Blog Bites and My Next Experiment

My mind has been jumping like a jumping bean for days, weeks, whatever.
You don't even want to know how many 1/2 to 3/4 finished posts I have nestled away.
It occurred to me, I need to share these flashing, jumping thoughts with you, because they are almost posts.

Like this one:

I woke up out of a very sound sleep tonight, almost shouting EUREKA!

Instead, I settled for a YIP!

It's because of the new Netflix goody, Wild Horse, Wild Ride.

I started watching and fell asleep. Nothing personal, this is going to be fun, but I'm old.

I was dreaming, dozing, processing about starting wild horses.

First off, they are not wild, they are feral. Which makes them much easier to start than, say, an antelope. They, are wild.

I was thinking about the way we humans like to kid ourselves so we can play cowboy.

First, we call mustangs wild horses. Second, we call round, square, corral work natural. I would put air quotes around the word natural, while rolling my eyes, but I only have one hand and it takes too long to make a set of air quotes. Third we put on a hat which makes a dramatic statement, so non-horse people know we're the real deal.

The premise is, getting the horse to join up, hook on, stick like glue, follow us like a two-year-old screaming for candy.

We do this by trapping the horse in a small pen and working a pressure/release game with the terror stricken beast until it begins to give in and work with us. We call this communication and tell ourselves we talk to the horses spiritually.

Eventually the horse figures out we aren't going to eat it, then realizes we come with a steady supply of food and BINGO! we have bonded.

Don't get me wrong, I start horses this way, even if the horse isn't a mustang, because it's efficient, safe for everybody and not as stressful for the horse as roping it, throwing it, saddling it and bucking it out. Plus, it's really easy.

But I will never, ever kid myself and claim the horse is choosing to be my friend. He became my friend because he couldn't climb out of my arena.

So could I get a horse to voluntarily make friends with me? Where he wasn't trapped with me behind corral rails? http://youtu.be/F1ILPl5FQaM

I woke up with a shout and a plan.

It comes from a game we used to play on the prairie (Mort story alert!), flagging antelope.

On a windy day, in antelope country, you can hook a white pillow case in a bush and let it flap in the wind. It works best if it partially hidden, two or three feet off the ground.

If a herd of antelope pass by and see it, they will do this:

"Whoa, did you see that? What is it?"

Then, they will spook and run, but just for a little bit. The they will turn and look again. Sometimes a couple of bold souls will leave the herd and come closer, closer, closer....their curiosity is bigger than their flight reaction.

Young horses playing in a field will do the same thing. The bravest, most curious colts will move closer and closer to a plastic grocery bag stuck on the fence, spooking, jumping and snorting, until one adventurous soul sniffs the bag and figures out what it is.

Then, he'll usually grab it and chase all his buddies around the field with it.

Plus, has anybody ever watched Clinton Anderson demonstrate desensitizing a spooky horse with a bag on the end of a longe whip? He leads the horse while snapping the whip and bag in front of him. The horse is so interested in the elusive bag they're chasing it forgets to be afraid.

Same theory made into an arena circus act. Which is why he makes the big bucks and I write alone in the middle of the night.  Dang that Clinton Anderson.

Anyway, if I sat in a field in the middle of mustang country, or with a herd of range horses on a giant ranch in Montana, I think I could teach a young horse to follow me -- by attracting him with a flag.

I would be drawing in the most curious, boldest and confident of the youngsters, the one I'd want in the first place. If I started small, showing my flag and immediately withdrawing it when my future victim, er, future life partner pricked his ears and looked, then built on that, I think it would work. It would probably take months to do this, because the horse would be able to leave at any time, but he could eventually choose to hang out with me, if I played my flag right.

This sounds like an incredibly fun experiment, especially for a retired old woman with lots of time on her hands. Well, to me it does. I just have to find the right hat.