Mouthy Mondays

I really haven't crawled under a rock. Cross my heart.
There are new structures going on at work and my free lance stuff has taken a new and interesting turn.
BUT I want to lay out my new theory on you so much....I keep picking at my post. So hang with me.
Anyway, here's a neat post on trailer drama.

And maybe just a touch self-congratulatory.
We all love trailer crap so much.....



Micayla writes:


(http://obsessedwithhorses.blogspot.com/)

I had just bought a trailer.

The only problem was that it was a two horse straight load.

Well, you see, when I bought Bronson four years ago, I had to pick him up in a two horse straight and it wasn't a piece of cake.

He took one look at the inside and decided, NO WAY. We tried luring him with grain, we tried a butt rope, we tried smacking him with a whip, but to no avail.

He got so panicky at one point that he jumped a barb wire fence. And if you know Bronson, he's no jumper.

Only desperation and a firm resolve not to get in that horse trailer forced him to that measure. We tried sedation, but although he was woozy, his resolve didn't slacken and he still firmly planted his hooves and refused to get in.

Finally we were able to squeeze him in with some pipe panels, but it was still against his will. Now that was four years ago, but he still had the same antipathy towards two horse straight load trailers as he did then. Two and three horse slant? Absolutely fine, he'd walk right in. Straight load? Not in a million years.
I, of course, had to win, so I used this new method that I read on a horse training blog (mugwumpchronicles.blogspot.com). What I did was attach a rope to Bronson's halter, ran it through the manger window, then back to where i was standing behind him with a whip.

When Bronson looked at the trailer and took a step towards it, he got a release. If he flew backwards, he got smacked on the legs with the whip and I kept pressure on the halter. When he took a step back towards the trailer, he gets the release.

The premise is this: you make the trailer the best place ever for the horse to be. Basically.

So that's what I did. I started with my red lunge line, but it had been sitting in the sun one day too long, and when it caught on the handle, it simply broke.

I was very frustrated, because I knew that Bronson had now "won." At this point, my dad fortuitously intervened with a rope he found in the back of the truck. Tying that securely on to his halter, I started again.

Pull forward, resistance, smack hocks, step forward, release. Pull forward, resistance, smack hocks, back up, keep smacking hocks, step forward, release. At first it was going pretty well, he was sniffing the floor of the trailer and at one point he tentatively put two hooves up into the trailer, but then quickly backed out again.

Then it all went down hill.

Pull forward on rope, rear up, spin around the side of the trailer, smack him until he faces the trailer again, release.

Over, and over, and over, and over.

I was angry, he was not doing what I needed him to do, but I still made sure that he did not get his release until he faced the trailer.

He reared up probably fifty times, and I knew that pulling on that rope would get that response because he hated that trailer that much. Even though patches of sweat were breaking out over his coat, he still had his mind set: no, he would not go in. Multiply this paragraph times an hour and fifteen minutes, and you get what I was dealing with.

Finally, my dad came down to see if i needed any help - to which i immediately responded with a resounding yes.

I asked him to get a pipe panel and put it up diagonally to the trailer on the side he was spinning around to so that that option of escape was blocked.

This took about ten minutes, but Bronson just stood there facing the trailer about two feet away from it with his sides heaving, content to have at least a little bit of rest. At this point, I looked down at my hands and realized that i had two large blisters that had formed and burst and were now bleeding in the places where i held the rope.

I stupidly did not wear gloves, and was paying for it.

After my dad got the panel set up, I had him stand behind the panel manning the rope while I stood behind Bronson with the whip. At this point he was bushed, and he was pretty much done fighting, especially since his only other option of escape besides getting in the trailer was blocked.

Within about fifteen minutes, and with a couple two-steps-in-two-steps-out, he got in the trailer and stood there tiredly, but contentedly eating the bits of hay that I had left for him. Even though it took me about 5 minutes before I finally got the door closed, he just stood there, not wanting to get out.

Exhausted, but glad that I had succeeded, I shut the doors and took him for a drive around the block. He rode quietly, he always has, it's always been the getting in that's been the problem. I unloaded him, put him back in the pasture, and was done for the day. It was hard work, but I had to continue saying to myself over and over, "the worst is over." I just hoped it was.

The next day, i went out prepared.

I haltered Bronson up in the halter attached to the fifty foot rope, I set up the pipe panel even before I started the trailering session. I got gloves for me and for my assistant who was plying the rope. I was ready.

I brought Bronson up to the trailer, we asked him forward, he stepped in, then stepped out again. Stepped in, stepped out. Then stepped in and craned his neck out to try to grab some hay in the manger.

I flicked his back hooves with my whip and he walked the rest of the way in. All in all, it took about ten minutes. I closed the trailer up, drove around the block, then returned him to his pasture. I was immensely relieved, to say the least. He had learned his lesson well, he had learned that the trailer was a good place and that life was hell otherwise.

The difference between this method and the method we used on the first day to load him was obvious. This way, he chose the trailer because he knew it was the best place he could be. When we squeezed him in with the panels, he was forced to go in even though he did not want to do it.

It took that first very hard session, but by the 4th time, all I had to do was tie the rope around his neck and send him in, thus eliminating the need for me to get into the trailer with him. To this day, he happily tromps right in and stands there waiting for me to close the door, all resistance gone.