Anna Blake's Blog, page 5

Nube: What Retirement Means

And so, Nube [pronounced new-bay] retired in limbo. Undiagnosable. Sometimes, the solution for a long-running struggle is to just stop the fight. No answer is an answer. Let it go because peace was better than the ugly struggle of focusing on what was wrong.

Let the anxiety of multiple vet visits stop and the desperate internet searches rest. Most of all, let my hopes and plans, the way I felt in the saddle, all the adventures that were not to be, fade like light on the prairie. We can learn to love the dusk.

It’s valuable to look up a word, even if you know what it means. Retire is a verb, as in; to leave a place or responsibility. Synonyms include to depart, pull out, relinquish, retreat, separate, surrender, and withdraw. Each of these words stabs me. Not to kill me, but to leave a scar. See how I am? Nube’s retirement was all about me. I needed to turn that around.

Nube didn’t like the idea of retirement. There was no cue for it. We had a habit over the years, and we liked it. I didn’t come for him now. He pawed and pushed his chest against the fence panels, anxious when I was with other horses. He watched me like a stalker. Nube had always been an emotional horse. It fueled his brilliance under saddle and his intelligent curiosity. Now it made for explosive reactions and dark secrets. It was impossible to separate his feelings from his physical condition. His energetic gallop from his brutal collapses. There’s always a balance of dark and light, the yin-yang of being alive. Now his extremes were too unpredictable and dangerous for either of us.

We couldn’t find the medical reasons, so all I could do was retire him from any extra daily stress, even if it was me. I still let my hand trace his flank when I passed, breathing with him as always. But the halter was never in my hand. The tack was never on the rail. We might chat around the muck cart, but I didn’t mention our favorite topic. It was like asking politicians to not talk about politics. I made sure that my thoughts, the pictures I showed him, were of our happy life. 

So, I taught my body to hide the truth. Humans are transparent and horses can read us without trying. Our anxiety and worst fears echo inside of them, added to their own feelings. I excused my thoughts, so I’d never show my disappointment. It was the only way to let him be free. I learned to control myself, to turn down my body volume to a quiet, safe place. It’s probably what horses like about me now. 

Letting go of work is easy for a horse who suffered harsh training. The way Nube and I worked was light and conversational. Affirmative Training is the fine art of saying yes. It has always been more than a slogan. Now I made myself distant. Our conversations were all small talk. I gave him back to the horses. 

I already had four other retirees in my herd. He was in good company. Over the next few months, Nube’s body softened and some of his symptoms lessened. Now that his pain was less and his bravado had relaxed, he looked fragile. All horses are fragile.

Too often, a relationship with a horse is based on what they give us or how we use them. Sometimes we ask them to play the human role of a therapist, child, or patient. We race into the barn as if those few hours we spend with our horses are the pinnacle of their day. Ironically, the quality of a horse’s lifestyle outside of work is the best indicator of their confidence on the job. Horses need horses. Depressing, considering the per-hour cost of one horse. 

For Nube to have the best retirement, I thought of the things he could surrender, like trying too hard to be perfect. He could withdraw from my endless scrutiny of his health. I hated it, but I hoped he’d retire from all unnecessary human interference. 

Now I evaluated each interchange: Did he need to do the thing I asked for his well-being or to please me? If you read calming signals, horses are honest about how they feel about over-care by cloying humans. I abhor neglect, but micromanaging is a fault, too. Call it sweet benign neglect. Short of routine care, I let him be. Because our job is to give horses the most natural life possible.

Besides, there are good reasons to roll in mud and it isn’t so they can spend an hour having us primp them clean. For all the elder horses with a manure stain on their hip and crud in their mane, glad you can lie down and get up again. Glad you had a good nap. I let Nube be dirty, lowering my prissy standards in trade for my horse living his best life. And somehow his gray turned to silver.

Nube was seven when he retired in 2010. It was also the year I started writing this blog. It wasn’t a coincidence. 

Nube was thirteen when my Grandfather Horse died. He glided into the sage elder position in the herd without so much as a ripple. One big gray gelding traded for another, happy to carry the Grandfather Horse legacy forward. I ached to watch the herd acknowledge the change. Nube was old before his years, but those years had been good ones. Retirement had been the cure. I hope one day it will be mine, too. 

This is always our question. When the vet tells you your horse is fine, but your horse tells you he is not, who do you believe? Will you trust the well-meaning veterinarian’s opinion, or remain adrift in a nebulous swill of unanswered questions?

Nube got to rest, but I chose the swill. Maybe the greatest lesson horses teach us isn’t about what they give us, but who we need to be for them. Maybe navigating nebulous swill is a more valuable attribute. With all I learned while researching and studying, I could qualify as an amateur vet, which is the same thing as becoming a better trainer. 

Nube was the most brilliant horse I’d ever owned. I didn’t know he could fail. It broke me. My plan was that we would ride up the dressage levels, laughing all the way. Instead, I learned to listen calmly to things I didn’t want to hear. To spare the horse more anxiety, I put an accepting half-smile on my lips and cocked a hip at bad news. With a nod to Nube, the horse who taught me to not ride. 

[Fourteenth in a series called Nube’s Story.]

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Relaxed and Forward Training by Anna Blake is no longer on Facebook because of repeated hacking. If you or your horse appreciate my writing, please share, subscribe to this blog, or join us at The Barn School.

The Barn School, is a social and educational site, along with member sharing and our infamous Happy Hour. Anna teaches courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training. Everyone’s welcome.

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

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

Ride for a new brand, find our Relaxed and Forward swag at Zazzle.

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

The post Nube: What Retirement Means appeared first on Anna Blake.

Affirmative Anxiety

For as often as we’ve watched horses run and thought them the most beautiful of all creatures, we should know better. For as often as we have pretended to be horses, you’d think we’d be honest. For as often as we’ve sat in the saddle with a dream and a wide open heart, you think we could remember this very simple thing. Control is not an option.

Even hearing the word control sends us back into fantasy land. The place where we make up stories where horses act like humans. Where we make excuses for them behaving in dangerous ways. We all keep the secret that the horses that exist in our minds are not actual horses. For us to truly love a horse, we have to love the things we don’t like. The things that scare us.

How to get on the good side of that.

In order to understand horses, we must grasp what it truly means to be a flight animal. No matter how many generations of horses have lived in captivity, their survival instinct does not change. It’s their reality that at any moment, danger could surround them and they must be prepared to run and save their own lives. There has to be an innate quality of pessimism in a prey animal. Everything is life and death. Including complacency. And the gene pool is constantly being corrected. The wolves in the shadows have eaten the horses who thought those moving shadows were nothing to worry about.

Here is the oversimplified version: When a horse becomes frightened, their amygdala (part of their limbic system) takes over. It’s a neural network in the brain that regulates emotions and behaviors. It quickly releases stress hormones to prepare their bodies to take immediate action. Flight, fight, or freeze. That’s what being a prey animal means, and it’s fantastic news. That mental wiring in our horses makes them survivors.

It also means the challenge of working with horses is that they are hard-wired to escalate tension. Since we have a very similar Autonomic Nervous System, our reaction can act like throwing gasoline on a fire. Sometimes it’s called amygdala hijack when a human panics. But humans can prevent a mental runaway by remaining aware of our emotions during potentially triggering events. Our brains can access the situation and choose to not take the bait to panic. We can make peace out of fear and chaos. It’s a miracle.

Definitions of stress or anxiety: 

“People under stress experience mental and physical symptoms, such as irritability, anger, fatigue, muscle pain, digestive troubles, and difficulty sleeping. Anxiety, on the other hand, is defined by persistent, excessive worries that don’t go away even in the absence of a stressor.” From the American Psychological Association. (Doesn’t sound good at first.)

They continue: “Stress helps you meet your daily challenges and motivates you to reach your goals, ultimately making you a smarter, happier and healthier person. Long-term stress can suppress the immune system, which may lead to the development of diseases. Stress can be positive or negative, depending on the situation.” (Italics mine, because really!)

Hans Selye coined the term eustress. “Eu” is the Greek prefix for good, so eustress means good stress. The moderate or normal psychological stress, interpreted as being beneficial.

Okay, I felt anxiety when I fell into a rabbit hole trying to balance the words anxiety with stress. It got complicated when the psychologists chimed in. Some said stress and anxiety are different, while others seem to say it as a continuum, but it wasn’t all bad. Too fussy? My definition of stress (or anxiety) is more simple: Call it being alive. And if you have horses, you’re swimming in it.

Finding the ‘Yes’ in Stress

We give stress/anxiety terrible reputation, like it’s a living purgatory. How dull would life be without it? Anxiety is the most natural expression in the world. How would your horse change if we didn’t amplify and punish every anxiety?

We call our horses partners. Yet, we expect them to surrender their survival instinct, the thing that keeps them alive. We insist they don’t do that. We try to correct the horse’s emotions, but only intimidate or shut them down. Even more unfair, we fault our own emotions. We criticize ourselves for feeling something as common as air. When will we learn it doesn’t work to denigrate horses or ourselves? Or that telling a horse or a human to ignore stress is no less than a denial of reality.

Besides, what’s so bad about a small spook? Call it a calming signal because after spooking, horses usually soften and relax. It’s a release of tension, just a bit more expressive than a lick and chew. We don’t need to hold it like a grudge. Breathe through it and let it be over. Say good boy to remind both of you it’s okay.

When we demonize anxiety, we cripple a coping mechanism. It’s also our will to survive and we should hold it close to our hearts. And then let anxiety help us more than it limits us. Besides, horses use stress as a primary calming signal language. They have it, bring it, and share it. With some practice, we could short circuit the horse’s panic by short circuiting our own. We could reframe anxiety into the thing that keeps us all safe. Let’s put a pink sundress on it.

Anxiety is butterflies in your stomach as your leg goes over the back of a horse you’re trying out; the spark and lift of his canter. It’s the impossible wait for your new horse to arrive, followed by the buyer’s remorse when he first feels confident enough to question you. It’s the wave that knocks us down the day we say goodbye to that old horse, years later and always too soon. Then, it’s the strength that picks us up to start again because not having a horse is a different and sometimes more unbearable stress.

Rather than fighting it or denying it, could we just accept that stress without judgment? Maybe even say thank you in appreciation of its hard work, along with a promise to work together going forward. Stress will deflate by half, if we just acknowledge it. Then reclaim those unsettled emotions. There’s nothing to see here.

Smile in a way that makes your body soften and the railbirds tweet. Stand tall, breathe deep into your belly. Knowing stress is on your side, choose to translate it into confidence. Then let it hang in the air like fresh hay and cool water. Give horses the calming signal they need from us most of all.

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Relaxed and Forward Training by Anna Blake is no longer on Facebook because of repeated hacking. If you or your horse appreciate my writing, please share, subscribe to this blog, or join us at The Barn School.

The Barn School, is a social and educational site, along with member sharing and our infamous Happy Hour. Anna teaches courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training. Everyone’s welcome.

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

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

Ride for a new brand, find our Relaxed and Forward swag at Zazzle.

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

…

The post Affirmative Anxiety appeared first on Anna Blake.

How Long Does It Take To Train a Horse?

I have a herd of relatively normal retired horses. And then this gang of raconteurs, misanthropes, and dangerous characters, referred to as The Spots. If I’m feeling affectionate, they are The Deplorables because those who take such pride in breaking the rules deserve a term of endearment. Excuse my arrogance. I don’t even know the rules where they’re concerned.

I’m just home after being gone working a clinic. No one in the barn acted like they missed me, and my feelings weren’t hurt. If they were all heartbroken and desperate to see me, I’d think they hadn’t been fed enough.

Edgar Rice Burro lifted his noggin and hollered at me in his charming, gasping, farting, honking way. He heaves a bray when he even sees me in the window. He’s probably been calling me when I was gone, so this means I’m days late to come out and I’ll get a real long-ear-full. He’s the brains in the herd. With the agility of a jewel thief, he can open any gate. Think Cary Grant. And right now, he is running at me. I’m thrilled, not because he loves me.

He was hopping with three legs before I left. I hoped it was an abscess because that was the best lameness option, but it had been three weeks. Also, the third serious lameness in a month. I had soaked it twice a day and bandaged it. Donkeys are less tolerant of buckets than horses, and the soaking boots are huge. Then I remembered that I’d gotten a dry bag a few years ago in New Zealand. It was part of a gift bag from Equidays and I didn’t know what it was for the longest time. Well, just the size of a donkey leg. Keep everything, just in case.

Edgar hated the soaking and bandaging twice a day. I tried it pass it off as a spa treatment. He surrendered, hung his head low, and glowered at me. Finally, forty-eight hours before I was supposed to leave, the abscess started seeping. And he was back to wrestling Arthur before I left. Whew.

Arthur was my Grandfather Horse’s goat and has always had an unhealthy relationship with horses. I found him one night lying quietly under his tall friend’s hoof. Arthur’s leg was broken to bits, then reset twice, and is still a peg leg. Earlier this spring, he injured the front leg that he compensates with. The previous goat vet retired, so it was up to me. I wrapped it and miraculously, it healed. More than that, the bandage stayed on for over two weeks, which might be a world record. Please, hold your applause.

Arthur is eight now. Summer is hard and winter is worse. Arthritis has gotten him locked in The Spots pen. If I don’t scratch his nubbins, I get a butt in the butt. He starts every meal trying to knock Edgar off his feet. Arthur says most families are a little dysfunctional. It’s true. I had an uncle just like him.

Just home, I hurried to feel Edgar’s hoof for heat. Bhim walked right up and let me rub his neck. I suppressed a scream. It probably doesn’t sound like a big deal. Then he got a worried look on his face like he woke up with an empty bottle of Jack and a lampshade on his head. For the last ten years, he’s treated me like a cheap one-night stand. I could tell you his sad story, but Bhim thinks sympathy is for dolts. He’s right. Sympathy is worthless to a horse as frightened and angry as he was.

The first glimmer of Bhim softening was eighteen months ago when he showed me his first calming signal. The farrier was coming, and it usually took about forty-five minutes to halter him. Eventually, he would volunteer, but year after year, I had to prove myself every time to get it done. It’s like Edgar Rice Burro says, “The more impatient you are, the longer it takes.” That day Bhim did something I’d never seen. He licked and chewed. His muzzle had always been tight as a cross stitch. It felt like the dark clouds parted and sparkly light shone on him. Neither of us believed it.

I decided to try again, not that we hadn’t tried before. Bhim is the most complicated horse I’ve ever worked with. The least forgiving and the most distrustful. But calming signals change everything. I also decided to video each session with this reactive horse. Then, I let folks follow us and they were excited at first. Most have lost interest. Training is about the tortoise, not the hare.

May I brag? Most trainers don’t have the guts to take on a thirty-six-inch horse, much less let people watch. But I’m not really bragging. He’ll probably outlive me, and he won’t be safe if we can’t make peace.

Where Edgar and Arthur are concerned, I know our best days aren’t ahead of us. I don’t ask a thing of them. We’ll walk it out together. But maybe Bhim’s best days are finally here. Neither of us has quit. And now, eighteen months later, he offered me his neck. He also ground drives wearing a collar and pulling a singletree.

And I finally get to my point. My clients always ask me how long re-training will take. “When will my horse ever be able to …?” Like I have a math equation that works for all horses. Don’t use Bhim as a marker. He is special. Some of my clients are working with horses handled harshly in the past. Or they are learning new methods for a kinder path themselves. It never happens quickly enough. We squint for the finish line.

We wish we were at a different place with our horses. Which means we aren’t actually with our horses at all. We want to change them, but don’t acknowledge calming signals or mark small wins. We are so used to seeing before and after pictures that we forget the best part is in the middle. If Bhim and The Deplorables have taught me anything, it’s to accept them as they are. We train for life, but the journey begins and ends with acceptance. Impatience isn’t the problem.

I’ve been a self-employed artist since I was twenty-one. I’ve worked in a few different media, but horses will always be my favorite. Never forget training is literally an art, no less that painting or writing. Unexpected things come together in ways we don’t foresee if we stay the course. Take pride in stubbornness while giving up control. Cheer the perfect moments. Remember that horses live in their own time zone.

This Ursula Le Guin quote is as applicable to horse training as any other art form:

“If writing bores you, that is pretty fatal. If that is not the case, but you find that it is hard going and it just doesn’t flow, well, what did you expect? It is work; art is work.”

Some days Bhim is reluctant. Other days, I probably ask too much. We are a work in progress. He might be my last horse. But I might be his great masterpiece.

Read about our journey on this Blog or follow us at The Barn School.

Relaxed and Forward Training by Anna Blake is no longer on Facebook because of repeated hacking. If you or your horse appreciate my writing, please share, subscribe to this blog, or join us at The Barn School.

The Barn School, is a social and educational site, with member sharing and our infamous Happy Hour. Anna teaches courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training. Everyone’s welcome.

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

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

Ride for a new brand, find our Relaxed and Forward swag at Zazzle.

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

…

 

The post How Long Does It Take To Train a Horse? appeared first on Anna Blake.

Human Failings, Horses, And Judgment

A four-year-old video surfaced this week and a dressage rider deeply apologized for the overuse of a whip. She will not be in the Olympics. There’s blood in the water.

In lesser news, I was at the county fair watching 4-H kids showing miniature horses. Each child had a death grip on their halters and used their knees to push the tense, unhappy, and extremely well-groomed horses. The harsh technique was uniform. It’s clearly how they were instructed and judged. I am a fan of 4-H. And I wish they would modernize their methods.

I’ll state the obvious. I am against any level of cruelty to horses perpetrated by humans. Olympic riders or kids.

May I list my resume? I was a kid who showed sheep at the county fair. When I was older, I was in 4-H, but without means. After leaving home, I eventually began competing horses in Western Pleasure and Reining. I loved being out with my horse, but hated the unnatural biomechanical crippling I saw. If you are critical about the harsh use of bits or horses being ridden behind the vertical, please include some Western horses.

I found Dressage after my horse broke down in Reining. It was learning biomechanics and the fundamentals of dressage that healed and strengthened him. I had to fall in love with dressage. My horses became supple, strong, and calmly energetic. They pulled to go to the arena. Rules say horses must be both relaxed and forward. It is an honorable goal. Not everyone follows the rules, but it’s all right there.

Eventually, I turned pro and worked with young horses. I’d had decades of riding lessons and began giving lessons, always based on dressage fundamentals. I worked with all breeds, not defining the horse or rider by what type of saddle they used. My specialty was better communication with horses.

Call it divine intervention, I got buttonholed by a rescue. When working with rescue horses, they show you how they were trained by revealing where their fears lie. Again, all breeds but most with the memory of harsh handling. I got a front-row seat to see which training methods damaged horses. It was a sobering education. I’ve never seen a dressage horse in rescue.

Now I am approaching the twilight of my career. I’ve traveled internationally as a clinician and I’m incredibly grateful to have had a big sample of horses to learn from. I’d like to share some thoughts.

I am sad to say that we are harsher with horses in the US than I saw in other first-world countries. Our horses show the most extreme Calming Signals I’ve found. Most of the damage is being done to young horses started with fear-based methods. But we barely notice the abuse because it’s so ingrained in our cowboy culture. We think intimidation and anxiety are normal training.

Youth riders in New Zealand and Australia outshine our kids, who are stiff in comparison. Europe has a rich equestrian tradition and, naturally, some rotten apples. Scotland is a nation of trekkers. The US could do better. But couldn’t we all?

If the use of whips is the question, as it was this week, I am most bothered by the weighted racing whips. Research shows they don’t make racehorses go faster, but they are used full force leaving welts while the crowd cheers. In my locale, it seems the most common whip is orange. All whips intimidate, regardless of the name we give them.

Abusive professionals deserve to be criticized; we must set an example. However, I have to mention that the majority of abuse or harsh riding I see is carried out by amateurs who have been taught these behaviors. Like 4-H kids, they may be innocent of malice, but still harmful. I have had clients who, upon first meeting them, made me want to scream with rage at their treatment of their horses. But that kind of emotional reproach isn’t effective. So, I swallow my feelings and try to find a way to draw them to better methods. Yelling never wins converts.

It’s easy to make blanket generalizations about riding disciplines you don’t like, but there is cruelty and kindness in each. It takes no skill to see it. No one needs to be reminded that we love to tear successful women down.

I’m at a Wyoming clinic this week. The clinic organizer here shares her horses. Most of them arrived here as victims of harsh training. I’ve seen them change and grow over time, as the riders have. It’s a healing place for me, too.

The landscape is open, with low hills that somehow roll out to make the horizon even more distant from east to west. At the end of the day, Mister and I walk under an apricot sky. It’s impossible to feel anything but small and insignificant. I’m haunted by the current feeding frenzy. Horse people are famous for eating their own.

Do we abuse horses? Yes. We have all done it and regretted it. Is that why we are so quick to condemn?

Human perceptions are like the sky here. We focus on a detail, a varmint hole, rather than lifting our eyes to the long view. The infinite journey we’re all on with our horses. I hope we are not all judged by a moment in time, the horses or humans, but rather by the arc of our lives. None of us are throwaways.

As a clinician, I go where I’m invited. Sometimes I find myself at barns where all the horses are stressed and in pain. In other places, the horses seem relaxed and healthy. The locations might be therapeutic centers, gaited horse barns, dressage riders, or those who trail ride, but there is one thing they all have in common. People are all more aggressive with their hands than they think they are.

If you want to believe all trainers are cruel, that a bad past incident should kill a career, go ahead and lynch her. I won’t cheer. The horse world is complicated. Owners can punish trainers for going too slowly when they want fast results. I’ve been blamed for “training like a girl” by some but praised by others. We might do good work and the horse blooms, but the client still leaves without a nod.

Trainers are trying to negotiate how to make a living doing what’s best for horses while making clients happy. Most of us give more than we get back.

We want to trust our clients, but they are also our predators. They get frustrated or angry with their horse. If we cannot “fix” it in one session, they might blame us and bad-mouth us on social media. I’m proud of my training approach, but I understand that someone could misread a photo taken out of context or that nasty rumors can cause the same damage as abuse. And I believe accountability is necessary, as well as fairness.

Many of us don’t recognize everyday cruelty, but when we see it labeled online, we jump to condemn it. Every time I see this kind of blood frenzy, I worry. I am a tiny minnow in the ocean of trainers. When I speak to crowds or clinic participants, I know I am judged by each person, and open to being picked over by the same railbirds. It’s always easier to blame than show compassion. Hard to be perfect every moment, knowing a stumble could end a career. As much as I love my job, I also fear it. Seeing the sharks in the water now, I want to quit. The vitriol impacts all of us.

What is that thing they say about casting the first stone? This should be a time for some soul-searching of our own and perhaps follow her example and humbly apologize for the mistakes we have made.

I want to think I’m one of the good guys. When I was her age, there were days when my emotions got the best of me. When I was tired or dealing with real-life problems, and it impacted my horse. I wasn’t perfect every day, but I improved because of my shortcomings with him. Without deserving it, my horse forgave me when people might not have. And now, I do this work to impress that dead horse. I have a debt to pay.

We’re not perfect. It’s true of famous riders, clinicians, and each of us who blindly follow harsh outdated traditions. It’s important to stay humble and continue learning, doing our best to mitigate our mistakes along the way. Horses are forgiving, perhaps more than they should be, and that might be the trait we need to learn the most.

When I see people jump to name-call and judge, I remember that so many of them used harsh methods when we met. My challenge is how can I help their horse and articulate what must be said without blaming or intimidating them? When will we learn tantrums don’t work with horses or each other?

Too often, the abuse is passed from previous generations. Some are more heinous than others, but there is no excuse. It doesn’t matter who started it, we have to stop it. In rescue situations, some threaten the same violence aimed back at the perpetrators. It makes us no better if we lower ourselves to abusing each other.

If you are offended, then never pick up a whip again for any purpose. I did that twenty years ago. Give up the threatening and impatience with your own horse. Also, stop whining and nagging. Get off your sofa and put your words into action. Live by example, and share your training methods. If you want to improve the culture, please post that video so we can all see.

I think of the gladiators slaughtered in the Roman Colosseum. The crowd of railbirds, mostly good people, jeering and signaling with a thumbs down. I worry we have learned nothing from horses at all.

…

Relaxed and Forward Training by Anna Blake is no longer on Facebook because of repeated hacking. If you or your horse appreciate my writing, please share, subscribe to this blog, or join us at The Barn School.

The Barn School, is a social and educational site, along with member sharing and our infamous Happy Hour. Anna teaches courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training. Everyone’s welcome.

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

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

Ride for a new brand, find our Relaxed and Forward swag at Zazzle.

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

 

The post Human Failings, Horses, And Judgment appeared first on Anna Blake.

How Affirmative Training Was Born.

I am not a bliss-ninny. Loitering in denial doesn’t work for me. I’m a blunt truth-teller who doesn’t enjoy being dominated by my emotions. Or anything else, for that matter. I’m looking for an equal partner. My training approach is one word: yes. That’s because I care about one thing: horses.

Could it be that simple? I started with horses the same way most of us did. Dad taught me to show my horse who was boss. I would have liked to debate that idea the first time I heard it, but that wasn’t an option. My father was equally harsh with little girls as he was with horses. And I’m grateful. You could say that’s the reason I feel so connected to horses. We bonded over fear. It’s also how I know fear doesn’t work. Lots of us still trust horses more than people.

It’s just common sense when you think about it. What good does yelling NO! do, other than make everyone stop breathing? But humans are emotional. We like to have our way. A tantrum feels almost freeing. And we all have an inner, or not so inner, railbird who makes judgments. It would always be easier to squint our eyes, put a childish sneer on our lips, and point out what’s wrong rather than bloom with praise. Fear-based training almost comes naturally to us, as traditional as birthday cake.

Click to view slideshow.

 

(If there isn’t a meme slide show above, click to read the fancy version here.)

Something happens that makes us mad or sad or frustrated. We judge our imperfections with a sharp eye. That is the big one, isn’t it? We might feel bad about our horse’s behavior and blame ourselves for every tiny failure rather than credit ourselves for persevering. We make the “Not Good Enough” list, which includes us, our horse, and everything else. If we do succeed, it’s almost embarrassing. We’d never cheer for ourselves. Can you see where this is going? Downhill. For us and our horses. It makes no sense. No one wins. There is just no advantage to glamorizing failure and punishment, regardless of who is in trouble.

Was there someone you wanted to date because they made you feel stupid and awkward? Has there ever been a time that someone yelled at you, and you thought, oh, goody, let me get closer to that mean-spirited jerk? Of course not. And now consider that the horse weighs around a thousand pounds, has been known to shriek at plastic bags, and isn’t really tame at all. We need to lift the conversation.

It’s beyond time to rebel against our self-loathing and fault-finding. As nasty as all the negativity is, it should be simple to quit, but when was simple ever easy? Adversity is a habit we learned when we were young and now we cling to it like a one-eared teddy bear. So, we bring our old habits to our beloved horses and intimidate them, sometimes without knowing it. All we want is to build trust and partnership. Isn’t that the dream, even though the idea is at odds with what we know?

Like I said, I’m no angel. I see people jerk their horses and I get mad. When kids get pulled up by their arms and dragged away by exhausted parents, it makes me queasy. People shout things that their dog simply can’t understand, followed by “bad dog” like a slap. I hear about trainers intimidating their clients as much as they do horses, and it breaks my heart. It gives us all a bad name. And now I might as well be an old man in suspenders who drools and spits while swearing at the neighbor kids to “get off my lawn.”

There I am, simmering in my puss and swill. Mad and hurt and cranky as I remember other horrible instances of misunderstanding and pain. My horse gives me the side eye and I don’t blame him. I’m barely rational enough to know that if I fall into a swamp of total funk and depression, it will be a slow motion belly crawl to get out. Again, common sense. I had to turn it around.

So, I simmered on. What to do with the dark drama that seems to be everywhere? I deconstructed the incident and ranted at its tiny red parts. I don’t hold back, needing to purge the demons, but I also do it alone. Blame doesn’t satisfy me because we’ve all been idiots. After a while, I turn down the heat and wonder if I should add some new ingredients. Oxygen is always the first. In and out, Anna. Deep and slow. The pot doesn’t need more nuts, but maybe some honey?

I cook my emotions until they have the texture of boiled zucchini and add enough flour to make a sticky ball. Then I shape the byproducts of my tantrum into an affirmation, something that includes all the good parts we usually ignore. I spice it up with humor. I fight back with my wits. Being affirmative becomes an act of defiance as much as conscience. Finding the yes in that moment means letting go of the no. Call it Affirmative Training. It’s almost a spiritual practice.

Affirmative training works, and not just on horses and dogs. One day, you look around and the sun is shining. The air smells like apple pie and ivory soap. You know things will work out. Uncomfortable moments still happen, people still yell profanities. But it’s possible to make a better choice. We can take a deep breath for those doing the belly crawl. Because we’ve all been there.

No, I’m not a naturally cheerful person. I just can’t tolerate the alternative.

…

Relaxed and Forward Training by Anna Blake is no longer on Facebook because of repeated hacking. If you or your horse appreciate my writing, please share, subscribe to this blog, or join us at The Barn School.

The Barn School, is a social and educational site, along with member sharing and our infamous Happy Hour. Anna teaches courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training. Everyone’s welcome.

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

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

Ride for a new brand, find our Relaxed and Forward swag at Zazzle.

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

The post How Affirmative Training Was Born. appeared first on Anna Blake.

Calming Signals: Love vs Understanding

The mare would not pick up the canter. She just wouldn’t. In her defense, the rider was off balance. Every time the rider prepared for the canter, she’d launched herself forward a little out of the saddle. Almost like pumping on a swing, and the horse would slow down. I’m pretty sure the mare thought her rider was coming off. It’s noticeable when our sit bones aren’t where they’re supposed to be and common sense to proceed with care. The mare could have flung her rider into the clouds, but she chose not to.

In a parallel universe, her rider and I were in a lesson. We had worked hard to get to this place. It required a trot that made the canter possible, and the rider had struggled with fear. We both thought that anxiety was mostly behind her so this was a big day.

When I got this anxious and excited, my mentor would tell me I had too much blood in my eyes. It was her quaint way of letting me know I was trying too hard, hadn’t taken a breath in ten minutes, and was being insufferable. In hindsight, I know she was translating.

Now my client was so exasperated that she moany-whined her mare’s name, enunciating it out to two syllables. Kind of the way a kid will pronounce, “Mo-om.” She was almost in tears and our eyes met. She from the height of her saddle and me down in the sand. I gave a tiny smile, and she cracked up. Like every rider hasn’t muttered something just that way, frustrated, infuriated, and petulant. Like a canter is a rare bird in the Amazon jungle and not something the mare does every day without a thought.

We have all been there. It’s the day we want that the immense love we shower on our horse to be worth something more. More than a mouth full of mane as the mare decelerates to a speed she thinks her human can handle. Horses don’t care what we think we deserve. Horses care about survival and it’s a good day when that includes their rider.

Still, we love horses. It goes without saying, but we say it. We love their eyes and the way their mane smells. When they are galloping in the pasture, our hearts catch in our throats, every single time. Same thing when they lift their heads from grazing to look at us. Besotted, we obsess about them, dead or alive. We are even smart enough to love a nice, firm pile of manure. We love them with a pink sparkly horse-crazy girl heart. They do not reciprocate that love. And we’re missing the point.

For the last decade, I’ve been writing about calming signals, teaching classes, doing clinics, and often listening to what no one wants to hear. At the same time, I continue to study and dive deeper into the attempt to understand the horse’s reality. I have been so immersed in their language that everything I read or see seems to go back to horses. Lately, I’m hung up on this quote:

“Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood.” -George Orwell

Written in a different context, I still think it’s the truest thing I know about horses. I first learned it from working with troubled horses, but it’s just as important for confident weanlings. My love didn’t help them at all because it’s our nature to misunderstand them. We see them through human eyes. “Anthropomorphism is the attribution of human traits, emotions, or intentions to non-human entities. It is considered to be an innate tendency of human psychology.”

Horses don’t talk, so we must learn Calming Signals. It means becoming bilingual and using eyes more than voice. It means recognizing their emotions and allowing the time to resolve them. Calming signals aren’t a party trick, but a literal conversation the horse is trying to have, not unlike what he has with the herd. Calming signals are a language of nuance and there’s no reason to think we’d learn it any quicker than Latin. It takes focus to listen because we’ve gotten lazy daydreaming about unicorns. So much easier to love horses than to understand to them. More amusing to make up stories as if they were people in horse suits.

So, we blow through messages of anxiety, even after recognizing a calming signal. We push through to do what we want, noticing their emotions but paying little heed. Work them through it, we say to justify our impatience. But that won’t resolve anything for a horse who is afraid and in their flight response. We’ve just proven we’re not trustworthy.

Shouldn’t it be enough if people just loved them? The horse world would look different if that were true, but it isn’t. Too much abuse and too many horses bounced to rescue. But still horses continue to come to us when people have been cruel. They try for us when they know they might get in trouble. Or keep us in the saddle when we might not deserve it.

Even now, we’re coming at it from a human-centric position; what we want from them. Let’s switch sides.

Back to the mare in the lesson. She wasn’t being nasty. Lacking a frontal cortex, she isn’t capable of deceit; that’s an “executive function.” The mare wasn’t trying to get away. Horses know we’re safer in numbers. Horses move in synchrony and rhythm and usually in the same gait. She probably understood the canter cue, but then the rider gave her more cues erratically, probably punctuated by a thigh-master grip on her ribs. So, she was confused and stopped to sort it all out. Good advice, mares are so smart.

We need to learn more, so we can understand the horse’s viewpoint. For all the times they take care of us when we think we’re perfect, we should educate ourselves. As eloquent as we are about our love for horses, could we listen to them with more perception? And beyond that, put their mental well-being above our plans for the day.

But what about our martyred, woe-is-me, unrequited love, you ask? It plays a very crucial role. That wonderful passion is our gift to ourselves for caring for horses. For stacks of hay and vet bills, we shine with devotion. Love is the reward for our efforts and the place of our dreams. Love is the life raft that keeps us above water during the storms that will surely come.

…

Relaxed and Forward Training by Anna Blake is no longer on Facebook because of repeated hacking. If you or your horse appreciate my writing, please share, subscribe to this blog, or join us at The Barn School.

The Barn School, is a social and educational site, along with member sharing and our infamous Happy Hour. Anna teaches courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training. Everyone’s welcome.

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

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

Ride for a new brand, find our Relaxed and Forward swag at Zazzle.

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

…

Available Now! My new travel memoir is Undomesticated Women, Anecdotal Evidence from the Road. Ride along on a clinic tour through 30 states, 2 oceans, and 14k miles with me and my dog, Mister. It is an unapologetic celebration of sunsets, horses, RV parks, roadkill, diverse landscapes, and undomesticated women. Available now at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and signed copies from me.

…

The post Calming Signals: Love vs Understanding appeared first on Anna Blake.

Independence, Liberty, and My Personal Shining Sea

It’s officially mucking-in-a-muumuu weather here at Infinity Farm. The horses all stand in the barn’s shade and watch me fling their manure into buckets. It’s the Fourth of July and I can’t even have fun complaining about the heat when it’s so much worse elsewhere. Like all the black horses in Texas, for instance. Still, my best advice for you, not your horse, is to wear one piece of not-remotely-fitted cotton clothing and let the rest be free. Then hope for a breeze. Gone are the days when we even try to care what anyone thinks. They’re too busy sweating anyway.

I’ve had a quiet month. Not by choice, more by attrition. It isn’t just being chewed up and spit out by hackers on social media. The new Google search algorithm is boasting about higher quality search results, but it appears that small businesses like mine have all been omitted from page one of cyberspace. My blog readership has dropped over 80%. Okay, I might not look like your run-of-the-mill equine professional here in my muumuu, but entire years of sixty-hour weeks have been erased.

I try to be philosophical. The internet giveth, and the internet taketh away. I try to not take it personally, but fail. I blame the AI revolution, not that complaining helps.

My all time favorite Fourth of July was in 1986, the 200th birthday of the Statue of Liberty. I went to NYC for the best block party ever. Those who didn’t want to celebrate left town, and those who did came in from everywhere. The sidewalks were busy and hot. Stevie Wonder music gave us a backbeat, and we were all singing and dancing. It was like a city-wide truce. I was young and could still wear halter tops. We watched the fireworks from a rooftop in Brooklyn, 360 degrees of star-shine went on for what seemed like hours. Lady Liberty never looked better.

Those days are gone. Now, I spend this holiday like you do. I try to keep my animals safe. I live in an area with a bunch of new housing developments encroaching, so every year more fireworks, but the herd are long-timers. I hope the tolerance of the elders can counterbalance the number of fresh idiots moving here, but each year the math gets more complicated.

This year it’s not just the town fireworks. We have new neighbors next door, city folks who moved to the country (which is no longer country, as you and I use the word.) They have invited friends out. They are hooting and setting off firecrackers between their vast supply of fireworks so the prairie has the aura of an urban gang war.

It isn’t just that we are dry here and if they set their field on fire, it will race to my barn. It isn’t just that my dogs are scared, hiding under my desk with brand new chewys. It isn’t just that I have to stay up late to make sure the drunks are packed up for the night and my home is safe. And finally, it isn’t that, just like everything else, complaining does no good.

It’s the idea that we celebrate our country by playing war that I don’t like. I come from a military family. I have veteran friends who struggle even more than my dogs do. You’d think we’d have more respect for them, with our party-colored fake bombs. But it’s America and some people feel they have the right to take over the community in this loud and intrusive way. As if animal people and vets are less patriotic than they are.

So, I walked out to check the horses. An hour ago, I gave them ground blizzard-sized hay bags and they are all tucked in eating. I toy with giving them more but decide to wait for the midnight walk-through. For now, the horses are fine. Edgar Rice Burro gives me the “people are lower life forms” look. He gets an ear-scratch agreement. I’ve given up trying to explain humans to equines. Back in the house, I pass out more bones to the dogs. I’m pretty deep into the almonds myself. At Infinity Farm, we stress eat. The day will come when we break out the hard drugs, but for now, how about another chewy?

I can’t imagine my neighbor’s fireworks investment. It’s up in smoke and the air smells of it. The bang in fireworks is gun powder. It’s an additive; they don’t need to be this loud. But here I am complaining yet again, and half the time, complaining makes things worse.

It’s easy to feel we’ve been wronged, that each of our personal challenges are greater than anyone else’s. Easy to be embarrassed by our shortcomings. Easy to get complacent while living in the lap of choice when even complaining is a dangerous luxury in many places.

Right now, our dear country is at odds with itself. Everyone is complaining, but it still doesn’t help. I won’t get preachy about it. I’m just saying where else could I have had such a lucky life as here? The freedom to work at what I love and to have a home. The freedom to muck in a muumuu and say what I think. Freedom isn’t free, it’s never been truer. It’s our birthright and our responsibility. Sure, it’s messy right now, on both sides of the aisle, as the pundits say. But we are made of better stuff and even as frustrating, sad, or overwhelmed as we feel, Americans have never been quitters. Tomorrow is a fresh chance, and 248 years later, we can continue to try to live up to the ideals of our Constitution.

Meanwhile, Edgar Rice Burro and I will have a slow dance on our little farm, where we have fireworks over the pond every night. The silent kind that helps us remember our blessings.

…

Relaxed and Forward Training by Anna Blake is no longer on Facebook because of repeated hacking. If you or your horse appreciate my writing, please share, subscribe to this blog, or join us at The Barn School.

The Barn School, is a social and educational site, along with member sharing and our infamous Happy Hour. Anna teaches courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training. Everyone’s welcome.

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

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

Ride for a new brand, find our Relaxed and Forward swag at Zazzle.

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

…

The post Independence, Liberty, and My Personal Shining Sea appeared first on Anna Blake.

Travelblog: Mister Has a Dark Night of the Soul.

Dogs. We rescue them, buy them, inherit them. They are irrepressible puppies, midlife couch-partners or milky-eyed elders with wonky ears. They come from puppy mills, rescues, or impeccable breeders. No matter, once the dog is ours, they immediately become the smartest dog, the cutest dog, the most loyal dog. Every single one of them is the very best dog.

The only thing we love as much as dogs is recounting stories about dogs. Count me in. I’ll try to do justice to Mister’s side of the story because he isn’t as blinded by love as me. Because there are two sides to every story. 

What gives me the right to try? That’s the question we should all ask before putting words in their mouths. I’m a horse trainer who specializes in Calming Signals, or body language, to help people build trusting relationships with their horses. Calming Signals are a universal language, with individual dialects for different species, and the primary goal of listening beyond words. We should think less about how we want animals to change and more about who they are as individuals. That is the starting point in affirmative training. Negotiation begins there.

Mister came to live with me two and a half years ago, by way of a Corgi witness protection program (such a better word than rescue). The first thing this stoic soul told me was that he didn’t like to be patted on his head. Me neither, I thought. Mister didn’t fall in love at first sight, but I had liver treats in my purse. He took a few nibbles, then climbed onto my lap and made himself comfortable.

We chatted, and I breathed with Mister. I told him he was the best boy. Mister had been in three different foster locations while they neutered him and settled his placement. The rescue team took impeccable care of him while arranging his forever home. From Mister’s vantage point, it must have felt like change and more change. Mister probably thought I was another foster. He seemed to hope he could stay, but he probably did that in previous fosters, too.

Mister was careful with his heart. Conservative but hopeful. Mister accepted a few liver treats, but who can say no to liver? Mister was looking for a long-term relationship. Meanwhile, he met my dogs, Preacher Man and Jack. They had some zoomies. Humans thought it was a good match. None of the dogs knew the plan.

Mister had another big change two months later. Post-Covid, I went back to work. I’d always flown to my clinics, but I wanted to drive now and asked Mister if he wanted to be my truck dog and life coach on the road. (Mister would tell you he’s the main character in our travel memoir, Undomesticated Women.) We’re still traveling. We’re up to 22,000 miles and counting. He’s not the sort of dog who likes to cuddle and does not accept public displays of affection from me, either. He’s a stoic dog with a stressful job that he made look easier than it was. Since Mister came, the two of us have never been apart, not for a night. 

But then it all changed when I cruelly betrayed him last month. Mister knew I was packing before I packed, like always, but I wasn’t loading up the trailer. Would I forget the most important thing?

This time I was taking a vacation, the first one in forever. I’d be gone a little over two weeks, an eternity in a dog’s life. I could tell it was going to be hard. Mister was having diarrhea, and I was cooking rice and chicken for him before I was gone. I felt miserable, hoping Mister would have Preacher for company. But Preacher always gets depressed when I’m gone and he’s an elder now. No more zoomies. I left for the airport with a bowie knife sticking out of my chest.

I got home on a Saturday evening. Mister ignored me. He wouldn’t sit on me or bark at me. He stayed in the other room and when it was time to go to bed, he slept on the floor. Mister looked dull, his coat was flat, and his eyes were dark and still. When an animal’s normal behavior changes, I think of health first. Maybe the digestive problems had grown into something serious, or maybe his back went out. When you’re an athlete like Mister, you have your own personal chiropractor.

I made appointments and set about winning him back. It wasn’t as easy as the first time. Treats held little joy for him now. He took them from my hand reluctantly. The health tests said he was fine, but he wasn’t.

So many times, we see our dog’s anxiety when we get back and feel flattered, glad that they’re happy to see us. Looking at Mister, I figured if I was going to leave again, I better have a really good reason. Mister didn’t take it lightly because I told him 22,000 times that it was him and me forever. And I broke that promise.

Mister reminded me that spending so much time alone on the road had left a mark on both of us. We were both a little too involved in each other’s daily business, too involved in our starlight walks, too involved looking out for rogue cats. I knew he’d gotten under my skin pretty deep, but it wasn’t until coming back from this trip understood how deep I was under his skin too. It’s not flattering; it’s choking me with regret.

I know having an animal is a tremendous responsibility, but Mister has me wondering how often we trivialize animal’s emotions and how it impacts their confidence. I’m not saying don’t travel, or that their feelings are identical to ours. Just that I underestimated how hard this would be for him. After all, I taught him we travel together. For all the dogs with “training issues” how many are insecure from being too connected, rather than the opposite? 

As much as we love our dogs, it ’s humbling to know they take us even more seriously than we take them.

By humbling, I mean almost scary. Mister is rebounding. He’s a bit less stoic now or maybe I understand him better. Good news, he’s following me into the bathroom again. Mister barks like crazy now if he even thinks I’m leaving, so I slow down and talk to him. We go for more truck rides. He’s always avoided my eyes and still hates being head-patted. But now, when I extend my hand, palm open, toward his cheek, and he tilts his head and leans into my hand. He’s never made eye contact this way before. We stay that way just as long and often as he wants. He says that is the real liver treat. 

I know I’ll be apologizing for a while. I want to say, “Mister, do you know who I am? I am overworked animal advocate who nags and preaches about listening to horses and dogs from dawn to dusk. I just wanted a few days of rest from my workload. But never from you. Don’t you dare think for a moment that La Tour Eiffel wouldn’t have been 22,000 times better with you there.”

(With love, for my friend and her Daily Dog Blog.)

…

Undomesticated Women, Anecdotal Evidence from the Road, is my new travel memoir. Ride along on a clinic tour through 30 states, 2 oceans, and 14k miles with me and my dog, Mister. It is an unapologetic celebration of sunsets, horses, RV parks, roadkill, diverse landscapes, and undomesticated women. Available now at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and signed copies from me.

…

Relaxed and Forward Training by Anna Blake is no longer on Facebook because of repeated hacking. If you or your horse appreciate my writing, please share, subscribe to this blog, or join us at The Barn School.

The Barn School, is a social and educational site, along with member sharing and our infamous Happy Hour. Anna teaches courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training. Everyone’s welcome.

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

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

Ride for a new brand, find our Relaxed and Forward swag at Zazzle.

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

…

 

The post Travelblog: Mister Has a Dark Night of the Soul. appeared first on Anna Blake.

Calming Signals: Another Word for Dominant

There is a wild stallion on the ridge fighting all comers for his harem of mares. We think aggression and violence maintain order in the band. Hence, we train using fear-based methods to prove we are the real alpha. It might work on the Disney channel, but it’s total fiction. Herds of horses are cooperative, knowing there is safety in numbers and having behaviors that support survival. The word harem should choke in your throat.

Researchers have debunked the concept of horses having a dominance hierarchy for decades, but we just won’t let it go. We want to ignore research and ethology and common sense because we grew up with the old story. We like to exaggerate the similarities between horses and humans and minimize the overwhelming differences. It’s all fine and dandy until someone gets hurt.

Sometimes when I’m teaching Calming Signals, it almost feels like people listen as if I’m a fortune teller. I ask questions and they’re shocked at how I could know that about their horse. Posing other behaviors that might confirm my suspicions, people think I’m hiding in their barn watching them. Like I have cracked a code or heard secret gossip. I’m listening with my eyes is all. Certainly not psychic.

It still happens. When people introduce their horse, they tell me he’s at the bottom of the pecking order, as if that’s good. That their mare is the alpha mare, as if a superficial name might justify her behaviors. They tell me their gelding is right in the middle of the herd as if he has no individuality but is socially acceptable. We don’t do it with bad intentions at all. We just like things to be in tidy compartments.

We like to think the world is linear, that we can put numbers in order, and end up understanding mysteries. We think herd position defines them, but the social structure of the herd has more nuance than that. The horse’s calming signals, their language, must not be dismissed without listening and understanding.

Science says only one genus of animals has a dominance hierarchy and it shouldn’t be hard to guess who. Humans and other primates. Do we define other animals by our traits, so they make sense to us? Anthropomorphize them? We’ve been using words like alpha stallion, boss mare, or worse, as well as subservient terms, for so long that the habit is hard to change. We love to see our animals as versions of ourselves, but do those jokes cause damage?

There is something like a hierarchy in your barn, but it might be the opposite of what you think. Say there is a loud noise in the woods, eating stops, and all heads lift. Usually, there is one horse in the pen that everyone looks at to see if the environment is safe. If that horse begins to move away or goes back to grazing, the rest of the herd follows. But it’s because of that horse’s judgment and experience, and not aggression or dominance.

That’s how my Grandfather Horse got his name. The spooky buck-fart youngster changed a little bit every year until he became the herd’s heart and anchor. Not the loudest voice, not a warrior spirit, not through an election by the herd. He won his position by attrition and by being old. The other word for that is wisdom.

Herds are always in flux as members mature or die or get moved to another barn, but more than that, herds are cooperative. Survival requires it. Herd animals instinctively know there is safety in numbers, and that loners are easy prey. They need each other, they don’t want to hurt each other. Individuals share leadership. If we oversimplify their relationships and trivialize their calming signals, we lose our understanding of them.

Why does using words that relate to hierarchy or pecking order matter so much? I have a list!

Because a horse’s herd position has never saved them from neglect, rough handling, or overuse. Horses don’t benefit from our story.Because for much too long we have justified the use of fear and violence in training by continuing the false domination narrative.Because too often we think the horse with the most anxiety, pushing others around, is the leader when they are asking for help.Because we mistake food aggression for leadership when the horse may have ulcers or other pain that we can’t easily diagnose.Because we think it’s normal that some herd members get bullied, but it still damages those horses mentally, as well as physically.Because the one with separation anxiety isn’t being spoiled or stubborn. They’re herd members. It’s their instinct to stay together.Because the one who paces or paws in a stall has anxiety about the scarcity of resources. (Horses require friends, forage, and freedom.)Because it can seem easier to demean other horse owners than to change our own lifelong training habits.Because if horses aren’t dominant or submissive, we must rethink everything we think we know about them.

Sometimes our insecurities make us want to think horses are less than us. Sometimes we feel self-worth and public acclaim for saving them. Both positions, dominators or saviors, place us above the horse in our habit of hierarchy. Meanwhile, horses understand collaboration. They don’t want to be slaves or have slaves. How would things change if we strived to be their equals?

…

Relaxed and Forward Training by Anna Blake is no longer on Facebook because of repeated hacking. If you or your horse appreciate my writing, please share, subscribe to this blog, or join us at The Barn School.

The Barn School, is a social and educational site, along with member sharing and our infamous Happy Hour. Anna teaches courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training. Everyone’s welcome.

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

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

Ride for a new brand, find our Relaxed and Forward swag at Zazzle.

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

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Available Now! Undomesticated Women, Anectdotal Evidence from the Road, is my new travel memoir. Ride along on a clinic tour through 30 states, 2 oceans, and 14k miles with me and my dog, Mister. It is an unapologetic celebration of sunsets, horses, RV parks, roadkill, diverse landscapes, and undomesticated women. Available now at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and signed copies from me.

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The post Calming Signals: Another Word for Dominant appeared first on Anna Blake.

Overthinking an Undomesticated Budgie

A bright blue flick of movement, almost too small to see. White feathers spark the light, even more startling than the blue. What was that?

I am not a birdwatcher in the true sense. I don’t know names or habits. I don’t keep lists or have binoculars. Sure, barn swallows have been dive-bombing me most of my life. I felt thrilled when I saw a Great Horned Owl in the barn tree. Every year, I hope the Canada geese will rise young on my pond beside the mallards. But the last few years have been quiet. Fewer birds, less nesting. We’ve missed the Mountain Bluebird migration and the Pelicans haven’t stopped here in years.

You don’t need to be a scientist to notice the drop in numbers. Research says we’ve lost over three billion adult birds since 1970. “Common birds—the species that many people see every day—have suffered the greatest losses according to the study. More than 90% of the losses (more than 2.5 billion birds) come from just 12 families including the sparrows, blackbirds, warblers, and finches.” But here on my prairie, it feels like way more, especially in the last ten years. With all the changes from global warming, this feels like sad proof. Have you noticed?

Most of my bird watching happens in scratch breaks during mucking, while feeding the horses, or when Edgar Rice Burro and I watch the sunset. The line between wild and domestic animals fascinates me. We draw property boundaries on maps, but animals don’t care. They travel without passports and intermingle with livestock. Birds especially. You can’t fence them in or out. It’s one of their best qualities.

It’s fledgling season. Only one starling nest in the barn this year, but I watch it. Four hatchlings with fat yellow lips and nearly enough feathers to fly.

There were two Canada geese families on the pond, four adults and five goslings. I was ecstatic to have them. Then a week later, one of the adults was missing and all the goslings were gone but one little singleton. It could be coyote pups learning to hunt, we hear them yodeling in the night. But I fear it was the pair of Rottweilers next door. If it moves, they chase it down. City dogs who think all wildlife are intruders. Some loss is nature but some is us.

That was when it happened. A soft wing sound very close. Was a budgie parakeet on the fence panel a few feet away? I froze. Then a pair of sparrows spirited him off, so quickly I wasn’t sure I believed what I saw.

My grandmother (born in the late 1800s) always had a budgie. She lived in North Dakota, up by the Canadian border where winters are bleak. A budgie was a delicate, fancy thing for a house without indoor plumbing. I only saw my grandmother a handful of times, but how she must have worked to keep that bird alive. He flew out of his cage and around her kitchen when she cooked, and I thought it was simply the most exotic thing in 1950s North Dakota. 

I saw the flash of color again, too clean, blue and white. On the ground now, his round beak picking at hay scraps in a horse pen. Parakeets are house birds. He’s not hardy enough for the outdoors. He hopped up to a fence panel, and I asked quietly, not too close, if he’d come to my offered finger. Chasing him would never work, but he might be hand-trained. He flitted off.

I wondered if I should trap him. There was lots to eat and I’d seen him in the birdbath. I called a friend who knows about birds, and she suggested a cage with a mirror; he might flock to others of his kind. He was flashing between leaves, flying to the haystack with the sparrows, then back to the tree. Maybe I’m nuts, but it looked like he was friends with everybody. I was undecided.

I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself.    -D.H. Lawrence

I followed him through pens, quietly wondering if I should toss a hay net over him, but worried that I’d kill him trying to save him. Then he’d flutter away, sparkling bright next to the brown sparrows, leaving me half worried and half filled with glee. He ate from our birdfeeder, next to blackbirds and doves. His beak is just so wrong, but he even got along with a marauding striped gopher. 

A few days later, my farrier was between trims when he blurted out, “What was that?” Peering into the next pen, “Oh my,” he said, not believing his eyes. We often talk about the undomesticated nature of horses. How often does the cure become worse than the original condition for our pets? Humans think we are gods who can control outcomes. But what if the budgie wasn’t a problem to be solved?

I knew budgies weren’t native to Colorado, and winter would kill him. Who’s to say that he wouldn’t leave with the blackbirds? Who’s to say he didn’t come with them? Does he value his freedom, or is it that I value mine so much? 

The summer after second grade, I spent two weeks with my grandmother and her budgie while my mother got cancer treatment. Sometimes I rode bikes with a cousin, but I remember days were long. My grandmother scolded me often, always telling me I would be the death of my mother. I was in grade school; I took it literally. Of course, I had no idea that was happening at home. Our family kept secrets.

But that was when my grandmother decided about me. It might have been a misplaced emotion at first, but she continued thinking I was wild, meaning bad, and I was certain to ruin my young life. I probably did talk back, knowing me. Her biggest fear, and my unfulfilled destiny, was that I would have a teen pregnancy, like so many local girls. But weren’t we all just looking for someone who liked us? 

By the time I was thirty, she was critical that I didn’t have children. I swear, horses are not nearly so fickle. Why are humans such disaster thinkers, always braced for the worst outcome? Would it be so hard to say a kind word? And what makes us think wild things need to be locked up and saved?

It’s been two weeks now and I see the budgie most days. Today he was in the far pen next to the pond. If he was brown, I’d miss him at this distance, but there he was—a target for predators—a fearless small bird who is living large. I’ve been putting some extra kibble in the feral cat’s bowl in the barn, hoping he was either too old or that his taste ran to varmints. The tabby leaves dead mice around the barn in payment for the kibble. But that’s the circle of life, too, as true as goslings and Rottweilers. As inevitable as gravity. 

 I’ve given up on the cage idea. Maybe I’m selfish but I get such joy to see this little bird in the big world, not afraid to show his colors. One way or another, he will fly away. As birds do. For now, I choose to see him as a tiny blue miracle, a harbinger of beautiful and rare things ahead. 

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Relaxed and Forward Training by Anna Blake is no longer on Facebook because of repeated hacking. If you or your horse appreciate my writing, please share, subscribe to this blog, or join us at The Barn School.

The Barn School, is a social and educational site, along with member sharing and our infamous Happy Hour. Anna teaches courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training. Everyone’s welcome.

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

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

Ride for a new brand, find our Relaxed and Forward swag at Zazzle.

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

The post Overthinking an Undomesticated Budgie appeared first on Anna Blake.