Mouthy Monday

Hey dog trainers. What is the difference between "Wait" and "Stay?"

This story comes from Cristy in Wyoming. I don't want to whine...but please send me your stories printed in

 your email. I had a bear of a time getting this off the link. 

It screwed up my page etc.

I don't want to become computer savvy enough to handle this. 

Serious.

I don't.

Cut and paste. 

Nothing else. Ever.

OK?

Now that I'm done being stern, this story really hit me. A green horse owner who still meets reality, 

responsibility and (in my opinion) becoming horsaii head on.

Paint Me Navicular

I’m an amateur.

A 40 something mom new to horses, enjoying the learning process and watching my daughter

(now 11) become a surprisingly confident rider, and trying to keep up (I would like to be a

surprisingly confident rider too, but I’ve got a ways to go.)

So...

 This story begins with Dan - a 10 year old ranch paint who’s rancher had become old and sold

off the rest of the herd, keeping back Dan who was his favorite.  The rancher realized that he

wouldn’t/couldn’t ride anymore, had no more grandkids to lead around, and parted with Dan.

(that sounds like a smarmy bunch of baloney, but I’m pretty sure it really went something like

that.) 

 He was our first ever horse, and Dan was everything the old boy said he was for a couple

of years.  Made us laugh daily, taught our kids to trust and then to love horses, then began

wringing his tail at a trot and it went downhill from there.  Navicular diagnosis, and a slow

downward spiral.   “What do I do?” from panicky me... “You shop for a new horse.”  from my

tell-it-like-it-is vet.  

Tricky shoeing, supplements, injections, even trickier shoeing, ‘bute, more

‘bute, and finally acceptance, careful trimming and the constant opportunity for long laying-down

naps twice a day, which at the end seemed to be the only thing that really helped Dan feel better.

And thunderstorms, which made him buck like a movie-star horse, and then take an extra long

laying down nap.  

We loved Dan, and even though we only had a couple years of real use from

him, we devoted four more (expensive) years to prolonging his comfort and keeping his clownish

personality cheerful for our own selfish benefit, and because Dan really seemed to enjoy his life.

Eventually, it was clear that one more winter would be way too tough on him, we did what

seemed right, and at the not-too-ripe age of 16 Dan went to the meadow in the sky.

Fast forward through another good kid’s gelding in which more skills were learned and

confidence built, then to a “ready for a “real horse” ‘nother paint.  In contrast to the heavy boned,

rangy and anvil-headed Dan, this was a petite little 14.2h  dumpling with a silky smooth trot that

grandma could sit bareback.  He had an adorable, youthful head, thick, curly white mane and

quiet demeanor.   The old-school cowboy stressed that he was selling him as a “trail horse” and

let us know that he “sometimes pinned his ears”, but we were sure that he’d be a 4H kid’s

dream, and that his cinchyness and grumpy attitude would go away with some love and gentle

handling.  (Did I mention we were green?)  To some extent we were right - he learned to face up

politely, lost his ear-pinning at saddling, but was always reluctant to lope.  More and more, he

found ways to make himself hard to ride for my little “I want to learn to ride an english saddle”

Chica, and he’d slam on the breaks, switch directions, drop his head as if to buck (never really

turning the crank) and find ways to make her fall off, or at least fear falling.  A confident (and

larger) rider could push him through the resistance, but he never really looked comfortable.  I’d

bought him in November, lessons weekly all winter, by spring we started wondering if it was pain

rather than spoiled-ness that made him resist.  (I know, I know, but we did have two different

chiropractors work on him, and did I mention that we’re green?)

So - while we’re figuring and diagnosing and round-penning-for-respect with the paint, the

Horse-Of-Her-Dreams dropped out of the sky, (amazing things happen sometimes) and she

cantered off into the sunset on her new gray arabian (who has an english background and a

western skill set)  exuberantly jumping and dressaging on odd days, sorting pairs and moving

yearlings on the even ones.  This horse was clearly a horse of a lifetime - they were a perfect

match, and the paint was now un-needed.

I felt uneasy offering the cute paint for sale without being sure that he was sound, (and I had

doubts) so I hauled him to the vet against my friends admonishments.

“Let the buyer pay to vet him!”

I just needed to be sure what was up with him.

The hoof tester foretold, and the Xrays confirmed my deep dark (but unvoiced) suspicions.  I’d

watched the unhappy tail swish, noticed the odd head-bob, thought I’d seen stiff-legged turning

and there was that uncomfortable step out of the trailer.  I thought I might have recognised it, but

how unlikely is that?  Two in a row?   I’m being a horse-o-chondriac, I told myself.

Nope.  It turned out to be  pretty obvious, and sadly familiar.

Trailering home, I thought about the vet’s advice.  “get him stood up, square those toes and see

if he goes sound.  A navicular horse can lead grandkids around for lots of years.  He might even

dude or trail with the correct shoeing.  He’s still a sell-able horse.  Get him walking sound, and if

your farrier can’t, let me know and we’ll talk about what else we can do.”

I got home, made a sale video, took some photos, wrote up an add, but when I looked close at

the vid and saw a slight head bob, I just - well... I couldn’t go through with it.  That person that’s

looking for a pasture ornament?  That grandpa that wants a quiet horse to lead his grandkids

around on?  Those people are myths.  There are sound horses that can do that without being in

pain.

Across the dinner table, my husband and I looked at each other.

“What do you want to do?”   He asked.

“Selling him is wrong.  I know he won’t last.”

“What do you want to do?’

“Is the track-hoe home?”  (My husband is a dirt contractor)

“Yep.”

“I think there are some starving worms by the east fence.  (deep breath.)  I want to feed the

starving worms.”

(a pause)

“Okay.  Keep the kids in town for an hour or so after the 4H meeting tomorrow.  (another pause)

Are you sure?”

“Yes...  Please.”

Worms are happy by the east fence.

Was that right?  I don’t know.

I’m certainly not bragging it around... not the sort of thing I’ll post on facebook, ya know?

But looking out at my current herd of two sound horses that we ride on a regular basis, one old

gelding that loves parades and a donkey that’s the neighborhood mascot, I know that I can afford

to feed what I have.

I’m sorry, little paint.  I really do hope you’re enjoying the meadow in the sky.

Brockle Update --

Brockle is still wonderful. 

He has also begun to relax.

Which means there's some testing going on in the house.

He is still sweet, calm, gentle and obedient. In the house and when he's tired.

He's a ball retrieving, rabbit chasing goon outside and off-leash. 

Brockle is a cat burglur.

Once Jim and I leave he becomes something else. He becomes a sneaky little thief. He steals our stuff. Then he puts them some place where we'll find them. It's like a criminal's signature left during a crime spree.I'll find my boot in the middle of our bed. or Jim's back brace on the patio table. A single slipper hidden under the blanket in Charlie's favorite chair. Nothing is chewed, just placed gently in the middle of every single place he's not allowed to be. A piece of statuary from the table in the entryway sitting on the kitchen counter. I could go on.

"Wait!" I think. Maybe Charlie's doing it, of course Charlie isn't tall enough. How about a poltergeist? If the poltergeist has big giant feet and leaves muddy paw prints all over my furniture...

Brockle's heritage is constantly being brought under the gun. Nobody wants to accept the idea he just might be what I was told he is, GSD and collie. I guess they want him to be more exotic.

"He can't be GSD and collie, his color's all wrong," is the major one.

I was wondering if all of the armchair geneticists were right, and he was something more interesting, you know, cooler. But then I found these. So much for that theory.

It turns out, there is a gene, the pied gene, also called the white spot gene (I think). It's a recessive gene and GSD breeders are not happy when it shows up. But it took ten minutes on the Internet for me to find a Krazy Kolor GSD breeder who was doing this on purpose. So it's easy to see where Brockle gets his color.

I think I may have solved the puzzle though. 

I think he's a Lurcher.

Lurchers were developed by the Romanichals and Mouchers in England (the Norfolk Lurcher being the typical moucher dog) and other British countries during a period when hunting of game was reserved for the landed classes. The penalties for poaching were extremely severe, and greyhounds (as well as being very difficult to train) were also the dog of the aristocracy, so obviously a different dog was required. They were used for poaching rabbits, hares and other small creatures.  It is never bred to a specific standard and is not considered a breed, as the Lurcher is a crossbreed: usually three quarters sighthound but can have any amount of sighthound in them.  The most common combinations are the Greyhound/Collie and the Greyhound/Terrier.  The name Lurcher a is derived name from the Romany word lur, which means thief.  

 Lurchers are sometimes referred to as Gypsy Dogs as they were often utilized to steal chickens, etc. from the farmers.  Aptly named, nothing lying within reach is off-limits to these imps.

See? Born to be a thief. He's gotta be a lurcher.

He's making up for it though. He's about got fetching the paper in the morning down. He never, ever leaves my side by choice. I did a fairly serious PD pratfall down a hill last week. Brockle came off a rabbit he and Charlie were chasing and was standing over me, barking and nosing me, within seconds. He backed off nicely and gave me room to get back up too.

He's extremely fond of Snocone. He licks her face and gently sniffs her. In return she is beginning to play a little.

Charlie and Brockle are becoming fast friends. Brockle is even showing Charlie how to steal things. I'm so proud.

The crazy play never stops.

Charlie is turning into a lean, mean rat machine. He's lost five years of stuffiness.

On the training side of things, we've been doing good. I keep reading and watching videos and trying this, that and the other thing to see what works.

Treat rewards work well for some things, mainly if we're in the house and there's nothing better to do. He likes food, but he doesn't care enough to prefer it over some of his rowdiness outside. If he's seriously distracted, he doesn't care for treats, praise or even his favorite toy his tennis ball. 

For the moment, I'm working on a dog-version of my old Monte Foreman horse training techniques. 1. Ask for the behavior I want. 2. Tll him what I want. 3.Make it happen.

I'll use walking on the leash as a good example. If Brockle starts to put weight on his leash I make the hand holding the leash into a fist. If he backs off I relax my hand again.

If he doesn't respond I go to step two, give him a verbal Heh, re-position him and walk on. 
If he still doesn't respond I either turn suddenly and walk the other way for a few steps or bump him as hard as it takes with my foot until he's back where he belongs.

He only gets a food reward (a bit of chicken) if he does what I want at step #1. 

It's working nicely. Not great, still working. One reason he was turned into the pound was for pulling his owner over on the leash, now he doesn't go past step two anymore. 

His dog aggression is dwindling, we're passing other dogs on our walks like a couple of pros. We had seven dogs here for Christmas (missing two) and only had a very minor skirmish between Brockle and my step-sons notoriously aggressive Blue Heeler. It was mainly noise, the heeler was locked up in another room for a few minutes and everything stayed polite afterwards.

We spend an hour to an hour-and-a-half a day on walks. I can take him to the barn, tie him to an arena post while I ride and he lays down and watches with quiet interest.

Brockle's ball. We play fetch for a good thirty to forty throws every day at the dog park.

I'm not cast in stone on any of this yet, I'm still reading about different techniques, but Brockle is fast turning into a well-behaved companion in spite of me.

He lies at my feet and his intelligent eyes crackle with conversation and interest. Brockle can't wait for the adventure of the day to begin and he won't start it without me. This has the rumblings of something great.

What I Wanted to Share

I'm wondering if I posted on my Eureka! moment too soon.

My thoughts had nothing to do with my one-on-one relationship with my horses, it had more to do with how I ride and the most effective way to get a horse moving out in a responsive, quick and calm manner.

This new thought process is giving me a very interesting approach to getting what I want and at the same time, cleaning up my communication so my horse can work through the training process without a lot of muddled cues messing things up.

My first post on this thought process was to state my previous predator/prey approach, which works for me, and explain a change of thought which should help me succeed with my horse, while riding him.

I didn't want to get caught up in yet another NH discussion, I think I've covered my thoughts on that one ad nauseum.

My thoughts, right now, are about improving my forward motion while riding, clearing up my cues with legs and spur, and eventually, taking me to correct and stress free collection. I'm hoping to gain a quicker, cleaner response with less work, for both me and my horse.

Littleblackmule understood me completely. Thank goodness, I was beginning to think I was speaking Klingon.

"So...
Hang on to your horse, tie it down, stop it moving, and you're acting like a predator and the horse will treat you like one.
Push it forward, allow it to move, and you are a trainer.. or another horse."

When I ride a horse, broke or not, I want to start directing his movement the way another horse would, at least as close as I can come.

Why? Because I think my colt will then go into a calmer, quieter place and be able to follow my direction without argument or fear.

In the previous post, my sample photos of horses being driven by another horse told me a lot. 

I'm going to call the driver, the horse creating movement, horse A.

The horse being driven is horse B.

I'm going to try to avoid the worlds dominate, alpha, lead or belle mare so we can stay on track.

What I really want is to ride my horse effectively, as a human.

That being said, here's what I'm playing with. I got the chance to study herd behavior extensively at my last job before retirement. I had a clear view of  our 40 acre broodmare pasture from the barn and the arena. 

Several years ago I read Monty Roberts - The Man Who Listens to Horses. Now don't get excited, I know all about his personal failings. What I took from his book was the idea of closely observing herd behavior and applying that behavior to training.  Since reading the book I have watched horses interactions between themselves for years with as much an eye to how it can help me train as how beautiful they are to watch..

When horse A wants horse B to move away from him she will apply pressure by lashing out and biting or kicking.She will be pretty random with the bite or kick because A simply wants B out of her space.

B will move, fast, bug-eyed and without specific direction, because the only desire is to get  away from A. He calms down and begins plotting on how to get A's feed the second she takes the pressure off and quits coming after him. B doesn't seem to be afraid or hold a grudge, as a matter of fact, he tends to hang around hoping A might decide he can move in closer.

A is good with that because she just wants to eat/sleep/drink without being bugged by B. 

I'm not interested in this dynamic at the moment, because I need to safely ride B, not eat lunch with him.

When A decides B needs to understand he can never try to eat her food, she will drive B away in a specific direction after she gets him moving away, like out of the herd, or the top of the manure pile.

Horse A sends Horse B in a chosen direction first by applying pressure with lunging, biting or striking. Once B is on the move, A then begins to control direction, sometimes for quite a distance, keeping her forward motion by biting B's hip or back of the rib cage. She will control the direction by biting  B in the ribs and flanks, or by biting/leaning/kicking his shoulder/neck. 

Horse A works one side at a time. She doesn't worry about how fast B is going. If an old, fat mare is chasing a lively 2-year-old, she will make the colt repeatedly change direction in order to slow him down, rather than try to win a race.

The only time you will see A create real terror in B is if she traps him in a corner, turns, and proceeds to kick the crap out of him. This scenario is where horses can get hurt -- forward motion has stopped. B might even turn against A and start fighting back, since flight is no longer an option.

Horse A is directing Horse B's movement by controlling his feet. If she wants more speed she will close in on  B's hindquarters and push or bite. If she wants less speed she will fade off, giving B more room, and he will slow.

If Horse A wants to change Horse B's direction, she applies pressure on the off side and he moves away.

This pressure can come from a bite, kick, strike or simply crowding into B's space.

This is where I want to point out that steady pressure will cause a horse to push back. Intermittent pressure will cause a horse to move away from the pressure. 

Ray Hunt said, "Control the feet, control the horse."

Tim Unzicker said (and probably will again), "Janet! Get off her face!"

Horse A controls the direction and speed of Horse B by controlling the feet. B's face doesn't even come into play.

This is where my thoughts started hopping. 

Please keep in mind, this is not changing my training method. It's clearing up for me why I do it, why it works and where I need to improve my approach.

Any restraint on my horse's head is going to stop or hinder my horse's forward motion. A bit, hackamore or halter anything that takes control of the head, is going to translate as a predatory action. I am going to make the most sense to my horse if I emulate one animal at a time. 

Eventually, after the forward motion and foot control is established, I can add my head control. The horse can absorb the change in my riding because he already understands I not only allow, but encourage forward motion. He can have his flight, I'm not going to force him to fight. I've set my precedent and if I do things right, he'll know he can trust me to stand by it. 

Why do I want this? Because a horse that is moving is thinking. A horse whose legs have been stopped has also had his brain stopped. He is going to become reactive and do what he thinks is needed to get moving again.

This is where I like to be riding in either a large round pen or a small arena. I can give my colt his head and control his direction by first diving him forward, then use my hands and legs to simulate the bite or push to get my turn.

I'm not brave enough to put myself in this situation without a rope halter and lead rope. If I blow it, and the colt starts to pitch, I don't care whether I'm predator or prey to the horse, I just want to haul his ass around and save my bacon. This hasn't happened often, and when it has, it almost always comes from human error. 

Anyway, I played with this concept over the holiday (Merry Christmas everybody!) and had some interesting results. I was riding Madonna in her hackamore, but I dropped my reins and tried to ride her as if I was a horse driving her. It was really interesting. I had plenty of forward, good turns to the left and at first, almost nothing to the right. After a few minutes I got the right back in play, but it was very clear I've been overusing my hand and not using my legs correctly on her right side.

If our weather breaks I'm going to try to film some and I'll show you what happened.

Madonna is broke, broke, broke. I know she will figure me out ASAP and comply, but it still seemed the clearer my thoughts were (I was very firmly horse A) the better she rode.

It will be interesting to see how Odin does.