The story of Wyoming and me seeking a better place hasn’t been easy for me to update very often because there isn’t much of a clear line path to tell. Some days I have sight lines toward an island in the sea… and some days I think we (or probably just I) will drown out here with not a ship or speck of land in sight… and then… what are we doing out here in the middle of the ocean?
I am getting pretty good at avoiding the deep end of the pool. I am also fairly decent at navigating the deep end of the pool with a horse I have some connection with if we get there by some twist of the current. However with Wyoming, I look around more times than not and see the wild ocean swells and wonder if we’ve come out here to die together or to rise up out of the stormy seas like crisis friends knit together forever.
Maybe that sounds dramatic. It seems pretty matter of fact in the barn at least a part of most days. More real I’m pretty sure, than it would be for someone with the experience that brings expert timing and feel, accurate instant reading of what’s about to happen which leads to meeting the action perfectly instead of just behind it (or missing things altogether). But everyone has to learn somewhere and in learning- we must necessarily do what we do not know, or it isn’t learning, it’s practicing.
Ideally for some, the lessons can be planned more graduated into bite sized steps. That hasn’t usually been my way, and so why would this be any different?
I was listening this morning to an interview with Molly Sanders and Russell Higgins on A Learners Journey. I highly recommend the pod, and Molly has a great inquisitive nature seeking out interesting guests to discuss the facets and layers of horses.
In this interview (link to interview here: Youtube interview Molly Sanders & Russel Higgins) Russell shares a metaphor where a person is climbing a mountain and is only 2/3 of the way up and looks around to see the route has ended and there is no way to continue forward. There is a feeling of disappointment and decision there, and looking down the mountain there are many more people who stopped around 1/3 way up and decided that was quite far enough. They’ve set up camp and have no interest in continuing higher up. Well one reasons… I’ve gotten farther than those people at least. But the one on a quest is determined to get higher up the mountain with the hope of seeing the vista from the top, and cannot be bothered with comparison and the uselessness of that story. So she has sorted out that the only thing to do next, is to go back down to the bottom and take a different path. That means going past the people below to begin again. How humbling it feels to have risen to a certain height only to find once there it’s limited and doesn’t take you where you had hoped. Starting from the bottom again can feel demoralizing, and yet with the experience of the mountain you’ve gained, the next path you choose with more knowledge and hopefully it will bring you closer to where you hope to go.
This resonated with me as it is a great illustration of my life with Wyoming. I’ve often climbed up to some figurative low-level trails that have dead ended with her. There were no good camping spots there however, and I often slid back down even if I tried to hold my footing. This particular round of seeking a better place and full of hope, has taken us so far back down the mountain I might have even tunneled underground with the dwarves for a bit in order to find a better starting place for us on the next attempt.
In the three weeks of working every day, I have taken a horse that I was managing around pretty acceptably for the most part, and uncovered an animal that had been harboring deep concerns and layers of self-protection that certainly has me questioning at times if I am actually creating a monster or helping to dissolve one.
I have had to get creative and am almost exclusively working with her without a halter and in various states of freedom. I’ve spent days working from her stall, the open design being very helpful. I’ve locked her out of the stall so she’s been in the slightly larger open space of the front of the barn (with the barn door wide leaving her lots of options to leave which she never does). I have played with the flag which, in the “positive” column, has gone from an item she was intent on murder every time she saw it, to something that helps her find peace when I rub her with it. In fact she really loves it when I scratch her belly or butt with it from time to time and melts into a puddle of horse-putty (only to harden again when I change the activity at all).
This is an ocean of new wild territory for me most days and I don’t exactly know what I’ll do when I show up at the barn. It has been suggested to me that my logical “straight line” (ahem, predatory?) thinking, will not serve me so well here. If I want to see progress I’m going to have to work on things from different directions. Humans do have the eyes that focus forward, straight line toward the prey or the goal! Horses have eyes that do the periphery well, and you can see them grazing gradually in arcs toward things they are unsure of, though they can set their mind toward a thing and walk straight to it when they are relaxed and comfortable about it (or as I’ve had happen last week when they are calculating the probability of actually taking it out with a direct attack…)
This reiazliation that I have to learn quickly to come at things less directly came from the logical human clarity that I cannot get her to accept the halter willingly and without worry, so if I’m going to do anything with her I should at least get that settled… only with Wyoming that has not been an easy first step. I spent practically a week straight line sorting out HOW TO DO THAT. This resulted in my smaller goal (get the halter on comfortably) disproportionally larger than the true big picture (to get the horse “feeling better”), so hammering toward the halter question was within a day, counter productive to my actual aim.
I was getting in my own way. Again.
The balance of this is important. Not having any goal is a road I have traversed and I don’t recommend it. It only circles around the low paths meandering through brush never going anywhere of any use and often retracing spider webbing tracks with no useful destination and not helping the horse or the human much. However, the flip side is deciding I’m heading to the peak and trying to make a straight line there over boulders, through thickets of thorns, and cliff faces without the intelligence of seeking out the more winding navigable trails that the animals before me have worn lightly in. This way always leaves me banged up and you can never actually beat the mountain this way. I’m learning to accept that sometimes a detour can appear to be a mistake and in the end take you round the back way, faster and with less danger than being stiff necked enough to insist on climbing the sheer rock face.
I didn’t have to make the choice to head back down the mountain this year to try again. We had slid down the rocky ground we had gained which wasn’t ever that far, right past curious onlookers, and we had been stuck down at the base for a time already. This path I’ve heard from others is a promising one for the kind of needs this horse has. Yet it’s not been a clear cut thorn free journey. I’m packing a trail saw and leather gloves, and it’s been somewhat slow going hacking through some rough layers.
At the moment it looks considerably worse than it did two months ago while we languishing in base camp trying not to disrupt the surface much. Today I hold the opinion that this mess was always there, it was buried by our truce. The truce where I learned over time how to enjoy this mare without asking anything that could bring up her ill feelings and concerns, or threaten her self-protective mechanism that I hadn’t actually seen were so thickly built by now. They were always down there, and as a core they don’t leave her in a very good place for a life to exist. That’s what I think. By the time this is over I might have to adjust these thoughts, but I only have the experiences I have for the moment to work with.
Though her threats at violence are coming out more regularly and I have in wisdom sought out ways to work with her that keep me with some boundary (a fence, a gate, a flag, etc) that she can express that deep ill feeling she carries and it can come out so volcanically that it helps for me to have something in between us to block it in case I miss the lava flow. This also allows me to to observe her and try to see what is really happening without only having to focus on the potential I might need get out of the way quickly or block the dragon’s rapid fire. She is in a mode right now feeling more exposed and vulnerable, where she’ll shoot first and ask questions later.
These outbursts are still connected to letting go of hard thoughts, but also as I ask her for anything- right now the major request I have is one soft step, it could be forward or backward, with whatever tool I can work with that day. It could be to the side. One step. Some days she seems ready to take me out over one step in a relaxed state. She is deeply convinced that is worth going to war over. This is no way to live.
I have a fair amount of emotional control, and I am quite wary of her seriousness but not afraid of her either. I don’t punish any of her outbursts no matter how violent, but try to block as equally as I can and as timely as I’m able. I try to make my requests as soft as possible, as clear, and wait as long as it takes for her to think and try something- rewarding the slightest try that is soft and not a try to take me out because that will make the request stop too (if I’m incapacitated!).
So it has become a dance for me to learn of blocking with boundaries that are clear and just as big as the enmity she throws at me, and to immediately return to calm soft request, or recognize when she needs to simply have a moment to think, to give her an opportunity to make a better choice and see if she will seek it out (sometimes she does!) or to see she can wait softly and nothing bad is happening. I’m sure I don’t have it all synced up properly and some days I might make it worse.
Some days I find a better place! Within the violent snarky outbursts there are moments where Wyoming thinks her way through something and finds a place that has peace. There are moments she relaxes all the muscle tension and her eyes grow soft and I can pet her and she lets go and can breathe maybe for the first time truly freely. I always hope for that before I leave the barn. Some days we get there, some days we just get “not so bad” and that place is so much better than the “really bad” we were at 45 minutes earlier that I’m glad for a place we can truce for the day and try again the next day.
Here is what I have observed recently.
Every time I drive up, if she is already relaxing in the barn she stays there. If she is in the field she comes running in. I don’t think this is the the action of a horse who wishes I would never return, not the actions of a horse who hates the work we’re doing. I’m amazed at how she is so engaged to come interact with me- even when it seems only to release that venom she is carrying around. It is tricky for me because part of her interaction right now is sorting out her violent feelings, and so though simply being in the barn has not yet shown her aggressive with no cause toward me, I still am more aware than ever that she is in a season of sorting out deep things and may not always have appropriate time and place filters so it’s my job to stay alert. It’s like once in a while the thing that triggers her she has almost little control over until it’s done. More times than I can count she turns toward me in the work (when I am ready to put up a boundary or behind a gate) with snaked ears and flashing eyes only as she gets closer to me seems to decide she can let go of that on her own and by the time her nose is over the gate her ears flop and her eyes are soft and she just looks at me. It reminds me of a trigger that gets hit and then in the process of attack she realize it’s actually not necessary and melts back to normal. Talk about Jekyll and Hyde.
Many days I work with her free to leave the barn and go out to pasture, eat grass, and disconnect altogether. She has never done this. When she works in her stall it is because she chose to go in there. Currently I sometimes lock her out of the stall so we don’t get stuck in the stall work. What is fascinating to me is that her brain in the beginning was in the pasture, and her body in the stall. Now that she has the opportunity to join the two by going into the pasture- she does not choose to do that.
The flag has come around to being a tool I can use to defuse now yet still create a boundary she is respecting. The rope however is still in the death category, and as over time I would like to be able to work with her in halter with a rope attached, I had to sort out how to approach her with a rope and not get my arm chewed off. The flag I can touch her with at a distance and even if she bites at it I’m still a safe few feet away.
I took the halter off the rope to start this process and grabbed my 22’ line. I began in the stall tossing the line up in the air to land across her back or neck and then reeling it in. None of this is painful, but she acted as if her life would end and she had to kill the rope. She has been on a lead rope for eight years worked in a halter. I cannot believe I created this fear of ropes in her this week.
Is it possible that she had been internalizing these concerns from being driven with (I have never tied her bodily up with a rope but I cannot know that no one did in the “gentling” process before me) the rope and halter are certainly able to force her to do things she wouldn’t prefer- like run in circles around a human or get on a trailer. I’ve spent years driving horses with the end of a lead rope if they didn’t do the task.
I wondered if her fear of me and the punishment (being driven with a tool for non-compliance) had been enough to create reasonably obedient behavior for the past handful of years. I always knew she wasn’t right, wasn’t relaxed and unconcerned, but I hadn’t thought her deep fears could be this violent.
So I went ahead with the rope toss because I saw with the flag that once she came to experience enough times and believe for now the thing was not going to attack her, she became calm with its presence. I have to get there with a rope too. Only this one seems even more ingrained.
I experimented with a few things because I’m learning. One thing I did was the tossing and bringing back the rope so she could see it would not hurt her and it would leave. She eventually slowed down her attack of the thing and began to get more curious. Curious is good, you can’t be curious and terrified at the same time I’ve read that at least… She began to sniff and follow the rope as I pulled it back along the ground. Then sometimes I’d leave it on her and then send a loop to gently bump the rope up or down her body, when it was on her back or rump she began to take more calm steps and was able to walk out of the rope. If it was on her neck she began to drop her head and let the rope fall to her ears, then she learned how to release it to the ground. She was beginning to become empowered.
A next step I tried was coiling up a shorter lead rope and holding it out to her with my hand at the bottom in case she tried to bite the rope- and see if I could touch her with that, it was not looking good so I thought a bit and zip tied the coil to the end of a stick and string stick so I could rub her with the rope from a distance. This also seemed to help make some change of her worries.
Tom suggested that though my tool work is helping her to see the tools themselves might not punish her, they still need to press into the realm of directing her (without pain) and then back to rubbing or not directing. That will be a really important distinction.
This has been a real challenge for me. I often start with the presence of a tool, or just my own presence, and her concern shoots up and self-preservation kicks in, so I begin with the message: hey, you can relax, I’m not going to hurt you and neither is the tool. I can get some softness there, but it’s not really where we need to go because I am going to need to direct her, influence her thoughts, and work together. This has to happen if she is going to continue to live in my herd for both our safety and her well being. I cannot take care of her needs if she is a threatening wild animal and there could come a point when I determine I won’t keep her in that state. (We are far from there now, but that is the long truth of this story).
As soon as I begin to interrupt a thought (like the last post explains) or heaven forbid ask her to work together with me toward a direction (take a step without threatening to harm me) she changes back to porcupine. Thus I must help her find peace, but also we have to find peace together, not only in her own shell behind her own walls learning that the tools and myself are not only not a threat but we will never ask anything of her. I mean you can’t have a healthy teenager who has a fabulous good attitude when you give them all they want, leave them to do whatever they want, and they carry no responsibility to the family- or to your better judgement of when they might need their hooves trimmed or to have health concerns attended to.
What the balance of this is, well, I’m learning that I hope. Trial and error style.
Currently I’ve been working with the rope now that we’ve gained enough ground that she accepts the rope as less threatening, but she’s not so keen on me using it to suggest a request… I try to get her to leave her stall and work her in a larger area with the rope loosely looped once or twice around her shoulders/neck area. To give somewhat a picture my “goal” is not to allow the rope to be tight and claustrophobic but only as potential for light feel and some direction. I can’t really control her with it, and it’s a 22’ line so I have a lot of rope to give her without it getting tight. What I don’t like about this is it’s hard to be entirely clear about a request, so my aim at the moment is she gets a gold star for ANY try to move herself with a rope ask, any try that is not including lunging toward me or threatening violence.
The other day, a particularly challenging day, one of the only times I have seen her calculating, straight on facing me in a hard stare, just what the cost might be to take me out (this is rare) and I wondered if I had gotten myself into a vortex of ocean current I wouldn’t be able to swim out of… I kept asking for that ONE soft step with the rope only loosely draped around her, not secured with any knot that either one of us could get too caught up in, she came through.
I was truly about to bail that day thinking I had gone too far with this direction, pushed her over to the point she was going to kill or be killed and giving up- sending her back into the stall and leaving her alone might be the way we live to try another day. But I am stiff-necked and I knew if I did that- yes, we can keep working and it is not the end, but it would have been a terrible setback teaching her that kind of intense behavior DOES work out for her purposes which would turn that into a tool she would pick up more and more readily, which would mean some more serious concerning work ahead possibly more intense than I wanted to have to go through. So I prayed quickly for wisdom and I stood in there asking as confident and calm as I could be and ready to put in the boundary (but not holding it in place when she wasn’t threatening because then I am the aggressor…) and held my ground with the simple non-threatening as possible request.
When she did take the step and relax somewhat I was relieved and that was a day that though I won’t say she came complete to a soft peaceful state, it was pretty darn good all considering where we’d been. And I led her over to her stall door, got one back up step when she began to crowd me at the door (and she quietly complied!) I softly let her in… then went home to wash my big girl panties so they’d be ready for the next day.
After a few other chores, I opened up the gates and let all the girls out to graze. Two walked out and found some grass, but not Wyoming. She walked out then trotted to the water trough (she also has water in her stall bucket), and then as I was out of the barn in the front, getting ready to leave she cantered around and back into the barn alone. I walked back to peek in a window to see her in her stall, alone, standing quietly, the rest of the mares out in the pasture.
Has that become a place she’s found peace due to the work we’ve done in there? I don’t know. Not yet. But I observe and I continue to take notes, I hope in time there will be more clarity as things settle in to more distinct patterns.
Meanwhile I keep in touch with Tom Moates who is a saint to read my detailed descriptions, occasionally see video clips, observe pictures, and offer me encouragement and ideas to consider. The encouragement I particularly appreciate because there are clearly moments I think “I am now, or have by now, ruined this horse.” Tom seems to be able to find the phrase or moment I shared that he sees as the little crumbs of positive progress.
Down deep, I do know everything I am seeing comes out of that volcano I knew was there in some form, often smaller eruptions, before. I am not creating them today. I am however determined to expose them hopefully in non-lethal increments if I can be so wise, but not so small they do not have any value at all and only create a kind of low-grade illness.
I have heard a saying: What is revealed can then be healed. There is a lot being revealed this season. Certainly I’ve done things that might have inflamed or created experiences she could use to dig more solidly into her position, but this mare, in being left alone while I knew I didn’t know how to help her, has nursed and tended the poisonous garden and it has gotten more firmly entrenched by the very fact it hasn’t been exposed sooner. In other words, I think doing nothing has caused more harm than I realized.
These couple weeks have been messy, sometimes downright ugly, and also tiny glimpses of peaceful and sweet. I am glad for the time I’ve been given this summer for this work, and the relative privacy for us to feel our way up the mountain on a newer, not so well worn track. There are signs along the way that give me hope we are going the right way, but they are still faint.
That’s another observation I’ve come to in life: the really clear well worn paths often do find dead ends and many people camp out, unwilling to leave the ground they have gained for a place higher up the mountain. The paths that take one higher are usually less traveled and they look more overgrown and treacherous in the beginning parts, but after a time, once you’ve invested because of what you’ve come to know and not how you feel about it, they begin to open up into wider spacious places, and there are brooks along the way, and some stunning scenery. But they are never for the faint of heart.
I spliced together a few minutes of examples of some of this work as a little bonus video here for anyone who made it through the blog!
Hope Horsemanship 