When Daisy first "acquired" me, she would not stand tied. She moved claustrophobically hither and yon, stretching her lead rope in her anxiety to be able to get away from whatever might attack her.
Being prey to many other animals, horses are naturally claustrophobic. They are afraid of being confined or even tied up, unless they have been worked with to overcome that fear.
Wanting to brush Daisy and apply Hoof Flex to her hideously dry hooves, it was necessary to tie her up, or suffer the ignominy of a bottle of Hoof Flex all over me. So I tied her with soft, strong dock line, to a stout post with a stout ring in it, but gave her sufficient line that she could pace back and forth a bit. She'd pace to one side of the post, then turn and pace to the other side, periodically stopping to stare off into the distance, checking for predators.
After two weeks, I was able to tie her much shorter, and in that time, was able to convince her that Hoof Flex would not hurt her.
Adisy appeared to recognize the aroma of Hoof Flex and associate it with intense pain. The seller made an oblique reference to mud fever in one of her hooves, last winter. Small wonder, as she was kept in a churned up mix of mud and manure. I am assuming that the ignorant people applied Hoof Flex to her sore foot. That would burn like fire, as there is turpentine in it. Imagine pouring turpentine into an open wound. Major, horrible pain! Poor horse.
Foot by foot, day by day, I patiently worked to apply the stuff to her feet, and after each foot, I clicked a dog clicker, and gave her a treat. Not every horse would go for this, but she is treat-oriented, so food bits work best with her as a reward. She doesn't get them by "mugging" me though--she only gets them for doing something I've asked of her.
The clicker followed by a treat has also pushed aside her natural fear of the squirt bottle, Avon Skin So Soft (which smells like a French cat house--really smelly but the flying insects detest it) and so on.
Just as it takes humans a while to not only "get" a concept, but have it firmly planted in their brains as habit, so it takes horses a bit of time to get a habit firmly in their heads. Most days, Daisy stands tied, but I'm learning to recognize when she has become upset. In those instances, she needs to go into the round pen and run around me until she runs off the adrenaline. Only THEN can she stand quietly.
Make sense when you think about it. Why should horses be any different than humans in that regard? How calm are we when someone has just cut us off in traffic, and we've had to swerve or stamp on the brake hard to keep hitting them? It takes a while for the adrenaline to abate. The fact that I am not out there observing what is frustrating Daisy doesn't take away from her reasons for feeling frustrated.
In addition, humans can become couch potatoes, but most horses need to be able to move their feet. Munch and move, munch and move. Most of the horses where Daisy is boarded CAN munch and move, but we were the last in and so had to take the bottom of the barrel, as far as accommodations were concerned.
I am learning...Daisy is teaching me what I need to be aware of to better help her learn. When she is upset, I need to let her move her feet until she can get rid of the built-up adrenaline and pent up feelings. My mother used to comment, "Let motion equal emotion" and we often had the cleanest floors in town, as she'd get down on her knees and scrub them like crazy when she was upset.
Parelli's "Friendly Game" is one I need to get creative with and keep introducing things to Daisy. When she stands and stares at the scary object, that's when I need to stop and give her a slack line. When she loses interest, having probably backed a good 15 feet away, and starts looking for something to graze on, then I can reel her in and we'll start all over again.
The other game I want to start playing with her is the "Squeeze Game" on a longe line. I should note that I stand in the middle, and my feet do not move...only Daisy's feet move around me. This way she has to think about what she is doing, and is not mindlessly revolving around me. As she comes around at the walk, I plan to introduce myself between her and the fence, put out road cones which will get progressively closer and closer to the fence, asking her to pass between them and the fence, and then we'll work on STOPPING between the cones and the fence. Even a small object like a road cone is noted by most horses and creates something of a barrier that they feel they have to squeeze by. The Squeeze Game helps them become less claustrophobic.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Daisy Gets Picked On, Horse Style
Daisy is confined in a 12 x 12 stall with a 12 x 12 covered "turn-out" area beyond her stall. The turn-out area is blacktop, unfortunately. Some enterprising soul apparently decided they didn't want boarders to dig a hole to china, so they blacktopped all four turn-out areas. Grrrr! AND there are horses in a large field on the other side of the turn-out fence.
The horses on the other side of the fence have an attitude. In addition, they have room to wheel and posture. Daisy is confined from top to bottom and side to side. I keep finding the cheeky pony's poops by Daisy's fence, and one of the other horses apparently has been coming up and bothering her. Today when I arrived she had dried blood which had run down both front legs, and she was in a dither.
I took her to the round pen and let her run off her angst, then put her in her pasture for three hours of peace, quiet and grazing. Walking back to her stall, I found one of the horses on the other side of the fence lounging insolently along her fence line, "claiming" it. I quietly poked the rounded end of the rake handle between the fence boards, and the horse jumped a foot. Maybe that will give it something to think about. That horse and its buddy are nippy and disrespectful.
Most humans think if a horse is not making noise that it is not being rude, but horse body language says a lot and horses are gifted empaths. Even I can see that the "loose" horses are trying to boss and intimidate Daisy. This is a very poor set up, however for the moment there is nothing much I can do about it, except continue to show up four times a day and get her off the blacktop and away from the other horses for a bit.
What the other horses are doing is rather like little kids in the back seat on a long car ride. The one they are tormenting can't escape. They say, "I'm not touching him! I'm not touching him!" but they are intimidating and tormenting the kid just the same.
Interestingly enough, the owner of these horses rides the horses harshly. They have taken the bullying and are passing it on down the line.
The horses on the other side of the fence have an attitude. In addition, they have room to wheel and posture. Daisy is confined from top to bottom and side to side. I keep finding the cheeky pony's poops by Daisy's fence, and one of the other horses apparently has been coming up and bothering her. Today when I arrived she had dried blood which had run down both front legs, and she was in a dither.
I took her to the round pen and let her run off her angst, then put her in her pasture for three hours of peace, quiet and grazing. Walking back to her stall, I found one of the horses on the other side of the fence lounging insolently along her fence line, "claiming" it. I quietly poked the rounded end of the rake handle between the fence boards, and the horse jumped a foot. Maybe that will give it something to think about. That horse and its buddy are nippy and disrespectful.
Most humans think if a horse is not making noise that it is not being rude, but horse body language says a lot and horses are gifted empaths. Even I can see that the "loose" horses are trying to boss and intimidate Daisy. This is a very poor set up, however for the moment there is nothing much I can do about it, except continue to show up four times a day and get her off the blacktop and away from the other horses for a bit.
What the other horses are doing is rather like little kids in the back seat on a long car ride. The one they are tormenting can't escape. They say, "I'm not touching him! I'm not touching him!" but they are intimidating and tormenting the kid just the same.
Interestingly enough, the owner of these horses rides the horses harshly. They have taken the bullying and are passing it on down the line.
Monday, June 24, 2013
I make a halter, lead rope and longe line but fail utterly at a substitute carrot stick
June 24, 2013 (Monday)
It has become clear that Daisy knows she weighs a whole lot more than any human does, and when takes a notion to do something other than what I want her to do, she knows that she's holding "all the cards" as they say. I made her fuzzy pieces to fit over the noseband and crown piece of her nylon web halter. So when she went one way and I pulled the other way, guess who won those battles!
It was becoming clear that the Right Brain Introverts I'd known and loved had very little in common with Daisy. Now I was starting to understand why a natural horsemanship rope halter made such good sense.
Okay, it would have been very nice to have been able to have purchased a Parelli rope halter, carrot stick and so on, but the budget at this point in time cannot take such a hit. So I had to get creative.
Fortunately, there are many sites online which show you how to make different kinds of fiadors (fancy knots). I found one that was easier than the others, purchased some purple and white nylon rope and made a purple rope halter with white trim on the noseband and crown piece.
I made a lightweight longe line from more nylon rope and a swivel snap.
The other necessary item was a lead rope longer than the six footer I had been using. Daisy found it child's play to jerk that shortish rope out of my hands. A half inch in diameter soft nylon rope was the answer. It's about 15 feet long, so if she is dancing around, I've got more rope before I lose her.
Finding a substitute for the carrot stick has remained a problem. I tried a woode dowel with wrapped ends, with misgivings, and sure enough, it is not a good idea, as it can snap too easily and become a spear, is not strong enough, nor sufficiently flexible. Drat!
It took a bit of playing with the halter's knots before the halter was balanced, even, and fit her. This evening it fit well, and she went into the round pen to try the new halter and longe line with swivel snap.
Well, well! Daisy can feel the pressure of this halter and she is responding well to it. She also likes the very light weight nylon "longe line" much better than the traditional 25' nylon strap. The nylon line doesn't pull on her head at all. Daisy seemed more confident as she went around and around me, and she watched me out of the corner of her eye all the time.
I'm still rewarding specific responses with horse treats, which she is very fond of. I think the real pay off for her isn't the good taste of the treats, but the tangible assurance that she did something successfully; proof positive that she is understanding human communication with her.
I
It has become clear that Daisy knows she weighs a whole lot more than any human does, and when takes a notion to do something other than what I want her to do, she knows that she's holding "all the cards" as they say. I made her fuzzy pieces to fit over the noseband and crown piece of her nylon web halter. So when she went one way and I pulled the other way, guess who won those battles!
It was becoming clear that the Right Brain Introverts I'd known and loved had very little in common with Daisy. Now I was starting to understand why a natural horsemanship rope halter made such good sense.
Okay, it would have been very nice to have been able to have purchased a Parelli rope halter, carrot stick and so on, but the budget at this point in time cannot take such a hit. So I had to get creative.
Fortunately, there are many sites online which show you how to make different kinds of fiadors (fancy knots). I found one that was easier than the others, purchased some purple and white nylon rope and made a purple rope halter with white trim on the noseband and crown piece.
I made a lightweight longe line from more nylon rope and a swivel snap.
The other necessary item was a lead rope longer than the six footer I had been using. Daisy found it child's play to jerk that shortish rope out of my hands. A half inch in diameter soft nylon rope was the answer. It's about 15 feet long, so if she is dancing around, I've got more rope before I lose her.
Finding a substitute for the carrot stick has remained a problem. I tried a woode dowel with wrapped ends, with misgivings, and sure enough, it is not a good idea, as it can snap too easily and become a spear, is not strong enough, nor sufficiently flexible. Drat!
It took a bit of playing with the halter's knots before the halter was balanced, even, and fit her. This evening it fit well, and she went into the round pen to try the new halter and longe line with swivel snap.
Well, well! Daisy can feel the pressure of this halter and she is responding well to it. She also likes the very light weight nylon "longe line" much better than the traditional 25' nylon strap. The nylon line doesn't pull on her head at all. Daisy seemed more confident as she went around and around me, and she watched me out of the corner of her eye all the time.
I'm still rewarding specific responses with horse treats, which she is very fond of. I think the real pay off for her isn't the good taste of the treats, but the tangible assurance that she did something successfully; proof positive that she is understanding human communication with her.
I
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Meeting The Bad Shoer
Not knowing who to use, and being told that this folks had heard good things about this fellow, I called to book an appointment for him to give Daisy a trim. I emailed him photos of Daisy's hooves, both up close on the outer surface, and also the soles. In thinking back on things, he was a little confused, calling and leaving a message about my "Clydesdale horse.," She's a 15.2 hand paint mare!
I went out yesterday to work with Daisy so she'd be in an calm and happy frame of mind when he arrived. He showed up early, and was as curt and uncommunicative as he'd been over the phone.
Daisy was a very good girl. She stood like a rock for him. My daughter and stood near her head, and Daisy half closed her eyes with happiness to have both of us near her. Most folks who work around horses for a living will at least give the horse a touch or a pat. This man had no interest in her at all.
He brought out an enormous hoof stand, with a base like a Christmas tree stand. Huge. I wondered how he was going to manage with something that big as the diameter got in the way of the horse's other feet.
He picked up a front hoof and Daisy turned her head to look at him. She wanted to lightly touch him with her whiskers. She is not a nibbler nor a biter and in the week I've had her, she's been remarkably soft and careful with her lips, only nuzzling the palm of one's hand. Any other endearments by her are a loving look from a lowered head, looking into your eyes, or putting her head next to yours companionably.
I said, "Don't worry, she will not bite you." He responded in fear, "Don't let her touch me!" Okay, I thought, he's an odd duck but on with the trim job.
When he had used the nippers on all four of her feet, I asked him about the terribly splaying of her hooves. He seemed offended and said that he wasn't done yet--when he was done, her feet would look normal. That was my first concern. You cannot go from soup plates to tea cups in a day! This guy would bear watching!
He started rasping the left front hoof. He didn't round it, and left a chunk going off in the wrong angle. All he was doing was rasping down across the entire front of the hoof wall.
In concern I asked him, "Isn't that going to further weaken an already compromised hoof?" He mumbled some double-talk about tubules and that it was worse not to rasp that area down.
Now I was really concerned! This guy apparently didn't know what he was doing, and was going to trim hoof until the shape looked right, never mind what the long term consequences. Yikes!
He put that hoof down, apparently deciding to work on a slightly less splayed one. Obviously, my two questions had made him uncomfortable. Little did he realize that I was even MORE uncomfortable, as it appeared that I had a surly, ignorant, fearful person working on Daisy's feet.
I made a mental note to Google the heck out of any problem BEFORE calling in a "professional" from now on. No more trusting in someone else with my precious horse.
Daisy's feet are sort because of the slant of her splayed feet. It hurts her to stand on three legs for extended periods of time. She's a trouper, and a good sport, but as the pain built up she needed to be able to put the fourth foot down briefly.
This fellow wanted to get her feet done and get away from the scary horse. I felt he needed the money, but would not have been doing this if he wasn't so desperate for cash.
When Daisy needed to put her right front leg down, he angrily went to a back foot. Daisy was still standing like a rock. Suddenly the fellow angrily threw down his rasp on the ground and exploded with no warning. "I'm out of here!" As he threw his tools into the back of his truck he blasted at me, "I can't work with you, with your negative reinforcement." He apparently had taken offense that we had told Daisy what a good girl she was. Being fearful and aggressive, he wanted a horse with rolling eyes, standing fearfully twitched, I guess. Never mind that Daisy had been half dozing with her head resting lightly on my daughter's shoulder. This would have been a happy scenario for a real farrier, but this fellow wanted blood and guts, I guess.
I had to ask the man three times what I owed him for his time. He was completely out of control with rage. The third time he focused on what I was saying and responded that I didn't owe him anything. I felt that he wanted an argument or for me to beg him to stay or burst into tears and be at his mercy.
My daughter, who was horrified at his out of control behavior drifted quietly into the adjacent paddock and started to rake manure. I said, "Okay. Have a good day" and walked off with Daisy. I think he was stunned.
As I let Daisy into the arena he leaned out his truck window and tried to get my goat. "I don't have a problem with the horse, ma'am," he shouted,. "It's you I have the problem with." And off he drove.
My daughter came over to the arena and we stood and watched Daisy as she drifted around nibbling grass at the edges. I was glad she had not been fussed or upset by the angry little fellow. She had put her trust in us and we'd come through for her.
About 15 minutes later we decided to walk Daisy to her own pasture, which is about a quarter of a mile down the driveway. As we headed towards her pasture, much to our astonishment, we saw this man in his truck, coming down the hill from the direction of the land owner's home. We simply board here and this man had gone up to the "barn boss's" home, apparently to try to make trouble about me.
I believe that the barn boss and his wife have seen all kinds over the years, and although I'm a fairly recent boarder, I've paid my bill on time and Daisy has been well behaved. My guess was that they simply stared at the man as though he had two heads. They do not delight in malicious gossip.
After a lovely munch, we walked Daisy back to her stall and covered area. Later in the evening I went back to give her another session in her pasture, We're building up her grazing time gradually so that she can be turned out all day long at a later date. By now, Daisy was obviously sore. She stumbled and faltered a lot on the uneven ground and on the gravel when we had to cross the driveway. She had not done that before the trim.
I went home and beat the bushes for a decent farrier, and Googled splayed hooves. I liked the "Mustang roll" method, which rounds the fronts of the hooves, so that the splay does not continue to push up and work against the internal structure. The feeling of that stress must be a bit like cutting a fingernail too short, and it really hurts as it pulls against the quick!
I called acquaintances and located a farrier who was said to be patient and knowledgeable.
At least he sounder older and more knowledgeable than the 30-something man who'd left in a rage (don't get me wrong--someone two or five years out of shoeing school would have been warmly welcomed if they liked horses and knew how to fix splayed hooves). Honestly, that guy is a walking felony, just waiting to happen. When someone goes from zero to 60 unpredictably and that fast, with a hair trigger rage and loses it completely, they are a danger to themselves and to others. His T-shirt logo seemed to point to "short man syndrome" as well but that was another issue for another day. I hope he gets over his bad self someday.
So we will see if what the next farrier will say. I have been praying that we will not have to wait 6 or 8 weeks for Daisy's hooves to grow out before he can help her!
I went out yesterday to work with Daisy so she'd be in an calm and happy frame of mind when he arrived. He showed up early, and was as curt and uncommunicative as he'd been over the phone.
Daisy was a very good girl. She stood like a rock for him. My daughter and stood near her head, and Daisy half closed her eyes with happiness to have both of us near her. Most folks who work around horses for a living will at least give the horse a touch or a pat. This man had no interest in her at all.
He brought out an enormous hoof stand, with a base like a Christmas tree stand. Huge. I wondered how he was going to manage with something that big as the diameter got in the way of the horse's other feet.
He picked up a front hoof and Daisy turned her head to look at him. She wanted to lightly touch him with her whiskers. She is not a nibbler nor a biter and in the week I've had her, she's been remarkably soft and careful with her lips, only nuzzling the palm of one's hand. Any other endearments by her are a loving look from a lowered head, looking into your eyes, or putting her head next to yours companionably.
I said, "Don't worry, she will not bite you." He responded in fear, "Don't let her touch me!" Okay, I thought, he's an odd duck but on with the trim job.
When he had used the nippers on all four of her feet, I asked him about the terribly splaying of her hooves. He seemed offended and said that he wasn't done yet--when he was done, her feet would look normal. That was my first concern. You cannot go from soup plates to tea cups in a day! This guy would bear watching!
He started rasping the left front hoof. He didn't round it, and left a chunk going off in the wrong angle. All he was doing was rasping down across the entire front of the hoof wall.
In concern I asked him, "Isn't that going to further weaken an already compromised hoof?" He mumbled some double-talk about tubules and that it was worse not to rasp that area down.
Now I was really concerned! This guy apparently didn't know what he was doing, and was going to trim hoof until the shape looked right, never mind what the long term consequences. Yikes!
He put that hoof down, apparently deciding to work on a slightly less splayed one. Obviously, my two questions had made him uncomfortable. Little did he realize that I was even MORE uncomfortable, as it appeared that I had a surly, ignorant, fearful person working on Daisy's feet.
I made a mental note to Google the heck out of any problem BEFORE calling in a "professional" from now on. No more trusting in someone else with my precious horse.
Daisy's feet are sort because of the slant of her splayed feet. It hurts her to stand on three legs for extended periods of time. She's a trouper, and a good sport, but as the pain built up she needed to be able to put the fourth foot down briefly.
This fellow wanted to get her feet done and get away from the scary horse. I felt he needed the money, but would not have been doing this if he wasn't so desperate for cash.
When Daisy needed to put her right front leg down, he angrily went to a back foot. Daisy was still standing like a rock. Suddenly the fellow angrily threw down his rasp on the ground and exploded with no warning. "I'm out of here!" As he threw his tools into the back of his truck he blasted at me, "I can't work with you, with your negative reinforcement." He apparently had taken offense that we had told Daisy what a good girl she was. Being fearful and aggressive, he wanted a horse with rolling eyes, standing fearfully twitched, I guess. Never mind that Daisy had been half dozing with her head resting lightly on my daughter's shoulder. This would have been a happy scenario for a real farrier, but this fellow wanted blood and guts, I guess.
I had to ask the man three times what I owed him for his time. He was completely out of control with rage. The third time he focused on what I was saying and responded that I didn't owe him anything. I felt that he wanted an argument or for me to beg him to stay or burst into tears and be at his mercy.
My daughter, who was horrified at his out of control behavior drifted quietly into the adjacent paddock and started to rake manure. I said, "Okay. Have a good day" and walked off with Daisy. I think he was stunned.
As I let Daisy into the arena he leaned out his truck window and tried to get my goat. "I don't have a problem with the horse, ma'am," he shouted,. "It's you I have the problem with." And off he drove.
My daughter came over to the arena and we stood and watched Daisy as she drifted around nibbling grass at the edges. I was glad she had not been fussed or upset by the angry little fellow. She had put her trust in us and we'd come through for her.
About 15 minutes later we decided to walk Daisy to her own pasture, which is about a quarter of a mile down the driveway. As we headed towards her pasture, much to our astonishment, we saw this man in his truck, coming down the hill from the direction of the land owner's home. We simply board here and this man had gone up to the "barn boss's" home, apparently to try to make trouble about me.
I believe that the barn boss and his wife have seen all kinds over the years, and although I'm a fairly recent boarder, I've paid my bill on time and Daisy has been well behaved. My guess was that they simply stared at the man as though he had two heads. They do not delight in malicious gossip.
After a lovely munch, we walked Daisy back to her stall and covered area. Later in the evening I went back to give her another session in her pasture, We're building up her grazing time gradually so that she can be turned out all day long at a later date. By now, Daisy was obviously sore. She stumbled and faltered a lot on the uneven ground and on the gravel when we had to cross the driveway. She had not done that before the trim.
I went home and beat the bushes for a decent farrier, and Googled splayed hooves. I liked the "Mustang roll" method, which rounds the fronts of the hooves, so that the splay does not continue to push up and work against the internal structure. The feeling of that stress must be a bit like cutting a fingernail too short, and it really hurts as it pulls against the quick!
I called acquaintances and located a farrier who was said to be patient and knowledgeable.
At least he sounder older and more knowledgeable than the 30-something man who'd left in a rage (don't get me wrong--someone two or five years out of shoeing school would have been warmly welcomed if they liked horses and knew how to fix splayed hooves). Honestly, that guy is a walking felony, just waiting to happen. When someone goes from zero to 60 unpredictably and that fast, with a hair trigger rage and loses it completely, they are a danger to themselves and to others. His T-shirt logo seemed to point to "short man syndrome" as well but that was another issue for another day. I hope he gets over his bad self someday.
So we will see if what the next farrier will say. I have been praying that we will not have to wait 6 or 8 weeks for Daisy's hooves to grow out before he can help her!
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Daisy's Attitude Changes
The next day I continued using the clicker in the arena. When Daisy first comes out of her stall and covered area, she is bored. Left Brain Extroverts are playful, no matter what their age. They are first class fidgits as well. They think of things that THEY want to do, which seem far more important and interesting to them than what humans are asking of them.
If you fight them with "traditional" methods, you will be fighting a non-ending war until the horse either dies, or you crush its spirit entirely. On the other hand, the option exists to have the horse want to bond with you and "join up." There's nothing like the fire and spirit of a Left Brain Extrovert, when they are bonded to you and have learned about our human communication signals. They love it when they feel smart and successful (and nothing is better for them than such feelings).
I was careful to exercise Daisy on the longe line, trying to drive her first one way then the other across the small arena. Going in a circle is tedious for the horse, and they can get into a mindless rut that exercises their body but not their mind.
I would slap the looped part of the longe line against my boot or leg and make clucking or kissing sounds. I'd drive her one way and then the other. For a while she had a light in her eyes, but the time came when it wasn't too amusing to her anymore. Then I put my arm down, palm out--a signal she had picked up on the second day. It means to come to me and I will give her a treat.
We worked on backing up. The expression in her eyes changed to a soft and trusting one. I got several touches of her soft nose on my skin--sort of like the "touch and goes" that flyers do when they land and go right back into the air again. A brief sort of thing, but it was reaching out to me.
Unfortunately, she was very, very fond of success and treats. So much so that when I wanted to walk to her neck, then to her withers and barrel area, she would scoot around to face me, then back up enthusiastically.
Since punishment and/or chastisement takes the willingness out of a Left Brain Extrovert (LBE), I would smile and say in amusement, "Oh you funny girl. You have to do a trick to get a treat!" And I'd walk her forward, then I'd try again.
I'm finding that if I touch her mane and stroke her as I make my way along her side from the front, she is less likely to want to back up. When I face her head, eye balls to eyeballs, she wants to back up because that was where I was standing when she first learned that "trick."
So now I will be working with her backing up with a fence along her right side, to keep her straight. She wants my "business end" to be kept near her mouth at all times for easy asccess (giggle).
Horses don't know all the English words that we know and use, but they are gifted empaths, and when we speak, often we will project mental images of what we are talking about and horses pick up on those. Some things are too "pie in the sky" for them to know about, like finances, and so on, but the basics they often get.
I tell Daisy that she is beautiful (she is--she's a chestnut and white paint with halos around the outsides of the chestnut parts, some roaning, and black in her mane and tail). I tell her that she is extremely intelligent. Very smart. My attitude towards her is amusement and love. If she doesn't want to join me in a new "trick" or "game" I switch to doing something else. What she will remember more than "I got my way" is the battle. It's important not to lend any more weight to the negative experiences that she's already experienced. She needs to feel like a winner.
She has had to think for herself, and all those years in a pasture with other horses taught her how to think like a horse. She reminds me of a mustang. She thinks for herself, feels that being isolated from her herd (even if the "herd" consists of one puny human) is a death sentence, and she is very careful where she puts her feet. She's sure-footed in the extreme. She understands the herd mentality and knows how to make herself the alpha mare in horse language.
Yet despite all this, Daisy has a good and loving heart. I think some people under-estimate many horses' desires to please humans. Daisy wants to feel successful and wants my approval. No self-respecting horse will immediately and implicitly trust a human. I am working to be consistent and to build her trust in me.
I got a couple of unexpected surprises with Daisy---she is afraid of the longe whip (the cord on it) and of Hoof Flex. Her hooves were scaly and incredibly dry from running around in mud all winter. The mud, when it dries, sucks the moisture out of hooves. Just like working in damp dirt in your garden--your hands will be very dry that night.
Daisy wanted to inspect the brush with Hoof Flex on it. She got a good whiff and her eyes rolled in fear. It was obvious as she pranced nervously on the lead rope that she knew good and well what that stuff was. I was told that she had sustained an infection in one of her feet last winter (no wonder, considering the conditions she was kept in). They must have applied Hoof Flex or a similar smelling product to that sore foot. I got the feeling from her expression that it had burned. Imagine having a sore, inflamed hand and putting something on it that burns like fire. No fun!
I do not tie Daisy up very short. If she cannot move about a bit, her anxiety level will go through the ceiling. No one can learn when they are building up a head of steam composed of fear or anxiety.
She can move back and forth a bit, around the post she is tied to. I let her feet move around, which is like letting the steam out of a pressure cooker to lower the pressure inside. Each day I've been able to do her feet, by standing and watching her walk around, talking to her quietly, and when she stops, I bend down and daub some of the stuff on her hoof, commenting that it doesn't hurt a bit, does it.
She gets a click and a treat each time that I finish a hoof. Her faith in treats is so implicit that this is proving to get us over several hurdles, albeit slowly.
Daisy is also fearful of the "business end" of the longe whip. Today I was able to talk on the phone and rub her with the whip because my focus was elsewhere. When folks have whipped her, they (obviously) have made her the central focus. As she stood and I chatted, I would reach into the fanny pack and get her a treat. She didn't need the clicker--that wasn't necessary at this time.
Another "boogey man" is the spray bottle of 50% Skin So Soft and 50% water. All insects seem to feel that Skin So Soft is certain death to them and I believe that it is. The smell is enough to wake the dead though. And she is a stranger to squirt bottles with the scary "whoosh, whoosh."
Everything that does not work has to be broken down into bite-sized pieces. So instead of squirting her, I squirted some on a small rag and let her sniff it. She looked at me like, "Surely you do not intend to put that smelly stuff on me!" More nervous walking around and fidgiting.
So I put some on ME. And will continue to do so, not only for the massive mosquito population around there (yes, I realize they can carry Lyme Disease) but so that she starts to associate the smell with me (her loving "Mama") and treats. I had some of the smelly stuff on my left hand, so she got that with the carrot piece. Over time, she will start to associate the smell with me and treats, and will de-sensitize to it.
Since The Friendly Game comes first in the Parelli 7 Games, that's what I'm doing a lot of. I'd like to walk her places, as she gets bored easily, however her hooves will need some sort of protection first,(either shoes or booties) to keep the gravel roads from chewing up her feet.
I do some Porcupine Game on her to start her on the concept of moving AWAY from pressure, instead of towards it. Most horses move TOWARDS pressure and have to learn to do it "backwards" for them. So much of what we teach our horses requires THEM, not us to bridge the gap in the differences between horse and human!
If you fight them with "traditional" methods, you will be fighting a non-ending war until the horse either dies, or you crush its spirit entirely. On the other hand, the option exists to have the horse want to bond with you and "join up." There's nothing like the fire and spirit of a Left Brain Extrovert, when they are bonded to you and have learned about our human communication signals. They love it when they feel smart and successful (and nothing is better for them than such feelings).
I was careful to exercise Daisy on the longe line, trying to drive her first one way then the other across the small arena. Going in a circle is tedious for the horse, and they can get into a mindless rut that exercises their body but not their mind.
I would slap the looped part of the longe line against my boot or leg and make clucking or kissing sounds. I'd drive her one way and then the other. For a while she had a light in her eyes, but the time came when it wasn't too amusing to her anymore. Then I put my arm down, palm out--a signal she had picked up on the second day. It means to come to me and I will give her a treat.
We worked on backing up. The expression in her eyes changed to a soft and trusting one. I got several touches of her soft nose on my skin--sort of like the "touch and goes" that flyers do when they land and go right back into the air again. A brief sort of thing, but it was reaching out to me.
Unfortunately, she was very, very fond of success and treats. So much so that when I wanted to walk to her neck, then to her withers and barrel area, she would scoot around to face me, then back up enthusiastically.
Since punishment and/or chastisement takes the willingness out of a Left Brain Extrovert (LBE), I would smile and say in amusement, "Oh you funny girl. You have to do a trick to get a treat!" And I'd walk her forward, then I'd try again.
I'm finding that if I touch her mane and stroke her as I make my way along her side from the front, she is less likely to want to back up. When I face her head, eye balls to eyeballs, she wants to back up because that was where I was standing when she first learned that "trick."
So now I will be working with her backing up with a fence along her right side, to keep her straight. She wants my "business end" to be kept near her mouth at all times for easy asccess (giggle).
Horses don't know all the English words that we know and use, but they are gifted empaths, and when we speak, often we will project mental images of what we are talking about and horses pick up on those. Some things are too "pie in the sky" for them to know about, like finances, and so on, but the basics they often get.
I tell Daisy that she is beautiful (she is--she's a chestnut and white paint with halos around the outsides of the chestnut parts, some roaning, and black in her mane and tail). I tell her that she is extremely intelligent. Very smart. My attitude towards her is amusement and love. If she doesn't want to join me in a new "trick" or "game" I switch to doing something else. What she will remember more than "I got my way" is the battle. It's important not to lend any more weight to the negative experiences that she's already experienced. She needs to feel like a winner.
She has had to think for herself, and all those years in a pasture with other horses taught her how to think like a horse. She reminds me of a mustang. She thinks for herself, feels that being isolated from her herd (even if the "herd" consists of one puny human) is a death sentence, and she is very careful where she puts her feet. She's sure-footed in the extreme. She understands the herd mentality and knows how to make herself the alpha mare in horse language.
Yet despite all this, Daisy has a good and loving heart. I think some people under-estimate many horses' desires to please humans. Daisy wants to feel successful and wants my approval. No self-respecting horse will immediately and implicitly trust a human. I am working to be consistent and to build her trust in me.
I got a couple of unexpected surprises with Daisy---she is afraid of the longe whip (the cord on it) and of Hoof Flex. Her hooves were scaly and incredibly dry from running around in mud all winter. The mud, when it dries, sucks the moisture out of hooves. Just like working in damp dirt in your garden--your hands will be very dry that night.
Daisy wanted to inspect the brush with Hoof Flex on it. She got a good whiff and her eyes rolled in fear. It was obvious as she pranced nervously on the lead rope that she knew good and well what that stuff was. I was told that she had sustained an infection in one of her feet last winter (no wonder, considering the conditions she was kept in). They must have applied Hoof Flex or a similar smelling product to that sore foot. I got the feeling from her expression that it had burned. Imagine having a sore, inflamed hand and putting something on it that burns like fire. No fun!
I do not tie Daisy up very short. If she cannot move about a bit, her anxiety level will go through the ceiling. No one can learn when they are building up a head of steam composed of fear or anxiety.
She can move back and forth a bit, around the post she is tied to. I let her feet move around, which is like letting the steam out of a pressure cooker to lower the pressure inside. Each day I've been able to do her feet, by standing and watching her walk around, talking to her quietly, and when she stops, I bend down and daub some of the stuff on her hoof, commenting that it doesn't hurt a bit, does it.
She gets a click and a treat each time that I finish a hoof. Her faith in treats is so implicit that this is proving to get us over several hurdles, albeit slowly.
Daisy is also fearful of the "business end" of the longe whip. Today I was able to talk on the phone and rub her with the whip because my focus was elsewhere. When folks have whipped her, they (obviously) have made her the central focus. As she stood and I chatted, I would reach into the fanny pack and get her a treat. She didn't need the clicker--that wasn't necessary at this time.
Another "boogey man" is the spray bottle of 50% Skin So Soft and 50% water. All insects seem to feel that Skin So Soft is certain death to them and I believe that it is. The smell is enough to wake the dead though. And she is a stranger to squirt bottles with the scary "whoosh, whoosh."
Everything that does not work has to be broken down into bite-sized pieces. So instead of squirting her, I squirted some on a small rag and let her sniff it. She looked at me like, "Surely you do not intend to put that smelly stuff on me!" More nervous walking around and fidgiting.
So I put some on ME. And will continue to do so, not only for the massive mosquito population around there (yes, I realize they can carry Lyme Disease) but so that she starts to associate the smell with me (her loving "Mama") and treats. I had some of the smelly stuff on my left hand, so she got that with the carrot piece. Over time, she will start to associate the smell with me and treats, and will de-sensitize to it.
Since The Friendly Game comes first in the Parelli 7 Games, that's what I'm doing a lot of. I'd like to walk her places, as she gets bored easily, however her hooves will need some sort of protection first,(either shoes or booties) to keep the gravel roads from chewing up her feet.
I do some Porcupine Game on her to start her on the concept of moving AWAY from pressure, instead of towards it. Most horses move TOWARDS pressure and have to learn to do it "backwards" for them. So much of what we teach our horses requires THEM, not us to bridge the gap in the differences between horse and human!
Getting to Know Daisy
WEDNESDAY
Daisy clearly felt that humans were trouble. I wasn't sure exactly how tall she was, but she appeared to be around 16 hands high, and she expected to be given the right-of-way! Traditional methods would have a person putting a stud chain over her tender nose and jerking her around when she got into my space. Sadly, too often Left Brain Extrovert horses are viewed as annoying, bratty, argumentative, sneaky, annoying (yes, I mentioned that one twice, but they are very annoying sometimes). So they come in for more than their fair share of punishment.
But they can also be brilliant, loyal like no other, hilarious, clever, and can think for themselvesAND you, if you are riding them and you find yourself in a really bad fix.
I sort of water-skiied with Daisy out to the small arena. It has a deep, sandy footing. Before long she knocked me with her big shoulder and down I went. She danced around me, as I rolled around to get to my feet. She never stepped on me and I do not believe she would have, no matter where I was laying. She is very aware of where her feet are.
Discouraged, I took her to a round pen and worked her there until she was sweating a bit. It was a warm day. By then she indicated by chewing and licking that she'd like to stop for a while.
Now that she was calmer, I took out the clicker and hung it on my little finger, ready when needed. I tried to get her to back up. It took quite a bit of pressure, starting with feather light and increasing until I was leaning on the rope. The instant she started to shift her weight I clicked the clicker and gave her a treat. And in that moment, her focus swung around from her surroundings and her own ideas to the concept that I had treats and was giving them out!
The next time I asked her to back up, it took less pressure on the lead rope and the third time she had got it. Now it only takes a feather light grasp and often she picks up on my intent before I ever pull back and she backs up.
Next, I attempted to walk her down the quarter rmile driveway to her 2 acre pasture. She was bored and eager to boogie, and I had a hard time with her. I took her back to the barn and reluctantly got a stud chain to limit her antics. That worked, but I felt very badly about having to resort to that, and determined to "lose the chain" as soon as possible. For now it was a safety necessity.
I tried to keep Daisy on the grass at the sides of the road because the gravel was painful to her feet. h=Her big, splayed feet were as dry as alligator skin and a chunk of her front hoof was just ready and waiting to fly off.
It took much circling and jockeying for position to get her to her pasture. She noticed the large stock tank of fresh, clean water first and took many enraptured gulps of the water. I let her loose and she thundered off, then dropped her neck to graze near her stablemate who was on the other side of the fence.
Daisy was now looking at me with interest. What a strange human! She wasn't sure I was for real, or would stay as reasonable as I appeared to be at the moment, but clearly, she was willing to see what I'd do next, since most of my actions had been agreeable to her.
The thought of going from where she was now, to being rideable and knowledgeable was intimidating. Could I do it? She'd had 11 years to become distrustful and disgusted with humans.
Daisy clearly felt that humans were trouble. I wasn't sure exactly how tall she was, but she appeared to be around 16 hands high, and she expected to be given the right-of-way! Traditional methods would have a person putting a stud chain over her tender nose and jerking her around when she got into my space. Sadly, too often Left Brain Extrovert horses are viewed as annoying, bratty, argumentative, sneaky, annoying (yes, I mentioned that one twice, but they are very annoying sometimes). So they come in for more than their fair share of punishment.
But they can also be brilliant, loyal like no other, hilarious, clever, and can think for themselvesAND you, if you are riding them and you find yourself in a really bad fix.
I sort of water-skiied with Daisy out to the small arena. It has a deep, sandy footing. Before long she knocked me with her big shoulder and down I went. She danced around me, as I rolled around to get to my feet. She never stepped on me and I do not believe she would have, no matter where I was laying. She is very aware of where her feet are.
Discouraged, I took her to a round pen and worked her there until she was sweating a bit. It was a warm day. By then she indicated by chewing and licking that she'd like to stop for a while.
Now that she was calmer, I took out the clicker and hung it on my little finger, ready when needed. I tried to get her to back up. It took quite a bit of pressure, starting with feather light and increasing until I was leaning on the rope. The instant she started to shift her weight I clicked the clicker and gave her a treat. And in that moment, her focus swung around from her surroundings and her own ideas to the concept that I had treats and was giving them out!
The next time I asked her to back up, it took less pressure on the lead rope and the third time she had got it. Now it only takes a feather light grasp and often she picks up on my intent before I ever pull back and she backs up.
Next, I attempted to walk her down the quarter rmile driveway to her 2 acre pasture. She was bored and eager to boogie, and I had a hard time with her. I took her back to the barn and reluctantly got a stud chain to limit her antics. That worked, but I felt very badly about having to resort to that, and determined to "lose the chain" as soon as possible. For now it was a safety necessity.
I tried to keep Daisy on the grass at the sides of the road because the gravel was painful to her feet. h=Her big, splayed feet were as dry as alligator skin and a chunk of her front hoof was just ready and waiting to fly off.
It took much circling and jockeying for position to get her to her pasture. She noticed the large stock tank of fresh, clean water first and took many enraptured gulps of the water. I let her loose and she thundered off, then dropped her neck to graze near her stablemate who was on the other side of the fence.
Daisy was now looking at me with interest. What a strange human! She wasn't sure I was for real, or would stay as reasonable as I appeared to be at the moment, but clearly, she was willing to see what I'd do next, since most of my actions had been agreeable to her.
The thought of going from where she was now, to being rideable and knowledgeable was intimidating. Could I do it? She'd had 11 years to become distrustful and disgusted with humans.
The Beginning
My daughter was getting married and she and I realized that I'd need a new "best friend" and bosom companion to love and serve. So we started beating the bushes, looking for just the right horse. Our budget was small and that didn't help much.
Since an elderly, sick or very plain horse costs just as much (and sometimes more) to maintain, I wanted something special this time around. I had been heavily involved in the horse world until my child was born, then I walked away (it was not easy!) and concentrated on getting her raised as well as I could. Somewhere in that time period, we bridged the gap from daughter - mom to best friends.
And now she had found the love of her life, and I was losing my dearest, and best friend. I will never lose her completely, and I'm getting a son in the deal (technically son-in-law), but the amount of time we will share together will be less. She needs to grow more like her husband and he needs to grow more like her.
So! I practically wore a hole in Craig's List, looking at horses for sale. Often I could read between the lines, and a picture truly IS worth a thousand words!
I prayed that exactly the right horse would become available at the right price and then one day in June, up popped the ad for Daisy. It's funny how often if you pray, and wait and are open to any option, the right one will land in your lap!
MONDAY
We drove out to see Daisy. She was utterly turned off to people, but she was gentle. And enormous. Sort of the Howard Huge of horses. Dried mud and manure were caked into her hooves. So hard and dry that I could not eve get it out with a sharp hoof pick! She stunk of manure and her coat was dirty. Someone had cut off her lovely tail to above her hocks and had cut her mane pretty short, which left her defenseless to the flies.
It's possible that in the cesspool of mud and manure she had lived in this last winter, that her mane and tail were badly tangled. It was too bad the folks who had her didn't realize that a bit of greasy conditioner rubbed into the hair would have allowed a person to work through the mess and de-tangle it. If the mess isn't impossible looking, conditioner and water work, and sometimes one can even use shampoo and water.
Daisy was purchased on the spot, and then the next hurdle was finding a way to transport her about an hour and a half to get her here. We were blessed to discover a wonderful man north of us on the coast, who advertises as a hauler on Craig's List. Tony was a compassionate and careful hauler. He had a nice three horse trailer and a good pick up truck, and he knew his business "from soup to nuts" as they say.
TUESDAY
Despite Tony's careful handling of Daisy, she arrived at her destination soaked in sweat, and whinnying her head off, She was hysterical because she'd been a pasture "pet" for so many years. She felt claustrophobic and terrified since she'd been "kidnapped" (in her mind) and taken far away from her pasture mate. Poor mare!
Despite her extreme mental distress, she had the presence of mind to back carefully and slowly out of the trailer and step down without hurtint herself or us. Impressive. She stuck her neck up in the air and stared out across the creek at horses grazing on the other side in a pasture. She whinnyed repeatedly at them, but the ignored her. Poor mare: she was speaking pure "horse" and they were half-humanized.
I started to wonder what I'd gotten myself into when Daisy couldn't stand still. When she did stand still, she would swing that big head around and clobber me with it. I was clearly expected to "get out of the way, stupid!" She claimed her space, as an alpha mare in a herd would do. In a herd, the other horses would give her room and basically bow to her dominion.
Daisy was afraid of the dark, narrow aisleway into the barn, so I opened up a paddock gate and went in the back way, to a covered area which adjoined her stall. A 12 x 12 "turn out" area which is covered.
She was afraid of the automatic waterer and afraid of the Rubbermaid garbage can which we dragged into her stall and filled with water. So I brought her a 5 gallon bucket in her covered area and filled THAT up with water.
The sellers had hay, so they said. I asked if I could purchase 10 bales from them, as it was nearly haying season and most of the feed stores were out of any hay at all. They were delighted with my offer and when the hay was brought into the barn, I discovered that most of it was moldy, bleached out, and basically only good as a ground cover. Was THIS what they'd been feeding Daisy? Yikes! Issh, yuck, phewey! No wonder they had been giving her and their other horse a supplement. It's a wonder the horses hadn't had colic from the bad hay. Well, that or else they sold me the worst stuff in the barn. I hope they were dishonest enough to do that, simply so that their remaning horse would not be eating what they sold me. Truly dreadful hay for a horse.
I emailed the sellers to warn them that if they were feeding such hay to their remaning horse, they were courting a bad case of colic and a huge vet bill. I got a headstrong email back, assuring me that ALL the folks around their area fed their horses such hay as that. I doubt it! Most folks know better.
The next morning my daughter went with me to the barn. Daisy was antsy. Nervous and cooped up but she could see other horses at pasture grazing. I could not turn her out, as her pasture has (horse) chest high grass and she was given minimal grazing priviledges at the seller's place.
We brushed Daisy and talked to her, stroking her coat and admiring her. After a while she gave a big sigh and dropped her head to relax. She had been lonesome and scared, but these two humans were giving her a "massage" and obviously had no intentions of annoying her.
The next day I realized that what I had was a Left Brain Extrovert. I'd had the other three "horse-nality" types throughout lvfe, but not this one. A little Googling provided the lifesaving information that most Left Brain Extroverts respond very well to a clicker and little treats. Reward the slightest effort to do as you ask. Nevermind the fine tuning, if they try and fall all over themselves, reward them anyway. Reward them shifting their weight for the porcupine game. Never mind they didn't actually step to the side.
I strapped on a fanny back, grabbed the unused dog's clicker out of the closet, loaded up the pack with small horse treats, and headed to the barn.
Since an elderly, sick or very plain horse costs just as much (and sometimes more) to maintain, I wanted something special this time around. I had been heavily involved in the horse world until my child was born, then I walked away (it was not easy!) and concentrated on getting her raised as well as I could. Somewhere in that time period, we bridged the gap from daughter - mom to best friends.
And now she had found the love of her life, and I was losing my dearest, and best friend. I will never lose her completely, and I'm getting a son in the deal (technically son-in-law), but the amount of time we will share together will be less. She needs to grow more like her husband and he needs to grow more like her.
So! I practically wore a hole in Craig's List, looking at horses for sale. Often I could read between the lines, and a picture truly IS worth a thousand words!
I prayed that exactly the right horse would become available at the right price and then one day in June, up popped the ad for Daisy. It's funny how often if you pray, and wait and are open to any option, the right one will land in your lap!
MONDAY
We drove out to see Daisy. She was utterly turned off to people, but she was gentle. And enormous. Sort of the Howard Huge of horses. Dried mud and manure were caked into her hooves. So hard and dry that I could not eve get it out with a sharp hoof pick! She stunk of manure and her coat was dirty. Someone had cut off her lovely tail to above her hocks and had cut her mane pretty short, which left her defenseless to the flies.
It's possible that in the cesspool of mud and manure she had lived in this last winter, that her mane and tail were badly tangled. It was too bad the folks who had her didn't realize that a bit of greasy conditioner rubbed into the hair would have allowed a person to work through the mess and de-tangle it. If the mess isn't impossible looking, conditioner and water work, and sometimes one can even use shampoo and water.
Daisy was purchased on the spot, and then the next hurdle was finding a way to transport her about an hour and a half to get her here. We were blessed to discover a wonderful man north of us on the coast, who advertises as a hauler on Craig's List. Tony was a compassionate and careful hauler. He had a nice three horse trailer and a good pick up truck, and he knew his business "from soup to nuts" as they say.
TUESDAY
Despite Tony's careful handling of Daisy, she arrived at her destination soaked in sweat, and whinnying her head off, She was hysterical because she'd been a pasture "pet" for so many years. She felt claustrophobic and terrified since she'd been "kidnapped" (in her mind) and taken far away from her pasture mate. Poor mare!
Despite her extreme mental distress, she had the presence of mind to back carefully and slowly out of the trailer and step down without hurtint herself or us. Impressive. She stuck her neck up in the air and stared out across the creek at horses grazing on the other side in a pasture. She whinnyed repeatedly at them, but the ignored her. Poor mare: she was speaking pure "horse" and they were half-humanized.
I started to wonder what I'd gotten myself into when Daisy couldn't stand still. When she did stand still, she would swing that big head around and clobber me with it. I was clearly expected to "get out of the way, stupid!" She claimed her space, as an alpha mare in a herd would do. In a herd, the other horses would give her room and basically bow to her dominion.
Daisy was afraid of the dark, narrow aisleway into the barn, so I opened up a paddock gate and went in the back way, to a covered area which adjoined her stall. A 12 x 12 "turn out" area which is covered.
She was afraid of the automatic waterer and afraid of the Rubbermaid garbage can which we dragged into her stall and filled with water. So I brought her a 5 gallon bucket in her covered area and filled THAT up with water.
The sellers had hay, so they said. I asked if I could purchase 10 bales from them, as it was nearly haying season and most of the feed stores were out of any hay at all. They were delighted with my offer and when the hay was brought into the barn, I discovered that most of it was moldy, bleached out, and basically only good as a ground cover. Was THIS what they'd been feeding Daisy? Yikes! Issh, yuck, phewey! No wonder they had been giving her and their other horse a supplement. It's a wonder the horses hadn't had colic from the bad hay. Well, that or else they sold me the worst stuff in the barn. I hope they were dishonest enough to do that, simply so that their remaning horse would not be eating what they sold me. Truly dreadful hay for a horse.
I emailed the sellers to warn them that if they were feeding such hay to their remaning horse, they were courting a bad case of colic and a huge vet bill. I got a headstrong email back, assuring me that ALL the folks around their area fed their horses such hay as that. I doubt it! Most folks know better.
The next morning my daughter went with me to the barn. Daisy was antsy. Nervous and cooped up but she could see other horses at pasture grazing. I could not turn her out, as her pasture has (horse) chest high grass and she was given minimal grazing priviledges at the seller's place.
We brushed Daisy and talked to her, stroking her coat and admiring her. After a while she gave a big sigh and dropped her head to relax. She had been lonesome and scared, but these two humans were giving her a "massage" and obviously had no intentions of annoying her.
The next day I realized that what I had was a Left Brain Extrovert. I'd had the other three "horse-nality" types throughout lvfe, but not this one. A little Googling provided the lifesaving information that most Left Brain Extroverts respond very well to a clicker and little treats. Reward the slightest effort to do as you ask. Nevermind the fine tuning, if they try and fall all over themselves, reward them anyway. Reward them shifting their weight for the porcupine game. Never mind they didn't actually step to the side.
I strapped on a fanny back, grabbed the unused dog's clicker out of the closet, loaded up the pack with small horse treats, and headed to the barn.
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