals are an animal’s emotional response to their environment, expressed in body language, sometimes in increasing anxiety moving toward a flight, fight, or freeze response and sometimes decreasing anxiety while returning to a relaxed or restive state.

It’s the most natural thing in the world for a horse to feel stress. It might be anxiety about another horse in the herd or the anxiety caused by isolation. A scent on the air or a sudden movement or a sharp sound. Horses have a hard-wired fear of restriction or confinement. We might feel better if we call it a survival instinct, but it’s a stress response that keeps a horse alive in his environment. Part of knowing your horse is being aware of his particular stressors. In a sense, they become our own. .

Add to that, the many kinds of anxiety that humans have around horses because we love them: An ongoing stress that they will get sick, that they will die, that they will hurt people. We might worry that our horse won’t like trailers or picking up their feet or going over bridges. We might begin to scan the horizon for plastic bags or mud puddles. We plan for issues that our horse may or may not have. Horses can lose confidence by reading the stress level of their human. Knowing that horses read our fear, now we have a low-level fear of our own fear.

Yikes, it’s a runaway!

Humans tend to define stress as a bad thing, so we set about trying to force our horses to be calm, as if that was ever a natural state. We might try to control the environment, walking on eggshells, and being unnaturally peaceful, but your horse reads your body language as coyote-like and goes on alert for what is putting you on alert. Or we might think we can desensitize the horse from all scary things, continually pushing him to face the fear that we’ve created for him to learn from. That constant pressure in training can overwhelm, putting your horse into a state of learned helplessness. With good intentions, some of us create more stress, as we try to relieve stress.

Stress is more fluid than we think. Humans can have anticipatory anxiety because we love Christmas or will be leaving on vacation or are shopping for a new horse. And a minute later, the Christmas to-do list leaves you in a puddle, you get sick in the Uber to the airport and miss your plane, or your new horse arrives and is totally unrecognizable from the one you bought. If the same event can flip-flop between good and bad, it seems like a bad idea to pick sides. Rather than leaping to judgment, can we simply keep an open mind?

We’ll keep it simple: Define stress as being alive. And that means stress is inevitable and dependable. It’s time to make friends with it.

Is it possible for us to control a horse’s emotional response? Of course not. The only control we have is over our own response and one thing should be obvious: If your behavior doesn’t contribute to less anxiety for your horse, then change what you’re doing. It isn’t working.

There is a natural behavior that toddlers have. Perhaps they stumble and plop on the ground. It startles them, so they look to a parent to see how they should feel. If the parent looks alarmed and confirms the danger, the toddler cries, but if the parent, seeing no injury, smiles and cheers, the toddler will become more confident in his exploration. Toddlers are born with a survival instinct, but we can make a choice of how to negotiate that. We can choose what calming signals we give, looking beyond the instant of a small stumble, with an eye toward the big picture. Isn’t confidence always the goal?

We also know that horses read human facial expressions. What would happen if we became more focused on the messages our bodies send, rather than the latest training technique we saw. What if instead of trying to evoke a response in our horses, we paid more attention to our own response.

Just as you know the things your horse is likely to feel stress about, you also know his favorite calming signals. Can you offer him an opportunity for self-soothing? Can you bring the release of anxiety rather than being the cause of it?

Embrace the normal status of stress with less resistance. Everything doesn’t have to include suffering. Hang a hay bag when tacking up. Give the horse an opportunity for an affirmative calming signal in the release of his jaw chewing, rather than standing in cross ties with no way to move. Plan ahead with gastric support for a trailer ride, knowing it is always a challenge. Wouldn’t an antacid be a positive step, even if your horse walks right in? Think less about how you should control the horse’s response and more about how you might help him feel safe. Empathy is a universal language that we all understand, but traditional domination training methods make us feel wrong for being weak, when in truth, vulnerability is the finest goal for a horse and human relationship. There is strength in having compassion.

Horses and humans both feel stress as a natural response, but humans have more choice about our response. It takes energy and focus, but could you trouble yourself to smile? It can feel counterintuitive to be affirmative in the face of stress, but could you put a genuine smile on your face when you look at your horse, whether he’s doing exactly what you want or falling short of the mark? Could you give him a smile to relieve his stress; give him a smile to remind him that you’re not that person who is impatient, not that person who has a temper, not that person who thinks nothing is ever good enough.

The world will always be chaotic. We will always face the things we never saw before, and we cannot desensitize our horses or ourselves to life. We can learn to lay down our natural leaning toward dread and train ourselves to say yes. To become the sort of human a horse can rely on. They say horses make us better people, but the work is ours to do.

…

Go to The Barn School for classes in Equine Calming Signals and Human Calming Signals.

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward 

Want more? Join us in The Barn. Subscribe to our online training group with training videos, interactive sharing, audio blogs, live-chats with Anna, and the most supportive group of like-minded horsepeople anywhere.

Ongoing courses in Calming Signals, Affirmative Training, Fundamentals of Authentic Dressage, and Back in the Saddle: a Comeback Conversation, as well as virtual clinics, are taught at The Barn School, where I also host our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

Visit annablake.com to find over a thousand archived blogs, purchase signed books, schedule a live consultation or lesson, 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: Planning for Stress appeared first on Anna Blake.

Homeschooling Your Horsemanship

 

In one online class this week, a woman in Maine said it was 90 degrees that day and her black mare wasn’t coming out of the shelter. New York was no better. Two women in the class said the heat in Texas was just as high. Last month the mud ate their homework. Before that, the power was out. Texas hasn’t had a riding season all year but we’re having weird weather everywhere. In Colorado, we had more snow in May here than we had all winter and now there’s fire danger for many of us. What’s a horse-crazy girl of a certain age to do?

The class watched a member’s video and talked about recognizing lameness. We did the math (the heat index is the temperature (Fahrenheit) plus the percentage humidity. If the total is over 120, it’s too hot to ride.) Then we compared YouTube videos of gaited horses and dressage horses. We talked biomechanics and balanced movement, training our eyes. We compared conformation, not that one was better or worse, but to see the ingredients of the ride more clearly. We watched to see how the rider impacted the horse. Why is it so easy to see on video?* One participant later commented, “I watched a friend micromanage her horse and thought if I were the horse, I might bite her arm off in aggravation.” The challenge in micromanaging a horse is that we’re too busy to notice we’re doing it in the first place. Now there’s an app for that.

We can’t learn everything in the saddle, but still, I probably had a better time in class than they did because it was nostalgic. Back in the day, when I spent as much on riding lessons as others spent on college, I also watched all the lessons I could at the barn. Isn’t that the thing about clinics? We learn from everyone else as much as the clinician. Then on the way home, I rented VHS tapes at the tack store: “CSI, The Search for the Outside Rein.” I made that title up but it’s a good idea.

Perhaps you think you know all you need to. Fine, and my condolences to your horse. Maybe you think watching jumping videos or dressage videos won’t be relevant because you “only trail ride.” Do you need a dressage queen to explain the challenges of trail riding? Besides, between bloody thrillers and syrupy romances, what else would we watch?

Tips for Homeschooling Horsemanship:

Head over to YouTube and enter something interesting into the search bar. There are some great trainers there and an equal number of monsters and charlatans. There are videos from world-class competitions. For our purposes today, don’t watch those. There is much to learn from them, but today you’re looking for the baby steps that make sense on your horse right now. Try to find someone like you. 
Remember it’s never about tearing down a rider or being critical of a horse. Any railbird idiot can complain, this is about learning to see details without judgment or correction.
Hit start and just watch. Start to finish, let the ride unfold. Just let your eyes follow, look for what you like. Smile.
Hit replay. Only watch the horse. Is he moving forward in a balanced, ground covering gait? Are his strides even or is he bobbing a bit? Is his poll soft and does his tail move in a soft “S” shape because his back is relaxed? Do you get the sense that he’s breathing regularly?
Hit replay. This time, just watch the rider’s position. Is she tall but seated cleanly in the center of the saddle? Does her body move in unison with the rhythm of the horse? You know rhythm is your horse’s first concern. 
Hit replay and this time, only watch the rider’s legs. Are the heels under the rider’s shoulder? Are her legs soft or do they bang on the horse’s flank? Are her heels up or do her feet rest just above the girth? Are her calves quietly working? Just notice. 
Replay again, and this time only watch the rider’s hands. Are they generous or do they impede the natural movement of the horse’s neck, working a bit like a hand brake? Are the hands in balance with each other or is one stronger? Does the rider overuse the inside rein and ignore the outside? Is there hand-weight on the rein or does the rider carry her hands?
This last step is the important one. Watch one more time and dismiss your thoughts. Listen to the horse’s calming signals. Does the horse partially or fully close his eyes or turn his head away. Does his poll go up in anxiety? Is the horse unwilling to go forward and engaged in the conversation? Is the horse telling the rider something that the rider isn’t hearing? The horse’s opinion of the rider is the only one that matters. Turn the sound down and rather than intellectualizing about the ride, listen to the one who knows. Now trust that the horse is right.

Consider giving yourself an extra-credit assignment. Make friends with technology. Of course, it’s easier to complain about it or throw your hands up in frustration but wade through your apprehensions. Use a cheap twisty tripod to video or blow a hundred bucks on a Pivo, but get into the habit of videoing you with your horse. Yes, you look older and you might have gained a few, but this is about something more important than superficial appearance. Then follow the same steps as above.

Does the camera make you nervous? Let go of self-judgment. Horses like us neutral. Instead, just notice. Maybe the camera helps you focus better on the task or be more aware of your body movements. Your eye might get more involved. Good, it’s working already. Most people are pleasantly surprised, looking less awkward than they felt. With that affirmative nudge, it’s easy to notice habits that your horse might like you to work on. On the ground or in the saddle, seeing yourself with the impersonal eye of a camera is something to embrace. 

As you begin, you’ll probably drudge up old issues, self-blame, and issues that never had to become issues. You’ll judge yourself more harshly than I would. Breathe your way thru. Use a neck ring to learn about your hands. Drop your stirrups and see what happens. Collect these videos because a year from now it’ll all be different. Because years will pass and looking back on these videos will leave a rosy glow on the distance the two of you have traveled. Make friends with your challenges, embrace those shortcomings because it will give you compassion, perhaps the most necessary skill of all.

Partnering with a horse is a noble goal; a solitary journey that the two of you take. Let it rain; let it bake. We are not deterred.

 

*Drop by The Barn School and check out the courses.

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward 

Want more? Join us in The Barn. Subscribe to our online training group with training videos, interactive sharing, audio blogs, live-chats with Anna, and the most supportive group of like-minded horsepeople anywhere.

Ongoing courses in Calming Signals, Affirmative Training, Fundamentals of Authentic Dressage, and Back in the Saddle: a Comeback Conversation, as well as virtual clinics, are taught at The Barn School, where I also host our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

Visit annablake.com to find over a thousand archived blogs, purchase signed books, schedule a live consultation or lesson, 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 Homeschooling Your Horsemanship appeared first on Anna Blake.

Part of Your Horse Stays Behind

When it came time to say goodbye to my dressage mentor, a trainer that I’d ridden with several times a week for five years, she cried. I was surprised. I knew I would; she’d changed my life. But I was a bit flattered that she cared that much. By the time I got to the end of the driveway, I came to my senses. She was saying goodbye to three of us, and the tears were for the two with hooves in the trailer. Now I have her job and I think of horses I knew even briefly, decades ago. Horses who have passed through my life leaving a gift with me; I’m blessed by their uniqueness and by the good fortune to meet so many. I remember horses. I think we all do.

Two horses dear to me died this week. I didn’t own them. I just thought I did.

Damien was a massive Percheron stallion. Okay, he wasn’t a stallion but standing next to him gave that indelible feeling, his pride and self-confidence shone. He was nothing short of regal. I’d been hired to get the herd of rescue draft horses and donkeys ready to be loaded on a huge semi-trailer transport for a long-haul move. Think gangplank onto an ocean liner. It was scary, and some of the herd would be extremely challenged by it. But I knew who would go first. In the weeks of work with the herd, he was the horse I understood from the start. He was the one who had the courage to lead. It’s been years ago now, he must have been quite elderly. Go on ahead now, Damien, we’ll catch up. I’m grateful for the part of you that will always be here in Colorado.

Lou was a horse I met online. He was in New Zealand, living with a couple of donkeys and a truly kind, funny owner. Lou was handsome, a deep chestnut. The stoic sort with the kind of backside that you wanted to rest your head on. He was the perfect Lou of a horse. Just Lou. He arrived with a fair amount of baggage from his past. Who doesn’t? But he became curious, and he loved a good debate about a halter. He was engaging once you proved a few things about yourself. Maybe not the easiest horse, but the easy ones don’t set a hook quite this deeply. At 20, perhaps he could have stayed longer, but sometimes I wonder about horses like Lou, who have carried more than their share in the past. I wonder if when the fighting stops and the anxiety leaves, once they finally know they’re home, if they feel safe enough, rich enough, to let go. No more worries, Lou. And never forgotten.

Why mention them? They are not the only ones I miss. These horses were not elite, they didn’t have walls of ribbons, legends written, or even progeny. Hardly any of us knew them. They were ordinary horses. As if there was ever such a thing as that.

It’s been a year of death like every year is. Common as it is, each passing has a ripple effect. We share condolences and we certainly cry. Horses are worthy of mourning; the rest of the herd agrees. In the immediacy of the death, all that’s visible is the hole they have left. We can only see what we can’t see. Sometimes the passing is slow and sometimes lightning quick. We say it’s always too soon, words trite on our tongues. We remain a bit arrogant as if we can change the law of nature; as if death is an indicator of our personal failure. It just isn’t. There is no shame in living a life of negotiated twists and turns. They are not so unlike us. All mortal bodies will come to rest as souls fly free.

A horse’s life, all his precious days, is so much more important than the small moment of his death. We do horses a disservice to focus on his limitations, a chronic health issue, or the wishes that did not come to pass. Most of all, it’s impossible for his last hours to negate the truth of all the days that have come before. At first, we cry because we think they have left us but when we catch our breath, we see them out of the corner of our eye grazing with a ghost herd. Our ears atune to the muted beat of hooves, the scent of their skin wafting on the breeze. They travel easier now; no old joints, no trailer needed. The hope of oneness becomes true at last, just behind our eyelids. Not trodden upon, we’re carried lighter than in life. Now running with our childhood ponies and all the others, a herd unbound by time or place. Let their memory might be their finest gift, for they are never out of reach.

We have an involuntary love. We cry for our own horses and for horses we’ve met or seen photos of, or dreamed about. We also cry when we see weanlings flinging their legs in all directions at once,  or when we see a courageous ride. Tears well at their intelligent soft eye when we first notice that we’ll probably outlive them. We think we each own a part of all of them and we do. We have paid in so many kinds of currency. Honestly, us crying about horses is not a special occasion. Even us old cranky horsewomen get things in our eyes coming in from the night feed. It’s the time nickers can be heard from those who have walked on. Parts of life might be hard but loving horses is the easiest task of all.

If the day ever comes when we look at a horse and are not knocked back and brought to tears by the sacred blessing of knowing them, it’ll be time to quit. Or it could mean we’ve died already and gone off to the Big Pasture ourselves.

Until that day, we are blessed with their memory but more than that, blessed with seeing a part of our horse in every horse. We have come to float in an infinite sea of horses as vast as the sky, our own life’s blood vibrantly intermingled with theirs in every wave of light, sunset through to sunrise. We couldn’t lose them if we tried.

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward 

Want more? Join us in The Barn. Subscribe to our online training group with training videos, interactive sharing, audio blogs, live-chats with Anna, and the most supportive group of like-minded horsepeople anywhere.

Ongoing courses in Calming Signals, Affirmative Training, Fundamentals of Authentic Dressage, and Back in the Saddle: a Comeback Conversation, as well as virtual clinics, are taught at The Barn School, where I also host our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

Visit annablake.com to find over a thousand archived blogs, purchase signed books, schedule a live consultation or lesson, 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 Part of Your Horse Stays Behind appeared first on Anna Blake.

Why Horses Don’t Multi-task

Imagine what it means to have senses as keen as a prey animal. Feel the roar of nature even on a still morning. The scent in the air during the spring mating and birthing season for all mammals. The blustering storms stirring up musty leaves and revealing death and new growth. The jangle and hum of the environment that goes on below human radar are critical events, yet when a horse is standing quietly, we assume he is dozing off or spacing out. 

Perhaps you’re multitasking while you think the horse is doing nothing. You might be grooming his tail and adjusting your boots and looking around for your hoof pick and saying hello to someone passing and thinking about errands that need to be done and what you might cook for dinner. Add to that the usual stray mixed emotions attached to each passing thought. Then include that strange combination of love and fear we feel about horses if we’re honest.

How often we think the horse is distracted when in fact, the horse is focused on our mixed body language? We talk about flooding horses with aggressive training approaches but is it possible to flood a horse into shutting down with something less than a whip?

Start at a simple thing like a hug. Humans are capable of simultaneously giving and receiving a hug. It’s done effortlessly as a shared experience without a question. Horses are not capable of the same multi-tasking. Horses can consciously receive input or give a response to input, but they cannot do both simultaneously. They focus on one thing at a time.

Say you walk up to a horse and he reaches his muzzle out to sniff you. He can’t see his muzzle because of the position of his eyes but his whiskers transmit messages to his brain with such clarity that they are nearly visual, so he sniffs to “see” you. It’s curiosity. He isn’t trying to bond, he isn’t forging a partnership. Those are complex cognitive functions. He’s just sniffing but if we reach out and pet his nose in response, he will stop investigating. Did we mean to hush him?

What does this inability to give and receive input at the same time mean when building a partnership with a horse? We might give a horse a cue and if we don’t get an answer immediately, we cue again. We want to help so we interrupt the horse with another cue before he can answer the last, each time the cue a bit louder. It isn’t mean or abusive, it’s impatience. We chatter on, so busy asking for what we want but not waiting for an answer. Soon we’ve flooded the horse with cues and contradictions.

Say you cue a trot. Now it’s the horse’s turn to give a response so he checks his balance to prepare for the transition but before he can go, he’s gotten a second kick in the ribs. He’s been interrupted mid-effort, corrected for trying, and now a third cue louder yet. He’s lost confidence, is too anxious to try, and braces his ribs instead. Some horses will shut down and we think he’s dead to the aids when he has been overwhelmed by them. Others will get tense and spooky, overwhelmed to a boil. It’s easy to flood a horse by just not giving him time to answer. The more we push and cue and repeat, even kindly, the more confused the horse becomes. It’s too much input.

Now, filled with anxiety, the horse tries to communicate his anxiety. He starts with small calming signals, but if the rider’s in a rant of cueing, she can’t listen. His anxiety creates tension in his poll, so the rider pulls the inside rein. Then his flight response gets triggered and maybe he braces in a stronger counter bend, so the rider pulls harder. It started out as a simple trot cue, but it’s degenerated into a bar fight about something else. The rider gave a flurry of contradictory cues, her legs say go and her hands say stop. The rider is rapid-fire multi-tasking, she’s lost focus on the original trot cue and the horse literally can’t get a response in edgewise. He can’t breathe, he can’t soothe himself, he’s being pushed forward and pulled back simultaneously. His calming signals escalate as the rider’s cues escalate.  

The rider is fighting for control and as always, horses ask just one question. “Am I safe?” 

The rider, frustrated that her horse won’t listen, has a dream in her mind of how this is supposed to look. A dream of a horse and rider moving as one, the horse light and the rider effortless as they transition through the gaits in intricate patterns. A light breeze plays with the horse’s tail and the rider doesn’t have a drop of sweat. To make it all the more beautiful, and worse, the dream-rider is using a neck ring instead of a bridle and her horse has perfect bend. 

SNAP OUT OF IT.

When you see a horse and rider with that kind of sweet dance, know it wasn’t their first ride. A partnership cannot be forced but must be coaxed, one affirmation at a time. Allowing the horse to be curious engages the horse’s mind. Work looks effortless when the horse is given time to respond without interruption or nagging. Knowing that the horse’s confidence was more important than his speed in responding, the rider spends time building the horse up. Corrections destroy trust, so the rider rewarded what she liked, as she looked for another way to ask with peaceful persistence.

In time, we can layer cues successfully, asking for a forward trot first and then adding lateral steps for a fluid leg yield. Or asking for a change of lead at the canter that’s smooth and willing, with no poison ears or loss of rhythm. Horses only dance when they feel safe.

By asking for one simple response at a time, not allowing herself to be distracted or impatient, the rider held herself to the temperament that she wanted her horse to have. She took the time needed because she understood that the horse processes information differently than we do. The horse reads that simple clarity as kindness. Once that foundation is laid, speed and seamless response are effortless. All the “go slow” and “less is more” adages make sense.

Slow can become quick but forced can never become relaxed. For the rider, it was a choice to not be adversarial. For the horse, it was simply his nature to cooperate.

If you feel sorry for the horse’s simple mind and inability to multi-task, researchers now say that multitasking drops human productivity by 40%, and can make tuning out distractions harder, and for some, can actually impair cognitive ability. Does that mean multi-tasking makes humans less trainable?

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward 

Want more? Join us in The Barn. Subscribe to our online training group with training videos, interactive sharing, audio blogs, live-chats with Anna, and the most supportive group of like-minded horsepeople anywhere.

Ongoing courses in Calming Signals, Affirmative Training, Fundamentals of Authentic Dressage, and Back in the Saddle: a Comeback Conversation, as well as virtual clinics, are taught at The Barn School, where I also host our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

Visit annablake.com to find over a thousand archived blogs, purchase signed books, schedule a live consultation or lesson, 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 Why Horses Don’t Multi-task appeared first on Anna Blake.

The Best Horse Conversations Start With “No”

Imagine that each time you climbed on your horse, he began to move in a slow canter, so rhythmic and balanced that you can just close your eyes. Never a wrong step, never a moment of confusion. Your horse knows the routine so well, you don’t need to cue him. You let yourself be lulled, a sweet softness to your hips as he rocks in the one-two-three beat. This is the kind of horse you can get along with. But then he slows to a stop and your open your eyes.

You should get down from that mechanical horse now. There’s a little girl waiting. 

Besides, you didn’t get into horses because they were dimwitted subservient machines. You aren’t wild about being subservient yourself. You live in the real world, where twelve-hundred-pound flight animals are just a bit more interesting. Who else gets to do what we do? Horses are still magical and it’s no dream. Square those shoulders and let’s go get our hands dirty.

How the conversation begins: You go to get your horse. It might be a stall or a pasture. There is never a problem catching him, but today he walks away. You could push it, but you don’t. There is no hurry. You could take it personally, but again, you don’t. 

Is it a refusal? That’s a harsh word. Maybe he just wants a minute. We humans always want immediate perfection in our horses, but that’s not happening. Can we manage to say good boy, just because he’s thinking? Listening without fixing is the big thing right now. Acknowledge his choice and let that stand. Assume he is right. It takes courage to let a horse have autonomy. Besides the conversation doesn’t end when one of you wanders off. It isn’t a problem, it’s an invitation.

Now is a good time to play the “I’m a Horse” game. Soften your vision, look beyond the obvious. What would you see if you were a horse? Peripheral vision is sharp, but the close vision in front is blurry. Is something moving just at the corner of your eye? There is a breeze carrying a world of information to your nose, not that you can do much more than imagine scents on the wind. What small sounds can you make out in the ordinary din of life happening? Is there birdsong? You have whiskers that are so sensitive that they are almost visual in their perception. What can you feel? A horse’s experience of the environment is keen and sharp. Everything depends on the attention to his safety. How long are you able to concentrate on the environment? Say good boy under your breath because he isn’t ignoring you. He can’t ignore anything, and the truth is that his focus is so much better than yours. 

Egads, has an hour passed? Only three minutes? Feels so much longer. We need to get more interested in our senses. They get so dulled by intellectual debates about horse behavior and training methods. 

By now the horse has probably stretched his neck a bit, walked an arc or two. Quiet calming signals without hurry. He might be getting a bit curious about you continuing to listening and still not fixing. You’ve got him right where you want him now. Horses need some space and quiet before they speak up. Consider this time investing in your horse’s trust. Besides, only listening for the answer we want is the best way to miss another message.

Passively watch your horse. Maybe take a small arc, but indirect. You hear him shake out his neck. This is the conversation; not one of you holding pressure until the other releases. You don’t want it to get that demanding. Subservience isn’t the goal. Besides, you can ask again. He is certainly smart enough to know that you being there with a halter means something. Ask in a smaller way and give him time to find a clever answer.

Humans are just like horses, some of us nervously blurt out an answer without thinking and some of us freeze up trying to reason it carefully. We doubt ourselves. It isn’t a question of giving the right answer for either of you. It’s about listening to calming signals and staying in the conversation. Stand and wait. Any horse will tell you that humans are too result oriented. The problem with tunnel vision on a task is that we are focusing only on the one response we want. It’s like putting blinders on our ears. We’re not just limiting the conversation; we’re diminishing his confidence. 

Are people watching you stand around with a halter? Good. Cock a hip and puff your belly out. Have the courage to be patient right out in plain view. It’ll drive them nuts. 

It’s easy to get a conditioned response from an animal. All it takes is a treat or some light intimidation. Like we haven’t all teased an animal with food. Like all of us haven’t gone along with a bully just to keep the peace. You want something different. You know that it takes more than a shared breath to make a connection. You know that creating anxiety, positive or negative, may get a quicker answer but that isn’t the same thing as trust. 

So, you take a deep breath, turn your shoulders, and shift your position a few steps, your body posing the question, “What if?” Yes, your boot just landed in horse manure. Shrug, you like manure, it’s a sure sign that horses are close by. It’s all you really want. Horses never become less than a miracle, do they? It’s impossible to look away from the arc of their neck, the breeze combing through their tail. You believe the intelligence in their eye.

You don’t want an answer by rote, you don’t want the rat to ring the bell. You’re certain there is something beyond that, even if you’re not sure what. If you just continue the conversation, gain some finesse with their language, and settle into the gray area of possibility, there is a deeper place you could find with a horse. It’s a place beyond mere obedience that’s so intimate and sweet that it’s a bit scary. Entry by invitation only; you must let your horse lead you there. You wait to be surprised. Can you value your horse’s autonomy as much as your value your own? Because as cautious as the first volunteer might be, it will open the door to a level of responsiveness that makes it seem like the two of you share one mind. Just then, an image of a horse galloping at liberty crosses your mind with thundering hooves and a proud profile. The mere idea will always take your breath away. Horses are not like any other animal.

But there you are daydreaming, meandering through thoughts in that fabled prefrontal cortex of yours. You’re not sure how long your horse has been standing next to you, breathing with you, patiently waiting for his halter like it was his idea in the first place.

Peaceful Persistence:
    Not aggressive.
    Not conceding. 
   Not emotional.
 

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward 

Want more? Join us in The Barn. Subscribe to our online training group with training videos, interactive sharing, audio blogs, live-chats with Anna, and the most supportive group of like-minded horsepeople anywhere.

Ongoing courses in Calming Signals, Affirmative Training, Fundamentals of Authentic Dressage, and Back in the Saddle: a Comeback Conversation, as well as virtual clinics, are taught at The Barn School, where I also host our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

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

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

The post The Best Horse Conversations Start With “No” appeared first on Anna Blake.

Advice? Take a Deep Seat and a Faraway Look…

My young horse was lame, so my mentor asked if I’d like a lesson on her horse. It wasn’t a rhetorical question; we all knew the barn rule. Even if I was green -lime green- I knew if you were offered a horse, you said yes. My mentor watched as I climbed on her impeccable Arabian Stallion. It’s hard to tell if you should feel sorry for me or cheer, isn’t it?

The lesson started marginally okay. I knew enough to stay light, but I’d never ridden a horse like him before. His neck rose proudly in front of the saddle, he felt like he balanced on tiptoes in mid-air, and he gave me the feeling he was out of my league. And he was right, of course, even my toes felt awkward. After a bit of walking, my mentor asked for a canter and I gave a light cue. The stallion took off in a road gait that nearly gave me whiplash, just the beginning of the longest thirty minutes of my young life. My mentor laughed, the stallion shook his head, and I tried to regain my wits. The cue didn’t work, I was getting the bad result each try, but I plowed on. I’m certain that the more she laughed, the more the stallion played with me. The frustration was mine alone. 

“Take a deep seat and a faraway look,” she said. It infuriated me. She said that in lessons I had on my horse. She said it often enough that it was on her memorial card at her funeral. She was an amazing horsewoman, even with her habit of laughing at jokes that horses told. I didn’t know how to get my seat deeper in the saddle. My head was frozen robotically high. Each time I asked for a canter, the stallion gave a different but equally clever response and my mentor laughed until she was out of breath. Eventually, I got a couple of strides of canter, he halted instantly, and hysterically funny, I ate mane. I’m betting my shoulders came forward.

Decades later, I have my mentor’s job. I give lessons to riders who try too hard. I listen to the horse and try to translate. Sometimes I laugh when riders are frustrated because it helps horses understand our conflicted emotions. In certain nebulously philosophical situations, I might tell a seriously earnest rider something that they take too literally. Then I might laugh again because I love my job. And because laughter is a calming signal.

Without further ado, the unwritten and not-at-all-funny barn rules, usually learned in hindsight:

Ride all the horses you can.
You will necessarily make mistakes. 
It isn’t personal, but you will make the same mistake again. 
Get a sense of humor.
You will still make mistakes but with humor now.
The relationship with your horse doesn’t start when you get it right.
Going back to the basics frequently isn’t punishment; the answers are there.
The truest strength will be found in your vulnerability.
Pick yourself up and try again.
It takes courage to do less. 
Take a deep seat and a faraway look.

Are you having a “dark night of the soul” with your horse? If you have not gotten to the point of thinking you have the wrong horse, you’re just skimming the surface. Sure, sometimes we truly get the wrong horse, but usually, the horse is pointing out our shortcomings. He isn’t being divisive about it and it isn’t the least bit mystical. It’s just the sort of thing that comes up in casual conversation with a twelve-hundred-pound flight animal. Building a relationship with a horse is not easy or quick. The challenges rise up like sheer cliffs. One minute you’re at the top looking down and a minute later you might be at the bottom looking up and you have no idea what happened. Most of it feels nebulous, you make vague guesses and get contradictory information. You would love to just have one hard, fast, work-every-time rule. There isn’t one.

Well, not exactly. Breathing works every single time, but we don’t believe it.

We want it to be easy, so we grab onto an idea and choke it like a chicken. If it doesn’t work immediately, so we frantically look for our next technique-victim. Does it feel to you like have tried too many training tips? Is your “toolbox” too big to find anything in? Good, you’re in the game. Dare I say you’re ambitious. I hope so, it takes drive and desire to work with horses. 

At the exact same time, humans are slow learners. We need repetition and time to assimilate. We need to prove it to ourselves more than once. It isn’t a fault, especially since much of the work we do with horses is counter-intuitive, and even worse, it goes against instinct. Example: If your horse is running away, take your legs off. 

If that isn’t enough, we are self-critical. We think others are judgmental, but if we weren’t so self-critical it wouldn’t matter. Nuno Oliviera once referred to riders as poète maudit, “cursed poets” of the art, which makes perfect sense during one of those dark nights of thinking too much. We can’t find an answer and we can’t quit. We seek perfection and fall short. If we stumble into perfection, it reveals itself to be a stiff dead thing, an idea that limits your options. It’s enough to make you cut your ear off. Have you underestimated the need for a sense of humor?

If you do it all right, time passes, and we forget the struggle. We have done nothing less than the incredible, but we take it for granted. The world does not stand still, change comes. It might be the same horse, or it might be the next horse, but it happens. In a flash, it’s obvious that you have the wrong horse. Any horse would be easier than this one.

“Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark.” ― Rabindranath Tagore

It’s a tradition in our species to consider unseen things, bigger than us, spiritual. Is working with a horse anything less than a personal crusade? It starts inside, the quiet action of believing in yourself, before your horse feels it, and long before others see it. Just a thimble of faith to start.

Then head for the horizon and expect a bumpy ride. It isn’t fair to you or your horse to take one moment out of context to beat yourself up. It serves no purpose to fight the inevitable. You can’t quit and you can’t be perfect, but you can accept your humanity with a smile for your horse. You are on the long ride, and in the perfect place. The rest will come in time, so

Take a deep seat and a faraway look.

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward 

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Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

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