Energy II

When you work a cow from horseback, you are actually working what is called the "bubble." It's the air mass between your horse and the cow. How big the bubble is depends on the animal's state of mind. You know when you've "bumped the bubble" when your horse steps forward and the cow acknowledges you. It means you've entered its personal space and it sees you.

Now, you can chase that bubble to hell and back if the cow is just running back and forth, but you won't get actual control over it until you've bumped the bubble hard enough to get it to see you. Then the cow work can begin.

A fresh cow will have a pretty big bubble. A sour cow's bubble can be so deflated you almost have to saddle it up and ride it to get it moving.

Scene I describes my relationship with Sonita pretty clearly.

She had an extremely high level of energy and it was easy for her to become fearful.
When she did, she became angry and almost dangerous. She would surge forward without thought and get chargy. She would slam through the bubble and we'd be in a mad scramble to get back to a workable place.
Her energy would make the cattle afraid and reactive. It made for some cool fence runs, but trying to move cattle slow and easy on a hot summer afternoon was tough.

Scene II

When cattle have been worked too many times, they just quit working.

They don't fight, they don't run, they just stand there. Even after you work a cow once it becomes a little dull. It goes steadily downhill after that. This is why cattle work is so expensive, once they're used up, that's the end of it and you need fresh cattle.We call them sour.

Madonna was afraid of cattle. She would work them, her breeding meant she couldn't help herself, but she was fearful. The cattle would almost start laughing and nudging each other as we approached.

A sour herd will bunch up really tight together and lock themselves against the horse trying to walk through them. Madonna was young and afraid and we would barely get our cow out, then couldn't drive it far enough away from the herd to get any decent work done. She was afraid to step right up to the bubble and would barely push against it. The pull of the herd stayed stronger in the cow than the tentative little pushes from my horse. If she made a few turns and lost her cow, I let it go. She was always relieved when we stopped.

My boss' stud (Odin's Daddy BTW) was a spoiled, ill mannered screaming lout of a thing. He was extremely aggressive towards cattle. At a cow horse event, I watched him pick up a cow by the back of the neck and throw it a good five feet during a fence run. They uh, didn't place.

The cattle could feel him coming. They would jump apart, ready to bolt, staring at him in horror. He might as well have been a pack of dogs. He didn't give a damn about no stinking bubble, he wanted beef. He was successful, to a point, because he could get a cow really moving, no matter how sour. His aggression was so strong though, he never had a pretty go, because it only becomes pretty when the horse and cow mentally locks together and  they move as a single unit. This can't happen if the cow is panicked.

The day of Scene II, I had my first ca-clink about how energy really works. At least on a horse. Please don't ask me to fix your floor scrubber. I will break it and electrocute myself, and maybe your cat.

The cattle can feel the horse approaching them and read it perfectly. When timid little Madonna came up to them I could feel her saying, "Excuse me please, coming through...pretty please?"

They would collectively ignore her, knowing they could rattle her by pressing against her and refusing to budge. They were right.

When angry stud boy swaggered up, they immediately felt his aggression and predatory intent. This put the whole group into flight mode. While it was easy to move them, they wouldn't settle down and work for the horse, because they knew he wanted to attack them. All they wanted was to get away from him.

Scene III is all about the donkey.

Nick, the roping trainer at my barn, showed me this cool little drill he uses on his colts. He brings out one of his roping burros (no, the burros are not abused in any way, I already wrote about them somewhere) and gets it to stand in the middle of the arena. Then he lopes a circle around it, big enough to not create any movement on the burros part and small enough to keep him in place. Again, it's about finding the bubble.

Once he's happy with his circle, and the colt's head is on straight he circles in, tighter and tighter until he pushes the burro around in a tiny little circle. Then he eases out, the goal being to leave the burro standing in the middle again.

I could see all kinds of training possibilities here and couldn't wait to try it.

Odin couldn't keep the damn donkey in the middle of the circle. Eager and interested, he isn't afraid like Madonna was as a youngster, but he's all over the place. Looking here, looking there, rarely focusing on the task at hand, sometimes I feel like I'm riding the horse version of myself. Odin bounces off the bubble, sometimes into space.

Burro took one look at him and said, "Dumbass." Then he walked off.

Eventually I got him to circle and hold our burro buddy and I quit for the day. At least we would be prepared the next time.

Madonna had been watching the whole process and she was ready to go as I saddled her. We headed out at a trot, and she dropped to a walk as we approached. Madonna is seasoned and wise at this point in her life, so when she stopped and the donkey was completely tuned in, I figured she had the bubble figured out. We did our circle, moved in, circled the donkey, moved out, moved in, out, and stopped. She's fat and so am I, so we aired up for a few minutes before we went the other way.

She never took her eyes off the burro and he never took his off of us. He never took a step she didn't direct.

Ca-chunk. It hit me again. The dog training videos talk about energy. Our energy, the dogs, and the energy between us. Keeping the energy calm and directed is the key to keeping the communication lines open.

Odin's energy is moderately high and very playful. He truly gets a kick out of life. He has trouble with focus. The burro picked up on it immediately and began to mess with the bubble. He didn't feel an energy he needed to pay attention to.

When Madonna showed up, her energy projected authority, confidence and a clear objective. She pretty much said, "Hey! You! Yeah, you, burro! Stand there and I'm going to lope around. Don't make me work!"

Burro said, "Sure."

Scene IV

Odin hadn't come out of the herd before. He's gathered, worked in the round and worked single cows, but driving out a cow from the herd and actually cutting it is a whole different enchilada.

He should be much further in his cow work than he is. But circumstance hasn't let it happen. I have firmly decided that lack of time only means our progress would be slow, not of poor quality.
The Big K told me long ago that if you start a 2-year-old and then leave him off until he's five, he still rides like the 2-year-old you stepped off of. He might be more capable physically, but mentally he's exactly where you left him in his training. No more, but no less.

I have found this to be true, for the good and the bad. Horses forgive much, but they forget nothing.

So, this year, it's time to get serious about our herd work.

Odin, although eager to work, didn't like the solid pack of cows anymore than Madonna had in her younger days. He was stressed, his energy scattered, and he wasn't sure he wanted to listen to me.
But he did. Once we got him through the herd and came clear with a cow, he worked it fairly well.
He relaxed a little more with each time in the herd, as he understood what we were after and found he wanted it too.
Odin's focus sharpened so much, that at one point, after he lost his cow he kept watching it. I backed him up, circled around and stopped to rest. He never took his eyes off of it. When we went back in he wanted the same one. So I let him. He got it too. We ended there.

When I brought Madonna over to work, the cattle felt her coming. I have had five years of retirement (can you believe it?) to think and experiment with her. The result has been completely over coming her fear of cattle, but not her common sense.

They immediately faced us, wondering what was up. They moved away to let her through as we split off our piece of the herd. She exudes confidence at this point, an assurance that the cattle immediately react to. They turn when she tells them to turn, stop when she stops them and move when she says so.

We cut and successfully worked four or five cattle before we quit. She was having fun, the cattle became soft and pliable under her direction and we ended with both of us wanting more.

It's the energy between the animals that makes the difference.

I was pretty worked up, and chattering about my thoughts to Kathy.

"What about yours?" she asked.

"What?"

"Your energy, how does that play into the whole thing? You're completely different on Madonna than you are on Odin."

"How?"

"I don't know. Just different."

More on this manana.