Bumps in the Road

I have to admit that I came home pretty discouraged from the clinic I attended last week. After working hard all summer to improve my horsemanship, my confidence and my emotional fitness, things just didn’t go well for me and I found myself wondering just where I am headed on this journey toward becoming a better horsewoman. Actually, it has been a difficult year for me so far. Sonny, my levels horse (actually my only horse), has been lame on and off since April. After hundreds of dollars in vet and farrier bills, I have only managed to get him sound if he is going in a straight line and on firm ground. He cannot circle to the right without limping and he has difficulty when he is in any kind of sand arena. I’ve pretty much come to the conclusion that his Parelli journey is over and he is destined to become a trail horse. I’m sure that would be fine with Sonny. He is LBI and loves go to out on trails. Unfortunately, there are no trails to ride on at my current, relatively Parelli friendly barn and I can’t afford a truck and trailer so changing his career would mean moving him to another barn which is not a happy prospect for me. And being retired, I can’t afford a second horse. My wonderful, local Parelli instructor, Jane Bartsch, volunteered to allow me to ride her levels horse, Lynn, so I could continue my lessons this summer. I started riding Lynn six weeks after undergoing knee replacement surgery and after a bumpy beginning, began to make some real progress, particularly with bridleless riding at the canter. Although I was still having trouble consistently getting a right lead with Lynn, (my left leg is still somewhat weak as a result of knee replacement surgery in June) I was pretty consistently getting soft canter departures in both directions and I thought I had overcome my anxiety. Jane agreed to let me take Lynn to the clinic and I was hopeful that my new found confidence with the canter would translate into better performance in the clinic setting. I planned to meet Jane and Lynn at the clinic location on the evening before the beginning of the clinic in order to ride Lynn once in the arena before the clinic started. I was hoping to give myself a little confidence boost by practicing some canter departures and perhaps even some bowtie pattern. Things seemed to get off track immediately. I arrived at the arena in Fredericka, Delaware, only to discover that Carol Coppinger was doing some individual sessions with clinic participants on the evening before the first day of the clinic. Rather than being able to ride Lynn, I found myself in a private, on-line session with Carol, where she gave me a friendly reminder that everything I did with Jane’s horse could be teaching her bad habits. Don’t get me wrong. One of the things I like best about attending Carol Coppinger’s clinics is that you get private time with her to work on any issue you might have. Carol is a wonderful instructor and it has always struck me that she cares deeply about both her students and their horses. But her comment to me during my individual session set off alarms in my head, All summer I have had a concern in the back of my mind that through my inexperience, I might be in some way be doing Lynn harm. Now Carol had brought up that very issue. Had she seen something during my session that raised her concern? I had some nice moments during the three days of the clinic. My on line work with Lynn was spot on and during the liberty sessions, she stuck to me line a burr on a dog. But my riding left a lot to be desired. I was uncomfortable riding in the crowded arena and felt like I never got Lynn warmed up adequately. I never relaxed and neither did Lynn. As a result, I was overly dependent on using the neck string when we trotted and I felt completely uncomfortable at the canter. My worst moment came on the second day during my next private session with Carol. I wanted to work on my canter departures and I explained to Carol the problems I was having with the right lead. To show her where I was, I asked Lynn to canter off on the left lead, we got a smooth departure, cantered a circle and came back to the center of the arena. Then I asked Lynn to canter off to the right. I got a nice departure but it was still a left lead. Carol told me to take away the lead and then ask again. We worked on it for 20 minutes and I never once got the lead. Everyone was watching. Lynn and I were never in harmony. She needed to move her feet and I was trying to slow her down. I became increasingly frustrated which was upsetting Lynn. Finally I just quit and left the arena. I felt like a complete failure. By the end of the clinic, rather than feeling energized and excited about what came next, I was feeling completely dejected. I’ve been struggling with level 3 freestyle riding for several years and my issue has always been cantering bridleless. I don’t feel comfortable and at my age (going on 65) I wonder if it isn’t too much of a stretch for me. I’ve been trying so hard to achieve the goal of level 3 freestyle that riding has become work and I just don’t seem to be having fun anymore. It was in this frame of mind that I went out to see Sonny on the Tuesday after the clinic. He and his pasture mates were at the far end of the field and I almost didn’t have the energy to walk out to get him but I had driven all the way to the barn so I figured that I should probably at least check to see if he was OK. When I got most of the way out to the little group of horses pastured with Sonny, he disengaged from the herd and headed in my direction. Once he was haltered, I started back toward the barn with Sonny in tow, pushing at my pockets for treats. After my debacle at the clinic, I didn’t want to ride so I thought I might try to play with Sonny at liberty. It was windy and I was too cold to play in the round pen so I took him into the indoor arena and removed his halter. I’ve never had much success in the past keeping Sonny with me in a large arena so I wasn’t expecting much. I brought the green ball into the arena and started to walk with it. Sonny trailed along. Then I rolled it toward him and he pushed it with his nose, a promising start. Since Sonny seemed to be sticking to me, I played some yo-yo game walking and then trotting forward then stopping and backing up. Sonny stayed right with me. I thought I would try a figure 8 pattern. I put out two cones and positioned him between them. When I backed him away and tried to send him in a circle, he started to leave. Remembering something Carol had said during the clinic about not making the horse feel wrong, I just went with him. We trotted a circle together and ended up at a cone. Sonny picked up the cone and looked at me. I started to smile. I tried the figure 8 again. Instead of circling the cone and heading back in my direction, Sonny went sideways to the wall of the arena and then looked at me. I called him back and started again. This time he started to circle me at a trot. After a few circles I brought him in to me and gave him a cookie. By this time we had drifted away from the cones. When I started to trot back toward the cones, Sonny veered away from me, popped over a jump, turned to face me and then trotted right to me. By this time I was laughing out loud. I threw my arms around his neck and thanked him for giving me back the energy I had lost during the clinic. At Fast Track, head instructor John Barr often said that becoming a natural horseman was a journey and that at any time, each of us was exactly where we needed to be on the path. This year in my desire to reach level 3, I had lost sight of the ultimate goal and forgotten that there were bound to be some bumps in the road. It took the playful energy of my big red horse to remind me why I started on this journey. I may never be comfortable with bridleless riding and ultimately that is OK because with each lesson I take and each clinic I attend, I build a stronger relationship with my horse and I am more able to make the world a better place for both horses and people.

Building a Relationship One Cookie at a Time My horse, Sonny, has been lame on an off all summer. It is a mysterious lameness, presenting with no heat or swelling and after hundreds of dollars in vet and farrier bills we seem to be no closer to resolving the issue. Sonny goes relatively sound in a straight line so he is OK for trail riding but the minute I put him on a circle he limps. Unfortunately this has put a big crimp in my progress toward passing my level 3 freestyle assessment so in order for me to continue making progress toward this goal, 2 Star Parelli instructor, Jane Bartsch, with whom I take a weekly lesson, offered to let me ride her levels horse, Lynn, for my lessons. Lynn, a 15 year old appaloosa mare, has a lot of good points as a lesson horse for me. She has lots of Parelli mileage on her and is well beyond the level 3 skills in her development. She is smaller than Sonny and has a nice rocking horse canter that Sonny lacks. She also has high obedience and I felt quite confident in riding her only six weeks after knee replacement surgery. In fact, the only drawback, from my perspective, was that she was a mare. I think it is important to explain here that I have a bit of prejudice against mares that comes from some early bad experiences. One of my very first horse riding experiences was on a mare owned by a classmate of mine in grade school. The mare was a pig eyed little bay that knew immediately I was a beginner. Almost as soon as my seat hit the saddle, she ran off with me, dumping me on the way back to the barn. Her owner was most apologetic, explaining to me that the mare was “in season”. I broke a wrist in the fall and while it didn’t put me off horses, it did sensitize me to mares and not in a good way. Through the years I’ve had more encounters that were less than pleasant. My first horse, Max, shared a pasture with a mare, who would charge me whenever I came in the field to get him. That was way before I had ever heard of Parelli and I took to carrying a lunge whip when I was around her. At the rescue where I worked, I was bitten several times by the director’s mare, an animal that seemed always to be trying to tell me there was only one head mare at the rescue and it wasn’t me! Maybe they sensed my prejudice as an uneasiness in my approach to them, but it had become clear to me that with mares, my relationship building skills were sorely lacking. So while I was extremely pleased that Jane offered to let me ride Lynn in lessons, I knew from the get go that if I was going to be successful, I would need to work really hard to build a positive relationship with her mare. Like Sonny, Lynn is LBI so at least I knew I had lots of experience working with the LBI horsenality. At our first lesson, Jane had Lynn all saddled and ready to go when I arrived. “You better get some cookies,” Jane said, indicating a bucket of treats inside of the tack room door. “Lynn also likes to be scratched, particularly on her belly and around her teats.” When I approached Lynn and offered her the back of my hand, she didn’t turn her head in my direction but just looked at me out of the side of her eye. I waited for her to sniff my hand before giving her a scratch on the neck and withers. She tolerated me but I could tell she wasn’t really pleased. I fed her a cookie. That resulted in a slight softening of her eye. It wasn’t much but it was something. Jane is always telling me what a beautiful expression Sonny has and after my first lesson with Lynn, I understood why. Sonny is a true LBI. He is argumentative and stubborn and easily bored but he has a sunny personality and when you are playing with him he almost always comes in to you with his ears forward, looking pleased, as if he had just spotted a long lost friend. Lynn on the other hand, reminded me of a crabby, spinster librarian, whose expression of disapproval was sure to silence the most boisterous of library patrons. Coming toward me, her ears weren’t pinned but they were back and the message was clear. You’re not the boss of me! After our first lesson, I decided that if I was going to build a relationship with Lynn, then I would need a strategy. I started carrying horse cookies in the car so that my pockets could be full for every lesson. I came to lessons early, so I could be the one to curry Lynn before she was saddled. I concentrated on finding all of those itchy spots where she loved to be scratched. I started each lesson by warming her up on line and I tried to be really pleased with her. I smiled at her. Remembering that it pays to have a sense of humor with an LBI, I laughed when she was doing something a little bit dominant or defiant. I made sure to let her rest occasionally. I tried never to let her come to me with her ears back. As the weeks went on, Lynn began to respond. She was having trouble maintaining her standoffish attitude when there were so many cookies involved. She actually began looking for a cookie after she had done something particularly difficult or clever. She let me hold her head and pet her muzzle whenever I switched her from halter to bridle. She began to lean into me when I stopped to give her a scratch. Most of the time, when I turned her out after our lesson, she would stand with me for a few moments before walking off to say hello to Jane’s half Arabian gelding with whom she shares a fence line. After one recent lesson I remarked to Jane that I was beginning to think maybe mares weren’t so bad after all! Jane tells me that she thinks I am doing really well in developing my relationship with Lynn, so well in fact, that she offered to let me take Lynn to Carol Coppinger’s upcoming clinic this October in Frederica, Delaware. I’m excited to have the opportunity and I’m looking forward to seeing what Carol thinks of our budding relationship. Horses, like people, are individuals and just like there is something to be learned from each person we meet, each horse also has the potential to provide a lesson if we are only receptive enough to perceive it. But the prejudices we hold cripple us by reducing our receptivity to these potentials in both horses and people. I had some early bad experiences with mares and I had used those experiences to paint all mares with the same message. Mares are difficult. I’ve even often told people that I would never own a mare. And yet this summer’s experiences with Lynn have finally opened my eyes to their potential. If, and I hope it is not the case, I cannot resolve Sonny’s lameness issues, I will need to look for a new horse with which to continue my Parelli journey. This time my search criteria will not exclude mares.

The Value of a Great Instructor I’m a learning junkie. So naturally, when I was introduced four years ago to Parelli Natural Horsemanship, I was attracted to Pat’s principle of never ending self-improvement. In the beginning I watched every video and read every article I could get my hands on and I have been fortunate along this journey to have attended Fast Track at the Parelli Center in Florida and to have taken clinics with such wonderful professionals as 6 Star Master Instructor Carol Coppinger, 5 Star Master Instructor John Barr and his wife 4 Star Senior Instructor Kathy. But lately, as I have been reflecting on my progress, I’ve come to realize that the person who has been most valuable in helping me along the way is my local Parelli professional, 2 Star Junior Instructor Jane Bartsch. Like many fortunate coincidences, Jane came into my life at exactly the right time. I had been introduced to Parelli by the director of the horse rescue where I was volunteering my time and with the help of a set of tapes, I was working my way through the old level one program. While I had lots of chances to practice horse handling with the rescue horses, I was using my own horse, Sonny, a big, easy going LBI paint gelding as my levels horse and he was proving to be a challenging subject for me. I had recently retired from a 28 year career in corporate America, spending much of that time in supervisory positions, and I was used to having people do what I told them to do. I was now working with a clever but stubborn, easily bored, food oriented, argumentative 1200 pound animal who seemed to understand how to press my buttons in a way that no human subordinate ever had. To make matters worse, unlike my previous horse, a RBI who actually seemed happy to see me when I arrived at the barn, Sonny could have cared less whether I was there or not. I was the food lady, good for a treat now and then but generally not all that interesting. There were many times that I wasn’t sure if I should be laughing or crying with frustration. Because I had done a fair amount of organizational development during my corporate days, I prided myself on my ability to self-observe my mental and emotional state and self-correct during interactions. And while I had grown pretty skilled at interpreting non-verbal feedback from my peers and subordinates at work, reading Sonny was another matter altogether after making some early progress with him, I was pretty well stuck. Fortunately this is where Jane entered the picture. I first met Jane when she came to the rescue to do a horse handling demonstration with her levels horse, Lynn. Watching her working in such harmony with her horse was a revelation to me and I sidled over to the fence to ask her some questions. When I found out that Lynn, who was responding to Jane’s slightest suggestions, was also a LBI, I knew immediately that Jane was the perfect person to help me with Sonny. Jane and I are polar opposites in personality, where I am talkative and outgoing, she is more reserved, but we meshed immediately when I began taking a weekly lesson. I had made good progress with Sonny playing the seven games on line but my skills were not at all refined. Rather than providing a lot of up front instruction, Jane observed and then suggested small refinements in technique that led to big improvements in results. In a typical lesson, she would sit on the fence and suggest an exercise. Then she would watch me play with Sonny, suggest a change and watch me play again. Through her suggestions, I began to develop a sense of feel and to get much lighter and more subtle in my communication with Sonny. Slowly my ability to read horse behavior and to communicate through body language improved. I had much less confidence in my skills riding Sonny and Jane was always able to recognize and respect my thresholds. She was really good at walking the fine line between pushing me forward while not sending me so far out into my comfort zone that I became frightened. She helped me recognize how my nervousness was affecting Sonny’s ability to relax, and how to adjust what I was doing to reduce the resultant brace between us. As my skills developed, Jane allowed me to self-direct my lessons. She provided constant encouragement and when I got discouraged, she would remind me how far I both Sonny and I had come in our development. Her support reached me even when I was attending Fast Track. After the first week I was so tired and sore I didn’t think I could continue but Jane’s e-mail pep talks kept me focused on my goals and helped me look past my discomfort. One of Pat Parelli’s keys to success is support. The program has wonderful tools to help students with their development, but there is only so much you can gain from going to the occasional clinic, watching DVD’s and reading articles. In my opinion, the best possible support is a knowledgeable instructor you can see on a regular basis, someone who understands your goals and recognizes your progress, someone who encourages you to test your limits and provides you with instant feedback. This spring I passed level 3 liberty audition with Sonny and I just recently submitted my level 3 on line audition. Jane is now helping me refine my bridleless riding and I hope to submit my level 3 freestyle audition soon. I know that without Jane’s help, I wouldn’t have made it this fare so I want to say publically, “Thank you, Jane Bartsch”. You have certainly proved to me the value of having a great instructor right here in Delaware.

Calm in the Eye of the Storm I’m a take charge kind of person and have always been good in a crisis. I think quickly on my feet, am not afraid to give orders and expect that people will respond appropriately when I do. That being said, I have been known to lose my temper when the people around me are being more hindrance than help and can bark out commands with enough authority to bring most grown men quickly to heel. This tendency has served me well in any number of situations. At the first University of Delaware football game after 9/11, an argument broke out between the Delaware fans sitting in front of me and some fans of the opposing team sitting two rows down. Fueled by too much beer and the tension everyone was feeling, the situation quickly got out of hand and was about to erupt into a fight. I jumped into the fray and pulling myself up to my full 5’6’’hight, grabbed and practically lifted a burly 6 footer off his feet. “We are not doing this. Not today”, I growled. “Now sit down! All of you!” The fans around me came to a complete stop and the fellow who had started the brouhaha dropped his head and mumbled “I’m sorry man. I wasn’t thinking.” Years of working with horses, however, has taught me that what works well with people in a crisis seldom works well with horses. Getting angry and growling will send most horses running, either physical or mentally, for cover and I’ve had to work hard on myself to develop the ability to maintain an inner calm when things around me are going to hell in a hand basket. This was put to the test last week by a horse in our barn named Rafalco. Rafalco, or Ralphie as we all call him, is the one horse at our barn training to be a big time show horse. A chestnut Adonis of a horse, Ralph is a 17.2 hand Hanoverian that reminds me of Linda Parelli’s late horse West Point. Ralph shares a pasture with my horse, Sonny, and I have developed a great fondness for him. Raised mostly by hand after his mother died when he was young, Ralph has a playful disposition and is people oriented. He is always the first horse to greet me when I come into the field and will follow me around like a puppy. Because he is so big (when he puts his head on my chest it covers me from chin to crotch) I have spent some time playing with him at liberty in the field teaching him to respect my space and can get him to back away from me by wagging my finger. But I always carry a cookie for him and never fail to stop and give him a good scratch, so we have developed a pretty good relationship. The last couple of months have been tough ones for Ralph. He was shipped off to the New Bolton Center to have two benign tumors removed from his neck. The tumors were more extensive than were anticipated and although the surgery was a success, the wound opened up after surgery leaving a puckered and unsightly scar along his beautiful neck. Then he came up with a mysterious and difficult to diagnose lameness. Between the operation and the lameness, Ralph has been relegated to stall rest for the past six weeks and the only time he gets out of his stall is if someone hand grazes him while his stall is being cleaned. Because I felt bad that Ralph has been so confined, I had taken to arriving at the barn in the morning just as stalls were being cleaned so I could give him a little break. Despite that fact that he has been stuck in his stall day after day, he’s never tried to break away from me, being much more interested in getting a few mouthfuls of grass. I don’t have a rope halter big enough to fit Ralph’s huge head and I usually grab my 12 foot line before I take him out of his stall but last Tuesday, I was in a bit of a hurry and I just used the line attached to his leather halter. Almost as soon as we were out of the barn, I realized I had made a mistake. The line was very short and also very rough so it was difficult for me to allow Ralph any drift as he was grazing. Rather than drag him back into the barn so that I could retrieve my 12 foot line, I decided to let him graze toward the other end of the barn since Sonny’s stall is by the far door. Unfortunately, just as we rounded the corner, Bree, our barn manager, rounded the other corner dragging the manure wagon, startling Ralph. Ralph’s horsenality is definitely extroverted, and although I think it is mostly LBE he can go right brained pretty quickly. With incredible athletic ability and the reflexes of a cat, he launched himself into the air, twisted 90 degrees and landed on his hind feet. Faced with this display of airs above the ground and holding only the shortest and roughest of leads, I had no choice by to release the line. Ralph took off running and my heart sank into my stomach. All I could think of at that point was that he would hurt himself and it would be my fault. Fortunately, he ran directly toward our back fence that boarders on the thoroughbred farm next door and he came to a stop right in front of the open gate to a long narrow paddock that we use for isolating new horses. By this time Bree and I, along with a half dozen young thoroughbreds from the farm next door, were all sprinting in Ralph’s direction. As the thoroughbreds flashed by, Ralph dashed through the paddock gate and chased them down the fence line to the end of the paddock, where he pulled up short, wild eyed and snorting. Then he started back toward us, head up, tail in a classic “j”, ripping along in an elevated, extended trot that would make most Grand Prix dressage riders drool. He looked to me like Alexander the Great’s massive stallion, Bucephalas, charging into battle. I took a deep breath, stepped into the paddock and closed the gate as he thundered toward me. “Do you really want to be in there with him?” Bree asked as this fire breathing dragon of a horse bore down on me. “I’ll be OK”, I answered, and staying close to the fence, I walked a little further out into the paddock. It was clear to both of us that Ralph’s adrenaline was flowing. He skidded to a stop at the fence and whirled around and called to the young thoroughbreds. He didn’t even look at me when I offered him the back of my hand, then he took off again for the far end of the paddock. “I better go get a bucket of grain”, Bree said turning toward the barn, “or we are never going to catch him.” “Wait a minute” I called after her. “I think he’ll come to me”. I was breathing deeply and trying to center myself into a calm space. I was sure that if I could project calm energy, Ralph would feel it and come to me. He thundered back toward me and stopped, head up, blowing hard. This time, when I extended the back of my hand, he stretched his nose toward me. He was still a couple of body lengths away from me but his ears were pinned forward toward me, so holding my hand out, I took three steps in his direction, muttering to him softly, “It’s OK, Bub, you’re OK.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly in a sigh. He stretched his beautiful, long neck, touched his nose to my hand and then he sighed. The thoroughbreds in our neighbor’s field continued to race around but despite Ralph’s energy still being up, he chose to stay with me. He dropped his head and started to graze but ever four or five bites he would pick up his head and touch me with his nose. It was like he was saying, “Hey, not sure what came over me there a minute ago, but I’m back in our herd of two.” He continue to blow and shake his head, but I as I stroked his neck and back, I could feel the excitement drain out of him. By the time Bree was finished cleaning and rebedding his stall, Ralph walked quietly back to the barn none the worse for wear. There are any number of lessons to be learned from this little adventure. For example, it is yet another demonstration of how important it is to have the right tools (rope halter and appropriate line) for the job even when the job is something as insignificant as hand grazing a horse. I’m sure that I would have been able to allow Ralph enough drift and not lost the line when first launched himself into the air. It also reminded me of the responsibility you take on when you touch someone else’s horse. Fortunately, Ralph wasn’t injured during his bid for freedom but he could have been and it would have been my fault. I think the most important lesson, however, is one about emotional fitness or how important it is to keep your head in the game when all about you are losing theirs. If I had panicked when Ralph took off, I would never have gotten him to come to me. Right brained as he was at that moment, Ralph needed calm in the eye of his mental storm. Because I was able to take myself to a calm place inside of me, he was able to see me as a safe port and I was able to catch him before he aggravated this mysterious injury that has kept him stall bound for the past 6 weeks. Ralph has an appointment for an MRI this week and hopefully his owner will finally discover the cause of his lameness. In the meantime, I’m happy to be able to give him a little break each morning. It’s doing us both a world of good.

Finding The Teachable Moment

I’m the only Parelli student at my barn and from the beginning my behavior was considered somewhat eccentric. Nevertheless everyone was friendly and no one seemed to criticize my odd ways so I felt accepted into the barn fellowship quickly after arriving with Sonny two summers ago. Despite feeling strongly that natural horsemanship was the best way to develop both a rider and a horse, I was careful in the beginning not to offer suggestions or proselytize to other boarders. I was hoping that eventually the progress I made with Sonny would elicit enough interest that at least a few of my fellow boarders would begin to ask questions, giving me the opportunity to explain how a more natural approach can build a stronger horse/rider partnership. I try always to stay alert to that “teachable moment” when someone stops asking the ‘what’ question and moves on to the ‘why’. I have one specific behavior in working with Sonny that has generated a lot of ‘what’ questions in the past two years. Sonny is a LBI and he has a lot of opposition reflect that has to be overcome before he is willing to play. As a result, I am very sensitive to making sure that he chooses to come to me when we first start out a session. It doesn’t matter if he is in his stall or out in the field, I never just walk up to him and throw a halter on him. When he is in his stall, I open the door and wait at the doorway for him to come over to me. Sometimes he comes right away, sometimes it takes a few moments and sometimes he’ll stand ignoring me for several minutes until he is ready to amble over in the hopes of scoring a cookie. If he is out in the pasture and doesn’t start toward the gate when I open it, I will often mosey about halfway to where he is grazing and then sit down along the fence and wait for him to come over. This has created so funny moments at the farm when more than one of the other girls has spotted something odd in the field and come running, only to figure out it is just me sitting by the fence waiting for Sonny to come over and greet me. It was this behavior that led to a recent ‘teachable moment’. I was planning a liberty session with Sonny but when I turned him loose in the round pen, he immediately turned his back on me and walked to the opposite side of the pen to graze. Since that was a pretty clear signal that he wasn’t ready to play, I left him there for a few minutes while I went and did some barn chores. When I returned 10 minutes later, he was still grazing and he didn’t even lift his head as I opened the gate. It was not an encouraging sign. So I went inside, shut the gate. Like most of the country, we’ve had a miserably hot summer, and being that I live in Delaware, it has also been incredibly humid. It was late morning and the temperature was already above 90 degrees. The humidity was so high that I had started sweating the minute I stepped from the car. Our round pen is in full sun and about the last thing I wanted to be doing at that moment was sitting there. But six years of experience with Sonny had taught me that neither of us was going to have much fun if I started this liberty session before he was ready so I planted my back against the pen and slid to the ground to wait. The blacksmith was at the barn that morning and one of the boarders was grazing her horse outside the barn waiting her turn with him. After a few minutes, I sensed that I had become an object of curiosity. I sat quietly, occasionally wiping sweat from my face, ignoring my horse. He was still grazing on the opposite side of the round pen, but his butt was no longer pointing directly at me. He had turned slightly and I knew he was watching me. I continued to ignore him. The girl waiting for the blacksmith dragged her horse closer to the round pen and called out to me. “What are you doing sitting there?” she asked. “I’m just waiting,” I called back. “Why?” she asked. There it was, the ‘why’ question, the ‘teachable moment’ had arrived. By this time, Sonny was facing me and grazing in my direction. I knew that in a moment he would lift up his head and look at me. Then he would let out a big sigh, amble over, put his nose in my lap looking for a cookie, and he would be mine! “Sonny wasn’t ready to play when I brought him into the round pen. He was more interested in grazing than in being with me. I’m waiting for me to tell me when he is ready”, I answered. “How will he do that?” she asked. “Well, he’ll come over here’, I said, “and ask for a cookie.” She looked skeptical but before she had a chance to say anything, Sonny picked up his head and let out a big sigh. “I think he is about ready” I said and as I reached into my pocket for a cookie, Sonny started toward me. “Being prey animals, all horses have a natural opposition reflex. It helps to keep them alive in the wild. But with Sonny, who is naturally more dominant, it is really well developed. Sonny has a ‘what’s in it for me?’ personality. If I were to try and force him into doing what I want him to do, he takes a ‘you and what army are going to make me do this’ stance and we get into a fight. I’ve just learned over the years that, with Sonny, it is better if I wait for him to be ready.” “I don’t think my horse if like that,’ she answered. “He comes right to me most of the time.” “Like people, horses can have different personalities. Some horses, like Sonny, are more dominant. They aren’t looking for leaders. But not all horses are like that. Parelli Natural Horsemanship™ has a concept called “Horsenality™” that is based on observable behavior traits. Different horsenalities benefit from different approaches so your horse might need a different approach than what Sonny needs.” By that point I was on my feet and beginning to play with Sonny at liberty. As I continued to discuss concept of “Horsenality™”, I set up two cones and sent Sonny into the figure 8 pattern. As he trotted a couple of figure 8s, I could see his play drive coming up so I sent him into a canter. When he made the next figure 8, he threw a flying change so I disengaged him and cantered back to me and stopped. “That was pretty cool” she said. “I wish I could get my horse to do something like that.” “I’m sure you could”, I told her. “When I first got Sonny, I couldn’t even get him to back up. It’s just a matter of recognizing your horse’s personality and then leaning some natural techniques. If you are interested, you should look up the Parelli website. “ We continued to talk for a bit and I told her about Parelli Connect. She admitted to me that she thought the way I dealt with Sonny was kind of strange but she really envied my relationship and how connected we seemed to be when I was playing with him. “Maybe there is something to this natural horsemanship” she said as she led her horse into the barn for the blacksmith. By that time, I was completely soaked with sweat but rather than feeling all washed out, I was feeling pretty energized. While sitting and waiting, I had found a teachable moment and perhaps Sonny and I had intrigued one of my barn mates enough about natural horsemanship that she would pursue it more. And wouldn’t that make the world just a little bit better for at least one horse and one human?

A Horse of a Different Color

On Tuesday I returned from a relaxing vacation in the Florida Keys and was looking forward to getting back to work on my horsemanship. So I hurried out to the barn only to discover that Sonny was limping. The timing could not have been any worse since we are scheduled to attend a clinic with Parelli 6 Star Master Instructor Carol Coppinger during the second week in April and I had been in Florida for the past month. Hoping that the problem was nothing more serious than Sonny having toes that were a little too long (the blacksmith was scheduled for Friday), I called Jane Bartsch, my regular Parelli instructor and asked if I could take my next scheduled lesson on one of her horses.
Switching horses for a lesson might not seem like much of a challenge to most people but for me it is kind of a big deal. I’ve been riding for more than three decades but during that time have not ridden more than a handful of horses. I didn’t start riding until I was almost 30 and have never been a particularly bold rider. When I finally was ready to buy my first horse, I found Max, a 9 year old appaloosa gelding, with smooth gaits and the personality of a puppy. Max lived to be 32 and while he was alive, he was my only mount.
Sonny arrived about a year after Max died. I struggled along for a few years with Sonny before discovering Parelli, but now we have a good partnership and although I still have some confidence issues at the canter, we are making progress toward our level three requirements with the help of weekly lessons with 2 Star Instructor Jane Bartsch.
When I talked to Jane on the phone about the lesson arrangement, she was quick to agree and suggested I ride her levels horse, Lynn, an appaloosa mare. She asked if I wanted to bring my own saddle since I ride in an English saddle but I had wanted to try Jane’s western Parelli saddle and I thought Lynn would be more comfortable with her own saddle. So Thursday morning I arrived at Jane’s farm, riding hat in hand, for my lesson with Lynn.
I was happy that Lynn was an LBI because I thought it would be easier for me to work with a horse that had the same horsenality as Sonny but I’ve never owned a mare and the first thing I noticed about Lynn was that she didn't seem particularly pleased to see me. Jane slipped me a couple of horse cookies and I spent a few minutes trying to establish a relationship with Lynn by finding her special scratchy places and slipping her a couple of treats. Jane is always telling me what a lovely expression Sonny has and after working with Lynn for a few minutes I began to understand how easy he was to please.
After doing some preliminary ground work, where Lynn and I were feeling each other out, I felt confident enough to climb aboard. Lynn is several inches shorter than Sonny so I was able to step up on Jane’s pedestal and swing up in the saddle. Because I have a bad left knee, I mount on the right side and that didn’t seem to bother her at all. I asked Jane to hand me my carrot stick, looped the reins around the saddle horn and asked Lynn to step off at a walk.
I have been putting a lot of effort in during the past year on my carrot stick riding. Like many people who came from the hunt seat school of riding, I had learned to be over dependent on using the reins and wasn’t confident in my seat connection to my horse. As a result, I tended to brace in my stirrups and that would cause Sonny to brace. Because he is such an easy going horse I interpreted his calm manner for relaxation and then complained about his choppy gaits. When I finally figured out that he wasn’t relaxed because I wasn’t relaxed, I made a concerted effort to reduce both my dependence on using the reins and the brace in my riding. Getting on Lynn was going to be a test of my progress.
Things were great at the walk. Jane has really developed Lynn and she is very responsive. When I asked her to yield her hindquarters and then her forehand, she went so briskly it almost felt like a spin. I could stop her just by sitting back and sighing and she would back up with only the slightest movement of my legs. She side passed over a log when I asked and I could get her to change direction by using only my leg and the slightest pressure of my hand on her neck. After 15 or so minutes at the walk, during which I never touched the reins, I was thinking that we really had it going and I was feeling pretty good about the fact that I was on this strange horse, riding in a different saddle and was feeling pretty confident. We were the picture of harmony. Then I asked Lynn to trot.
I guess I had expected her to step off it a little jog trot but as soon as I squeezed with my legs she scooted off in a fast, bouncy trot and after quarter of a lap broke into a canter. Feeling a bit of panic, I grabbed the reins, braced in the stirrups, pulled her to a stop, and then turned in my saddle to apologize to Jane. It was at that point, I realized that Lynn was telling me that perhaps I wasn’t as relaxed I had thought I was.
From that point it became very clear to me that Lynn was telling me a story about bracing. Despite the fact that I was trying very hard not to pressure her with my legs, I clearly was. To make matters worse, Jane’s arena is not completely level so on one long side we were traveling slightly downhill and the other slightly up hill. Every time Lynn started downhill, it felt like she was speeding up and my anxiety increased. Rather than just going along with her pace or sighing and using my body to slow her down, I would snatch up the reins and insist that she stop.
Despite the fact that I was getting a little bit rattled, Jane was maintaining her usual calm and reminding me to breath. In an attempt to manage my anxiety by using approach and retreat, I started playing the corner’s game, walking Lynn halfway down the long side of the arena before asking her to trot to the fence. That yielded a little bit of improvement but I was still bouncing around to Lynn’s choppy trot. Then Jane suggested that I pick a corner of the arena and have Lynn circle at the trot. This allowed both of us to relax a bit more and took some of the speed out of Lynn’s pace.
It was while we were circling the tree in Jane’s arena that it occurred to me while I felt like I was really bouncing along to Lynn’s quick trot, my butt wasn’t actually coming out of the saddle at all and Lynn wasn’t trying to run off with me so I didn’t really need to be snatching her in the mouth. What I needed to be doing at that point was to just go along with her pace. So I eased up on the reins, sat deep in the saddle and tried my best to relax my shoulders, legs and back. Almost immediately Lynn’s trot slowed into a more rhythmic pace. It wasn’t perfect, but it was an improvement.
Lynn and I kept working at improving our harmony at the trot. Each time I glanced at my watch (I was worried about going over my allotted hour) Jane told me not to worry about the time. She understood, perhaps even better than I, how important this was for me. As I recognized and tried to release my brace, I began seeing changes that indicated Lynn was also releasing tension. As I relaxed, she yawned repeatedly, something that Jane told me she seldom did.
I’m not sure how long we worked but eventually, Lynn and I were maintaining a steady, mostly relaxed pace while trotting serpentines in the arena. At that point, rather than move on to the canter, I chose to end the session. I felt pretty good at what I had accomplished. Riding a new horse in a new saddle, I had worked through my anxiety and reached a good stopping point. I was so encouraged with my progress that I asked Jane if I could ride my next lesson on Lynn.
Pat Parelli says that people teach horses and horses teach people. Riding Lynn helped me to recognize that although I have eliminated some of the brace in my riding, I have a long way to go before I am brace free. This fact was really brought home to me this morning when I woke to discover sore muscles in my neck, shoulders and core! In reflecting on my experience riding Lynn, I realized that many of the riding issues which I have attributed to Sonny are actually more issues of my confidence than of his gaits. But I also realized after riding Lynn, how important it is for my development as a horseman to broaden my experience by riding different horses.
So I want to say “Thank you Lynn”. You’ve given me the courage to search out other partners and from now on, I am going to look forward to more opportunities to ride a horse of a different color!

Strength of Bond

Like many older Parelli students I discovered natural horsemanship after years of more conventional training where horses were often treated as if they had no capacity to think and methods were often based on force or coercion. I was intrigued by the Parelli promise to put the relationship first and attracted by the bond it created between horse and human. Little did I know in the beginning that the simple task of taking off a blanket would someday serve as a test of the strength of the bond I developed with Jody, one of the most skeptical horses at our rescue.
Jody was one of the first horses I noticed when I began volunteering at the rescue because unlike the other retirees, who sought attention and begged for treats, he remained always just out of reach. A bay thoroughbred with an upside down white tear drop shaped spot on his forehead, and a thick black mane and tail that hung in dreadlocks, Jody refused to allow himself to be caught for any reason.
Every day after I fed the horses I took a curry comb and brush and entered the paddock to groom any horse that would stand quietly for me. Jody often would stand on the far side of a horse I was grooming but if I moved toward him he would walk off. After many days of working quietly around the retirees, Jody finally allowed me to touch him on his neck. I never tried to restrain him, allowing him to choose when he wanted to leave, and slowly he began to allow me to spend more time standing next to him, stroking, brushing and sometimes even working my fingers through his dreadlocks to untangle them.
Because I always allowed Jody to make the decision about if he wished to stay with me and for how long, he eventually began to trust me enough to allow himself to be haltered and held for he blacksmith. I worked with him for an entire year before he would look at me directly with both eyes and it was another few months before he actually approached me when I walked out into his pasture. He had learned to trust me enough that I was able to hold him while the vet cleaned out infected lymph nodes under his chin when he came down with the strangles that swept through the rescue herd.
Despite the trust that had developed between us, Jody remained skeptical of other volunteers at the rescue and often would not allow anyone else to handle him so I wasn't surprised when I returned from a vacation in Florida last spring to discover that Jody was the only horse at the rescue still wearing his winter blanket. The Delaware spring weather had become pretty warm and all the other blankets had been removed by no one had been able to catch Jody to remove his so as soon as I stepped out of my car, the rescue's barn manager approached me and asked if I could please catch Jody and take his blanket off.
Jody was off by himself at the far end of the pasture so I picked up a halter and lead line and headed out to get him. On the way, I stopped to greet each retiree, scratching necks and slipping treats out of my pockets for each horse I passed. Jody occasionally interrupted his grazing by lifting up his head to follow my progress and he didn't move off as I got nearer to him so I didn't anticipate any problems haltering and leading him back to the paddock. When I reached him, he gazed at me with his big brown eyes and leaned into me as I scratched his neck. He was already beginning to shed his winter coat and when I slipped my hand under the edge of his heavy blanket I could feel that he was sweating so I was anxious to remove it. But when I tried to slip the halter on, he moved away a few steps and returned to his grazing. I waited a few moments and approached him. Again he stood quietly with me until I tried to halter him, but as soon as I lifted the halter up he stepped away.
I had never forced Jody to do anything he didn't want to do and I wasn't about to ruin his trust by starting now so I put the halter and lead line on the ground and gave his neck another good scratch. I knew I needed to get the heavy blanket off of him and I didn't seem to have a good option other than to try and remove it out in the field where he stood. I wouldn't worry at all about removing a blanked from my own horse Sonny if he were loose in a field but I was a very worried about trying this with Jody. I was worried because he really didn't like people working around his hind end and I was afraid that if he spooked when I was back there and ran off while the blanket was only partially unhooked, he could get him self tangled up in it, fall and hurt himself. But he seemed relaxed enough with me being out there with him even if he didn't want to be haltered so I thought I would give it a try.
Normally when I remove a blanket, I unhook the leg straps first, then the belly straps and finally the chest buckles, but I was standing at Jody's head and he had always been most comfortable with me in zone one so I decided to start there. His blanket had buckles instead of snaps at it chest closure so while he continued to graze, I slowly worked the buckles until they were undone. Then I spoke softly to him as I ran my hand along his neck and down his back, moving down his side to unhook the belly straps and unhook the leg strap on that side. Jody lifted his head to watch me as I worked at his side, but made no attempt to move off. So far, I thought to myself, so good.
Jody has always been uncomfortable when anyone is standing in zone four or five so rather than go around behind him, I walked back to his head and slipped a treat out of my pocket for him. Then running my hand along the other his body, I stepped around and reached for the other leg strap. That was when I realized that rather than being hooked normally to the rings on his blanket, the leg strap on this side seemed to be tangled with the other leg strap. I bent lower to get a good look at the problem and discovered to my horror that one of the legs straps had broken and someone had tried to fix the problem by knotting them together. There was no way to get the straps untangled from Jody's legs other than untying the knots, but the knots were crusted with manure dried mud and didn't want to budge. To make matters even worse, the tangle of knots keeping the two straps tied to each other was fairly tight against his belly and close to his sheath, requiring me to work in a sensitive area and at a spot where I knew he did not like to have anyone stay very long.
By this time Jody had stopped grazing and had craned his neck around to see what I was doing back there in zone 4. I had dropped to one knee to give myself some stability while I was desperately trying to work the stiffened knots loose and was praying that he wouldn't panic and take off. I don't know how long I knelt there working on that knot but it seemed like an eternity and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I knew that if Jody startled and chose to leave suddenly, I was in a vulnerable position and the blanket could easily be jerked off and become tangled around his back legs. He continued to stand with neck bent around watching while slowly the stiff material began to loosen and finally the knots were undone freeing Jody's legs.
Breathing an enormous sigh of relief, I lurched up to my feet and slid the blanket across Jody's back. When it was off, Jody blew and shook himself like a dog before dropping his head to the new green grass at his feet. For a few minutes I stood at his side, using my fingers as a curry comb and groomed great tufts of hair from his withers and back while he grazed. Then he reached around with his head and touched my hand with his nose before walking purposefully away, letting me know that this session, at least from his perspective, was finished.
Put the relationship first - it is such a simple idea but with our direct line, predator thinking, it is not always easy to do. And yet, it is often the little things, the quiet things, that we do every day when we are with our horses that builds the bonds of trust that allow us to become partners. I will never ride Jody and never play the seven games with him. He has earned his retirement. But by putting our relationship first, by allowing Jody the freedom to choose whether or not he wanted to stay with me every time I went out in his paddock or field with him, we developed a strength of bond that has allowed us each to be vulnerable in the presence of the other. And that, I think, is the mark of a true partnership.

The Potential In Feeling Pleased

While I have been on my Parelli journey, I have been constantly amazed at how often a lesson I first learn while working with my horse turns into a life lesson that I can use with my family and friends. Most recently this happened with something I learned in one of my first clinics with Carol Coppinger about the potential that comes from feeling pleased.
We had been playing in the clinic with the circle game and trying to improve the elements, particularly the send and allow. Like many of the other participants, I was feeling the "clinic effect" of not being able to get my horse to do the things there that seemed to be easy when we were playing at home. I was getting a reasonably good send but no matter what I did, I couldn't get Sonny to maintain gait. He would wander around me at a walk but if I asked him to trot, he either broke gait back to the walk or he stopped altogether when he was behind me.
My horse Sonny and I are both LBIs which makes for some interesting sessions. I can get pretty focused and when I do, his opposition reflex springs into action so I try to maintain my sense of humor when playing with him. I was acutely aware of both Carol and Jane Bartsch, my local Parelli instructor, watching us and I really wanted to show them how much progress Sonny and I had made since the last clinic, but the harder I tried to get him to maintain gait, the worse things got. I was beginning to feel embarrassed by how bad we looked and them more frustrated I felt, the less cooperative Sonny became. Looking around me, I could see that many of the other clinic participants weren't having any better luck than I was and I could sense the frustration level rising.
Finally Carol told us to circle up around her and asked one of the other clinic participants who had been having trouble if she would be willing to volunteer for a demonstration. As the rest of us watched, the woman backed her horse away and tried to send it off on a circle. The horse's response was lackluster at best. It circled half a lap and stopped. The woman tried to resend the horse but he just stood there looking disinterested. Carol suggested she bring the horse back to her and start over which she did but without much improvement in response from her horse. As the woman struggled on, we could all see that her frustration growing and her horse's response becoming duller and less motivated. Standing in the circle watching, I could understand the pressure she must be feeling and could identify with her frustration. I was thinking of the hundreds of time during my journey with Sonny when I had been faced with a similar situation and how hard it was in those moments to maintain a positive outlook when my horse either didn't understand or didn't want to do what I was asking.
Finally Carol had her stop what she was doing and asked her what she was feeling. When the woman replied that she was really frustrated, Carol asked her how she thought that affected the horse. The woman turned and looked at her horse and the horse immediately looked away. It was apparent to all of us that there wasn't much of a connection between them at that moment.
That was when Carol told us that she wanted each of us to stand in front of our horses and to look directly at them and feel unhappy with them. I turned to face Sonny, and thinking about how our session had been going, didn't have to stretch far to feel unhappy. Almost instantly Sonny turned his head away from me and when I continued to focus my unhappy thoughts on him, actually stepped away from me.
"Now," Carol said, "I want you to feel pleased with your horse."
I thought about what a neat horse Sonny is an how much I enjoyed being with him. I couldn't help but smile and almost as soon as I did, Sonny turned his head and looked at me. I thought about much I loved going to Carol's clinics and started to grin. Sonny stepped toward me and started to push at my pocket for a carrot. For the rest of the clinic, whenever I felt myself becoming frustrated or a little too intense I practiced feeling pleased with Sonny. Whenever I felt pleased, Sonny became a little more focused on me and a little more responsive. I noticed that when I was feeling pleased, it was almost impossible for me to become worried about how I was doing or to feel embarrassed by my perceived lack of progress. When I was feeling pleased with Sonny I was happier and more positive and more relaxed.
While Carol's message about feeling pleased was a powerful lesson in the potential for positive thinking to improve my relationship with my horse, I recently used it to help my mother. My mother is almost 89 years old and suffers from some serious back problems. For the past five winters, I have taken her to the Florida Keys for a month so she can enjoy a break from the Delaware winters, which can be pretty miserable for someone who suffers from arthritis. She has always looked forward to these trips but this year I noticed that she was having some real anxiety about our upcoming travel.
My mother is a worrier and worries about things over which she has no control. As Mom has gotten older, it has become more uncomfortable for her to travel long distances in the car and she was so worried that she wouldn't be able to make the 7 hour drive from Orlando to the Keys that she actually considered not going to Florida at all this year. I planned our trip so it would involve only 2 hour segments in the car but by the time we left she had gotten herself pretty worked up and the strain was really visible in her face.
The first day involved a drive from our house to Amtrak's Auto train. She made the drive without any significant back pain and when we got settled on the train and I asked her how she was, she told me that she was surprised she had done so well but she was worried about the next days drive. I told her that instead of worrying about the next segment, I wanted her to feel pleased about how well she had done on the first leg. With some encouragement, I had her smiling and laughing about how good she felt. I could almost see the tension draining out of her.
For the next few days, any time she started to express a worry about something I would suggest that she "feel pleased" about something else. Pretty soon all I had to do to get her to smile was to ask her if she felt pleased. I am happy to say we are almost to the Keys and my mother is relaxed and enjoying herself. For a woman who has spent her life worrying about almost everything, and who has had to live with almost constant pain for the past few years, this has been a pretty remarkable transformation.
It is just one more reason why I love Parelli Natural Horsemanship. It really is a way to make the world a better place for both horses and humans!

Crossing Thresholds

Recently I’ve been thinking about thresholds and reflecting on how my ideas about thresholds have changed since I began studying Parelli Natural Horsemanship four years ago. When I was younger, I pretty much considered thresholds to be something that brides were carried over on their wedding day. Later, as I pursued my studies in chemistry, I expanded my thinking about thresholds to include the limit below which a chemical substance could not be detected. I never considered a threshold as something that had a psychological meaning and when I first heard Linda Parelli talking about not pushing your horse past thresholds, I was still thinking about them in more physical terms. It wasn’t until I met a young quarter horse by the name of Hershey’s American Hero that the light bulb finally turned on in my mind.
Hero was a four month old cremello colt that had been rescued from the Camelot kill pens in New Jersey. He arrived at the rescue, thin, sickly and shy and had to be doctored back to health by a combination of good food, good care from our veterinarian and lots of love from the volunteers. Assisting in Hero’s rehabilitation was our director’s mare, Bugsy. Bugsy is an aged quarter horse with a strong mothering instinct and she has fostered every foal brought to the rescue. She immediately became Hero’s protector and he followed her around as if she was his own mother. She stayed by his side as he fought his way through a nasty respiratory infection even sharing his runny nose for some time.
Because Hero was so cute, he received lots of attention from the volunteer staff and after a few months at the rescue he was well on his way to being tamed. He would allow himself to be haltered and groomed and his ground manners were admirable considering how much he was fussed over on a daily basis but he would not allow himself to be led. This hadn’t really posed a problem for the volunteers so far because if anyone wanted to move Hero from place to place, all they had to do was to lead Bugsy and he would follow along. But Hero was growing quickly and the rescue’s director knew that so we would need to be able to lead him independently of his foster mother.
Teaching Hero to lead became my summer project. Because he was so tame, catching him was not an issue and he would allow me to slip the halter on his head, even turning his nose in my direction as I positioned it and tied the knot. I started by making sure my friendly game was solid and then would ask him to take just a step or two away from Bugsy. He quickly learned what the pressure from the halter meant and soon I was able to lead him in circle around Bugsy. I kept our sessions short, gradually increasing the distance I asked him to walk and although I hadn’t tried to lead him completely away from the herd, I felt I was making good progress.
One afternoon, as I was headed out to the field for another session with Hero, our barn manager Meredith called to me. “If you’re going to get Hero,” she said, “Could you bring him back to the barn? The vet is coming to see him.”
Hero and Bugsy were in the front field. It was separated from the field around the barn by a double fence. In the daytime, we opened both gates between the two fields, forming a chute the horses passed through on their way out. Because the horses preferred the grass in the front pasture, they were always in that field whenever the gates were opened. While it was only perhaps a couple of hundred yards from the front pasture to the barn, I would have to lead Hero away from Bugsy and the herd, through the chute and then through another gate and I knew that might be a challenge for the little fellow.
I slipped Hero a treat as I put the halter on and then gave him a good scratch before starting away from Bugsy. Standing at his side, I asked him to go forward with a slight pressure on the halter and a kiss. Hero took a few steps and then stopped, looking around for Bugsy. I scratched his neck, waited for him to look back at me and then asked him to more forward again. He took a few more steps and stopped so I repeated the wait and the scratch and in this way we walked out of the front field and through the chute into the barn field. It was slow going and although I could see that Hero was a bit concerned about being asked to move so far away from his herd, he wasn’t really agitated. When he would stop, I would stop and I waited to make sure he was with me before I asked him to move forward again. I was trying to be really careful about not forcing him forward but I wasn’t really thinking in terms of thresholds.
We made it all the way to the next gate before we hit the wall. Hero walked through gates all the time at the rescue and although I knew gates presented a squeeze, I wasn’t all that concerned. When I opened the gate and asked Hero to move forward, he actually planted his feet and pulled back against the halter. “This is different,” I thought to myself and I quickly let up on the pressure and studied the situation. That was when I recognized the first threshold, a physical one.
Some of our horses are fed at buckets that hang on the fence adjoining this gate, so the ground is pretty bare in that spot and is the rich red color of the dominant clay in the soil. On the other side of the gate in that spot, there is a thick, green carpet of grass and right at the gate, there is a small, 2 to 3 inch difference in the ground so that a horse has to step up slightly when going from field to grass. Because horses notice changes, I could see how this could present a problem to Hero. While he walked through gates all the time, he seldom faced this particular situation. I was asking him to “squeeze” through this gate and go across this physical threshold all at once.
Figuring that approach and retreat would probably be appropriate in this situation, I led Hero away and waited for him to relax. When he finally dropped his head, I turned him around and approached the gate again. This time he came a little closer. We repeated this a few times but when I finally tried to encourage him with a slight increase in pressure on the lead line, instead of moving forward he reared straight up. He was well and truly stuck and I was beginning to think there was more to this threshold then just the physical line in the clay that the color change presented.
I was standing at the gate scratching Hero’s neck and trying to figure out what to do next when Hannah, one of our younger volunteers, walked up. Wondering if a little pressure from behind might encourage Hero forward, I asked Hannah to take a spare lead line, go behind Hero and twirl it. Because I didn’t want Hero to feel too much pressure, I told Hannah to stand well away from Hero and I also asked her not to face him. She started twirling the line and Hero craned his neck around to see what was going on behind him. Then I asked Hero to step forward. He hesitated but he didn’t rear up. That was a good sign. He swiveled his head around again to look at Hannah. The next time I asked him to step forward he popped through gate with a small jump and came to rest at the other side, first looking back at where he had just come from and then looking directly at me. He gave himself a shake and began licking and chewing, nodding his head up and down a couple of times while he did.
I stood next to Hero, scratching his neck and giving him all the time he needed to process what had just happened. Finally his breathing became regular and he dropped his head for a bite of grass. When I finally asked Hero to walk forward with me he stepped off immediately and he walked quietly at my shoulder the rest of the way back to the barn. He led beautifully, making no attempt to stop again for the remainder of our journey and walking through the next gate without any hesitation. I handed him over to Meredith and as I watched her lead him away toward a stall, it occurred to me that it wasn’t just a physical threshold that Hero had encountered at that other gate, it was a psychological threshold as well.
For the entire walk in from the front pasture, I think Hero had been experiencing a series of psychological thresholds that had to do with leaving his herd. Each time he stopped, he had reached a threshold and each time I asked him to go forward, I was causing him to cross the threshold. I think the pressure was building up for him until we finally reached the gate. At that point, the combination of the squeeze at the gate, the physical threshold between the clay and the grass and the psychological threshold of leaving the herd built up to the point that Hero became stuck. When he finally crossed through the gate without anything bad happening, it was a significant moment to him. I think at that point, he truly accepted me as a leader and therefore it became OK to move away from the horse herd because he finally understood that we were a herd of two and that I wasn’t going to let anything bad happened to him. That was the moment when Hero really learned how to be led and I learned that psychological thresholds can be every bit as real as physical ones.
Since that time, I have become a lot more sensitive to the idea of psychological thresholds for my own horse Sonny. Because he is a calm and relatively brave LBI, his reactions are a lot more subtle than Hero’s were so it has not always been easy to recognize when he has reached a threshold but I have been working hard to understand them and that has helped continue to strengthen our bond. I have also experienced my own psychological thresholds as I’ve begun to ride my horse Sonny bareback and because I can recognize them for what they are, I am able to use approach and retreat as a way to help myself across.