Flipping Conformation&Temperament

That's my Rubik's Cube for my girls.It used to be insurmountable to Flip, and now she gleefully disassembles it, while Blaze watches in awed admiration. The variations are endless, and all are equally scary. It's a wrought iron rooster, with FrisBees hung from strange places. It took Flip about two months to get it figured out. Flip was soProuD, the first time she did it. Amazing how brave she has become, from the scaredy dog I started with.



I love my pansies.. I took this picture on a day when they didn't have their shoulders all hunched over, against the wind.

F-Words, continued.

Flip
fervently
fetches
flying
Frisbees
from
flagrantly
flinging
fellow
folk.


Flip,
finding
further
floating
Frisbees,
flirts,
fearing
frequent
flowing
forces
freely
frolicking
furiously.

Flip
flamboyantly
fields
Frisbees,
flexing
frantically,
foolish
for
fun!

I know, I KnoW. I have too much time/space in my head.

It's too cold to be outside, right now! Barely 52 degrees, unFahrenheitly speaking.
Gale force north winds. White caps on the pond. My plants are all hunkered down, awaiting consistent sunpowers. Frozen in time. Lucky plants. I'm still in sweaters/jackets and whatever. Is there a glyph for annoyed, ND_Appy?

I'm avoiding housework. Conveniently, the vacuum-cleaner is STILL broken. Oh, it's such a shame! I so look forward to housewifely duties. (aaaaagh, did I type that??) I'm just letting you all copy/paste it somewhere that needs it, like your husband's e-mail... They do like their fantasies to be justified, ya know? The TV commercials in the 50's? They were the idea for the movie "Stepford Wives"... The First one. The good one, with Katherine Ross. Not that Bette Midler wasn't hilarious in the re-make..

Blaze is blustering that nothing enough has happened today. After yesterday's blast in the park, today is shaping up blaringly dull. Hah, that word is spelled wrong, in the blogger dictionary.
Alliteration, yagottaloveit.

Okay, okay. Blaze wins, but she's going to give me ten more minutes of hair-drying time. My hair gets REALLY big, with a lot of wind. Scary big.

Be right back.

Conformation and Temperament.
(You thought I'd forgotten, hadn't you?)
It's really important to try and fit the temperament of horse and rider together. One should compliment the other, as much as possible. The two of you should get along:)

The conformation of the rider isn't as important as the temperament of the horse and rider together.
The conformation of the horse isn't as important as the temperament. The job the horse is expected to do means everything to the horse. Even if that job simply involves ground handling.

The same is true in dogs and cats and, well, you know. Everything...
Is that a big enough generalization, do ya think?

I mention all this preamble to explain, at last, why GoLightly and I were such a perfect match. It explains why that first ride was such an explosion of expanded knowledge for me.
I had read books and watched and ridden and handled other people's horses 'til I was a pretty decent rider, but I'd no focus, really.

No set direction with each horse. I was just making them more rideable for others. Safer to handle. Easier to load. Tack up, mount, whatever. Horses have to have good manners on the ground first. They are too darn big to be pets, first. Anyway, I wasn't very aware of where I was going, with each horse I'd ridden. Ride 'em, move on. Another horse to ride? Great. Move on..

GoLightly was already totally ride-able. He sure didn't need me to teach HIM anything. That's why he was so kind with me, I think. GoLightly saw a really earnest, tightly-strung student.
That's me.

Having finally been diagnosed as hyper-thyroid (Graves Disease) in my early 40's, finally let me in on my little psychic secret. GoLightly diagnosed me, back when I was almost 30.

Horses are so bloody smart.

Anyway, my fiery temperament could and did get me in trouble sometimes. I would have my troubles with the very hottest of the hot horses I rode. I could handle hot. Hottest was always a challenge. If I let even a smitchen of my own tension out, my hottest horses let me know.

Sooo, with GoLightly, his idea of hot was to throw in a little passage once in a while, just for fun. I remember once, on one of our last hacks, GoLightly begging me to let him run full-out. I had to say no. With my luck, you know.. He'd have hit that ONE gopher hole.

We'd always enjoyed galloping, oh, his giant stride, wow. But that next to last hack, I was struck again by just how plain good he was, when I said "no". A hottest horse wouldn't have accepted that "no". Instead, my GoLightly offered a little piaffe/passage, and then settled into the trot work he knew we'd planned. GoLightly was always with me, as far as plans went.

I could plan rides with him, such a revelation. Okay, today is hack around day. Tomorrow would be flat-schooling (me) day. As I mentioned, my stirrups had always been too long for jumping, but I'd started out that way. It was the first habit GoLightly helped me break. My second, being crooked, came through weeks of flat-schooling, me watching his tracks and movements in the mirrors and on the rail, and out on hacks.

It strikes me, again, how much those short months I rode GoLightly ratcheted up my 17 previous years of experience in horses. It makes me wonder, as usual, what a truly marvelous riding school could be like, if it offered only true Schoolmasters.

What incredible riders could be started properly, finally!



Here's an interesting link, probably you've already seen it. And a good discussion, about rollkur.

I never had to use "deep", as it seems to be called by some. In extreme cases of muscular stiffness in the horse's neck and back, I found simply flexing the horse's neck from side to side was all that was needed to show the horse how to relax and go forward at the same time.. And never did I do any flexions to any extreme. A rubber-necked horse is a broken horse. JMO. Bending and stretching is a tool, not to be held in one place for any extreme length of time. That way is the direction for abuse.

Oh, dear. The Canadian "Horse Sport" Magazine's editor has come out against the Grand National Steeplechase. It is abuse. So she says, anyway. So it must be true, I guess.

You all know I've long been fascinated with the 'chasers'.
Crazy lot, they are. Do I watch for the falls? Why do we love to watch horses and riders risking their necks?
Will we ever "outgrow" that fascination?
Should we?

Just askin'.

To Horses.

Favours owed..

Here's a picture of a portrait I "commissioned", for the black horse I rode. A dear artist friend, with no experience painting horses.

The Favour I can call, I think..

I was "lucky" enough to do this for a neighbour, 3-4? years ago. December 23, Neighbour's horse, a thirty-five year old mare, had suddenly passed away, and she phoned my husband late that night completely frantic, as her landlord/Boss NEVER wanted any messes left on his property. My husband's tractor was needed, to move the old mare's body to a more accessible location for the cremation truck pick-up.

It was something I was just born to do. The woman was absolutely distraught/hysterical. She "owned" the mare for 31 years. I hadn't met her before, just heard about her through my husband, as he farmed this guy's land for years. This guy, super dooper wealthy guy, husband's Landlord/Neighbour's LandLord/Boss is not the friendliest. Putting it mildly.

Anyway, I kept her talking about the mare, and told her how she'd given the mare a long wonderful life. The mare had just dropped dead, no signs of struggle or pain. Hay was still in her mouth. I wouldn't let her watch the moving of the body, and I carefully, lovingly wrapped the horse's head in a blanket, so owner couldn't see much "expression". I took her into the barn, as husband did his lift and carry, and got her to chat about the other horses, owned for their existence only, by the LandLord Big Boss Guy.. And of course, I loved madly on the other horses, having a great time, horse deprived person that I am. This lady also owns a Haflinger, with folded forward, weird ears.

Once the old mare was moved and placed, I uncovered her head, closed her eyes and cleaned away the death poop. I prayed, in my own way. I was so glad to help that poor woman, two days before Christmas.
There is something just so wrong about a dead horse's body. So large a Life, the emptiness left is like a black hole.

Lending a helping hand is second nature to my husband and myself.

I've offered to help this woman, at her new barn location, literally almost walking distance from my house:)
Where the mare died, is right across the street from me.

I have to go see her again... There are ten horses, 6 are co-op boarders, the rest are hers. She ended up buying her Boss/LandLord's horse, as he suddenly lost interest, and vacated all the horses from his barn.

This woman still works for the Boss/Landlord, maintaining his empty property. She's moved her horse set-up to a place recently sold to someone I know, and LIKE!!!!
Right beside Butch's House!


Well, Butch's place has decreased surrounding property values for YearS. Not to worry, the "new" barn is waaaay nicer.
It's still standing:)


Her ex-RCMP horse, 20 year old gelding, black of course, ooooohhhhhh....

Big steps and little 'uns.

I am tiptoeing towards a barn.

shhhhh, don't tell anyone. Might jinx it:)



Here's a wood sign I made for hubby for Christmas. Long story, but suffice it to say, it's not an example of success:)

Name Everything

I can't remember if I've posted this picture before, dagnab it. My dear old girl, and her "little" sister, aka my kid sister's dog MissM, scanning for critters on the pond edge, as we canoed..

MissM, like old red girl, was a Pound puppy, rescued from Etobicoke Humane Society, at only 3 months old. Already had a propensity for eating anything, sister caught MissM eating broken glass almost immediately. Scared the heck out of sister. I was kinda pissed that sister got a puppy, as I had always preferred rescuing the older dogs. So I was already unsympathetic, as in, well, she's a Puppy! They do eat anything, you have to watch them! DUH!!

I was also annoyed, because my old girl was about 11 at this point. My older dog wasn't all that thrilled with her new baby sister. Neither was I. Poor MissM:(
We weren't mean or anything! My sister had been one of my old girl's favourite people, and I was also surprised when sister did get her puppy. I thought she'd have too busy a life already. Sister was inspired by the relationship that me and old girl shared, and I think she wanted that, too. Who wouldn't?? We were a team. Sister used dog-sitters and neighbours and my place, which I finally had to put the nix on. As in, she's YOUR dog, take care of her!

I had no clue on how to train a puppy, as evidenced by my first tentative snap/tug of choke-chain on sister's puppy's poor neck. Puppy cowered/flinched. I was floored. I'd used some old school tough love "traps" on Red Dog, I'm still ashamed to admit.

I did read Koehler first. Had to discard a fair amount of that. Carol Lea Benjamin, Jean Donaldson, very helpful too, but puppies seemed to be a different planet altogether, for me. Sort of like tiny infants. They make me um, "glow". Okay, sweat, okay! perspire. They make me nervous:) I'm Getting to my point. Really!

So, after kid sister had thoroughly annoyed me, by using my house as puppy inn when she was (often) away, MissM and sister learned on their own, with little help from me. Sister didn't listen to me much, anyway:)

Sister did a (mostly) beautiful job. Sister forgot to socialize MissM to cats, and gave her unlimited stuffies, some of which were ingested. MissM cannot be trusted around cats, ever. Everything else, she's pretty fine. Loves kids. Still not poisoned proofed, as sister insisted on leaving her unleashed on walks at my place, where MissM learned to eat anything she found, as Mom couldn't stop her. Yup, that annoyed me. I'd managed to poison proof my old girl, through perfect timing. And a long leash. And good luck.

Kid sisters' kitchen reno, that was on "Pure Design", on HGTV? The reno guys removed her old fridge, exposing some old rat poison, that MissM ingested a bit of, before helpfully bringing the rest to her mom.. Sister gave MissM hydrogen peroxide to vomit her, and MissM got particulate-inhalation pneumonia. Poor MissM. She's had some BAD luck through the years.

But through it all, MissM is a wonderfully sweet, well-socialized, mostly obedient dog. She has never really learned to heel well on leash. Sister never regimented her training that religiously. I was a tougher task-master with my methods. Didn't work well with Flip, in our first year, at all. MissM and Flip instantly fell in love with each other. Have been the best of buddies ever since.

When I got my Blaze puppy, I was MadlY reading puppy books, (since I only had older dog training books) and losing sleep over evening ups and downs. "My Smart Puppy" by Brian Kilcommons was perfectly helpful. Blaze house-trained in a week, and was really just an awesome little pup. I made several gabillion mistakes.

As I'd never HaD nor wanted a puppy before, though, I was pretty, um, stressed. Oh, but the smell of a puppy. No wonder people go so crazy over them. That often nobody seems to want the grown-up dog that follows, is for others to blog about.

Believe me, I felt so many mixed emotions. I think giving Flip her own ReaL little (half) sister was what helped save her brain, and mine. So, I feel less guilt for not going to a shelter. But I still feel it. Crap, tangenting aGain. I wanted another red dog, is the short story there. I didn't want what I was finding in the shelters, after old red girl passed. Flip was my old red dog's idea:) Blaze was my husband's and my breeder's idea. Blaze and I share a birthday. How cool and weird is that?
Confused? Me TOO.

Finally, My Point.
Sister gave me a training tip priceless gift, when I'd had Blaze puppy about four months.. It's so simple, it's ridiculous. But it's the best tip I've ever gotten.
NAME EVERYTHING.
Of course, I already knew to name and reward behaviours.

But when you name everything, you do indeed teach the dog a beautiful broad language. Horses, too. Name everything you do, the same name of course, being crucial. And only name the exact behaviour, and name it the SAME, every time. Same with cues, aids, hand gestures. The same gesture=name=behaviour=object=movement. Whatever it is.

every single time.
Way harder than it sounds.

Animals are watching and listening. Give them total, utter consistency, and they will learn, faster than you can believe possible. It's amazing.

For your own riding, find and name a position that is comfortable. Try to memorize how it feels. The muscles that pain you need named too. Muscle memory is our friend... As long as the muscle is being used correctly!

Simplification. I'm all for it! Hard to tell from THIS post, but oh, well..

Humans, animals, all of us are like sponges, just soaking up information. Make sure they soak up the same thing each time, and language between the two of you is born.

whew, that's more than enough for one day.. I have always been a rather monotonous sort. (You might have noticed). I can say the same thing, a Lot. I practiced it, growing up. Still do.

I learned the best with consistent repetition. Animals do, too. I've always named everything. Not very creatively, maybe, but it's how I've learned.



Horse News in the 905 Toronto area:)
I didn't get to see the horses I wanted to see, for various totally annoying reasons, BUT, I may have found something better. I will definitely keep ya posted. I did screw up enough courage to check out a "new" (not really) barn, VERY close to where I live.
Which is about all I can afford right now. Ya know? I did scritch withers and charm a spooky yearling filly. Oh, her ex-RCMP horse!
Sigh, and wow, ironic seems to be the order of my day.
There was an Appy and a Haflinger out in the field, but they were busy, looking so not very starved. The big black horse and the filly smiled at me:)

The Barn Manager kinda owes me one. I have to go back, find, and re-post something, soon. It's all about how the BM owing me the favour came about:)
What goes around, CAN maybe come around.
Just frickin' once, is all I'm askin'.

To filthy fingernails, and itchy underwear, you lucky horse beast owners, you!
Keep your hooves crossed. And keep your shoulders back:)
Sorry, I couldn't help it. I dreamed I was in a barn, then an arena last night, hand-working a palomino large pony. Haven't dreamt of barns in ages... I was also giving the riders in the arena shite for standing around gossiping, while their horses got cold and stiff.
Uh, oh...

Not toooo ditzy, and out:)

Found them!

Finally! I am very organized, just slightly scattered. Which disk has everything on it?? For some reason CK was in my work/dog/flower files. I don't believe in networking computers. I know, that's an oxymoron:) I don't network MY computers. Not geeky enough to fix them, when they start arguing. They all have different ages on them. Makes a difference, eh? Duh<

When MB first got CK, and Sam was still alive, I'd have to send CK home. With just my voice, CK would head home. MB asked me one day, "How did you do that?"
I said "I'm smarter than her". I really meant I was smarter than MB. MB's idea of training CK to come, was to lure her with Cheesies, and then smack her, and tie her up.
Yeah. Brilliant. I TrieD talking to MB, I did try, many times. Like talking to a very slow rock.

CK, pictured in her second last spring. May, 2003. The only toy CK understood was the horse-size "jolly-ball", which I hope you horse people have seen before:) A ball with a handle. Flip went upside-down the first time she tried it, having grown up on basket-balls.

CK, having natural instincts that are honed on hours of boredom and self-inflicted pain, loved her jolly ball. If she managed to get loose, and I wasn't home, CK had lots of things she could think of to do. She NeveR wandered, though.

Except that one time, CK following her owner MB & lame horse back to her barn, after I'd saved CK from death by hanging. (doesn't even really count as wandering, CK was following/herding.) I couldn't catch her, CK had a score to settle with the horse. CK herded them all the way, and never got hit by a car. I was so relieved when they both got back. It was the weirdest mixed feelings I had. IF I hadn't been home, CK would have died. Her miserable life would have shortened.

Watching the horse and "human" and dog leaving for the "barn" MB kept the horse at, was also terribly upsetting. What if CK got hurt on the road? I'd be responsible, but, I'd saved her, but... MB had not been, um, appreciative or helpful.
Gah. Strange days in the country.

MB wasn't vigilant on keeping CK's "kennel" (very kind word for it) clean, of course. As MB lives to my north, prevailing winds... I'd surreptitiously muck her kennel out in disgust with the idiot. MB had a live-in "male human" friend for a while. He mucked, thank gawd. Yeah, the guy that threatened to kill my husband, one sunny Monday morning. Why? The water was off.

MB called the police on me one night. I'd left tracks in the snow, to her dog's kennel. Yup, I'm a criminal. It was -30 Celsius that night. I gave her extra food.

CK always made me laugh, when she'd come over. Mach 3 speed, she'd roar over, and roar around, playing and spinning and laughing her joy with me. I HateD sending her home, but I just couldn't keep her. I'd always give her extra yummy treats back at her kennel, but CK would always drop her tail and her head, as I left.

ANYway. As my darlin' old red dog aged, and grew ill with various problems related to over-vaccination, she became very fussy about what she'd eat. Whatever old red dog didn't eat, CK ate. CK was finally gaining weight in those pictures, from all her yummies. Red dog died in my arms at work, Oct. 18, 2004. Second worst day of my life. Oh, she was a wonder dog, my wee red lass...

CK, two weeks later, as related by MB, started screaming in the night. MB took her to the SPCA, to be PTS. MB didn't want to be bothered finding out what was wrong. I knew CK was mourning the loss of her only canine friend. A week after that I got Flip. My heart was fairly frozen. It took a year at least, before Flip and I started really communicating.

I was, of course, relieved for CK. Poor thing, living in that wire cage in winter, with next to no padding or insulation. Her paws must have been half frozen off, with each winter she suffered. CK could probably see her future. And screamed in misery at the thought.

Flip helped with MB's next attempt at a dog, but that's another story. Poor little thing. So far, knock wood, everyBODY, MB hasn't gotten another. Please, not again, Please.

To Black Bear Dog, CK.

Rest in Peace, dear old girl. Run, as you were born to run, with joy and love..

"dirt"

Here's the "Teddybear" sunflowers that were doomed to never see another day. Squirrels use them for dessert, I guess.



People get all grossed out by dirt. Have you noticed? It's brown, it's often made of something else's poop, and it's literally crawling with life. Eeeewwwwww.

Well, we are, too. Crawling with microbial life, that is. Freaks people out, so no-one talks about it. We just keep slathering on the anti-microbial soap & alcohol swipes. Stripping our own microbes of their ability to protect us. Plain soap isn't tough enough anymore. Oh, reallY?

Dirt is what we are made of too, like animals. Animals get how precious dirt is. We keep scooping it up, and dumping it elsewhere, so we can pave/sewer-pipe/build, build, build..
Dirt has a bad rap, and it's not really undeserved. There are bad microbes out there. Guess where some of them originated!! People, birds and swine. Guess we're closer than we thought. We can indeed give these animals our diseases, and vice-versa. The poxes with cattle..

We've pressured our birds and swine through factory farming, blithely feeding them antibiotics and growth enhancers and oooh, vaccines for various diseases, which wouldn't be necessary if the animals weren't so stressed. Not a fan of factory farming, in it's most barbaric forms.

The factory farms are getting better, but there are still many improvements necessary to keep the animals happy. It's in the interest of ourselves, f'r cryin' out loud, to show these animals a good time.

ANYway, the latest swine flu has the medical community in a twitter, because it's a "mutant" of two different types of flu. Bird & swine together. To me, it's the cluster effect. Time for another vaccine. More $$$$ for the drug companies. The frail and the ill do have something to worry about. Worrying the healthy segment of the population is counter-intuitive to me, anywho.

Personally, I just try to stay out of populated areas:) Cook your food well, wash your hands after food preparation. Don't lick your hands after handling raw meat.
Duh.

Oh, and scientists have (gasp) discovered that women have a more developed immune system. We're tougher, even those of us with an over-developed immune system. I knew that. Now, if doctors could just figure out a way to not damage our breasts when they check 'em, for fun, we'd be laughing. But noooo, instead, we have developed a dog that glows red under infrared light. Now, that's handy. I love my science magazines.

No idea where thaT tangent came from. I have always felt we've taken our dislike of dirt to a point where we forget what dirt is, is all. Over-vaccination of pets is a case in my point. If you follow me:) A little dirt is a good thing. A lot is a bad thing. Well, to-hell-with-housekeeping is also my mantra, but that's another explanation.

I really wanted to blather about animals, and how they speak to us.

My nightmare neighbour, MB's first dog, pseudonym CK, was a border collie/GSD cross, maybe. Tall, narrow, solid black, one windswept ear, one half-pricked ear. Long haired. Oh, CK was a sproinger. Coiled energy, effortless, beautifully moving dog. Painfully smart. Much smarter than her owner. No idea where MB found her, although MB did tell me the dog pooped diarrhea all over the back of her truck, when she got her. The dog was just reacting to her terrible fate, poor thing.

Gawd, she was a nice dog. My husband's GSD, Sam, HATED her, of course. Sam didn't get along with any other dogs, except my old red dog. Sam & CK had many battles in the beginning, CK losing all of them. When Sam became older and ill, CK came very close to killing him in revenge. Almost threw him in the back pond, and if I hadn't been there to haul him out, he'd have drowned. I yelled at her for it, but couldn't really blame her. Sam was really mean to her, when she was a young dog.

Naturally, MB chained CK outside. And left her alone, unattended, minimally fed, in all weather, year-round. I called AC. Often. CK barked and barked and barked. I can hear what animals say. I am surrounded by dog's voices, clamoring for company, where I live. Many dogs are ignored, where I live. I can hear their despair, their loneliness, their insanity. Their owners don't.

I'd clandestinely slip CK food, and water, and if I was sure MB wasn't due home, (after Sam had passed), I'd let CK off her chain for walks and plays. I'm the only one that ever talked to CK like the smart creature she was. My dear old red dog liked CK, and CK was always pathetically grateful to us. CK's life was empty. Her life was the view from a 6' chain. MB owns a horse, (!!!), and brought the horse (lame, btw) over to hack on the property one day. I watched as CK went very nearly insane, and then tried to jump her 8' gate. If she'd been successful, she'd have hung herself.

Weeks before, I had watched MB introduce CK to her horse, by using a longe whip, and hitting CK whenever she went near the horse:(

CK learned to break any type of clip or snap or rope or chain. She'd slam to the end of her tether, and slowly wear down whatever was holding her back. I slipped over to check on her one day, and noticed MB had left a particularly heavy clip on her chain. I joked to CK that she could break that one easy. Half an hour later, CK was at my back door, smiling for all she was worth. I never fed her at my house. I always fed her at her own place. (In case you were wondering.)

CK came over for love and companionship, what ANY animal wants.

I'm not finished with this thought, whatever it was. I can't find the one good picture of CK that I have, in her second last summer. I'd slyly convinced MB that I was needing CK's company for old red dog. I'd been able to feed her up a bit. CK glowed with health that summer. She looked like a little black bear, moving like a thoroughbred.

I reached a point with CK where I knew what each of her barks meant. "I'm lonely and hungry" sounded completely different from "There's someone here", or "My idiot owner is home".
Their voices are so clear, to some of us.

Blathered enough for one day, though. Trying to get back to relevant, if not educational.

To Your Animals.
They are so lucky to have you.

To Paddy. Huge hugs, from me. I hope through your tears, you can find some smiles, as you remember your dear girl. She had a long, happy life. How many animals do not?


Here's a pic of Flip and a GSD friend, before Flip came to be my dog.


Have a great weekend, everybody!

Random Gardening Blatherings

Incredibly fascinating horse biomechanics site, thanks, BlueHeron, again.

Check out that nuchal ligament explanation! I like mine better. Simpler, anyway. Horses are born loaded with springs. They are built to move, and to keep moving.

Our own conformational breeding/management disasters have shortened their gaskins & necks, straightened their stifles & shoulders. Uprightened their pasterns. (Another new word, spelling police, sorry.) Triple muscled their hind ends. Ewwwwwwwwww.
I can't believe what passes for Quarter Horses. Humungous hind ends are one thing. Doubling their muscle mass is just plain creepy. The balance is missing, isnt'a? Take something great, and make it worse. Fixing genetic traits has certainly taken on a whole new meaning. Yup, they are fixed, alright. Fixed to be broken.

Dr. James Rooney (RIP) was a darned genius. His simple little book, "Lameness in Horses" is still explaining horse's lameness problems today. Just keep reading him. He does make sense. It took me about three readings, to really (mostly) get what he was saying. It helped me understand what was always happening beneath me.

It's the old story. Some new "horse" people want to ride the horse, they don't want to KnoW anything else. Heck, there are old horse people like that. Poor interested beginner riders. Where do you start, safely and sanely? Okay, safely, sanely is not possible, apparently...
:)
How many of us started out by being terrified? Is that the starting point, to becoming a rider? I don't think it has to be. I think the fearful beginnings can stiffen you subconsciously, for the rest of your life.
Or not, if you are lucky enough to ride a SchoolMaster, like GoLightly.

I know riding Johnny-Be-Good pushed me into jumping again for no fear. Lightly showed me how to ride with no possible consideration of fear. GoLightly completely changed how I wanted to work with horses.


Wouldn't it be nice if ownership/stewardship/guardianship of anything living warranted some sort of required learning? Heck, start with plants for people.

"Oh, wouldn't it be nice...." (thanx, Beach Boys)


Oh, but that brings me to confessing a deep, dark, secret. I used to hate plants.
I would never even notice greenery, or flowers, or anything like that. If it was edible, I ate it, but it needed to be sweet, half the time. Okay, most of the time.

Hay was interesting, because it fed horses, and the grains too, of course.
I mean, I just didn't CarE about plants, at all. My mom used to despair at my lack of interest, as she grew older and plantier. If she had to go away, I'd always need a phone call to remind me to water the damn plants.

In university, I managed to fail miserably at Plant Science, Botany & (what was the other one??) whatever. Right, Crop Science. My brain turned itself off at the mention of xylem & phloem (eew) and adenosine triphosphate and photosynthesnoooooore. Gawd, I tried. Plant, FAIL.

My mom and I had a running joke about plants. I'd ask how to kill them, and she'd gasp in horror at my cruelty. I didn't take her plants out the back and torture them! I just yawned at the sight of them. Smells were nice, but horse smell was better.

After I'd moved out of Mom's house, a volunteer Gaillardia winked at me, discovered while in my new front yard, and I took a picture of it. I didn't know what it was at this point, but it was my first plant interest, ever. Pretty flower, I thought. (Holly crap, I also thought, and shook myself. I'd looked at a plant!)

I was still horse hooked at this point, riding Nonchalant.

Mom passed two years after I'd moved out. Maybe 5 years after, I was at my brother's place, and sister-in-law had a container of Osteospermum, or African Daisy. The white daisy flower with blue eyes? I stared at that plant for a mind-boggling amount of time. Plants were calling. I finally answered. Pictured is my 2006 Yellow/Blue-eyed African Daisies. Love them. They don't last into our hotter summers.

Now, I live on a rental property, that used to be a worm farm. This clay-loam-rock dirt grows anything in zone, fiercely. I have amassed a gigantic collection of plant books and more tree boooks and more bug boooks, to the point I need a new house.
Well, I need a new house, anyway. This rock sux.

My totally tangential point? Gardening should be part of the educational curriculum. Dump the Home Economics, and throw the kids outside to weed.
Starting at my place:)

My mom is still chuckling up there. That I have become a gardener is genetic, I guess.
Just took me awhile. Like usual.

To Plants and Animals.

You do what you can...

With what you have. Trust yourself. Trust your animal. Breathe in their love for you.

When you own an animal, any animal, that animal is "yours", to do what you will with it. But what if the will won't work? What if the animal doesn't accept your will? Do you beat it? Yell, rant, take away toys? Yank on the horse's mouth? Get a stronger bit? Rake your spurs into their sides? Give that dog's choke chain a jerk? Smack your kid on his butt?

Only rarely do these methods work, and when they do, the effect is either sporadically successful, or elicits fear in the animal, the next time that situation arises.. Over time, they can recover. Trust takes a long time to re-build.

In various, extreme cases, where safety for the animal is the issue, or the animal is ClearlY flouting or endangering the human leader, they are necessary.
And if the timing of the touch is PerfecT, and ConsistenT, and never harshly, angrily bestowed, the animal, heck, the human will learn.

Thanks, BlueHeron.

I had never "struck" Flip before last weekend. It wasn't any more than a light tap. Flip yelped as if I had cut off one leg. Flip was really saying "Dammit, okay, I get what you've been saying. I've been ignoring you. I get it." Her recall has since improved to perfect. I respect Flip even more, for showing me that she was listening, I just hadn't made my self clear enough to her. Flip had happily allowed me to feel soft for her, poor Flip. Flip had a rough start, Flip is super submissive. Pah. Not:)

I had several epiphanies while reading the Merle's Door book. Can you tell? Probably not yet. I'm still drying my eyes, and honking my schnozz. Merle had the life any dog would lose a limb for. A loving, calm, honest, energetic owner. A tiny village where he could be a dog, the way dogs used to be, before we over-populated the cities and the suburbs.

Jim Wofford's article, saying over-training on the flat can dull the horse's instincts over fences, and Merle the dog's story, brought this HUGE gestalt into my head. Ouch.

Hard to explain, but suddenly, I understand my dogs and my own training problems in a whole new way.

When I have training problems, I back up to the last point where I was successful, in getting the response I want. If the animal isn't willing, I'm in trouble.

Why isn't the animal willing? What have I done wrong? If I'm positive, I mean POSITIVE, the animal is clear in my request, I will do a tap, or a growl, to get the animal's attention. That was my first time "tapping" Flip. I will probably never need to "touch" Flip again. I've regained her trust, by firmly explaining my point. Flip hadn't been totally sure that I'd meant it.

Puppy Blaze has had to endure my further mistakes in training. We all make them, but if the animal trusts us, we can and will be forgiven. I used the fear Blaze had for crinkley things to get her to go to bed, when she was a puppy. Blaze is still dealing with that fear. See what I did? I got what I wanted, with a price tag attached. The price was Blaze's trust around these things. Now, she eats before, during and after hearing crinkles, to help her regain her trust in me for this situation. I raised the fear, I have to defuse the fear.

Our relationships with our animals are all about trust. Our relationships are all about our own personalities and how they intertwine with the species we love.

GoLightly & Trust & Offence.
GoLightly, the best horse I could ever ride, showed me so much about trust. I thought of him often through the book, too.

You see, I had ridden untrustworthy horses for a very long time. Horses I had to be ready for, horses that were looking for an out, horses that only responded to brute force. I was a defensive rider. It's a habit ingrained in many of us that learned by the skin of our teeth. I was pretty darned ready for anything. I was unprepared for an animal with such trust in ME.

An offensive rider is much more effective. Hah, that sounds way wrong. Do you know what I mean? An offensive rider, assumes things will be fine, rides as if things are fine. Defensive assumes the opposite.

Merle's book is a song sung to anthropomorphism. I've never understood why anthropomorphical (I JUST made that word up) thinking has been sneered at in certain behavioural circles. People like me and you, who have always preferred translating what an animal was saying, rather than listening to humans nattering ENDlesslY on,(:) And on and on... okay, okay. I know. I natter a lot.) We can only stare blankly at people who don't see the disaster or the miracle about to happen.

Tangent, such as it is, completed.
It's how we translate the animal that counts. Our animals are constantly translating us.

Merle's owner wasn't his owner. They were partners, for life. I can't give too much away, suffice it to say, it was the best book I've read about animals and behaviour and evolution, since "Animals in Translation" came out..
It's about the inherent understanding an animal and a human can enjoy.

I'm happier, having heard Merle's story, and feel better equipped for my own. I realize now where my trust issues are, with myself and my girls.

Merle's Dad let me watch & listen to his dog, just as dogs have always wanted to be, but too often can't. It was beautiful. Funny, oh, my...
(sniffles)

How lucky my dogs are! What a life I've been able to give them so far. How glad I am to know them. To continue to get to know them, as they continue to get to know me. They know a LOT about me:)

I'm so happy to know y'all.


I'm solemn.

For Horses:)

p.s. That's a re-scanned picture of Nonchalant, the black Trakehner/TB cross gelding I rode.
Of course I have a chain-shank on him, he was an alligator when I first started working with him. He thought all humans were edible. Even bony-butt me:)
p.p.s. FernV, I mentioned GoLightly. His memories are softly filtering through my mind, reminding me to trust myself. As GoLightly trusted me.
Love to you all, and peace and health, and oh Yeah.
A Big Pot of Gold.

Merle's Door

I'm completely fascinated by this book, by Ted Kerasote. My MIL gave it to me. Wow. I'm halfway through, started reading yesterday.

If you haven't read it, do. If you have read it, what did you think? It makes so much sense to me, like Temple Grandin's and Patricia McConnell's books did.



This video always makes me cry. The look of love and joy on the dog's and the owner's faces is beautiful. Enjoy:)

Horses will return, after this brief but important, canine interruption.

The lessons taught by our dogs can be just as important.

Dancing with any animal involves communication, in the animal's language. How amazing that Merle was able to show his partner the ancient language dogs learned for communicating with us.

To Mine That Bird!

WhooHOOOT for the underdog, I mean underhorse..