Anna Blake's Blog, page 8

Nube. Dark Clouds and Questions With No Answers

Nube (Nu-bay) was particular. He required my undivided attention in the saddle and on the ground. My focus had to be laser sharp. Most advanced horses require it and it was something I’d learned to do. Odd for such a young horse, but I decided it was good. It meant he would be a sharp horse. And he was a dream to ride, so willing and curious. His ears were inquisitive even trotting down the rail. He was young and I was slow to introduce new things, but nothing confused him, each transition from my breath, no fear or intimidation.

If someone walking by the arena said hello to me and I responded with a hello back, he’d pin his ears and flash his tail. Sometimes he’d throw in a hoof stomp. It wasn’t normal to be so possessive and I began to wonder if our connection was too deep. Is it possible to be too much inside of each other? Iberian horses are known for being one-person horses, I reasoned. There is a joke that when an owner died, their Iberian needed to be buried with them. I didn’t think it was funny.

I had an advanced student who could ride upper-level Dressage movements on another of my horses. She was an intuitive quiet rider and I asked if she wanted to ride Nube in lessons. She was thrilled to be offered this tall dappled iron-grey. We’d had several lessons, and they were getting on well. It was beautiful to work with such a talented pair. Then one lesson, I went into the barn to get something and heard a commotion. I raced back out to see my student on the ground with the breath knocked out of her. Nube trotted back toward us, calm and cool.

Later, she told me as soon as I was out of sight, he let out an airborne buck that sent her to the stars. Nothing was broken, her helmet hadn’t taken a hit, and we sat with her until she caught her breath and a good deal longer. She said it was unprovoked as far as she could tell. It was Nube’s first buck, but she had ridden plenty. She had amazing balance and kind hands. She was a brave rider, as committed as any I’ve known. I know she did nothing wrong. She said she didn’t want to ride him again, that she couldn’t trust him. Just before the buck, she felt him disappear somehow.

When I write about Nube, I get a bit defensive. I know people will say their horse was sensitive, too. Yes, all horses are sensitive. I’m a professional but I struggle to find the right words. I work with “overly sensitive” horses often, many are a little damaged and have become fearful. They might arrive at that place through harsh training and poor riding. Their predicament is fair, and each horse is a bit different but rehabbing works. What Nube did was different.

Trainers routinely have clients with challenging horses, and we teach methods to calm both horse and rider into relaxation. But with our personal horses, we want spirit and energy. We want to ride the crest of the wave, we want that razor-sharp level of focus in our horses and ourselves. It’s a ride most of my clients wouldn’t take. Nube could be brilliant and soft, bold yet focused. He was different than any horse I’d known. Again, words fail me. It was like he had no skin.

Thinking (hoping) it had been a fluke, when another student asked to ride him a few months later, I said yes. He hadn’t taken a bad step and I felt he was safe. At the end of the lesson, where they had both been brilliant, she was walking Nube to cool him out and I went to my truck for an instant, and it happened again. No serious injury but a huge launching buck out of the blue. When she caught her breath, I climbed on Nube, who was perfect every stride.

I debated it all with a trainer-friend who had an animal behavior degree. How was he always great for me, when he bucked anyone else off? She asked to ride him and with a warning, I agreed. She was a fabulous rider. Here’s how you can tell. I walked out of sight, and she rode for a half-hour in the arena and out. It was a calm pleasant day. The entire time, Nube bucked, took a few steps, and bucked again. From a distance, I could see her hands release forward with each buck, see a hand calming his neck, but the bucking continued. My friend managed to stay on, but now I’d seen it happen. I didn’t recognize my horse.

“This wasn’t just plain terrible, this was fancy terrible. This was terrible with raisins in it.” Dorothy Parker

This is what I knew: Nube was six years old. His ulcers returned like the morning after night. Some months, he’d colic five or six times, even on ulcer meds. Then he’d seem fine for a couple of weeks, maybe months. Then there was a flare-up, and I’d let him rest. He’d come back better, seeming to have learned more since our last ride, calm but always requiring flawless focus. I think riders should have flawless focus, but this was different. It wasn’t normal, and we should aspire to normal.

What I didn’t know remained a mystery. Vets, more vets, legions of bodyworkers of different sorts. Supplements and medications. I scoured the Earth and nothing helped. I believed the ulcers covered a hidden condition that we hadn’t been able to diagnose. A pinched nerve maybe? With horses, it’s never just one thing, it’s interwoven layers. A cut would have been simple to bandage, but not this.

I was desperately trying to find an answer, in all directions. Horses don’t buck for no reason, and I had to guess it was pain. But in our rides, his flank was soft and his ears happy. Was he that stoic, but also that sensitive? I wasn’t any more flattered than I was when he pinned his ears as I greeted others. It wasn’t normal. I knew what he was holding in for me would continue to manifest in one way or another.

Nube began changing. Not spooky, not fearful. He was getting even more emotional. Almost temperamental. I still don’t have the words. He was strong and confident one moment, yet extremely fragile. Bold or clinging like a kitten. No mid-range, no ordinary. I wondered if there was a mental aspect in the puzzle as well. More in-depth research followed. Maybe some kind of attachment disorder? Could he have Savant Syndrome? That’s the current term for the oxymoronic and outdated term for a condition we used to call “idiot savant.” Horrible term, but it felt almost like an explanation; extreme opposites in one. It was impossible to find scientific studies. Even today as our knowledge of equine brains grows, there is little study into brain dysfunction in horses.

I went to hear Dr. Temple Grandin speak. I’ve done it often over the years. She had been an immense help in understanding myself as well as animals. At this meeting, as always, I was spellbound by her brilliant bluntness. Finally the audience questions at the end.

I raised my hand and in turn, stood and asked in a clear voice, “Can horses have Autism?”

(To be continued; this is the tenth post in a series, Nube’s Story.)

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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.

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training at The Barn School, along with virtual clinics and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

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

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

The post Nube. Dark Clouds and Questions With No Answers appeared first on Anna Blake.

How To Buy a Horse

He was a bay gelding in his teens when we met. A Quarter Horse with a bit of a downhill slant and it didn’t help that he was pigeon-toed. And he was a saint, an unsung hero, that elite caliber of a horse who could qualify as a lesson horse. I gave lessons to his owner, and she allowed me to teach lessons with him sometimes. I say with to flatter myself. Like all good lesson horses, he did all the work. I stood around reminding the rider to breathe and say thank you.

I’m currently planning an online class called How to Buy a Horse. It’s going to be fun; we’re going to pretend-shop. But instead of organizing my notes, I keep thinking of a certain lesson horse. I’ll call him Jack, the name his first owner gave him. I knew her, too.

Jack was no trouble, kept his feelings to himself, and didn’t scare beginners. He gave his riders such confidence that some stopped riding if they got switched to another horse. After Jack, other horses seemed complicated. Meanwhile, he toted riders to their first shows and didn’t toss his head when their hands bounced. He dutifully took their canter cues, and just as dutifully broke from the canter too soon, when his rider lost balance. More often, Jack filled in for his riders and made them feel a little better than they were.

He was a barn favorite, kid-safe. People affectionately called Jack lazy and teased him for his quiet temperament. He was a starter horse, they said, as they dreamed of more athletic mounts that they didn’t have the skill to ride. People misjudge stoic horses.

Jack plodded along to keep his riders relaxed while I reminded them to sit back and release their inside rein. Sometimes he stumbled. Not his fault, it’s harder for a horse to balance moving that slow, and those toes could get tangled. Then he’d get extra careful and go slower, fearful of another stumble. It was heartbreaking to watch from the middle of the arena. The riders kicked. Back then, some carried whips, so I’d watch them pull their whip hand back to tap his hind, pulling the rein at the same time. The halt/go command. Crazymaking for horses and riding instructors. Partly in Jack’s memory, I stopped correcting the riders and just took their whips away. I might have muttered learn to ride under my breath and Jack might have stretched his neck in agreement.

There was a thing another trainer and I used to do at a barn where we taught lessons. When the client’s passive complaining about the horses being nags wore us down, and we felt it was time to remind them who our lesson horses were, we’d tack up and ride. We didn’t announce it. Jack and I did the same. It might be on a busy Saturday when everyone came early to share lunch under the tree or lingered after. It was important that certain eyes saw us.

The first few strides were stiff, but Jack was just warming up, finding his balance. I’d use my sit bones to let him stride out and breathe into my legs, soft as bird wings. Soon he gave me an energetic marching walk. I’d imagine we’re going up a hill and his shoulders lifted, and his hooves glided over the sand. His trots were forward with me riding his up-stride, his canter active and I kept the beat lightly with my inside calf. Soon we were cruising through some complicated dressage movements, and I could feel his confidence bloom. He felt good in his body, the gift horses crave most.

Sure, we were showing off. I wanted Jack to get the respect he deserved. I wanted to let him show his riders he was proud and strong.

I don’t mean to blame his riders. Learning to ride well is an art. There is nothing intuitive about it and our instincts rarely give the right answer. Learning to ride is mind over matter and it takes practice. And it certainly isn’t just for kids. Too often horses get blamed for rider’s shortcomings. They are sold or sent to rescue, when a trainer and a few riding lessons are all that stand in the way of their literal survival.

Soon enough, Jack was lumbering along, dragging his toes and frustrating his riders, who knew he could do better. They still loved him, but that’s a poor trade for respect (or kind hands).

But alas, I digress. I have notes to finish for How to Buy a Horse. By the looks of it, I’ll have to do more than one session. I tell people to start by making a list. It should read a bit like a singles ad, your best features, and what you want in a partner. Then, just like that singles ad, re-write it and tell the truth this time. And for crying out loud, stop saying “just a trail horse.” It’s dismissive and unkind.

If the horse wrote an ad for his next owner, he wouldn’t care what you looked like, only how you felt in his saddle. He knows a good rider will elevate any horse they ride but an unschooled rider will pull any horse down. Try to be his first choice.

Continuing my outline, I list vet checks, kill pen scams, how to read between the lines of an online ad, and reasons to not ride the horse you drove all that way to see, even if he is a pretty color. And the list goes on.

Going horse shopping is like being a binging chocolate addict going into a Swiss candy store after missing lunch. We point at the pretty ones, and we think size matters. Some have two colors, and some have nuts. Jack would be the plain dark chocolate at the end of the row. He wouldn’t catch your eye or be the one “who picked me.” Humans are easy to trick because we fall for first impressions rather than reading the ingredients (calming signals).

Jack is still grazing through my thoughts. He says investment-wise, you should spend ten times more on riding lessons than the horse. He’s right. Go out and buy an Olympic horse if you have the cash but know that horse is just like Jack. He will only do what his rider knows to ask.

Reminiscing about training with Jack, I realize we’re old-timers now. Then I do the math, and I know he has walked on. His body would have let him go by now. But Jack would still remind you that all horses are lesson horses. They might come in a plain brown wrapper. You are the one who lets them shine.

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The How To Buy a Horse class is on Feb. 25th at The Barn School

Don’t lose us as we move away from Facebook. If you appreciate what I write, please Subscribe to this blog. Or join us at The Barn School. 

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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.

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training at The Barn School, along with virtual clinics and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

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

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

 

The post How To Buy a Horse appeared first on Anna Blake.

Edgar Rice Burro. All He is Saying is Give Peace A Chance.

Yet another horse trainer got tarred and feathered on social media this week. It happens all the time. People jumped on both sides of the debate, defending her and destroying her. Some knew what they were talking about, and others just wanted to vent. It’s easy to criticize from behind a computer screen. Edgar Rice Burro was appalled. He’s a donkey and deplores rudeness in humans. He’s also smart enough to stay off Facebook.

Did the video show the trainer’s best moment? Probably not. Do I sound sympathetic to her situation? I am because, like her, I’m a target. I know how it feels to draw fire from the other side.

Is Anna going to be all chirpy now? Saccharine about affirmative training? Yes, but I’ve been writing for so many years now, I run a search of my blogs before I start. I’ve probably covered every topic from three different angles. I found this little gem, written in 2011, short and sweet. Back then, I had less than fifty subscribers and my essays were very short. Please give it a read; it won’t take long: Get Serious about Laughing.

If there is one thing I know about horse training, it’s that frightened horses can’t learn. Lighten up, it’s the only viable option. It isn’t that I’m a peacenik who dances in filmy gowns in the pasture. I rehab damaged horses who teach me in no uncertain terms what kinds of training don’t work. Edgar lets his ears go wide in agreement.

Humans can get defensive and cling to tradition. That tradition has been the domination of both horses and those not like us. It’s our Caste system, as old as time. It’s the Emperor’s New Clothes, we are afraid to be honest, even if we know in our hearts what we do to horses isn’t right. Back when we started with horses, most of us were taught fear-based training methods. Not that long ago, people believed horses didn’t have emotions and couldn’t feel pain.

Even then, we knew people who trained with kindness and had fabulous horses. But now the world is changing fast. You might even see a cowboy in a helmet. But change makes us prickly. Some of us are in denial, fighting to stay in the past. Some of us switched sides, standing with the horses. We faced railbirds who catcalled and criticized anyone too much of “a sissy” to beat some respect into their horse.

Science confirms that the progressive affirmative training approach is beneficial for horses, supportive of their physical and emotional well-being. But still, the debate rages. We love horses but use them to justify our cruelty to each other. 

The road to positive change is bumpy and the horse world is inching along like a donkey with someone pushing on his backside. Edgar shudders. It isn’t pretty. We can be stubborn when we are in a fight, too. That’s the irony. Each side is fighting about the value of fighting. We have been for centuries.

About one thousand four hundred (1,400!) blogs ago, I decided I would post every Friday morning. It would be my gift to horses. I’ve been relentless and because of my writing, I’ve had the wild luck to travel the world, giving clinics and meeting wonderful people and horses. And I have picked up some haters along the way. No one is above reproach in the horse world and we shouldn’t be. But when there’s blood in the water, it seems we become sharks. We eat our own.

Edgar Rice Burro tells me the fight is futile and he wonders about people’s mental health. Mine included. If ranting on social media was a solution, it would have worked by now. But he says it’s a fight no one wins.

I’ve always seen Facebook as a necessary evil. I post my blog hoping to find like-minds or at least counterbalance some of the hostility. When my personal page had too many “friends” I was asked to start a business page. I did and most months my writing reached an average of 150,000 readers. It was a far cry from the first years when I could tell if my clients read my blog on Friday or Saturday. 

But the last couple of years have been harder. We’ve become more divisive. Comments are more caustic, the ugliness seeps further and we’re getting meaner. You’d think I’d be “desensitized” by now, but flooding doesn’t work on me any more than it does on horses. 

I was doing some lip-chewing and some eyebrow furrowing. I’d tilted my ears sideways at my dogs, thinking about what I could do. This is my business after all and social media is advertising, a necessity. I told myself I was strong, that I could just keep doing what I do and let the rest roll off.

Then the mighty Facebook gods stepped in. They locked down my business account for the second time in a year. Probably hacked, but I can’t even tell. There is no customer service to talk with, I have filed the forms to no avail, and for the second time, I’ve hired tech help that specializes in hacking. No luck. The business page is floating in limbo. I’m locked out, not that I had a choice. No warning, no recourse. Kaput.

Edgar Rice Burro shakes his head at my anxiety and presses me against a fence panel. Just to hold me still as he moany-brays Stand By Me and Bhim nickers the high parts. The whole herd tries to poop more so I can spend longer in therapy. I appreciate their concern. 

In truth, nothing important has changed. I don’t believe all people are wicked. I can see the horse world is changing for the better every day and I want to be part of that. But I also believe Facebook is a place that encourages cock fights. I won’t miss the vitriol and the daily grind of hearts. Facebook has become a hostile work environment. 

I’m not quitting horse training, or giving clinics, or writing. It just won’ t be on Facebook.

Suddenly, I feel young and thin, like a hint of spring on the frozen prairie. I have plans for new directions at The Barn School. I spend most of my time there already. It’s my group site designed to be like Facebook but with no hackers or haters or ads. It’s a safe place for like-minds. We are building something up, not tearing each other down. Dogs are welcome. We even have Happy Hour. If Facebook makes you tired, too, or you want to keep track of my work, join us there. 

Finally, let me give credit where credit is due; it’s always been Edgar Rice Burro. He’s the peacenik. But I’m trying to be more of an ass. Edgar murmurs, “Right here, Little-Ears.” He uses my pet name and gives me the cue to breathe.   

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Don’t lose us as we move from Facebook. If you appreciate what I write, please Subscribe to this blog and please, join us at The Barn School. 

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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.

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training at The Barn School, along with virtual clinics and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

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

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

 

The post Edgar Rice Burro. All He is Saying is Give Peace A Chance. appeared first on Anna Blake.

Trainer Love: In Memory of Seri

Seri died this week. She was never my horse, but she is part of the trainer I’ve become. Seri was a horse to reckon with. This photo of her and Edgar Rice Burro was taken during a fire evacuation. It’s a testament to who Edgar is that she allowed his company. Geldings were never up to her standard.

Seri was a mare that was hard to please, in that way really good mares are. She expected us to be her equal in the arena, but also be quick with her lunch. When my client found her on Dreamhorse, she was well above almost anyone’s budget. A pinto Warmblood, tall, with big bones and beautiful gaits, and only five years old. Soon, the ad for the young mare was gone. Two years later, the ad was back, and the price had dropped dramatically. My client hooked up her trailer and drove out of state to pick her up.

I’d say Seri wasn’t an amateur’s horse. A little complicated, overconfident, and unwilling to pander to humans. My client had a taste for strong-willed mares and was up to the task; brave and smart and a great rider. Seri was a horse who would have been easy for an owner to fail. In the wrong hands, she would have gotten into trouble. We thought she had already. Those two years had been spent turned out with broodmares. What had she done? Seri would say she was fair.

We quickly realized that the usual rules did not apply. At each lesson, I pushed myself to my limits, actively listened to her calming signals, and stayed on my tip-toes. Sometimes I felt out of my depths. I’d use my intuition and extrapolate what I knew to fit what I saw. We had to be artists, and some days there was brilliance. At other times, my ideas failed, but we kept trying. I learned more from Seri than she ever learned from me. She took all I had and asked for more. Her oversized impact made me a better trainer. It was a privilege to work with her. Part of Seri is in every lesson I give.

Once I started traveling as a clinician, I was gone so often that I had to discontinue our lessons. I got messages and cards from Seri, letting me know my client had been foolish. Clever jokes that always made me smile. We all stayed in touch, but I hadn’t seen her in the last few years. My client became a friend, but Seri wasn’t a horse you’d forget even if you met her once.

Two weeks ago, my client called to say she and Seri were at the Colorado State University Veterinary Teaching Hospital. Seri had a serious colic, but her signs were good, and they did surgery. As I listened, I knew no other horse would have survived the two-hour drive to Ft. Collins. She kept me posted and even with an infection, Seri rallied. I’d promised to bring a blanket liner over when they got home. Seri had lost so much weight we knew she’d be cold.

Then a sudden turn and you know the rest. She was gone, leaving all of us, including the staff at the hospital, in tears. Death is a small puny thing, not worthy of remark. Better to remember this remarkable mare in her glory.

I’ve thought of Seri all week. She was brilliant and complicated. Impossible to not love, but like so many horses I work with, she didn’t like people much at first. As a horse trainer, I pick sides. I work for the horse. This bold mare deserves a eulogy, but how to do her justice?

Seri was fearless. Once during a lesson, a herd of deer bolted across the middle of the arena, and she didn’t blink. She was energetic and brilliant, and she didn’t have separation anxiety. She was all that. And she was terrified of plastic bags. Lots of horses don’t like them, but Seri went full into a flight response. It wasn’t a little fear, it was dangerously primal. When they came to my farm for lessons, I quickly learned that if I didn’t check the fence line for bags, there would be no lesson. Even part of a bag was enough to set her off and she didn’t regulate back quickly. My client worked her through it over the years, but the fear was memorable because it was so out of context, not who Seri was.

After a good bit of online sleuthing, my client found the farm where Seri was bred. There were videos of young horses getting whacked in the face with bags on sticks. They were running in a small pen, frantic. Each time one got near, the youngster got hit in the face with a whip, a white bag doubling the impact, right between their eyes. It was a sale video meant to show movement, but the babies were terrified with no escape. I understand the theory behind this tactic, but it’s barbaric and has been debunked longer than the twenty years Seri lived.

The trainer who later started her under saddle was just as harsh. In our first lessons, I watched Seri’s ribs tense, waiting for the spur to rake her vulnerable flank. She waited for months, but we had no spurs, we refused to fight her. I can still see the lump in her flank, hard as an inverted bowl just under the skin. Once trust is broken, a mare like Seri won’t be quick to let down her guard. More of the same training would never be the solution.

Some people didn’t deserve a mare like Seri. But my client is a horsewoman. She and Seri had respect. They found peace but never dull complacency. A proud mare that always brought a smile to her owner’s face. My client took a chance on an online blind date and got the horse of a lifetime. Seri would say she knew all along.

In Seri’s memory, a donkey-like rant she might approve of:

HEY YOU! HUMAN! Where is the challenge in beating youngsters? Does it make you feel important to attack babies coming to you for help? What makes you so mean? Do young horses scare you so badly that you need a weapon? Is a whip not enough, so you tie a grocery bag on it? Get over yourself. Maybe you think you won that fight, but you never got the best of Seri.

She saved that for us.

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Available Now! Undomesticated Women, Anectdotal Evidence from the Road, is my new travel memoir. Ride along with us 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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If you or your horse appreciate what I write, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School. To follow Bhim’s Training Diary, click here.

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

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training at The Barn School, along with virtual clinics and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

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

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

The post Trainer Love: In Memory of Seri appeared first on Anna Blake.

Nube’s Ulcers: What We Can’t Control and What We Can.

When Nube (nu-bay) was two and first diagnosed with ulcers, it felt rare, almost exotic. People were just learning about ulcers. Phantom thoughts worried us, but we didn’t know what we didn’t know. Ulcers were unknown in the general population, or so we thought. Maybe at the race track, but never our horses. So rare you could distance yourself by thinking others were bad owners. Gastrogard wasn’t even available yet. But I’d just found out my young, unstarted horse had ulcers, so that meant I had them, too.

My research found a brief list of causes but Nube didn’t fit anywhere on the list. The scope didn’t lie, but now I had all the guilt and no way to tell what to change so they wouldn’t come back. I posted a question on social media, where all the amateur vets practice. I’m not being sarcastic. We have a lot of wisdom, even if the vets call it “anecdotal.” In some cases, we do know what we know.

I asked people how they discovered their horse had ulcers. It still amazes me, but every response people mentioned wasn’t on that list. Everyone agreed that the list failed them. I began to curate an expanded list of ulcer causes.

I made myself an expert in that way you might if you had a young dream horse. I always prided myself on being educated so I didn’t hold back. The more I learned, the more I understood how common ulcers are, practically inevitable and uncurable. Ulcers are a condition to be managed. As common as manure in the morning. We hope, because ulcers and colic are cousins.

Nube’s ulcers were treated and they returned each time. I found out that some horses in his bloodline suffered from them as chronically as he did. Some of the first ulcer management articles were written by the owner-trainer of a half-sibling longlisted for our Olympic team. The horse didn’t qualify, but like me, her owner got a first-hand education that cut deep. There is evidence ulcers may be hereditary, or maybe they’re so common, it just seems that way.

Many horses are stoic and don’t show pain. Sixty percent of horses diagnosed by scoping showed no previous symptoms at all. Horses hide their pain, we have to look to find it. Nube was sensitive and we’d shared a calming signal language all his life. He was demonstrative and honest. The perfect temperament for a performance horse. But we were understanding more about ulcers and lots of performance horses had them. Lots of pleasure horses, too.

The causes seemed to multiply. Horses kept in stalls certainly had ulcers but so did horses in big pastures. Domestic horses and feral horses. Trailering was a huge factor, but horses who stayed home were just as susceptible. Horses fed two flakes morning and night, (how most barns did it then,) but also horses on free choice grazing. Maybe the worst was knowing that some horses have ulcers as a result of chronic pain from other things we didn’t know much about, like kissing spine or stifle issues. You couldn’t cure the ulcers as long as they were tangled up with other issues.

I don’t mean to sound like a whiner here. We have learned so very much about the health of horses and veterinary science is light years ahead of where it was just a few decades ago. It’s great news. Unless it came too late for your horse.

Not only does aggressive fear-based training cause ulcers. It also shuts horses down enough that they show no symptoms. By now, calming signals were my primary language, and many times horses use that language to show pain. I had clients who hired me to fix their horses, but I only racked up more amateur vet hours diagnosing ulcers. Anxious horses were “corrected” not by training but by ulcer meds. Maybe trainers are the best at seeing ulcer symptoms because owners mistake them training issues so often. Some clients got their horses checked out and some horses struggled until they were sold or suffered colic.

I worked with rescue horses who had moved from owner to owner, showing chronic ulcer signals. It’s a death spiral hard to escape for a horse who is always living through a series of events that causes ulcers. Other times, owners unable to see emotional progress fired me for babying their horses, accusing me of spoiling them with all my listening and being affirmative. I felt the worst for those horses.

No matter how much we know or how hard we try, we can’t control the health of our horses. They are still mysteries. Diagnosis isn’t a perfect science and each week, we learn of new health concerns. Horses are powerful and dynamic, yet as fragile as cut flowers. Still, we continue to train with so much aggression that we make them sick.

What could I do? I’m a trainer, not a vet. If training could cause ulcers, was it possible that training might somehow support a horse to be more ulcer-resistant? When I worked with Nube, not only did I use my methods of Affirmative Training, I used them as if it were a matter of life or death. Because how we train is exactly that. And it’s the one thing we can control.

Nube was my personal horse, the finest horse I’d ever owned; brilliant and willing, sensitive and enthusiastic. He was all curiosity, so I presented training as a puzzle, cued with my breath, and gave him time to solve it. He’d trot at liberty to pick me up at the mounting block, as if riding was his idea. My hands didn’t pull, so his neck stayed soft. Short rides, light and happy. But his ulcer issues never settled for long.

You want to think you can make a karma deal with the fickle horse gods. You promise to work for your client’s horses with more imagination and understanding, extrapolating what you know for an individual solution, and hoping to trade that for a miracle at home.

What I know now, after years of doing my best, is Nube never got right. Maybe today we could do better for him, but that’s worthless comfort. I continue to write about Affirmative Training methods. I routinely demonstrate the effectiveness of acknowledging calming signals at clinics with strange horses. No doubt other horses benefitted from all I learned with Nube. In a darkly bittersweet cynical way, I suppose he helped my career but at a price I would never have chosen to pay.

(to be continued…)

…

Available Now! Undomesticated Women, Anectdotal Evidence from the Road, is my new travel memoir. Ride along with us 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.

…

If you or your horse appreciate what I write, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School. To follow Bhim’s Training Diary, click here.

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

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training at The Barn School, along with virtual clinics and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

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

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

 

The post Nube’s Ulcers: What We Can’t Control and What We Can. appeared first on Anna Blake.

Resolutions and Horse Dreams

It’s the twilight zone between holidays, meandering like a long, slow-motion hangover. I have no idea what day it is and I’m staring at the horizon, pretending it’s staying light longer. I’m eating leftovers and watching old movies I’ve seen before. Social media is age-shaming celebrities for not looking like they did decades ago, as if gravity doesn’t work on all of us. I confess I worry about sixty-year-old women half killing themselves to look like they’re thirty. Youth is a race we all lose, and it undermines the value of earned wisdom. And jeez, now I’m nostalgic about when I was only sixty.

It could be worse. There are long lists of famous people who died this year. Like a profit-loss statement accounting of their lives, but I do the same, counting the loved ones no longer in my barn. Mortality is all puckered up, waiting for a New Year’s kiss at midnight. I’m overthinking everything, wound up about this next birthday that’s nine months off, and sleeping badly already.

Back in the day, I took on the arduous task of making New Year’s resolutions as seriously as a type-A, horse-crazy, workaholic could. I wrote all my longstanding faults in a detailed list. Then I added all the soul-killing boot camp makeover plans to transform myself into a better person, on the surface at least. It all fell to bits in days, of course. Year after year, I reached for the stars and stubbed my toe out of the gate. What else would you expect from a plan based on self-loathing? 

I have a brag. I recently managed three naps in one day. Nowhere near the dog’s record, but excellent for me. Now that the tinsel has settled, do you ponder how it happened that we end up being this age? Gawd, we’re lucky.

I’ve been downsizing. Not just the external clutter. I’m sorting through dreams that haunt me more than help me. Time to let some go. I guess I won’t be riding in the Olympics. Wave buh-bye.

Ten years ago, I met a woman in a writer’s group who told me she was going to quit writing because of me. I didn’t know what to say or what I had done. I told her I was so sorry, that she wrote so well. It was true. She said the goal of writing a book had weighed on her for decades but after meeting me, it dawned on her she really didn’t want it anymore. Had my enthusiasm sucked all the air out of the room? Should I have feigned a polite detachment, and bit my tongue when my book, Stable Relation, was stuck in my throat so tightly that I couldn’t breathe?

My guilt over ruining the woman’s imaginary literary career softened in the next months as I got up every day at 3:30 to write. Like most writers, I had a day job. When the first draft was done, I sold a decent saddle to pay my first editor, who didn’t like it. After months of re-writes, I sold my grandmother’s sterling to pay the second editor. Two years, three editors, and a few thousand dollars later, my book came out. Meanwhile, I followed that dream-change woman on Facebook. She was only working part-time, she vacationed in tropical places, and she got a wonderful new horse. I thought she was the one who deserved congratulations.

I gave up some things to make room for that writing dream. She gave up the same dream and other good things filled in. Not to judge, but just to say we all pay for what we get. It only becomes a problem when we blame others or if we wake up one day not packed for the trip we want and then don’t take the risk. I’m in awe. About half of my clients got their first horse in their fifties or sixties. Talk about a facelift!

Looking around, it’s easy to see our priorities, but at New Year’s we think we need resolutions. It’s like fear-based training; we punish ourselves more than encourage. Please, can we all spare ourselves from resolutions that sound like a cranky mother complaining that we should do something with our hair? Can we outgrow catcalling our shortcomings? What if we finally give up all the resolution drama? Even if it means buh-bye to owning a two-thousand-acre horse ranch in New Zealand.

Instead, how about making some popcorn, kicking back under an old quilt, and grabbing some wine in a coffee mug? Let’s do some remembering of how far we’ve come. There is profound value in reflecting. It’s a crazy world and maintaining our out-of-step individuality takes some commitment just to hold our own. We’re blessed to be on a chosen path headed in the right direction, even if it is uphill. There will be big decisions to be made, but at this moment, we don’t have to rush out to meet them. Let’s soak in the satisfaction of our dream accomplishments.

We are open-minded, compassionate, and all-around good horse owners. Rest assured that we will always do our best and our best will always be good enough. Beauty will rise from our muck boots. Sure, our hearts are so full of dog hair and hoofprints that we end up a bit misshapen. But smile big enough to show your old teeth, squint those smile lines until your eyes are barely visible. If they judge us harshly for looking like we were born in a barn, well, that’s fair. We are the lucky ones. We have always preferred the judgment of dogs and horses. 

 

Plain

Dreams are only
transparent. On this
routine day, let my
eyes close in simple
praise for ordinary
moments of wanting
what I already have.   

                            ~From Horse Prayers

 

I know how precious your time is. Thank you for following along with my writing and training. Thanks for being part of this odd herd of misfit horse lovers. Every best wish to you and your barn in the New Year. 

…

Available Now! Undomesticated Women, Anectdotal Evidence from the Road, is my new travel memoir. Ride along with us 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.

…

If you or your horse appreciate what I write, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School. To follow Bhim’s Training Diary, click here.

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

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training at The Barn School, along with virtual clinics and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

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

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

 

The post Resolutions and Horse Dreams appeared first on Anna Blake.

Culture Wars in the Barn

There is a recent article in the NYT about the culture wars going on in dog training that’s worth reading. (Click here.) The two sides agree on one thing: their side is right, and the other is wrong. The only winner is social media, where wildfire destruction is good business. It says something about dog training, which is also a contested topic in horse training, even if our vocabulary is slightly different.

For the most part, this war is fought with surrogates. To my cynical eye, too often the people with the confidence to train with kindness also have the confidence to own small dogs. Somehow there is this inverse balance, where others who want to be seen as tough show it by being tough on bigger dogs, (or maybe they are just a bit afraid of their dogs.) Owners who don’t socialize their dogs and train harshly end up with a fearful dog on a chain in the yard. Those “dangerous” dogs are collateral damage, an acceptable loss, but the breed gets the reputation, not the owners.

Meanwhile, dogs of similar breeds work for us, as search and rescue dogs, airport security dogs, police dogs, and a dozen other jobs. Those trainers, whose dogs live in their homes with their kids, know you can’t scare a dog into being brave and submission isn’t the goal. The handlers and their dogs carry an enviable strength that is quiet and undeniable.

Next month, Preacher Man, my reactive corgi, will have been here for ten years. He has some habits that others think make him hard to live with, like non-stop barking and peeing in the house. I’m in an arranged marriage with this rescue who arrived one day as unsettled as a ground blizzard but with a heart too big to quit trying. The sad parts haven’t changed in a decade. He is still terrified each time I touch a broom. He nervously over-barks if two people stand and talk. Even now he goes too still, almost cringing if I come into our room without saying his name to announce myself.

Then in a twist, he relaxes under my office chair even though the wheels roll on him tearing out tufts of hair a few times a day, my feet accidentally booting him even more often. But it would be worse, he thinks, if he lost track of those feet. He has fatty tumors now, cloudy eyes, and quite a few teeth have been removed. We have jagged and sharp feelings for each other, but nothing I do can take his fundamental fear away. Will he live long enough to heal or will senility set in first? I don’t care if only his little body can rest.

That same culture war has been going on in horse training. Some riders believe the myth of domination, using aggression to train horses but then defensively going further to shame others not willing to fight their horses. Riders ready to rumble, every horse a challenge to their ego. Every dissident a heretic.

My clients hear that criticism as they set about rehabbing horses marked with shrapnel scars from harsh starts and failed battles. Some try to straddle the line by using dominance methods halfheartedly, torn between people they identify with and what they see when they look into their horse’s eyes. Others feel isolated by their kindness to animals.

I’m lucky to be able to work with the most frightened horse I’ve ever met, although others would describe him with worse words. This rescue horse came here the same year as the corgi, and I chip away, worried that if he outlives me, he’ll have to be killed and cremated with me. His worst scars aren’t visible, of course. He doesn’t like me, but I can halter him most days now. It’s the internal damage, the fear that never lets him breathe. Clients frustrated with their horse for needing time, when it’s been six months already, make me laugh. What we can’t heal, we learn to live with.

I try to avoid all mention of culture wars while working, but the horses bring it up even more than clients. People need to vent and ask questions that are related one way or another. We share stories about be name-called woo-woo, told we train like a girl as if that’s a bad thing. They say we ruin our horses when the horses came to us damaged. We know it’s futile to try to out-bully a bully. We were raised to fight horses but when we know better, we change. Now we’re on the front line of a culture war, not that we can remember enlisting.

The truth is we all have rescues, we know the damage done. But bullying animals, and then children, and then each other, is surely a path to ruin. Is it our predator nature to yearn to dominate forever, even fighting our housepets? How did kindness become political?

Probably not the holiday message you were expecting. European countries have folk tales about animals magically talking at midnight, some say on the Feast of Santa Lucia, others say Solstice or Christmas Eve. In those stories, animals speak, but not always kindly. Some animals take revenge and owners get their due for poor care or over-work, which does sound like a reason to cheer. Maybe it’s time to give fewer gifts, but send off more donations to animal welfare groups who struggle with compassion fatigue, as many of us do this time of year.

Pulling on my barn coat and gloves, I head to the barn to throw hay before bed. It’s Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year. The moon is waxing to full. I love the night for its supernatural quality. Squint and you can half-see generations of dogs years gone and every horse you ever knew, their memory as thick as breath in the cold. The Ghost Herd is much larger than those living with me now, but this year there is a high-pitched nicker from a horse finally finding his voice. I don’t answer him with sound but rather exhale and let the air rest so long that the safety of being in a herd returns to us. It’s a feeling richer than love but we have to slow down to let peace soak in. On this holiday that started in a stable, animals are still sending calming signals that they are no threat to us. A bittersweet message.

Please, throw some extra hay for the long darkness tonight. Extra hay for the horses who have walked on, for those yet to arrive, and for those who have none. Throw extra hay as an affirmation that we each play a part in making it all come right.

…

Available Now! Undomesticated Women, Anectdotal Evidence from the Road, is my new travel memoir. Ride along with us 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.

…

If you or your horse appreciate what I write, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School. To follow Bhim’s Training Diary, click here.

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

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training at The Barn School, along with virtual clinics and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

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

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

 

The post Culture Wars in the Barn appeared first on Anna Blake.

Horse Training Means Affirmative Waiting

Humans, aren’t we swell? Compared to horses, we have dim, frail senses, we’re seven times slower in our response time, and we have the focus of a toddler in a toy store. Horses might give us a paternalistic nod at this point, except for our biggest failing. We have that pesky prefrontal cortex. So, we think too much and we’re sure we’re right. It would be great if we wanted to dominate horses, but alas. We say we want a partnership, even after it dawns on us that means two voices, one of them our horse. Now, we are just floating in the nebulous abyss of “What do I do now?”

There’s a time-worn adage that if you are with a horse, you are training them. Considering how close horses focus on our every move and how strong their memory is, it would be easy to overreact. Then it’s like we immediately take away our horse’s TV privileges and start teaching Latin. We hyper-train and make every moment teachable. Yawn. We have a trailer full of training aids, we become deadly serious, and now the horse is dragging his toes to the arena. The reason that resolutions about training don’t work is that they stink of boot camp.  Then there’s another adage, less is more. But just sitting in a lawn chair feels too disconnected.

Most of us are stuck trying to find some middle place, not too extreme in either direction. If we weren’t lost in self-scrutinizing, we might notice horses are in the same place. They don’t want endless punishing and drilling; most have been repetitively over-trained and intimidated. They have already been to boot camp. More likely, horses need to recuperate from training. If we care about their mental health as much as their physical health, then we slow it all way down. Horses need time to process emotions once we stop dictating. So, we let it be a democracy where we all have a vote. Given the space, they might surprise you and volunteer in a way that takes a minute to recognize. Right after that, you are never the same. It’s like discovering an alternate reality where horses are our equals.

The price of admission is waiting out the time between when we stop droning on and when they finally use their bodies to tell us something. Horses won’t interrupt us, so there will need to be a gulf of silence. We acknowledge that it might even look worse for a while because change is messy. The pendulum will swing. It’s having patience while the horse finds his voice, and then letting them air old emotions out like laundry on a line, to be cleaned by the wind.

If it’s a young horse, confidence is the goal. Letting him be curious and brave without micromanaging his answer, so his foundation is stronger, even as it takes longer to build. A reactive horse might be stuck in their fear and anxiety. They need time to scream it all out. A stoic horse might need the courage to find their voice and the confidence to speak up. An old horse might have been talked over for so long that he forgot he had a voice. A rescue horse needs more time than others, until they feel truly home, finally safe. This goes quicker if we smile, say good boy, and take nothing personally. Call it affirmative waiting.

We’ve had the proportions wrong. When we think about training, we see it as a pinnacle, a mountain to climb. The horse’s mental health might be a meadow if we could find one. In reality, training is more like the tip of the iceberg and the horse’s emotional wellbeing is a hundred times more massive and just below the surface. We can see it through their eyes, bottomless and dark.

We play a part, but it’s a supporting role. It’s our job to trigger the horses lightly by asking a question. We do that naturally, effortlessly, by being a human. It might be as simple as haltering or standing at the mounting block. They remember what comes after, something unpleasant, and anxiety comes howling back like wolves nipping at their heels. We have to teach ourselves that this is an opportunity. We would rather just ride. Instead, we give them time to process. We can’t fix horses, but we can make a safe place for them to do it.

It’s dull. When I was younger, I thought I thought patience and procrastination were the exact same thing. My mentor said I had too much blood in my eye. That my red-hot desire blinded me. My horse agreed.

I had to learn that having an investment in the answer changed the question.

Another adage: We don’t train the horse. We train ourselves. And chestnut mares have nothing on us. In fact, it might take one to get our attention. Because the soul of horse training is waiting affirmatively. It takes a lot more energy than sitting in a chair.  It’s holding a focus that is soft and not letting yourself get distracted. It’s accepting the horse’s answer and affirming them with calming signals. So, we train ourselves first by learning another language than what we have always used. Then we soften our bodies and just say yes. Open to the conversation having two voices.

Think of a parent playing legos with their child, never placing one themselves, but engaged in cheering their child on. And never checking their cell phone once.

Horses are not naturally resistant. They want to work with us. Donkeys think it shows poor judgment, but horses will always err on the side of trying too hard. Then they get tangled up when we get in their way, contradict ourselves, or get in a hurry. We forget that horse training means letting the horse do it. We suggest a topic, but then the horse does the task, while we cheer.

Most often, we change the question before the horse answers. We absentmindedly adjust their forelock. We pet their flank as if someone putting a hand on our belly wouldn’t distract us. We teach our horses to share our anxiety about the trailers by clock-watching. As if they can’t hear our emotions simmering, like a foot tapping impatiently.

Affirmative waiting is breathing in, exhaling out, and staying easy on the earth and alive in the question, ready to say yes at any effort. Of course, intimidation would be quicker and easier. Instead, we encourage the horse to answer confidently, without fear. Our challenge isn’t if the horse does the task. It’s can we calmly and lightly ask the right question. Can we support their mental health and be the focused partner our horse needs?

…

Available Now! My new travel memoir is Undomesticated Women, Anectdotal Evidence from the Road. Ride along with us 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.

…

If you or your horse appreciate what I write, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School. To follow Bhim’s Training Diary, click here.

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

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training at The Barn School, along with virtual clinics and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

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

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

The post Horse Training Means Affirmative Waiting appeared first on Anna Blake.

What It Means to Love a Horse

I’m talking to a new client who contacted me for help, asking them to tell me about their horse. They begin by explaining to me that they love their horse. I want to stop them already. I know it’s bad, but I am the very last person on the earth that anyone needs to explain that to. It’s my job to witness our love for horses in all of its glory and ugliness, all its colors and tones. I am like a hardware store paint chip display in the way I understand the depth and varieties of love we have for horses.

But they need me to know it’s more than that. It’s the really-can’t-live-without-them kind of love. The sobbing grief they feel every day for their “heart horse” who came to a tragic end, dying of old age years before. I want to say that old age is something to celebrate. I didn’t mention that I’ve held a newborn filly’s head up so the vet could euthanize her. Because it isn’t a competition. But if loving horses solved their problems, I would joyously be out of work and home with my horses. Who, you guessed it, I love very much.

They explain the horse’s problem. Maybe the horse is hard to halter or won’t load in the trailer. Often, they are behavioral issues that stem from fear-based training as youngsters. We’re left with an epidemic of damaged adult horses who can’t be stoic about trauma any longer. Second place goes to “bad” behavior by a horse who “knows better.” The horse is in pain, and we frequently mistake that for disobedience. Hooray for anyone who asks for professional help. Even if they have asked a few pros already and not liked their answers, it is still a wonderful thing when horse people ask for help. It doesn’t come easy for most of us.

Then they immediately jump back to affirm they love their horse as if contacting a trainer is a kind of betrayal. I ask them to tell me about their horse again. You know this part. We start with the horse’s birth, bloodlines, and breed. Or the sordid tale of their rescue. What we imagine was their beginning in life was like. Then the story of how they got the horse, followed by a day-by-day account of their history. I want to hear this part, and I might not trust the owner’s conclusions, but that’s why they hired me. I cluck and shoosh them on, what is their horse like, I ask again. I’m hoping to get a sense of personality, for lack of a better word. Confidence is everything to a flight animal, and the lack shows in many seemingly unrelated ways.

The owner will tell me things like their horse is easy to halter, or reluctant to pick up his hooves. We set stock in the horse coming to be with us, feeling that it shows our horse loves us back. I’m not sure how a nicker at feeding time is a love commitment, but I bite my tongue. They tell me their horse loves grooming or jumping or trail riding. When I ask how their horse shows that love, they can’t name a calming signal. We just know the horse loves it.

I don’t want to be a party pooper, but the horse has been described by what they do for the owners. It’s as if someone describes their life partner as someone who cooks, cleans, and makes a home. As if someone describes their life partner as a good provider and someone who does lawn care. These are wonderful skills but they’re not who the person is. Horses are more than the tasks they do.

After my light admonishment, they usually tell me about the pecking order of the herd. They set stock in who the leader is and who gets along with everybody, what it means to be in the middle of the herd. Some see being at the bottom of the pecking order to be a good thing.

Eventually, I will tell my client that everything they taught us about dominance in the herd dynamic has been debunked. The thing that made sense to us simply isn’t how horses think. It was never true in the first place, which means a lifelong horse person is going to have to rethink everything. It’s a huge can of worms to open at the first meeting.

I know how that feels. I grew up knowing that I had to dominate horses. It made sense in my human brain. I could see dominant behaviors in my family, schoolmates, and even at church. Our culture is built around class, education, and income. Those societal labels do not describe who we are, either.

But horses are not predators. Herd animals are rarely aggressive. We know that, but we don’t hold it present in our love-addled brains. Oldtimers told us that if you want to know who the “alpha” horse is you throw an apple into the pen and the horse that gets it is the leader. We missed the point for generations of horses. Now we understand that food aggression is frequently tied to gastric issues. Horses tell us about their pain at every meal. We set stock in moving feet as a dominant trait, but how often do we mistake the horse with the most anxiety as being a leader? How many calming signals do we think are just cute faces our horse makes to entertain us?

Meanwhile, we’re busy putting our horses in boxes or arranging them on a list. While basking in what we are certain is their adoration of us, we are missing what they are asking us. Horses come to us for help, but we are blinded by our emotions, or misled by outdated beliefs. We give human solutions to horse problems. We listen to the horse as a lover would, rather than the neutrality of a health care worker or therapist. Horses need us to have a crucial and healthy detachment. That’s what a good trainer teaches their client to do.

Once again, I wonder why love is the thing we hold most high. As if the easiest part of horses is any kind of accomplishment on our part. As if pain, damage, and destruction don’t happen in the name of love. As if none of us have failed at love. As if love cured cancer. But if that’s our language, then loving horses means hearing their side louder than ours.

At some point, I will ask my new client if her horse is on any supplements. The list begins with several brand names. Then, she has a special trimmer, a vet that she trusts. There is a kind of bodywork that the horse gets, and maybe an equine chiropractor as well. Then a saddle fitter, or there should be. She wants me to know that she loves her horse and has a team that takes good care of him.

It’s taken me forever to learn to ask the most important and overlooked question. “Who’s in charge of caring for your horse’s mental health?”

…

Available Now! Undomesticated Women, Anectdotal Evidence from the Road, is my new travel memoir. Ride along with us 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.

…

If you or your horse appreciate what I write, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School. To follow Bhim’s Training Diary, click here.

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

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training at The Barn School, along with virtual clinics and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

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

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.

The post What It Means to Love a Horse appeared first on Anna Blake.

Famous Cruelty, Ordinary Cruelty, and an Affirmative Solution

 

Another story of cruelty hit the international press last week. Operation X documented horrors happening in a well-known Danish barn, by using an undercover “groom” with a hidden camera. I won’t relate the gory details because you already know them. They are as nasty as you imagine. Repeating them feels like profanity. It was a dressage competitor this time, the riding discipline people love to hate. Also, the best foundation for any riding horse, so I will stand up, unwilling to surrender my beloved sport over to the haters. Want to know what real dressage is? Xenophon in 350 BC:

For what the horse does under compulsion, … is done without understanding; and there is no beauty in it either, any more than if one should whip and spur a dancer.

Please stop confusing dressage with cruelty. They are mutually exclusive. What happened at that barn was not dressage.

The story broke on the anniversary being roasted for an essay I wrote against (among other things) spade bits, comparing their use to the other kind of “grooming”. One comment I read about this latest cruelty compared this barn’s practices to priests abusing children. Good for her. Speak bluntly. Be as loud as abuse is damaging, but brace yourself for blowback. We love our traditions.  

It’s only fair to mention other riding disciplines with systematic training methods used by a few cruel members. Like Western Pleasure, reining, gaited horses, rodeo, Big Lick Tennessee Walkers, the racing industry, etc, etc, etc. And doping happens in all of them. But why stop there? Include hoarders who masquerade as rescues and perpetrators of kill pen scams. Pinned ears on liberty horses and dead-eyed lesson horses. Shut down over-used therapy horses, and the cruelty done by cute kids riding big horses in strong bits. Colt starting competitions where more emphasis is put on showmanship than horsemanship. We romanticize punitive training to the point of hero worship. Wake up!

A reminder: we abuse dogs, too, but they yelp and howl. Horses are silent, unless we see the blood. Horses need advocates to speak for them.

Here’s the true epidemic: we start youngsters with fear-based methods that have been scientifically debunked for decades. Domination isn’t the rule of the herd, we had it all wrong. Why do we still think the horse with the most anxiety is the “alpha”? We evolved our understanding of herd dynamics. This outdated method of waging war on babies is reprehensible. Even if the stoic ones will fake it for a while, a horse trained with fear will never be reliable. When do we open our eyes to change?

I swear, we have become so blind to cruelty, so normalized, that it’s like we have Stockholm syndrome (a bond between the abuser and the victim.) The defense most often stated by domination trainers was that their methods or painful tack are a time-honored tradition. We agree on that! Abusing horses is as old as Xenophon or we wouldn’t have that quote.

But wait! This is the extreme minority of horse owners.

Consistently being a bully is a sign of weakness, lack of education, inability to be flexible, and a void of creativity. How is it that a human tantrum passes as a training technique?  Sure, we all have bad days when we get frustrated or rushed. The process of learning isn’t always smooth. In my work, I only see caring horse people who are trying to do better for their horses. Never monsters. 

Cruelty makes for dramatic, attention-getting videos. Watching the slow gradual way that I train even bores my clients. If someone put an undercover spy in my barn, I’d find them snoring in the hay, sleeping off a hangover. But don’t assume I’m permissive, allowing horses to be dangerous, or that serious training isn’t happening. Working to rehab horses who got a rough start requires patience. We’re advancing the horse’s confidence as well as their ability. It’s not as easy as scaring them into submission.

Some say dressage, (or any other discipline,) is hard work that has to be trained harshly. As if any backyard horse can’t piaffe their way back to the barn. Separation anxiety isn’t dressage either. But instead of banning riding disciplines, let’s take them back. For all that we owe horses historically, and knowing more now, we can do better.

But if you want to complain, then you must also cheer the good guys. The monster in the Operation X video has been banned, the world is outraged. But the riders winning lately are training very differently. The British Dressage team posts photos of their elite horses in turnout with other horses as soon as they return home from international competitions (that they have just won.) Knowing how easily your rescue horse can hurt himself standing in your barn aisle, think of the commitment to welfare this alone takes. Could we at least give them a golf clap?

Horse training is an art. It’s supposed to be hard. Using methods or training aids that make it faster or easier for us shouldn’t be the goal. Trust isn’t that cheap. We should stretch our skills and continue to learn. Take riding/training lessons from a good instructor. If they are harsh, walk away and find another. Attend clinics where your horse’s mental health is prioritized.

Understanding equine calming signals is the biggest benefit to horses I know. We’ve been told to listen, but what do we listen for? Most of us are certain we understand equine body language, but sorry, horses would disagree.

Is that the problem? Have we seen their fear and pain for so long it looks normal to us?

Stop listening to the press. Stop courting the opinions of those who have never ridden, and those who train with intimidation. (It works as well on us as it does on horses.) We need to be open to change when we don’t like change. Spend silent time with the herd. But empty your mind first. Make your eyes brand new, make no excuses. Let all emotion go still. Give the horse space and air, rest your voice. When they feel safe, they will tell you in their bodies how they were trained and what they remember. We are not the judges of cruelty; they are.

It’s a good time to clean out the tack trunk. Make a pile of things that cause pain or the fear of confinement. Training “aids” like draw reins, tie-downs, and gadgets that restrain. Toss any but the most gentle snaffle bit. No more whips or weapons. Don’t sell them, so other horses suffer. Throw them out, and for once, be glad of waste.  

If your horse gives you some resistance or needs some energy, then change your own energy to something brighter. Once and for all, commit to dive deep into the power of breathing as an affirmative cue. Be the change you want to see in your horse. If you don’t believe it will work, try it anyway. Let your horse change your mind. Will it take time? Yes, because horses expect the worst from us. Let’s disappoint them on that count.

Then speak up about how well your horse is doing. Pride isn’t the same as bragging and the mean minority is ruining it for the rest of us. Let people see that affirmative training methods work. Let your progress wear down the railbirds until they become impressed. It’s time to stop complaining on social media, amplifying the worst. Instead, speak up for kind training every chance you get. But for crying out loud, write letters to the FEI, USEF, NRHA and other equine governing bodies and let them know how you feel. They can’t ignore all of us.

Want the numbers? Women own over 90% of the horses. In total, that’s about two million American horse owners and over seven million people engaged in the industry as owners, service providers, employees, and volunteers. Most of us are forty-ish with a median income of $60k. We are the silent majority. Our voices can bring the haters to heel.

We claim we love horses and that should mean not just our own. When do we stop offering sad “thoughts and prayers” and get loud? When is it time to stop standing around clutching our bloody pearls? Who else do we think is going to fix this mess? 

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Available Now! Undomesticated Women, Anectdotal Evidence from the Road, my new travel memoir. Ride along with us 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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Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals and Affirmative Training at The Barn School, along with virtual clinics and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome.

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

Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.


 

 

 

The post Famous Cruelty, Ordinary Cruelty, and an Affirmative Solution appeared first on Anna Blake.