Anna Blake's Blog, page 9

Thanksgiving: Our First Horse Was a Dog

Meet my dogs, Preacher Man, Mister, and Jack. They’re in the doorway to my writing studio. It’s Thanksgiving night, which is always on a Thursday. So, for the last thirteen years, every Thanksgiving evening (and every other Thursday night) we meet here to write my blog. It’s usually the All-Horse Channel, as I share what I know about understanding horses and training. It’s free advice from a professional and my way of giving back for what horses have meant in my life.

Want to know a secret? My best writing is always about the “Little Men.” Dog essays never get the reader numbers the horse blogs do, but I keep writing them anyway. I owe a debt to my dogs, not that they care. Look at that photo again. No one looks at me like they do. It isn’t about treats or baby talk or being lonely. We are a team, in the horse sense. We pull together like thundering Clydesdales. I can’t do what I do without them. So, maybe tonight won’t be so funny. It’s time for a love letter.

The Corgi imposter sitting with folded ears is Jack. He’s thirteen and is only jumping two feet high now. A Corgi rescue sent him to evaluate. I have no idea how he passed as one, but he’s sly. A kind woman with a show Corgi adopted him. She got sick, and he came back to me off and on while she was in treatment. I didn’t want her to give him up, though she thought it would be best for Jack. We made a deal, and he stayed with her. When she died, he came here to stay. No dog would ever brag about being a rescue, so he prefers to be called an inheritance. Treasure passed on.

This year, Jack got promoted to the cat half of the house with the Dude Rancher and his feline friend. It was a little too quiet after the old cat died. A reactive dog who gets to pretend he’s an only dog is almost indifferent to gravity. The Dude Rancher takes him for walks on the farm and Jack makes sure the Corgis bark at him. Dog applause. Jack believes the old wives’ tale that cats steal breath from babies, so when the Dude Rancher naps, Jack positions himself on his chest. Peach, the cat, sits inches away on the armrest, staring, which is the same thing as threatening murder. Jack folds his ears and quivers a bit, but holds his ground. He is that brave.

Several times a day Jack comes back to the Corgi ghetto to gloat, not that the other Little Men care. Preacher and Mister know they are already only dogs. And they have a yard to protect. Just last summer, a herd of extremely pregnant deer stood beside the fence as they barked, not at full volume, but still ferocious. The deer stared back in a silent dare. The dogs ran to me for praise and then back to bark. The deer, who looked like watermelons on toothpicks, were clearly mocking the dogs. It wasn’t fair.

For readers getting ready to leave because I haven’t mentioned horses, wait. Calming Signals! My Affirmative Training methods are firmly based in understanding a horse’s calming signals. I write about them constantly, but did you know the phrase comes from Turid Rugaas and the dog world?

Preacher Man is also thirteen. His dental bills could fund a college education, he has old-man lumps, and he barks as much as ever, which has been non-stop since 2014. It used to be a piercing, fingers-on-the-chalkboard, machine-gun yip. I know how he got that way, so I tell him he’s a good boy. The bark has dropped a couple of octaves as he’s aged. Some days he is calm enough to sleep on my lap without tearing off buttons and ripping out earrings in the process. Now his bark is more of a moany, singsong, yowly blues anthem. Almost a whisper bark. Fair warning: the older Preacher gets, the less I’ll travel for clinics. I promised him.

Does anyone know what it is about Corgis and cat beds? I bought a nice new hammock bed for Mister so he could stretch into a nice reverse sploot, but he won’t sleep on it without his cat bed. He and Preach fit into cat beds like a fifty-eight-year-old beer-drinkin’, junkyard-cussin’, multi-sport fanatic fits in a midriff tank top and skinny jeans. Oh, tell the truth. You think Corgis have better backsides, too.

Mister is the new dog, only here two years, but he’s traveled over 20k miles with me so far, going to clinics coast-to-coast in our A-frame trailer. He stands guard on picnic tables for the height advantage. Relaxes me after work by letting me rub his belly. And if he hears something at night, he straddles my chest. I slap the bed, a move I learned from dating a wrestler when I was in high school, but he keeps me pinned. It’s how he herds me, not by nipping my heels. It’s easier to just sit on me. Fewer precious calories burned and using gravity as a weapon is common sense.

I’ve been self-employed since I was twenty, and I think the main reason was so I could bring generations of good dogs to work with me.

What a luxury to cast Mister as the leading man in my recent travel memoir, Undomesticated Women. It was like eating dessert for breakfast to get to say so much about him, but a challenge to do him justice. I couldn’t have gone a mile without him beside me. Harnessed and clipped in for safety, his head resting on the console, he watched me drive. He’s not overtly affectionate, but he held me with his eyes, like we’ve known each other forever. He’s Keanu Reeves cool, if Keanu had better ears.

What Mister means to me, what each of my dogs has meant, is like trying to describe the air I breathe.

Horses are my passion, but dogs are family. No shade on cat lovers, but for most of us, our first horse was a dog, the animal we had while whining for a horse. They trotted along as we cantered in our tennis shoes and nickered and dreamed, never taking it personally. They were animals that could come into the house. Okay, not until I left home, but still. I don’t throw silly words like rescue around because I’m not doing them any favors. Any dog will tell you it’s the other way around. Rescuing humans is hard work, especially one that wanders off like I do.

Dogs are much better human trainers than horses will ever be. They get us to smile when we are mad at people and ready to give up. They let us cry on them and then keep our secrets. (Think human calming signals.) Dogs excel at making a big deal out of simple things, wagging to remind us of our fabulous good fortune. They walk us through our lives, good days and bad, with a loyalty that is incomparable.

This Thanksgiving, I am grateful for so many blessings in my life. But even that, I learned from dogs.

 

…

Available Now! Undomesticated Women, Anectdotal Evidence from the Road, Mister’s 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 Thanksgiving: Our First Horse Was a Dog appeared first on Anna Blake.

Euthanizing Your Horse: How to Trust Yourself

It’s colder now. The leaves are gone. The wind charges at us from the north, and the temperature drops ten degrees at three pm and keeps falling. We’ve had snow, the tank heaters are in. One of my horses has grown so much chin hair that I had to let his halter noseband out. It’s the bittersweet season of hard decisions. I write about death as the days get shorter, but most of us already have it on our minds. It’s part of autumn, isn’t it?

I’m going to ask for the impossible. Can we have an unemotional conversation about pain? Can we talk about end-of-life decisions without everyone taking it personally? I don’t want to turn this into a contest of who can mourn the most. Let’s stipulate we all experience loss and understand. Mourning our animals is the easiest thing we do. Forever and always. But for now, let those emotions rest. They won’t add insight to this conversation. 

Let’s talk about when you should begin to consider the unthinkable. That first day you get your horse isn’t too soon. Maybe you have a youngster or maybe a barn filled with elders. It’s a good time to talk about death on a sweet fall day while everyone is enjoying the sun. We talk calmly about plans so that when the time comes, we have some foundation and can be more helpful to our horse during an emotional time. 

A group of welfare experts in the United Kingdom voted on the top five horse welfare priorities. The biggest challenge for horses is delayed euthanasia decisions by owners. The second is the lack of recognition of pain behavior by owners. I’ve read several similar studies, and they are fairly consistent. We don’t want to know what we secretly see.

Some people believe a horse will tell them when it’s time. Horses have an involuntary instinct to hide their pain and weakness from the herd. Weakness is fatal. Some herds push them out, predators go for the weak and old. Do you really believe that a flight animal hard-wired to survive is going to become a different creature and tell you it’s time? More likely, some of their organs are already beginning to shut down. When horses lose confidence in their body through injury or age, add the stress on top of the rest. Horses are stoic, so they hide it all as long as possible. By the time we see it, it’s already serious. 

Maybe you want to push the decision off on your vet. It isn’t fair to them. Some of us have honest longtime vets and some of us land with the emergency vet on duty. In their defense, no one wants to give such bad news. It’s challenging to deal with their own feelings about their jobs, without sobbing clients. They might be better at science than psychology, fearing a client might get upset but then complain online with comments taken out of context. A conflict-avoidant vet will suggest more treatment, often to give the owner time to say goodbye. Do they prioritize our suffering over our animal’s pain when both are inevitable?

Can you even get a vet in an emergency? I can’t. Lots of us are hours from help. We need a plan before we need the plan.

If we’re talking about hard topics, money must be part of this conversation. Most of us don’t have trust funds. There is honor in being responsible. We can’t risk everything, including the other lives who depend on us, for one animal who is incurable or just worn out. Know ahead of time where you must draw the line financially. Then respect yourself for doing the best for all your animals.

Now, we have almost decided and are looking for support. We share our thoughts with someone, but they are shocked and think we’re horrible. It feels like a gut punch and maybe we falter. Always know that each of us is trying to make peace with death and the process is messy. It’s their fear for their own horses and themselves. Not really about us at all. Not really a compassionate friend. Walk away.

Please, don’t think of re-homing your elder or unrideable horse. The horse shouldn’t have to struggle with a whole new world of fear and uncertainty. No one will care as you do. The precise reason we consider sending our horse away is the reason we need to talk about this painful subject more. There are many things worse than death.

If you’re seeing discomfort, don’t dismiss it. Sure, some pain is normal, but keep track of how much rest the horse gets. Elders get exhausted standing up, not feeling confident enough to lie down. Cold weather comes and the less they move, the more painful it is. Arthritis is a given. Gauging the slow decline in an elder is challenging because we become comfortable with their discomfort. We normalize it and months pass.

How much is our desire to hold on against the odds? When we love horses, we don’t want to see signs of pain and discomfort. It doesn’t help that pain often looks like sweetness. Anxiety is mistaken for affection. Shutting down and holding their emotions inside, confused for peace. Understanding calming signals is crucial. Soon there is little natural horse left. In the wild, a predator would have ended this long goodbye. We are the only predator who can help them now.

Is there a high side to this dark conversation? Acknowledging the natural reality of death adds quality to each day. Life doesn’t get more precious; it’s always as precious as a new colt.

Think back over your years with horses. Remember times when unbidden ideas came into your mind? Maybe a worry and you went to check and found a problem. Horses communicate through their bodies. It’s simple in the beginning. They limp and the idea of lameness comes into our mind. We read body language but awareness appears as a thought. What if that’s the same way the idea of euthanasia arrived? From them first.

Part of my job as a trainer is to be a death counselor. On any week, I may talk with two or three horse owners facing that hard decision. What I have come to understand sounds obvious but is also profoundly true. The last thing anyone wants is to euthanize their horse. If you are even considering it, I expect the condition to be worse than you’re aware. You would never bring it up if you could look away. Trust yourself because it’s the last thing you want. Anything else is preferable, but here you are. Trust your eyes. Trust what your horse is telling you. See euthanizing as a luxury.

Most days, loving horses is effortless and rewarding. But comes a day when they need a deeper love, one harder to give. What it means to put a horse before ourselves shouldn’t even be called love. We need a bigger word.

For what it’s worth, you are doing the right thing. The hard thing. The loving thing. Breathe on through. Not because you are strong or fearless. Simply because you’d do anything for your horse.

…

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 Euthanizing Your Horse: How to Trust Yourself appeared first on Anna Blake.

Horse Trainers: How Do You Know Who to Believe?

It was the end of a long clinic day, and we were wrapping up. Almost done on time until this question. “How do you know who to believe?” There were people new to horses, lifelong horsewomen, and those who rode as kids and returned later in life. The thing they all had in common was that they constantly heard contradictory information. They didn’t know who to believe. Trainers, vets, or trimmers; no one agreed, and asking for a second opinion made things worse. They complained that the pros all contradicted each other. Especially me. I hear that a lot.

I could have told them they should just believe me. I train affirmatively and put the mental and physical welfare of the horse first. I didn’t say that although it’s true. The question wasn’t personal. There isn’t a trainer in the world who says outright that they are abusive. We all paint ourselves golden. Some of us make excuses for cruelty and some of us avoid it at all costs. But no one openly admits to cruelty.

Their confusion was genuine, so I listened to their frustration. It wasn’t just professionals who disagreed, it was the other barn friends as well. Good friends who advised them to do something one way, when an equally good friend said the opposite. As if training methods have gangs. Now friendships were in the balance, too.

They were so eloquent in expressing the anxiety of wanting to do the very best they could for their horses, but simultaneously being pulled apart. When I was starting with horses, I asked for advice and got such a ball of twine bunch of answers, that I felt the same way. Now I was being asked the question and it deserved a better answer.

Part of the confusion is that folks new to horses look at rodeo with horror. Even the day-to-day harsh training methods are rough and they are appalled by how fearful the horses look. AS THEY SHOULD BE. They aren’t fanatics, but usually women of a certain age who don’t want to fight with their horses. Fresh eyes would help all of us.

So many of us who have been around for a while have become complacent to normal cruelty. We can say the word without visible distaste. We’ve seen harsh training our whole lives and slowly become callous.  Others turn a blind eye to things we don’t like rather than confront the traditions. We may not like it, but we are part of how cruelty became normal.

Some of us have been around long enough that we’ve tried most methods, not willing to go as far as we’re told. We aren’t willing to rise to the full measure of dominance and so we do a “lite” version with fewer pain calories. We know we don’t need it and feel better that we’re gentle in our fear-based methods, so our horses are only a bit scared of us.

Others don’t have much choice in professionals, so we have to negotiate carefully. We hope for the best, breathe with our horses. We go along but hold the anxiety we might be heckled for being a wimp if we spoke up.

The old voices inside us die hard. Most of us don’t talk back, because when you think about it, domination from trainers, vets, and trimmers works on us as well as our horses. We fear the correction, too.

Or maybe we go too far the other way. We get so soft, so quiet that our horses worry we’re stalking them like coyotes. We allow dangerous behavior and horses lose confidence because we have stopped communicating. We do what we call liberty, but our horses pin their ears. We are such extremists. Why is a mutual partnership so hard to find?

I want to tell them there have always been time-honored traditions of Affirmative Training. That science has debunked fear-based methods and given us information that is changing the horse world. I hope they study more, because after all these years of learning, I haven’t reached the end. What I know most is that horses are individuals and as much as we just want to do the right thing, that might change day to day. That listening to the horse is crucial, above any training plan. Calming signals above techniques.

A better question is can you tell the difference between what you want to see and what the horse is saying? Do you assume you know, or have you studied equine language? I’ll warn you, it’s easier if you don’t actually understand them.

Finally, for what it’s worth, this is my advice when looking for a professional. It’s dawned on you that we don’t all love horses. You want to find someone who does, but it isn’t about handing out treats. A professional who loves horses is curious, engaged, and vulnerable with each horse. They know enough to have the simple answers ready and are willing to dive for the hard ones.

The second method of picking professionals is better. Listen to the horses.

If you can watch a video, turn the sound off. If you are watching the trainer live, count your breath or use earbuds as a way of not hearing external distractions. Listen with your eyes. Without the sales pitch, just look at the horse. Read his calming signals. Does he look anxious? Are his eyes dead or half closed? That isn’t a connection. Are the horse’s ears active, his poll soft? Curiosity is a sign of courage in a horse. Does he look beautiful in the natural way of a horse?

Everything a horse thinks is written all over him with unrelenting honesty. They’re the ones to trust. But first, we have to take our lens of human emotions away. We have to learn to think like a horse. It isn’t a romantic gesture. It means accepting their anxiety or confusion or pain, even when it isn’t convenient.

Many answers are elusive or nebulous, but cruelty is not normal. Confusion is. Horses have emotions, but we need to learn to tell the difference between ours and theirs. Horses aren’t problems to be solved. We just get to support them as we can. Do our best and fall short, because we are only human.

Horses teach us our limitations until we set ourselves free of the need for control we will never have. Not anywhere in life. And just like that, we stop trying to create perfection. It was always right there in the horse. Always visible in the cooperation of a herd. We were the ones fighting.

I hope we will never know it all, that we will learn more every day. Some traditions hold through centuries and some are horribly out of date. We have to change and stay engaged. Asking for help is a strength.

We might be born loving horses, but knowing them takes a lifetime. The sooner we can sort out the professionals who can help us understand them, the more effective we can be, and the sooner our horses find the safety they seek.

…

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 Horse Trainers: How Do You Know Who to Believe? appeared first on Anna Blake.

We’re Not Perfect: The Great Halloween Wreck of ’23.

In my online Barnie group, we do performance art around Halloween. My horse, Bhim, along with Edgar Rice Burro, Arthur, the goat, and I started work on our plan. Then, we had an epic wreck. But at least I have it all on video!

We started by assembling the parts. I got some cheap and tawdry hats and a black tarp for Edgar. Next, I needed a plastic skeleton. They cost more than you’d think, but I wanted one that was dimensional. I scrolled until I found what I wanted but in a smaller cheaper version. Probably the right size for my horse, so I ordered it. The one that spends the most doesn’t win where performance art is concerned.

If you follow this blog, you know Bhim is a rescue who came for training ten years ago. It was slow work considering his level of anxiety and fear, but about then Edgar Rice Burro asked if he could have a horse. It would be hypocritical to say no, and truthfully, Bhim was not adoptable. He wasn’t even halter-able. He is simply the most terrified horse I’ve ever had the opportunity to work with. I consider that a plus.

So, Edgar got his horse. Then last fall, after years of hiding behind Edgar, Bhim stepped out and gave his first calming signal. Hallelujah, I thought, he was finally ready to do more. I bought a harness. Now, ten months later, the change in him is nothing short of miraculous. He surprises me daily. He offers to take his halter, and he wears a harness and drags a noisy singletree from his traces. It’s huge for a horse so fearful and reactive that he wouldn’t let me stand behind him.

Back in January, I invited people to follow our journey online. I use a GoPro or camera glasses. I wanted them to see what I saw. You can imagine the sometimes-dizzy quality of the video, but it’s real-time communication, with voiceovers to describe what’s going on. I post a video of every session we have. That’s how I have a record of the Great Halloween Wreck of ’23.

That day Bhim harnessed at liberty. I had the skeleton on the ground tied to a rope. Just for good measure, I duct-taped a short purple jump whip to the skeleton’s hand. Consider it Affirmative Training humor. Bhim barely glanced at the skeleton. After all, he is only afraid of two-legged live things. Last, I put his bitless bridle on and we were off. It started well. Isn’t that the way? Bhim angled himself so he could watch the skeleton mumbling along behind him. We walked through two gates, no problem.

Then, in a flash, Bhim bolted, and I let go of the lines. It would have scared him more if I held on and lines on the ground don’t scare him. As he ran an arc, the skeleton’s head detached and bounced into a water tank, separating the jaw and sending it rolling end over end farther. At the next gate, a foot got caught and the skeleton’s leg sailed high into the air. Finally, the skeleton’s rib cage caught under the muck cart just as Bhim reached Edgar, who was eating brunch.

I was not heartsick with guilt and didn’t feel sorry for him. In hindsight, I don’t think I over-faced him, or that he spooked at something in the environment. Bhim being stuck in a panic mode isn’t new. He has a tendency, as some horses do, to explode sometimes. It’s a release, no different from a yawn. Just louder. Ever noticed that horses are better after spooking? It kickstarts deeper breathing, it relaxes tense muscles. So, I told Bhim he was good, untangled the skeleton, and asked if he could walk on, the remains of the remains still dragging behind. We picked up the plastic leg on the way. Edgar, who was curious about what the big deal about the pond pen was, came along. When we got to the scene of the crime, I untied the skeleton and took Bhim’s harness off. Then I rounded up the skull and jaw, trying to reassemble things, expecting Edgar to quote Shakespeare, as he does from time to time. “Alas, poor Yorick…”

Bhim quietly stood near the debacle, slack lead, soothing himself by licking and chewing. His eyes were soft. This is how I know he can do this. He is learning to manage his emotions. This is what good work looks like. All horses come apart; the question is, can we help them find a way to come back together?

Two days later, I left for a three-week clinic trip while Bhim grew his wooly mammoth coat. When I got home, the Dude Rancher asked if I knew there was a child’s skeleton hanging in the barn. Well. When you put it that way, it probably reflects poorly on me.

The finished goal of good work is to make it look effortless for the horse and human. You know they edit the videos we see online to look perfect, right? People rarely post the “before” attempts or the messy middle parts. Only brilliant success. The next part of it is our fault. We gasp at those videos with awe and envy. As if it’s magic when we should recognize what long hours of patient training look like. Not a false reality that excellence comes without challenge. As if we don’t make more progress on hard days.

We should brag, but instead, we’re hard on ourselves when training takes time or when accidents happen. Watching perfect videos seems to compound our frustration, and poke us in the eye. Then add the compilation videos of people (who deserve to get bucked off horses) flying through the air. All the wreck videos horrify us, but we can’t look away. We remember them too well and scare ourselves.

Why do we take moments out of context as fact? Only seeing hard days is just as deceptive as only posting the wins. The goal should be to watch it all, with optimism. One instant in time, good or bad, is never the ultimate truth. Neither kind of video illuminates the best, most important part; the creative process of finding ways to cut the task into small pieces to work on one at a time. It’s when the actual relationship happens. Training horses is an art, not a reality show. Each horse requires something different from us each day. Dwelling in nebulousness is real perfection.

Our goal should be the long game, even as we know the destination never changes. One day, the animal dies. Too ghoulish? Or is it the best reason to not hurry our time? Let’s make an art of enjoying the journey. Then, let’s keep reminding ourselves of it every grateful day.

And don’t feel bad for the Infinity Farm Performance Art Troup. Soon, the internet will brim with photos of horses dragging fir trees through the snow with Christmas carols oozing in the background. The red and green holiday. With a little luck, a horse with tinseled bats flying around his ears will drag some percentage of a child’s skeleton through a snowbank with a vampire donkey, a devil goat, and a witch floundering along. We are many things, but never a moment late.

…

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 We’re Not Perfect: The Great Halloween Wreck of ’23. appeared first on Anna Blake.

Book Launch: Say Hello to ‘Undomesticated Women’ by Anna Blake

 

It’s before dawn on a Friday morning and I’m in an RV park in Amarillo, Texas. I’ve been mud-wrestling with a cold for a couple of weeks now, but I’ll make it home tonight. I can hear a train whistle close by, some eighteen-wheelers getting an early start, and my dog snoring, belly-up in bed, as I write. These words could be the lyrics of a country song, but it’s where we are. I can’t imagine a more auspicious place to launch this book, Undomesticated Women, than from my A-Frame trailer, the Rollin’ Rancho.

Maybe you know this; I’m an equine clinician. Truck dogs are crucial in my line of work. My dog, Mister, is not impressed by my occupation, and I consider it one of his finest traits.

Mister came to live with me near the end of my “non-essential” COVID-19 hibernation. In early 2022, we planned a road trip, and 14,000 miles, 30 states, and 2 oceans later, you could say we had a bit of a runaway.

I’ve written a travel memoir about the trip. It isn’t a book about how to train horses, although there are horses in it. This book is a peek behind the curtain at what this nomadic job of mine is like. The title of the book, Undomesticated Women, is a brag. I wrote about some women I feel very privileged to know.

Mister and I took to the road looking for horse training adventure and liver treats. Work paid for the trip; it was part clinic tour, part travelogue, part squirrel hunt. But mostly an unapologetic celebration of sunsets, horses, RV parks, roadkill, diverse landscapes, and undomesticated women. (And there’s a QR code in the book that links to our road trip photos on my website.)

Mister would tell you it’s his memoir about being tasked with the unreasonable job of guarding me against a wild range of dangers. Like eating dinner late.

At best, any memoir that finds its ground is a love letter to life. Not that the trip was all hearts and flowers, but that it was real in its bumpy stretches along the way. In the end, our journey added up to more sunny days than tornado watches. More inspiring people than hecklers. And more hope for this complicated world than road-weary exhaustion. We’ve laughed, we’ve cried. We’ve had a ride.

Would you like to come along? We offer you anecdotal evidence from the road! Undomesticated Women is available now in paperback and eBook form at all online sellers, including Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and The Bookshop. Signed copies are available here.

Here’s a taste:

 

…

If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School.

Anna Blake, Relaxed & Forward

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

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals 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 Book Launch: Say Hello to ‘Undomesticated Women’ by Anna Blake appeared first on Anna Blake.

Nube: A Living Lesson in “Less is More”

There’s a woman and a tall young horse, moving in perfect strides together but with a healthy space between them. It’s as if the rope is invisible, her hands low at her sides. They continue walking, turning to the right and the left, stride by stride, with no visible cues. That sweet space between them held steady by our breath. The horse’s neck is long and relaxed. The woman’s body is soft.

Or maybe the woman is riding the horse, and his ears are forward as he moves with an energetic stride on a slack rein. In the first trot stride, he lifts his back as he floats over ground poles. The woman exhales as he melts to a halt, square and straight with a slack rein. The rider betrays herself with a smile so big her lips stick to her gums. There are no whips, no one is swinging ropes. And the less that was asked for, the more he offered. They are lifelong friends, but brand-new each moment.

Now is a good time to tell you this lovely young horse has been colicking five or six times a month for the last year, always around feeding time. Yes, he had ulcers. I’d known for years, and we had treated him repeatedly with Gastrogard. Each time, the ulcers came roaring back on day thirty-one, worse than before. It was 2008, he was five years old, and I’d spared no expense on vets but found no resolution so far. We weren’t even sure ulcers were the key problem. Many times, ulcers mask an underlying condition that needs help first. We didn’t know what we didn’t know. Now we were trying acupuncture and Chinese herbs, but no luck so far.

This is what I did know. I was doing my best for him, and it wasn’t good enough.

Should I be riding him? If fear-based training or harsh riding can cause ulcers, couldn’t Affirmative Training help reduce anxiety? After all, the fear of pain is almost as bad as pain. Wouldn’t a confident horse deal with the whole condition better? Maybe I could at least distract him for a little while.

So that was my plan. Nube was my first personal horse that I’d started from a foal by listening to his Calming Signals and using my Affirmative Training methods. Knowing his chronic ulcer situation, I listened even closer. I did all the best practices I knew. Always tacking up with a hay bag, so his belly wasn’t empty. We used a neck ring to warm up. I never stayed on longer than a half-hour, and only a few times a week. Music played during every ride, I let him move out, and never a hint of punishment. Just encouragement. We warmed up systematically and he got stronger. Letting him make choices, and always letting him answer in his own time, gave him confidence. The result was a young horse who was relaxed and willing. If I’d seen anxiety, we would have quit immediately. Instead, Nube pulled to go to the arena because only good things happened there.

Do you ever wonder how we got so complacent about harsh training? It’s a shame that intimidating horses is so effective, at least short term. We know a horse trained with fear will always look to his own safety first. The rider will always have to hold a line of aggression to maintain the horse’s fear. Always ready to threaten with a rope or a whip. Affirmative training requires a bit more patience. But the sweetness of having a horse who volunteers more than makes up for the time spent.

“Less is more.” Everyone repeats the adage, but it’s our human nature to escalate. It’s as if we think we’re easier to understand when we yell. We come by it naturally, but horses never get used to it. They don’t “desensitize” to us. Not to mention, their senses are better than ours. We aren’t quiet even when we whisper. So, we have to gain self-awareness and then let the loud go.

It’s logical. Don’t we feel the same about aggressive people? When someone is yelling and threatening, we resist them. Or we cower and dread their presence. When someone speaks quietly, they draw us in. It feels intimate to speak quietly.

In forging a partnership with a horse, there’s the human half. We trust our cue has been heard and allow our horse the time he needs to form a response that isn’t a hurried, fearful reaction. Some horses pause, expecting us to escalate. Then, we must out-wait their waiting before they begin to think of a response. Too often we repeat the cue louder just as the horse is about to answer. We interrupt them, and they lose confidence. If we do it right, we learn patience while giving our horse the freedom to answer without threat.

The challenge for the horse is their past. They live with the memory of their first trainer, who formed their fundamental beliefs about humans. If they’ve always been yelled at, whacked with training aids, or teased and baited, that fear and anxiety linger. Even on a good day, every moment is life or death for a horse, so this memory of humans as predators fits their mindset well. Horses judge the present by their memory. Their feelings are real. They don’t have the brain function to fake it.

What we think is subtle finesse is loud to a horse. Human body language is blunt and jagged by comparison. We wave our arms when our eyes are enough. We’re even aggressive with affection, but ironically think it’s possible for a horse to ignore us. A horse who looks away or grazes is just telling us he needs a moment. Giving you no answer is an answer, if you listen to his body’s calming signals.

Horses escalate when we do, so it really is that simple. Horse training is like a game of chicken. Rather than be the last one to swerve, we have to be last to escalate. The last one to lose patience. Why are we in such a hurry if we love what we do?

What we don’t understand about horses is that the problem isn’t their resistance. The problem is that they are more intelligent than we give them credit for. It’s that they try too hard to get along. They want to get it right, not dumbed down by outdated training methods. When we ask for less, we open the door for them to step through and be who they honestly are, which is pretty near perfect already.

But Nube didn’t have that fearful start. He was brave and sensitive. His canter filled an arena, he was intelligent and trusting. The horse of a lifetime, and I was finally good enough to meet him as an equal. He was so much more open with me than other horses I’d known. There was no gap between us.

But with that immense possibility, came the lessons about pain and undiagnosable physical challenges beyond our ability to help. How could this big bold horse be so frail at the same time? How would we find solid ground in a storm of such impossible extremes?

…

Available next week! Undomesticated Women, Anectdotal Evidence from the Road, is my new travel memoir. Ride along with us over 30 states, 2 oceans, and 14k miles with me and my dog, Mister. Available at all online booksellers and from me, at the end of October.

…

If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School.

Anna Blake, Relaxed & Forward

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

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals 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: A Living Lesson in “Less is More” appeared first on Anna Blake.

Horses and Chimpanzees, Or Why Horses Aren’t Cuddlers

 

When I first moved to my farm, I pretended to be Jane Goodall. My land was a high desert prairie, not the jungle, and my species was horses and hers were chimps. But I focused on what we had in common. It was always about curiosity and learning.

I was a kid when I first saw chimps on TV dressed up in clothes and smoking cigars. My feelings jumbled uncomfortably, and I didn’t have the words. I thought maybe I didn’t like chimps. That was silly, of course. What I didn’t like was what humans did to them. I never got the joke. As I got older, I learned about Goodall and the idea of studying animals in their natural habitats. Like most of you, I’ve read dozens of books on all species, from elephants to octopuses, in the years since, but she was the first. In my mind, she is the best.

Chimps have social habits so similar to us that it’s alarming. They cuddle their young, groom and hug each other affectionately, and get angry, facing each other and screaming in a fight. All things we humans do. But then humans and chimps share 98.8 percent of their DNA. We are literally the chimps in clothes, smoking.

Chimps are similar enough to humans that it’s almost acceptable to attribute human characteristics to them. Others were insulted to be compared to chimps. But the slight difference in DNA is huge in reality. One of my favorite videos shows Goodall releasing a chimp, Wounda, after they rehabbed her. Watch this short video. Goodall got to cuddle her species, and for all the horses I’ve rehabbed, I have never gotten a hug like that.

It’s logical. Horses share less than half our DNA, and don’t have arms. They don’t make sounds for language or have hands. They are strictly prey animals, forever in survival mode. Horses are profoundly different in their nature than chimps. Or us.

You might still be certain that even if horses don’t hug me, your horse certainly hugs you. That’s fine. But why is a horse trainer wasting all these words talking about chimps, you ask? I’m coming at an old question from a different perspective. I’m sneaking up from behind.

The Goodall video was romantic and sweet, but it didn’t give enough credit to the years of study Goodall put into learning chimp body language through jungle research. It had to be like an immersive Berlitz course, and it worked partly because Goodall looked a bit like a pasty chimp herself. We shouldn’t judge the vast quantity of work by these few seconds of heavily edited video, as her disclaimer stated, don’t try this at home. That chimp looked strong. Did you see her “rub her teeth” on Jane?

Not complaining, just saying we need to recognize the work behind a video. When we see a video of a beautiful freestyle ride with no bridle, my first thought is that it is a physical testimony of two lives spent in conversation. Not the “before” shot, it represented nothing less than years of communication turned into understanding. Any video is trivializing when you look at it that way. The problem with posting “after” videos is that it gives us a false reality of time. We never see real patience spent. We think we can mimic what they have in minutes.

But horses are more challenging than chimps. Unluckily for us, horses can tell humans aren’t even remotely in the equine family. Though some trainers promote an idea of humans acting like horses. It doesn’t fool horses, who always recognize our differences first. We are predators, something Goodall had in common with her species.

Horses are as different from humans as possible, but we approach them as if they are chimps, more like us than not. We use voice and hands, totally foreign to horses. Often, we separate them from herds and expect them to like us. We’re too loud or too coyote-like, hard to trust. But especially our busy hands, aggressively touching all over them. Horses have no equivalent body part.

But what is our real goal? Mimicking isn’t the same thing as being. Do we think they can’t tell? Pretending to blow out isn’t the same as the profound multi-level message of a big exhale. Horses recognize authenticity. We need to evolve the language we use with horses. Horses won’t understand a verbal please or thank you, if our bodies are accidentally adversarial. We send conflicting messages but then judge horses for their confusion.

Much of this conversation goes on long before we ride. It’s how we greet them. Can we give them a choice right away or do we blunder on? Do we lead politely, trusting them to walk with us or do we tug on the horse’s face, pulling them along? Or do they prefer to follow behind our backs, safe from our confrontational side? Our horses are so overstimulated by our close presence that they close their eyes in avoidance. Do we mistake dread for connection?

Our best way to relate to horses is to become peaceful predators. It isn’t as easy. Being a peaceful predator is being our Sunday-best self. It’s less about what they give us or how they make us feel, and more about how they feel. We have to listen long enough to understand their language. We must at least pay some peace coin before we make suggestions while asking if our horses are here to support our feelings or express their own. Best, can we find a path that achieves both?

It’s instructive to compare horse behavior with monkey behavior. Visualizing those species together gives us a degree of separation. Horses are not our hairy armless children and not our chimps. We might do better with horses by remembering our differences. Horses are incredibly intelligent but we can’t quantify or engage with them authentically as long as we compare them to chimps (us). Gotta let horses be horses.

I’m not trying to ruin your fun. If you want to think your horse hugs and loves you, you certainly can. When we superimpose our emotions over a horse’s, we can miss what they are telling us. Please remember horses are smart enough to come to us for help with pain or anxiety. It isn’t all about hugs to them.

Most horse people consider themselves square pegs. We don’t fit in the round holes in life. But do we treat horses the same way, asking them to go against type and be something less than a horse, less than who they are? Wouldn’t we both benefit more if we rise and meet horses who and where they are rather than making them more like us?

The other monkeys we all saw while growing up were at rodeos or circuses. Clowns had them dressed up in cowboy outfits hanging onto tiny saddles on galloping Border Collies. It’s an unforgettable image. The crowd howled and once again, I honestly missed the joke. Did they think that a bouncing, tense little monkey was steering the dog while his brains got shaken to bits? Or maybe it was meant to be a commentary on humans and horses. That seems the most logical, but then it’s even less funny.

…

Undomesticated Women, Anectdotal Evidence from the Road, is my new travel memoir. Ride along over 30 states, 2 oceans, and 14k miles with me and my dog, Mister. Available at all online booksellers and from me, at the end of October.

…

If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School.

Anna Blake, Relaxed & Forward

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

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals 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 Horses and Chimpanzees, Or Why Horses Aren’t Cuddlers appeared first on Anna Blake.

Riding Lessons: Seeing Your Horse Through New Eyes

A reader request: “I hope you will someday do an article on looking at the horse’s ears and eyes to determine happiness. I see pics of people smiling on horses that are clearly unhappy or in pain or both. It boggles my mind that they are oblivious to it. Just recently saw a photo of someone I know on her very old somewhat debilitated Arab mare – bareback and bridle-less and the horse’s ears were almost flat back.”

The reader is smart to ask me, it’s what I do for a living. Helping riders understand what horses are asking us. But it’s always easy to be a railbird when it comes to other people’s horses. It takes no skill to find faults. Even if we bite our tongues and don’t want to say it, we’re haunted. We feel fine criticizing Olympic riders without posting a video of our riding. It’s open season for criticism. Then, someone in a holier-than-thou voice chimes in that if there’s a rider with no fault, let them first cast a stone. Now we feel guilty for judging, worse for mentioning it, and the horse is still suffering. Encouragement would go further, for horses and riders.

It’s my job to find a cheerful and positive way to tell riders that their horse is in pain or they’re doing something wrong. No one is happy to hear it from me either. But our eyes hurt and we’re no fun anymore. Meaning just like the reader, we’ve developed the ability to read horses’ emotions, written all over their bodies in Calming Signals. Once you see it, you can’t unsee it. Now you live in the actual world of horses, and it isn’t a romantic place. But horses have much more body awareness than we do, and we have some catching up to do. Riding well takes a lifetime to learn.

The only solution to what we see others do on horseback that sounds ethical to me is to fix ourselves. If you believe that being concerned for your horse’s mental health is as important as their physical health, then do the work and lead by example. Then someone with a much-less-holy voice chimes in that it isn’t fair if we get judged. Right again. Every horse is different. Training has to be a priority and it will take energy. If we’ve mainly been training from a chair in the living room, it takes will, vulnerability, and perception to stay the course. There are always good excuses for not training and evolving with your horse. It’s hard work. If you claim the high ground and don’t ride, know that your horse doesn’t differentiate between riding and groundwork. 

A common excuse for not working with a horse is that it’s a solitary path. Even in the middle of a crowd, it’s just you and your horse. It’s hard to stay on track, understand what your horse is doing, and alter the plan to work better. Working with a trainer gives us a guide on the path. It’s often said that riding lessons are the best investment you can make for your horse. I would add that if you don’t feel that way, maybe you haven’t tried it with a good instructor. Yes, it means the rider will feel like a bug under a microscope, but isn’t that what we do watching others? Isn’t it time to finally listen to the horse and learn? 

Want to know my least favorite excuse? Not surprisingly, it’s when someone tells the old story about a bad trainer they tried once and then decided to never work with a trainer again as long as they live. I’ve heard it dozens of times. If it makes you feel better, fine. Meanwhile, the horses are a year older, and our riding hasn’t improved, but it’s still up to us to be the change we want to see. Have you tried serious homeschooling?

Start here: Have a goal because focus is the natural state for a horse, and they like us that way. It isn’t about reaching the goal quickly, it’s about having a destination, not that you care. Having an affirmative plan gives a horse confidence, rather than just lollygagging around aimlessly looking for things to spook at.

Then, let’s put our keen railbird eye to good work. Take your cell phone to a place with a view of your riding area. You can buy a cheap flexible tripod that will grab a post, but the usual twine or duct tape works, too. Or invest in a Pivo. Start the video and move to the mounting block. Notice that you feel self-conscious but let that be a good thing. Maybe you’ll feel something you didn’t know. Just ride for five minutes, short and sweet, and climb down. Transfer the video to a large-screen computer or watch it on your TV, not your phone. 

Make some popcorn. The first dozen times you watch the video, just see the horse. On one viewing, just his eyes. Next, his ears, nothing else. Then watch only his muzzle. Then just his poll. Don’t multitask here, just watch one thing and rewind. You are learning to focus. Then his tail. The length of his stride, how his hooves hit the ground. Is he lifting his back? Scrutinize every “word” your horse says. Don’t tell a story for him, let him have his own voice. Listen with your eyes. Movement is life to a horse.

The second dozen times you watch it, isolate parts of your body. Notice your shoulders, notice your jaw. Are your arms elastic? How is your energy level, are your sit bones communicating? Let your thighs be relaxed. Could you ride with an egg under your knee? Are your ankles soft? Can you feel your little toe on the stirrup? Does any part of your body restrict the movement of your horse? Could your body encourage your horse’s stride to be energetic and relaxed? Can you give your horse a massage during a ride, by systematically warming up one area of his body at a time?

Am I nitpicking? Let’s ask your horse, sensitive enough to feel a fly. You can homeschool your riding, but you can’t trust your brain. Luckily, we have instant replay. Improve your riding so you are easier for your horse to carry. Work affirmatively with your horse, no corrections. Do the same with yourself.

And if you have questions, be courageous. Ask for help. A virtual lesson can be live if there is Wi-Fi in the barn, but sharing videos in Zoom is highly effective as well. Since the beginning of COVID-19, I’ve given riding lessons around the globe, and the horses have blossomed. They like working from home, and people make incredible progress in online courses. And it isn’t just me. Technology makes it possible to work with anyone you like. There is no distance between us now. Horses like that there is no trailering involved.

One favor, please. If you want to complain about nasty trainers, well, no argument. They exist, but there are way more good trainers who sit up late working on how to help their riders. If you don’t believe it, send me (or any trainer you like) your video and schedule a lesson.

This whole subject isn’t about humans. We chatter on, but it’s about equine welfare. Isn’t it time to skip the new saddle pad and instead, invest in your horse by investing in yourself?

…

Undomesticated Women, Anectdotal Evidence from the Road, is my new travel memoir. Ride along over 30 states, 2 oceans, and 14k miles with me and my dog, Mister. Available at all online booksellers and from me, at the end of October.

…

If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School.

Anna Blake, Relaxed & Forward

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

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals 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 Riding Lessons: Seeing Your Horse Through New Eyes appeared first on Anna Blake.

Nube: How a Horse Taught Me a Canter Cue

The short version is that my horse poked me in my sit bone, which isn’t possible, is it? But let’s start at the beginning because both my Grandfather Horse and Nube are gone now. And it’s fall, that bittersweet season. 

A friend had asked to ride my Grandfather Horse. He was just Spirit then, a young horse. He was never an easy ride, always quirky and sensitive. I was a lesson-taking fanatic because this horse required me to ride in a polite tone, but he also tolerated kids with such grace. My friend climbed on, and I stood in the middle of the arena. Spirit moved forward like a drunken sailor swerving all over the place, flipping his head and twisting his body while I blinked. My friend complained my horse wasn’t doing it right. It was a hard lesson for me to learn, but horses do pretty much what we ask. Spirit was young and didn’t like being ordered about. That never changed, but my riding did, and this was how I found out I was making headway.

I spent every non-work moment with a laser focus on my riding, taking a few lessons a week, climbing on as many other horses as I could. I read, watched videos, and other people’s lessons, asked endless questions. I was insufferable. Now, for the first time, I had the view from the middle of the arena, a place I live now.

I could see my friend’s shoulders come forward just an inch or so, his torso leaning to bank a turn. Most of all, I could see his hands stop my horse at the same instant his legs kicked. Finally, Spirit planted his hooves and glared. My friend said he didn’t want to ride in an arena anyway, couldn’t he just take my horse out and gallop across the ranch? We had a view west toward the front range of the Rockies. He knew it would go differently out there, he said. He was right about that, he’d be eating yucca in no time, and I asked him to get down.

My friend wasn’t cruel. He rode like most folks who haven’t had lessons. At worst, he thought there was no real skill involved. Riding was just exercise for the horse, wasn’t it?

The incident didn’t stop me from sharing my horse. My horses aren’t fragile; they can take a few moments of insensitive riding. Spirit was more of a truth-teller than most, but it’s how we learn. No one starts out riding well. In years to come, friends learned flying changes with his patience. And many little girls sent drawings to thank him for a thing that I still don’t have a name for. Horses are always more than a ride.

The problem that day was me. I was changing. It wasn’t that I had great hands; it was that I knew I didn’t. I was beginning to understand the art of riding was not intuitive. There’s nothing natural about riding horses. Legs shouldn’t grip, and hands shouldn’t pull. At the least, I should have been able to tell what my body was doing, but no luck there either. My mentor could canter the speed of a walk on a slack rein, and I had never wanted anything as that; to ride so smoothly and energetically. It wasn’t about what she could make a horse do, it was how she inspired them.

So while other women were raising kids, I was taking hundreds of lessons and learning to ride. It was always me who was in training, listening to the horse, trusting their message, and trying to expand my awareness. To this day, when I hear someone say they outgrew a horse, I do not know how it’s possible. Maybe it’s easier to keep changing horses rather than ourselves.

Finally, about this canter cue. I had been riding Nube for less than a year. He was a green horse, athletic and still finding his balance. But his communication skills had always been over the top. We were warming up, and usually, he set the rhythm. On that day, he didn’t. He wasn’t off, but his balance wasn’t quite there. I thought I’d be the metronome. We needed a beat. Not remotely musical, I imagined the aria Habanera from Carmen. It was crazy. I didn’t know it; I certainly didn’t sing it. Frankly, I don’t even like opera. Out of nowhere, I imagined the first line silently repeated on a loop. Dat, dat, dah-dot…. It was only a thought, but Nube picked up a wild march. I must have been thinking as loud as a high school marching band with a row of cymbals. I toned my thoughts down and he settled into an exaggerated slow trot, one I didn’t know he had. He lifted his back. There was no concussion to his stride. We floated.

My friend those years ago, and myself just then, both got just what we asked for. 

Horses hate being over-cued. Spirit had broken me of the habit and wasn’t about to go back when my friend rode him. My riding improved over the years, and by the time I was on Nube, my cues were more energy than action. When I asked for a canter, it was an inhale and a thought. That was when he poked me in my inside sit bone suggestively. I know anatomy. He had nothing to poke me with. It was impossible, but then he did it again. 

It was a subtle poke, almost a soft ask for a bit more room. So, I breathed into my sit bone to soften it. I was aware it was no more possible to melt a sit bone than he could poke me, but I was a student and used to taking cues from horses. As the bone softened, I felt him lift me in a brand-new effortless way. It wasn’t surrendering to the horse, it was collaborating. Even a young horse knows how to do that.

Don’t we always want to pick up where we left off with the previous horse, impatient to ride those advanced movements again? Nube was green and it would take years to build his strength. At least my ears were in my sit bones, where they belonged. Riding isn’t about being body-loud and bossy, or sitting as lifeless as a rock. It’s about meeting in a place of energy. Once a rider understands that, any ride on any horse goes better. Nube got a hand-me-down rider, and it meant we could skip the mud-wrestling part because I didn’t start it.

Riding well is the most eloquent intimate conversation we can have with a horse. Some people think we should never ride horses because of the brutality of some riders. I wonder why we aren’t inspired to study the beautiful classical art of riding. To learn to ride the inside of a horse, listening with the inside of our body. If you love horses, prioritize riding lessons.

Even now, I still feel Nube. Sitting squarely in a chair, my sit bone involuntarily softens. It’s the left one, like that first time, and then my left pelvic bone melts forward, not even visible. I feel Nube rise beneath me, like a dolphin rises from the water, to lift me into the air, gently toss me up, and catch me again, stride after stride.

Ride in a way that neither of you ever want to end.

…

If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School.

My latest book is due to be released

Anna Blake, Relaxed & Forward

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

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals 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: How a Horse Taught Me a Canter Cue appeared first on Anna Blake.

Balancing Energy with a Horse

Is your horse lazy? Lazy is a name we call horses when we want to denigrate them by comparing them to humans. That must be it because laziness is a human quality. I’ve never seen a lazy horse; no image comes to mind. The word has a meanness about it, an insult meant to shame. “You lazy no-good….” The words just go together.

So, I looked it up. These are the first five synonyms of lazy in the dictionary: apathetic, lethargic, dull, inattentive, and indifferent. Those words are not mean, they are signs of pain or illness. This is truly what I think first when people tell me their horse is lazy. Pain is the most logical reason for a flight animal to not want to go forward.

This is a kind reminder that many “training issues” are actually physical issues, so please make sure. Don’t guess, get your horse checked out, and the saddle fit. See if the horse changes when you ride in a neck ring and don’t use the bit. Easier, just give the horse time off. You aren’t letting your horse be lazy, you’re letting him heal, whether mentally or physically. Horses are not deceptive tricksters. Like laziness, that’s a human trait.

If after making sure your horse is sound, you still feel that your horse’s energy is lacking, consider the idea of creating an internal energy that could balance with your horse’s. Not that one of you is right or wrong, but just neutralizing emotion and looking for balance.

Sound horses who are energetically demonstrative are easier to counterbalance. Their anxiety is obvious, we can usually slow down and find the cause. Start by slowing our body, emphasizing our exhale. We can create a safe place for a horse to take a breath and relax. Horses look for that safety. It won’t happen all at once, but as your habit of breathing and slowing gets more consistent, the horse will follow.

Balancing energy with a stoic horse is more complicated. It isn’t a coincidence that they are the ones we think are lazy, but before we go there, what is your energy like? We can be loud when we don’t know it. Horses have such acute senses that a normal indoor voice can be rude. If we add a hurry to our request, the cue gets louder, and many horses are conflict-avoidant. Then the louder we get, the more shut down the horse becomes. We never intended to be intimidating, but for a horse’s size, it’s pretty easy to do.

But then stoic horses don’t like the opposite, bubbly giggles and bouncy energy. We can be alarming when we cackle and even abrasive in our rattling enthusiasm, any shy horse will tell you. It’s as if we embarrass them with our giddy humor. And we have those alarming high-pitched siren voices, sure to jangle the Zen.

Maybe you are the timid sort, not prone to peels of laughter or frustrated rants. Maybe you are even more still than a stoic horse, just watching quietly. Just observing the herd without saying a word. Kind of unnatural for a human, a horse might think, almost more like a coyote. And the stoic horse is stalking you back now, hiding his worry.

Or you have done it right, stood and waited for your horse to choose. You want to do the Affirmative Training thing, but honestly, it’s boring standing around waiting. You might even long for the days when a whip ended the stalemate. Your brows furrow like a used Kleenex, thinking for the money you spend, you deserve better. Being bored is simple on the surface, but there’s resentment just below. Ask any sullen teenager, especially the ones who are certain they’ve done nothing wrong.

Understand that a fair percentage of the “energetically demonstrative” horses started out being stoic but got anxious because of all the weird energy we have. Some of the more stoic horses got stressed out by us always trying to slow them down and calm them out of being spooky. It’s an unbalanced ball of twine, and it’s enough to make an already unbalanced (having horses puts us in that category) person take up needlepoint. Egad. Something has to give.

Start here: Give up trying to control your horse. It’s impossible. They can’t change their instincts to please us. Give your horse room to breathe and settle himself. Does that sound too simple? It will take the time it takes for a horse to self-soothe. Simple doesn’t mean easy. It requires patience to let a horse heal their issues and find confidence. The most we can do is stop distracting them by adding stress.

Look inside and instead of focusing on the things to not be, like intimidating, flapping, timid, or bored, let go of being wrong. It’s easy to blame yourself, but it isn’t helping. Our body language squeals on us, we reek of the past. So let it go with no more apologies. Put the knife down and have some chocolate. Stop looking for fault everywhere. It sounds idiotically simple. Want to know what’s so hard about being affirmative?

A horse’s survival instinct is to run, spook, and be aware of everything with a life-and-death focus. We know that, but did you know our instinct is similar? It’s called Negativity Bias meaning “Our tendency to pay more attention to bad things and overlook good things is likely a result of evolution. Earlier in human history, paying attention to bad, dangerous, and negative threats in the world was literally a matter of life and death. Those who were more attuned to danger and who paid more attention to the bad things around them were more likely to survive.”

You know what that means, right? We have our own sort of flight response; we spook and bolt in human ways. We are as fearful as horses, but we have enough self-awareness to make up stories (excuses) or blame the horse. If there is such a thing as human privilege, we could use it better. Our self-awareness gives us a choice in the middle of a panic that horses don’t have. We can choose a response in spite of our emotions. We can be a leader a horse wants, moving toward safety and dominating with compassion. And boom!

It’s the meaning of Peaceful Persistence. We practice a consistent attitude that remains light. We balance the horse’s natural negativity, their survival instinct, by being optimistic. It’s serious work because it doesn’t come naturally. We have to teach ourselves to smile, soften our foreheads, and release our body’s tensions. It takes practice to see only the good and let go of our dark limitations. Some people are drawn to affirmative training because they don’t want to pick fights with horses, only to find this inner challenge. Railbirds are critical, thinking we’re permissive but they miss the point. We are courageously changing who we are. So yes, it takes us the time it takes, too. Simple still doesn’t mean easy, but humans and horses both seek safety. Call it peace or any fancy word you want. The first two synonyms for safety are security and freedom. The fine line between those two words is the elusive harmony we seek.

The balance we want with horses is inside us. We must become the thing we seek. Affirm the perfection of the moment and ignore the rest. Simply release your horse forward, grateful for the first step, without a blink of concern. Then let your horse be beautiful.

…

If you appreciate what I do, please Subscribe to this blog or join us at The Barn School.

Anna Blake, Relaxed & Forward

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

Anna teaches ongoing courses like Calming Signals 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 Balancing Energy with a Horse appeared first on Anna Blake.