Anna Blake's Blog, page 28

Edgar Rice Burro on Covid-19 and Physical Distancing (on World Donkey Day)

 

Does Covid-19 impact my herd? The email asked, “I wonder if you’ve noticed the quieter world in your horses? Seismologists have been saying for a couple weeks the earth is vibrating less as human activity has been reduced. Air pollution is down in major cities, the water is clear in the Venice canals and there are fewer cars blowing past the barn at 20 mph above the speed limit. I have a feeling the horses are aware of this and may be expressing it in ways too subtle for me to notice.”

The writer is kindly showing me respect because I specialize in reading small nuances of communication in horses. I’m considering adding it to my job description: Equine Seismologist. I’m good at reading calming signals, but do you want to know my trick? As a professional doing public demonstrations with animals that I don’t know, I greet the humans and a hush falls. People go still. I breathe. Horses think I’m a genius and are so relieved for the moment of quiet from the rattle and hum of humans, that they get positively chatty. Horses also notice I stand about six feet away from them. It’s my superpower. I practice physical distancing myself from horses in front of groups of people who pay good money to watch me physical distancing from horses. Edgar Rice Burro takes credit for teaching me that. Horses actually taught me but Edgar isn’t shy about taking credit. He says that four million years ago when horses and donkeys were evolving, donkeys got the brains. Horses got the heart.

Our farm lockdown started when I got sick after a flight two months ago. It was early spring, or as we on the high Colorado prairie like to call it, still winter. There are no subtleties to ground blizzards blowing so hard that there’s more snow on the inside of the run-in shelters than out. Llamas get buried in snowdrifts and the mini horse takes cover between two big horses. Think bomb cyclone marching band. The next day the temps might rise sixty degrees and the herd collapses on the bare ground between the drifts. Everybody down flat, like unfolded laundry everywhere you look. Storms are exhausting, Edgar will tell you. Then he notices, inches below the ground, grasses began to tiny-quiver. The horses catch on a few days later, Edgar says it’s that brain thing. Once the grass even pretends to grow, horses go nuts. Edgar says spring is always bigger news than a pandemic. He doesn’t wish anyone sickness, but come on. Spring grass.

I’d seen the videos of goats taking over a Welsh town, but Arthur, our goat, has a bad leg and doesn’t like to travel. Arthur used to have a problem with personal space. He would say it was my problem but placing blame is futile. Arthur is a tall Nubian goat and leading him on a rope usually ended with him eating spring grass next to my body. I gave up the rope, but it was never about freedom with Arthur. Now he walks beside me like a golden retriever in obedience class. It’s alarming. Spring will always be the head-butting season but this year, he just bucks and air-kicks with wild abandon, on the spot, so close that his pointy hooves impale my boney feet, and I am left trying to explain physical distancing to a goat.

Edgar says the goat is hopeless, as Arthur chews on his tail. Goats are like gravity. You have to bear them.

Whereas Edgar does have thoughts about physical distancing. Only one really, and edited for political correctness and profanity, Edgar says, high time, humans! Physical distancing is simply good manners. Horses are more subtle. They look away or shut down and pout about it. Calming signals to tell us we are being loud. Edgar thinks subtlety is lost on humans and horses agree. But if humans can learn physical distancing for a pandemic, maybe it could trickle down to the barn? The vet came this week with her assistant and they were more space-conscious than usual. Edgar will tell you that was the problem all along.

If Edgar could hack into my bank account, he’d start an online business selling Quaaludes as “Magic Horse Training Pills for Humans.” Edgar suggests it to me all the time. “Anna, wouldn’t it be easier to drug them than try to get them to behave?” Of course, he’s right again.

How is my herd experiencing this lockdown that the environment is loving so much? It reminds them of when I had my foot surgery and was especially lame. It’s nice when things go slow. Edgar doesn’t want anyone to lose their job. Well, that’s not true. He’d be happy if I lost mine and was home more. My herd does not suffer from hero worship; they think being the janitor is my real job. Edgar is right again. It isn’t like I’m that guy to brings the hay. That guy is a genius.

How am I doing, not that you asked? I’m canceling clinics, a dozen so far. I’ve been “promoted” to a desk job, giving riding lessons and clinics online. But physical distancing is not the same as emotional distancing and we must stay safe. So, I evolve and it’s online lessons and courses. I’m surprised to say it’s working better than I could ever imagine. Horses don’t mind the distance; they acknowledge me on the cell phone. And with cheap earbuds, I can get right inside the human’s head. Scary thought, isn’t it?

Will technology be the new normal? All I know is that it will take more than a pandemic to get us to quit horses. Or donkeys.

I go out for the night walkthrough a bit early in these warmer months. The sun sets a rainbow over the pond and I stand where Edgar likes, physically distanced from his head, but socially intimate. I’m back by his rump so I can rub that hairless triangle of skin under the very top of his tail; rubbing so light and slow that his ears droop. He had to teach me that, too. I tell him I’m worried about the future.  Edgar looks at me like I’m an old hen pecking at her own feathers, but he does like people who are just a little depressed. Edgar says, in his usual exhale sort of way, Right here, Little-Ears. He uses my pet name and gives me the cue to breathe. And then again, deeper. He really is the brains on the place.

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward

Want more? Visit annablake.com to see our class schedule, book a live consultation or lesson, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, see the Clinic Schedule or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses. Join us in The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more.

Working with riders of any discipline and horses of any breed, Anna believes affirmative dressage training principals build a relaxed & forward foundation that crosses over all riding disciplines in the same way that the understanding Calming Signals benefits all equine communication.

 

The post Edgar Rice Burro on Covid-19 and Physical Distancing (on World Donkey Day) appeared first on Anna Blake.

Photo & Poem: Slap Hands

Sit next to Jack, she said. Mother’s youngest

brother on leave from the Army at our kitchen

table. He pinched me hello and continued his

story, laughing too loud at his own jokes. The

center of attention with a can of beer and a full

ashtray. Oily-skin handsome, Jack goaded me into

the game, his hands palms up, squinting one eye

from the smoke of the cigarette clenched in his teeth.

Finally my small hands pushed out over his, my

shoulders cringing back, chin tucked low. Like a

door slam, his hands flipped over, slapping mine

hard enough to make my nails sting, acid tears

burned but did not fall. Not quick enough

to win, still offering out my parchment hands,

arthritic fingers stretched with the same dread,

never understanding the rules of the game.

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward 

Want more from this horse trainer who writes poetry? Visit annablake.com to see our class schedule, book a live consultation or lesson, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, see the Clinic Schedule or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses. Join us in The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more.

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It Could Be Worse. You Could Be Married to Me.

“Honey, when you’re in town will you pick something up for me?” I don’t quite wait for the answer. “Great, three bags of quikrete, please. The eighty-pounders.”

I was asked to write something for the men who read my blog. Grab your caps, boys, this might get bumpy. For the rest of you, dear readers, the rumors are true; men walk amongst us. But what would I write about them?

I am no expert on men. Most of my adult years I’ve been single. Don’t get me wrong; I love men. I might also have a slight allergy that flares up from time to time. Frankly, I think most women do, but mine makes me a bit cantankerous. It doesn’t help that friends have always used me on their husbands as a sort of aversion therapy. When I lived in Denver, if a friend wanted a puppy, she’d bring her husband over. We didn’t have a sit-com plot to trick him planned ahead of time. It was more of a natural response. I always had two or three big dogs, a handful of cats, and a few birds, crammed into a house with too much controversial art. I probably had a few opinions, too. The idea just appeared in the air. It was obvious to him that it could be worse, he could be married to me. She got a puppy and he might have even thought it was his idea.

Even easier after I moved to the farm, friends would arrive and we’d walk the pens. That’s what I do with guests. I don’t like people in my house. I usually had a couple of rescue horses I was rehabbing, wild-eyed or shut down. Then my family herd, including a donkey or two. A couple of boarded horses. The llamas have been here since the start and it’s only common sense to have goats. For a few years, a dozen ducks quacked about, a gift from a friend. On a farm, you don’t really count the dogs and cats. I’d stand on the front porch, waving goodbye and I could see the negotiation starting before they got to the end of the driveway. She got that second horse. Because it could be worse.

I became a cautionary tale in other people’s marriages, but that was just a part-time job. In my day job, I have been self-employed in male-dominated fields since I was twenty. I still am now. Being a minority is a tricky thing. I had to speak up for myself.

So that’s me. What about you men?

Here is the math: Over ninety percent (90%!) of horses in the U.S. are owned by women. Women hire me, women pay my bills. Men make up between three and four percent of my clients. When I started writing, I didn’t use the default pronoun he. I have felt left out by that default choice in literature my whole life. So, in my writing, when referring to a rider, my default pronoun is she. It seems fair in this crowd. The default pronoun for animals has historically been it. I don’t like that choice either, so my default pronoun for horses is he. I use these pronouns with forethought, to make my prose more understandable. Even though half the women reading this ride mares. Even though I think men are lurking. Please don’t take my pronouns personally.

I do see you men at my clinics. Usually a singleton. You stick out not because you’re a man so much as how enthusiastic you are. Your eyes are keen, you might even lean forward in your chair for the lecture parts. I see how intense your interest is. You always ask the best questions. You might walk with me, maybe a quiet question on the way to lunch. Sometimes you tell me you don’t like the way your male friends train or care for their horses, so you have no one to ride with. Or you say aren’t comfortable hanging with so many women because you’re married. It’s a socially awkward thing to be an extreme minority, as I well know. But you lead with your love for horses and you might as well be wearing a horse-crazy girl costume. You fit right in. That’s the best compliment I know.

Do men read this blog? I hope you’d feel welcome with us. We have a diverse following. Dog trainers and yoga teachers. City folks and writers. Horse people who say these methods work with their kids. A surprising number of people who don’t have horses at all. So, I’ll guess you men are out there reading the blog, too. Fred comments every year or two, and I’m delighted each time. Joe will chime in with an interesting perspective now and then and I thank him. There are others, very rarely. Of the thousands of readers here, most don’t comment, so you’re in the majority there.

I’m married now. Does the husband read the blog? Not if it’s too “horsey.” That’s a hard bar for me to reach. I don’t write about him often for fear he’ll develop a twitch and I wouldn’t call him Mr. Blake, either. He goes by his self-gifted job title: Dude Rancher. Not an animal person, not his dream to live here. The prairie wind has had her way with him, it’s been slow. He can finally tell the gray horses apart but still confuses the llama names. There’s a word for it. Erosion.

Every now and then, someone flirts with me at an airport or the trash dump. After all, I’m not dead yet. The Dude Rancher isn’t worried. He knows I keep my promises. Then he might have a chuckle thinking the poor guy doesn’t know what he’s asking for. Being married to me isn’t for sissies or blowhards.

In the beginning, the indoor dog and cat population here was a little overwhelming for him. His velvet couch developed shredded armrests. A lint roller became as essential as his toothbrush. He was always surreptitiously sniffing rooms that had kitty litter boxes. When he furrowed his prodigious eyebrows,  I would tell the story. That when the season turns cold, all the mice in the barn move in a wave toward the crawlspace below the house. Hordes of rodents, so thick that they look like wiggly shag carpet, coming up through the kitchen plumbing, crawling over the baskets of fruit and onions on the counter, and into the cabinet where we keep his Raisin Bran.

Threatening the crazy alternative is always a smart approach. It could be worse. We could not have cats.

…

Anna Blake at Infinity Farm

Want more? Visit annablake.com to see our class schedule, book a live consultation or lesson, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, see the Clinic Schedule or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses. Join us in The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more.

Working with riders of any discipline and horses of any breed, Anna believes affirmative dressage training principals build a relaxed & forward foundation that crosses over all riding disciplines in the same way that the understanding Calming Signals benefits all equine communication.

The post It Could Be Worse. You Could Be Married to Me. appeared first on Anna Blake.

Photo & Poem: Aged-Out

Aged-out with his horse, he said, like a sell-by

date in the grocery store. We all stop riding, just

a day at a time until we hit to a wall. Surviving

cancer knocked the wind out of him, he said. The

pain echoed for days and eventually, his body was

forced to answer. He came to horses sixty years

too late, he said, but the mare disagreed. They

called her wild and crazy. She was his first horse in

seventy years. The mare found a soft landing with

a man aged-out on aggression and long on kindness,

with an apparent good eye for horses, recognizing

in her what others had missed. Never quite fitting

in with the cowboys, he rode out with women. I

don’t know if horses feel love, he said, but they

cannot stop us from loving them. With courage and

tears, he will not ask her to retire. Instead, he gifted

the sweetest mare on the ranch to someone younger.

He has aged-out on riding, yet a novice at eighty,

with no expiration date on the sacred moments that

pass between a good mare and a true horseman.

 

for Fred.

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward 

Want more from this horse trainer who writes poetry? Visit annablake.com to see our class schedule, book a live consultation or lesson, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, see the Clinic Schedule or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses. Join us in The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more.

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How to Be a Safe Anchor for Your Horse

For us long-timers, if we’ve been lucky, it feels like we’re always standing in a ghost herd. They’re good company but they’re not looking over us so much as being ready if we forget and start to feel a little cocky about knowing much. Then one of the herd will push past and an airy flash of his tail leaves us scrambling to catch our balance. How many horse-lives does it take to train a human to stop letting our brains tell us stories and pay attention to them? Perhaps the thing I feel the most regret about is confusing my horse’s fear with disobedience. Could I be more tone-deaf?

The horse spooks. Maybe he freezes on the spot first, and you hold your breath until he explodes. Maybe there is less warning and he does a full-body flinch and launches into the air. He’s spinning, his feet don’t hold, and he flings his head to seek balance as his hind end engages the power to bolt. His eyes are rimmed in white terror, his nostrils tense from snort-breathing. He seems at least four hands taller.

Is this the horse to pick a fight with? Somehow, “they” decided that the horse was ignoring us. Like a prey animal can selectively ignore his environment. “They” said he had no respect for us, as if a horse understands the obscure human concept any better than we do. “They” said get his attention, and so we started yelling, snapping the lead line, getting in his face, making ourselves bigger by waving arms. Never mind that in front of him is his blind spot.

We make the horse’s fear became all about us. We steal his fire in favor of our need to be the center of the horse’s attention. Our need to control his every step. Our requirement that the horse be isolated from his flight instinct, while we go full-tilt predator. We bully him for being afraid. It’s enough to put you off humans entirely.

Even if we fail at intimidating the horse, but we’re as scared as them, soaring in our own panic mode. Now it doesn’t exactly matter why it all started, here we are. Nobody trusts anybody and if fear wasn’t enough, now it’s worse. The horse has panic about feeling fear. When you and the horse look at each other, you both see dread.

What should happen when we’re on the ground and our horse spooks?

Prepare ahead. Keep consistent daily habits that will help both of you. Throw out any of those silly lead ropes that are eight or nine feet long. If you listen, horses will tell you that you’re usually a bit too close, even on a good day. It’s contradictory to hug a horse part of the time and punish him for being in your space a moment later. Rather than bickering about who crowded who, be a leader and mentor space and peace. He doesn’t want you under his hooves any more than you want to be, so train yourself to be stay light on your feet. Begin the practice of standing a few feet apart. Teach your horse how good autonomy feels by using a lead rope that allows social distancing. Instead of trying to exert control by pulling his head when he looks away, get into a habit of giving enough space that the horse can survey his surroundings without thumping your head. Are long ropes inconvenient to handle? Fine, use them until you become comfortable.

Once you decrease the horse’s stress by standing away and not micromanaging his face, consider the idea that rather than one of you being in control, you are partners moving together through the environment. Adjust to each other. Make sure you hold the rope firmly in the grip of your hands, but let it slack to him. When he looks away, let your hand follow. He has a right to look.

Notice how often we correct things that aren’t wrong. Spooking is an instinctual response to anxiety about his surroundings, the moment that anything might happen. You’re the wild card.

When the horse does actually spook, it seems he can’t even see you. Understand it’s because he’s hardwired, legs to brain, to panic. It’s how his brain works to save his life. Once a horse is in his flight or sympathetic mode, he can’t reason. It’s why the old method doesn’t work any better than cooing and coddling. Horses need to move, not in disobedience, but as a way of soothing themselves. You have enough rope; you can mitigate his fear. Now is a good time to notice neither of you is breathing and it’s a cue you can give, as you keep yourself out of his way.

In this moment of tension and drama, being quiet will give you the loudest voice. You can embody a human calming signal, an affirmation that you are no threat. Breathe like a warrior, with depth and strength, feet fluid to earth. Find your self-control in an inhale, emphasize balance on the exhale. Horses do not seek conflict, and you can only offer an alternative. Peace is no flimsy thing. It isn’t merely the absence of aggression, it is the bold action of acceptance. Say, “Yes!” Give him a chance to calm himself. Breath has the magic ability to slow time.

Now, an enthusiastic, “Good boy!” Stand wide to the side, repeat the praise with confidence. He’s smart. He knows you aren’t rewarding him for being bad, but rather you’re reminding him that he is good. Breathing is a cue to think. You’re building his confidence that you won’t throw a fit. Hold that space, let him learn it for himself, and witness a partner step up.

Horses expect us to act irrationally. We’ve done it in the past or others have. Humans are predictably prone to panic. We’re widely known to spook when scared and attack when threatened. Humans can behave like wolves. In the crucial second when fear arises, a horse checks to see if we’ll lose it like humans do.

We simply must stop taking that dare. We have to prove they’re wrong, that we aren’t that person. Instead, become a calm anchor in the storm, tether him safely. Make enough space for the horse to be safe from our misunderstanding and frustration. Safe from our fear and anger. When a horse is frightened, we must cherish the opportunity to slow the moment with an exhale and gift them time for a choice. The consistency that your horse needs most is your temperament.

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward

Want more? Visit annablake.com to see our new class schedule, book a live consultation or lesson, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, see the Clinic Schedule or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses. Join us in The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more.

Working with riders of any discipline and horses of any breed, Anna believes affirmative dressage training principals build a relaxed & forward foundation that crosses over all riding disciplines in the same way that the understanding Calming Signals benefits all equine communication.

The post How to Be a Safe Anchor for Your Horse appeared first on Anna Blake.

Photo & Poem: Breakout

 

Our horses are not young, neither are we.

We negotiate with winter, bartering against

the wind that our horses might have shelter,

might have this small farm to hold them.

We’re hostage to them, more than they are

to us. We make ourselves useful, driving to

town to take jobs caring for others to pay

for the privilege of coming home to care

for our horses, hay through the long night.

On a Sunday in April, front entry locked,

we share a ritual. Leave the dry lot gate

unlatched as we walk to a hidden spot. One

gelding moves to investigate the usual clang

that was not heard, his nose nudges to test

and the gate swings wide. He hurries through,

his neck stretched pulling to the lawn, and the

other horses follow, to special grass so sweet

and thick that the gelding drops down to let his

body feel, grazing as he rests his legs, knowing

we watch. As free as either of us wants to be.

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward 

Want more from this horse trainer who writes poetry? Join us at The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more. Go to annablake.com to see online courses available, 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.

 

 

 

 

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A Calming Signal Way of Being

 

I have to credit a decent mid-life crisis for changing the course of my horse life. Not that I wanted to change; I had two great horses and we were livin’ the dream, competing like I’d wanted to my whole life, and having fun doing it. I had good friends at the boarding facility and a trainer who understood me and liked my horses. I had a career that I loved, I could study horses, and was able to pay for most of it. It isn’t that I don’t know to get paranoid when things go well, it’s just that I was getting divorced often enough that I thought I was safe.

Then, like getting hit with a sturgeon on the back of my head, I lost the lease on my gallery and studio. I had ninety days to vacate. I sobbed and howled. I felt really sorry for myself. But you can only cry for so long before getting bored and I had a nagging itch. So, I took a leap and was gone in days. Fifteen years later, I wrote a book about this time called Stable Relation. Long story short, I found a small farm that next weekend. Buying it was the smart and rational thing to do because I had horses and they would need a place to retire eventually. When I got there, both horses went dead lame. The farm was not their dream.

I had the usual outdoor clean up to do. A shed so full of old paint cans that it qualified as a toxic waste site and the county had to come. I used my truck to pull out the chain-link Pitbull runs. They were a serious eyesore. But then, one person’s home-at-last farm is just sticks and dirt to someone else. Meanwhile, my horses were settling in and coming sound again. These dressage horses who I knew inside-out, who I’d started as youngsters and together, we’d learned to dance. Well beyond drama by then, we were flawless partners. I was so certain.

Working long hours outside, I noticed the horses were having non-stop conversations with each other and the new llamas and goats. They had interesting goings-on all day that didn’t include me. Growing up on a farm, how had I missed this? I’m not saying that I was lonely, exhausted, and depressed, but that’s when the Jane Goodall fantasies started.

I began to do research; I scrutinized behaviors and wrote notes as I demolished a broken-down shed. No visitors, no one to impress, and everything slowed to a crawl. The horses got curious, more active. I took notes about that. It was obvious I wasn’t the center of their lives, but only a part-time hobby. I got over myself. I stopped wagging my tongue all day, and the quieter I got, the more the animals all spoke up. I practically took dictation, writing even more notes, and reviewing them at the end of the day while sharing a happy-hour beer with the goats. They ate some of the notes, so I went into the house and made a plan. When I did start communicating again, I chose their language and their conversation. I developed a body-voice. The horses told me I was on the right path, so it stuck.

My career floundered after 9-11 and I did a slow-motion butt-fall into professional horse training because you know the money is fabulous. With more equine input, I developed affirmative techniques that aligned with horses, not against them. I found out that understanding horses got better results. Sure enough, even rehabbing damaged rescue horses went well, they were just slower to speak up. After so many years of working with animals, it felt like I’d discovered a new world.

It’s always right about then you find out someone knows what you know, they wrote a wonderful book about it, and they gave it a perfect name. Calming Signals, written by Turid Rugaas, and it’s about …dogs? Her book made so much sense, that I first blogged about Calming Signals with horses in April of 2014. It went viral a few times, more credit to Turid than me. Calming Signals have found respect, supported by horse books, like Rachaël‘s. I’ve lost count of how often I’ve written or given clinics about Calming Signals, but the thrill never changes. Being able to converse with horses still feels like discovering a new world each time.

On this anniversary, a new primer. I think I can articulate it better now.

We were taught to march in with a stick and correct everything horses do. We ask-tell-make them go when they aren’t ready. I’ve watched people land in a round pen like a helicopter, terrify the horse to near collapse, and then make a list of bad behaviors that hadn’t existed before. Have we always been so arrogant? We only prove we’re predators. Some of us rebelled from those methods and became overtly loving. Now we invade their space and lurk, acting like stalking coyotes. Predators again and predators are famous for thinking it’s all about them.

Rule one: human logic rarely works on humans and almost never on horses. We overthink in our frontal lobe, intellectually or emotionally. Horses don’t have the same frontal lobe; they don’t tell themselves stories about training humans. Horses exist in the physical awareness in their body. Survival depends on their acute senses focusing on the environment. If we want to converse with a horse, we need to use that same part of our brain. We need to stop intellectualizing and be more aware. Let the first question be about them. Then, listen from that place. Politely wait for his answer.

When a horse looks away, either with his eyes or whole head and neck, it’s a calming signal. He feels pressure, sensing the person’s emotion or agitation, and wants the person to calm down. He sends a calming signal, this time half-closed eyes maybe, to let the human know he’s no threat. He’s flashing a peace sign. In the horse’s mind, he’s being clear and polite.

There is nothing mystical about calming signals, they’re no more complicated than learning Spanish. I think it’s listening that we don’t understand.

Listening requires patience and a shift in perspective. We need to see the horse’s side, but not as it relates to our emotions or agenda. Let that go. Horses only care about how they feel. We must prioritize the horse’s concerns and acknowledge that the things that matter to horses matter to us, too. It doesn’t come naturally to predators. It takes a conscious effort but once you do that, it’s amazing how many seemingly unrelated training issues disappear.

It was always about the horse’s anxiety. When the horse tells us that he’s no threat, we have to understand it means we are the threat. When we relieve that anxiety in ways a horse understands, the horse will finally feel safe. Training becomes obsolete. He’ll work with his whole heart to do anything you ask because he knows his worth. You become trust-worthy together.

Words are only noise. Listen to his body. Then answer with yours.

…

Anna Blake at Infinity Farm

Want more? Join us at The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more. Or go to annablake.com to schedule a live consultation or lesson, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, see the Clinic Schedule or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses.

The post A Calming Signal Way of Being appeared first on Anna Blake.

Photo & Poem: Limbo

 

As if struck by lightning, the horse

died; a clean and horrible quiet. No

diagnosis, no cure, no negotiation.

The reluctant but permanent truth

that no amount of flapping emotion

can change. Held long in the instant

of being cleaved in two, stripped

bare in the flash of change. Not

touching the dry ground underfoot.

Not feeling the rope in hand. Not

knowing the direction home, having

already become someone else.

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward 

Want more from this horse trainer who writes poetry? Join us at The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more. Or go to annablake.com to schedule a live consultation or lesson, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, see the Clinic Schedule or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses.

The post Photo & Poem: Limbo appeared first on Anna Blake.

Affirmative Training and Trust During an Emergency

 

You started with horses the same way most of us were taught. You tried to show them who’s boss, not that you ever felt good about it. Maybe you eventually got fed up with fighting. Maybe you saw one too many frightened horses in the hands of aggressive riders. Maybe your horse let you know something about yourself that you didn’t like, and it made you want to do better for him. For your horse, this magical creature who leaves piles of manure that you fork up while murmuring, “Good Boy.”

So, you’re changing yourself for your horse. Not that you would change to please your parents or a man, but now you want to change. What is it about horses that everything that sounds simple is not in the least bit easy? Why does it take every stray wit and all the strength you have to do less? It isn’t easy breaking habits, but if the old way with horses had worked, none of us would be trying so hard to listen, so hard to be the kind of person a horse could trust. You’re supposed to let the horse volunteer? How would you even give a horse a choice, and if you did, what if he didn’t choose you? Suddenly, you’re clumsy with ropes, hesitating at gates, and generally embarrassed because you’re uncertain of a million things that you thought you used to know.

Until the day something shifted. You almost missed it, your horse was so subtle, so intelligent. An answer to a question offered freely. You almost think it’s coincidental. Then, when he feels confident, his answers come quicker. Your horse starts conversations. Why was it so hard all those years to understand that a partnership had to have two voices, not just one? This is what you dreamed about horses when you were little but at the same time, it isn’t child’s play. You cannot bribe a horse into trust with apples. All the kissing and hugging in the world will not make a horse feel safe. You have to show up whole and dependable. You have to have the maturity to put the horse’s wellbeing above your feelings.

Once you have a toe hold, the what-if questions begin. What if my friends judge me? What if my farrier is old-school? One thing I know for a fact is that horse people do not like to be corrected, especially in public, especially professionals. At the same time, horse people all seem to love to give advice even if they have no actual experience or pertinent knowledge. Horse people are funny that way.

I have two suggestions if you’re accused of horse training heresy. First, are your goals realistic? If you can’t control your hair, then the chances of controlling the horse world are somewhat less. And when you start to feel your hackles rise, make eye contact with the naysayer and smile so big that your upper lip sticks to your gums. Thank them without blinking.

Okay, seriously, if your farrier is impatient or your vet uses a twitch, and especially, if your trainer has a temper, speak up. “I” statements are good. “I’m uncomfortable with what you’re doing.” If the warning doesn’t work, walk away. Perhaps the professional talks down to you or tries to shame you. Walk faster. Yes, we’re introverts who don’t like conflict. More reason to look for someone better.

But it isn’t always that simple. Spring a rough season for horses. The earth comes back to life and horses go a bit nuts. Horseplay injuries happen, along with the usual spring maladies like laminitis, allergies, and colic. Many times, the horse is already in pain and frightened, pushed to his flight response or sympathetic nervous system. He might endanger himself or someone trying to help, but at the same time, there’s a reason to go quickly. He may need to be trailered to a clinic for help. Sometimes the veterinary intervention or the drug protocol is traumatic. What if we need to cause the horse pain and discomfort in pursuit of best practices for his healing and wellbeing. Will that destroy your horse’s trust?

How are you holding up? Frightened? Emotionally exhausted? Anxious? All fair responses and common sense will tell you not to blindly trust your horse in this moment. What about the post-emergency duties like changing bandages or administering drugs? Daily paste syringes or required stall rest can become a challenge. The last thing you want to do is pick a fight, but uncomfortable things are necessary. When we’re anxious, we tend to tense up and go fast to get the uncomfortable moment over with. Meanwhile, your horse feels like he’s being attacked. This is when the connection you have been working toward really matters. It’s all fun hand grazing on sunny afternoons, but how does affirmative training impact each of you during an emergency?

The answer is simple, but not easy. Breathe, of course. But we hear that so often that we quickly dismiss it. Like being given a placebo, it just doesn’t feel like enough. Besides, we aren’t doing much better than our horses, trying to manage our own panic. We want to cry and scream. We’d carry him on our shoulders if it would help. Understand the primal power of breathing. It’s literally an affirmation of being alive, the lifesaving ring in a stormy sea. Cling to your breath for all you’re worth, and watch it calm your horse. A conscious slow inhale and exhale is a physical cue to your nervous system that you’re safe, you can return to a calm state. It is the same cue for your horse. Use the best tool. In that calm, you can move steady and sure to the desired effect. Do you trust your breath?

In the same way that we are always training for the next ride, we can train for the next injury or lay-up. Train ourselves to focus on a task with single calm confidence as a habit. Clean each hoof with awareness. Train horses leading games, long strides and short, for focus. Use polo wraps for practice bandaging. Ask him to lower his neck for slow calm touch in sensitive areas. Practice your own steadiness, as well as breathing to steady him. Start training the things you might both need in an emergency, physically and emotionally.

Does he trust you? Maybe a better question is do you trust your horse? Not simply the trust that he’ll carry you safely on his back. I mean the profound trust that a horse is truly intelligent. That he can tell the difference between aggression and the pressure of discomfort. That when the going is rough, you can affirmatively trust your horse’s ability to understand your best intention.

…

Anna Blake at Infinity Farm

Want more? Join us at The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more. Or go to annablake.com to schedule a live consultation or lesson, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, see the Clinic Schedule or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses.

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Photo & Poem: Home Farm

The mare stands square, extending

her neck, surveying the pond marsh.

Are the coyotes on the move? She

takes three or four precise steps

closer and holds, eyes alert for small

movements out of rhythm. So aware

of the earth’s language, without the

dulling filter of floors and walls, she

feels change by the shifting texture of

the soil under her hooves. A sudden

gust from the north tosses her tail,

agitating each hair on her body, mixing

the scent of wild and tame. Water birds

climb to air but this is home. Our mare

flicks an ear to check the herd. We are

not safe but we hold dear to this place.

 

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward 

Want more from this horse trainer who writes poetry? Join us at The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more. Or go to annablake.com to schedule a live consultation or lesson, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, see the Clinic Schedule or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses.

The post Photo & Poem: Home Farm appeared first on Anna Blake.