Tag Archives: trust

Relationship

December 11, 2016 christinakeim 3 Comments

Over the recent Thanksgiving holiday, I spent some time catching up on a ton of fellow blogger’s posts. I am now the new owner of an iPad, and with shorter, colder days, curling up on the couch to catch up on other’s thoughts and activities is a welcome pasttime. One blog I follow is called “Green to 100” and it chronicles a newish rider on the quest to complete a 100 mile endurance ride. As a rookie to the sport of distance riding myself, I find I can often relate to her stories. But another theme which is present throughout her blogs is that of relationship, specifically with her horse. She seeks to be a leader that her horse wants to follow, rather than to dictate to her horse about what is going to happen. Approaching her relationship with her horse in this manner means that certain things take longer. But it is clear that the reward of arriving where she wants to go, united as a team with her horse, is more important than getting there fast. Quality is more important than quantity.

Reading a whole series of her blogs in a row gave me the opportunity to reflect on the nature of the horse/human relationship on a number of levels, but especially in regards to the bond I share with each of my own horses.

In preparation for the winter season, Annapony has relocated to the university, which has an indoor, so that she can remain in consistent work. I have big goals for her next season, which will require us to use the winter to train and to build strength and suppleness. She is happy enough there, and well cared for. But I was really quite reluctant to bring her back, and kept delaying her departure from Cold Moon Farm. It wasn’t hard for me to realize that I simply wanted her to be at home with me and with my other horses. I genuinely enjoy being the main caretaker for my horses. I know them so intimately that it is easy to notice when something is off. By bringing Anna to another facility and putting her day to day care in someone else’s hands, it feels almost like a wedge is driven into our relationship. That isn’t entirely true but I still resent the intrusion.

Raptors Settling In 018.JPG — Supervising Anna eating breakfast this spring.

Anna is a calm horse, most of the time. She seems to enjoy human attention (especially if there is food involved) but also likes other horses. Her rank in the herd is towards the top but her style of leadership seems to be more threat than attack. Anna is pretty tolerant; nervous horses on trail have run right into her hindquarters and she has never so much as flicked an ear. That being said, I find the best approach with Anna when tackling a new skill or question is to ask, then wait a moment. If I am too hasty, and try to force her…she resists, sometimes with great vigor. If I give her a chance to look and understand, then she usually will comply.

The other night, I took Anna for a hack onto the cross country course right as the sun was setting. We have already had some snow here in New Hampshire, with some mild melting, leaving the ground a hodge podge of bare spots mixed with snow covered rocks, footprints and other hard to discern anomalies. The air was cooling off and a fairly steady breeze had picked up. Overall, conditions were not ideal for a relaxed hack, but I was determined to get out of the ring after several days of solid arena work. In the woods, the light was dim and features unclear, yet Anna remained mostly calm and confident. We completed a meandering loop around the course and returned to the main facility along the edge of the reservoir, past the observatory and down a trail which was now nearly completely obscured in the fading light of day. When there is no artificial light, it is pretty amazing how much you can still see, once your eyes adjust. A Canada goose broke the stillness with a series of loud honks, but even this didn’t cause Anna to tense or become unsettled. It was so calming and soothing to be riding in the near darkness, and to have nearly complete trust that my horse would keep me safe.

Fall 2016 023.JPG — A different hack. But those are Anna’s ears. From Fall 2016 at Cold Moon.

While Anna is back at school, Lee and Marquesa have remained behind at Cold Moon Farm, now living side by side instead of sharing a paddock. Lee is so submissive to Marquesa that it can make feeding complicated, so having them separated makes management much easier.

Marquesa comes to Cold Moon 020 — Marquesa and Lee, out together for the first time this May.

I wasn’t entirely sure how the transition was going to go, and overall, it was far less eventful than it was bringing everyone home this spring.

Lee and I have had a long history together—twelve years, to be exact. I think she likes me as well as she likes any human, but she has never been a cuddly horse; she isn’t going to nicker to you (unless you are carrying her grain), and during her long residence at UNH she was known to intimidate many an inexperienced crew member with her grumpy expressions. Lee is aloof. But she is also an absolute bottom dweller on the equine hierarchy, and I think a lot of her behavior is only posturing to try to convince you to just go away and leave her be. Lee isn’t going to come over to you in the field; but she is unlikely to run away from you, either. If you so much as raise your voice at her, she will recoil in horror. Lee is insecure.

Snack break at the Warren Tessier 20 mile ride, October, 2016. Photo credit to Robin!

When Lee and I moved to Cold Moon Farm last September, she spent nine months with no other companion save me and the goats which live next door. During that time, she really impressed me with her steadiness and composure. This year, Lee overwhelmed me with her grit and attitude on the GMHA three day 100 mile ride. But if I think back, there are SO many occasions on which Lee has stepped up to a challenge, and most of the time I think our relationship with each other has been one of mutual respect.

leeday32016100 — Lee heading home after 90 miles; GMHA Three Day 100 mile CTR, Fall 2016 (photo courtesy of Spectrum Photography)

One of the best examples of this happened two winters ago, during Lee’s last season at UNH. I had taken to including at least one day of longeing per week into her routine, often incorporating work over cavaletti, just to break things up and give her a new mental challenge. At the end of a session, I usually hopped on bareback to cool her out. One night, we were alone in the indoor working on the longe. Each session followed a similar pattern, and Lee started to head out in the new direction without much prompting from me. I was struck by an inspiration, and so instead of stopping her, I just unclipped her longe line. For the next ten minutes or so, I longed Lee at the walk, trot and canter, all without the aid of a longe line. In the indoor. She could have gone anywhere in the ring she wanted, but instead she chose to stay with me and follow my direction on a twenty meter circle. It was pretty amazing.

LeeDressageySalisbury2008 — Lee looking dressage-y at the beach in 2008.

Our newest horse, Marquesa, is different from either Anna or Lee. For eighteen years, she has been a horse which was used in lessons that I and others taught at UNH. I relied on her to give confidence to new cross country riders, to assist the timid jumpers, and to teach experienced riders that they still had a thing or two to learn about how ride on the flat. She certainly respected me as the authority figure in the ring, but like many school horses I think she had become somewhat guarded about who she chose to really interact with.

Nikki and Marquesa 026.JPG — Cold Moon Farm Fall 2016 intern Nikki with Marquesa.

Marquesa is a dominant horse. She has a highly developed sense of fairness, meaning if you try to use force to correct her, she just stubbornly refuses to comply. She can be pushy, and I think being used too many times for “equine facilitated learning sessions” has made her fairly intolerant of humans trying to use their body language to coerce her into doing their will. However, she appreciates clear direction and boundaries, and when you treat her with kindness and fairness, she is quite sweet. When she starts to get pushy, if you can lower your energy instead of getting upset, and then explain what you want her to do, she will usually be willing to go along with you. Now that she is on her own side of the fence line, I find that she is more willing to interact with me directly. Before, she was mostly concerned with continuing to exert her dominance over Lee. Her relationship with the other horse was most important; I was just in the way.

Raptors Settling In 011.JPG — Marquesa keeps a close eye on her herd.

Marquesa is still figuring out her own way in terms of post lesson horse life. She still has several different riders, but not more than three at a time, and has been doing a mix of ring work and trail riding. This fall, my friend Linsey took Marquesa out for a ride with me and Lee. There are several stream crossings out on the trails, which the horses are used to. After a recent period of heavy rain, though, one of the crossings was unexpectedly quite a bit deeper than usual. The water came right up to Marquesa’s belly, and drenched her rider’s feet. Marquesa froze for a moment, perhaps shocked by the sudden depth of water, but then she just kept right on going. To get home, we had to make the same crossing going the other way, and I wasn’t sure if she would be willing to do it again. I needn’t have worried. She plunged right in and stormed across, as if to say, “I got this”. Not too shabby for a horse who has lived in one place for eighteen years and has mostly worked in the ring. I think perhaps that she is starting to sort out that life here is okay.

Having two horses at home is hard in terms of relationship. Despite centuries of domestication, horses are hard wired to want to be with other horses. Solo horses feel vulnerable and show their distress through an array of behaviors. Since Anna’s departure for the winter, I have continued taking Lee out for solo rides, and going for duo rides whenever someone else is available to ride Marquesa. I haven’t quite gotten brave enough to pony one off the other just yet.

Fall 2016 035.JPG — Did someone say snacks?

This puts all of our relationships to a real test. I can tell that Lee feels a little torn about who she should be listening to—me or Marquesa. Marquesa screams at the top of her lungs when I take Lee away; she actually starts when I am just grooming Lee, something I do in the paddock to minimize the length of the separation. On the one hand, I want to be able to work with each horse independently. On the other, I respect the genetics which have kept horses as a species alive for generations. Horsemen must work with these instincts, not against them. For her part, Lee usually walks out quietly and almost never answers Marquesa’s calls. But as soon as we turn for home, Lee starts to bounce and jig. Once Marquesa is in sight, she settles down. It is like she is trying really hard to be good, but can’t quite pull it off all the time.

leeinwoods — Lee trying really hard to be good while I fumble with my new iPhone for a photo. December 2016.

Listening to Marquesa scream and dealing with Lee’s jigging can try my patience. But we are in the winding down time of the season. Nature in New England prescribes a period of rest or hibernation for most species, a time when aquifers refill, deciduous trees go dormant, and soils take a break from producing. The equine community similarly slows down, with fewer activities, reduced travel and less intense work outs. There is nothing to get ready for and nowhere to go. It is the perfect time to focus on relationship; to reconnect with what makes each horse unique and to enjoy the feeling of mutual respect which can be developed by responding to each horse as an individual.

Personal Stories

Trusting the Unstrustful Horse

August 11, 2015 christinakeim 2 Comments

We joke that the Dark Mare, Lee, is a survivor. She lives her life in a fairly constant state of alertness, and if there is a sign of trouble brewing, she is going to get out of dodge. In her younger years, she broke cross ties and halters with frequent regularity and closely monitored objects such as dumpsters, mounting blocks and piles of jumps for the presence of trolls, chipmunks and other instigators of mayhem. While she has mellowed somewhat, in general, if danger is afoot, Lee is leaving—with or without you.

When Lee gets upset about something, she can really revert to a primitive state of fight or flight. On the one hand, it is easy to understand that this reaction has kept horses as a species alive for eons, and the behavior is imprinted in her genetic code. But at the same time, it is frustrating because the reaction can be so out of proportion to the problem. And at some level, one would hope that her training and systematic exposure to all kinds of stimuli would result in at least one ounce of trust in her humans, but this has not always been the case.

Lee enjoyed the cow-free cow barn in Maine at the 30 mile CTR. I was also impressed by her overall "coping" here, including the wind blowing hard all night, which rattled the metal roof panels to no end. — Lee enjoyed the cow-free cow barn in Maine at the 30 mile CTR. I was also impressed by her overall “coping” here, including the wind blowing hard all night, which rattled the metal roof panels to no end.

As a result of dealing with this behavior for the better part of a decade, I realize that I have come to assume the worst of Lee in many circumstances, expecting her to have mini or major meltdowns over various situations. You might think that I am about to tell you how my preconceived ideas usually set up a self-fulfilling prophecy, and that Lee lives up to my (minimal) expectations when push comes to shove. However, increasingly, the opposite is the case, and perhaps it is I who has the trust issue, not Lee.

This March, tired of being in the indoor and looking for a change of pace, I was riding Lee in the dirt parking lot at the University of New Hampshire during its Spring Break week. The footing was actually quite good given the season and weather we had experienced this winter, but the lot was ringed with a decently sized plow bank creating a de facto fence line and leaving only one entrance/exit from the lot. I had planned to do a set distance, changing direction at regular intervals, working at the trot and canter. As I was getting close to the end of my set, I noticed a fairly dark and ominous looking cloud in the not so far distance, coming from the direction that ‘weather’ normally approaches us from. “I am almost done,” I thought. “Two more laps and I will head in. No problem.”

Lee and I took our first selfie ever at the Rockingham Rail Trail after a solo 14 mile conditioning ride this July.

Almost before the thought was complete, the wind picked up like I have never experienced and began to howl. Debris that I hadn’t previously noticed was flying sideways and into us. Suddenly it began to precipitate—something. Hail? Snow balls? I couldn’t even tell you because the intensity of the icy precipitation combined with the incredible wind meant that I couldn’t even lift my head. Lee instinctively swung her hindquarters into the wind, but we were still being pummeled from all sides and were instantly soaked through. I had no idea what was going to come next—I wondered if a tornado were about to blow through, and had the thought, “so this is how it will end”.

We were not in a safe situation, and I knew we needed to get out of there, but due to the snow banks and our position in the lot, to do so required riding the length of the parking lot heading straight into the wind and snow/ice/rain to reach the exit. I truly couldn’t even raise my head to see ahead of us due to the intensity of the weather, so I dropped down onto her neck and yelled “go on!” to Lee over the wind. And sure enough, Lee actually went—straight into the wind, neck and head down, in spite of the power of the frenzied air. As soon as we rounded the corner, I urged her to the trot and we made a break for the barn, wind to our backs.

Denny Emerson and High Brook Rockstar and Lee and I about to start the Hartland 15 Mile CDR in July of 2014.

I was impressed with Lee that day. She would have been well within her rights to bolt or panic, to scoot or ignore me. But for whatever reason, she didn’t. I was (and still am) quite proud of her for all of it and for getting the both of us to safety.

This spring, I had to move both of my horses to new facilities. Anna had been in the same barn for five years, but Lee had been at UNH for over ten. I wasn’t too worried about Anna making the transition, but I honestly worried and worried about Lee. I can worry like it is my job. The barn she moved to is a low key private barn at my good friend’s home; it allowed Lee her own paddock with run in and access to dirt roads and trails. Perfect. Yet I worried. My friend has a mule—what if Lee is scared of her funny mule noises? The fencing is just electric wire. What if Lee doesn’t see it or respect it? What if I can’t ride Lee alone on the roads? What if…?

The night before the move, it poured, the first rain in almost a month. When I say it poured, I am talking about the soaking type of deluge that saturates you through to your core instantly, the kind that is like a hose from above. I don’t think I slept more than a few fits and starts as my anxiety and worry ate away at me. What if Lee won’t go into the shelter? What if she works herself up into a colic?

As I hitched up the trailer in the pouring rain, I not so silently cursed the Powers That Be for the weather on this most important of days. The schedule was to move Lee first, then go back and pick up Anna, since she was taking over Lee’s stall at UNH.

When we arrived at Namaste Farm, Lee fairly quietly unloaded, marched into her new abode, and took a tour around. She didn’t touch the wire fence. She didn’t respond when her new neighbors whinnied to her. While clearly not 100% settled, she was far, far less worried that I was. We did end up having to lock her into her run in that evening, as it continued to pour, because she wanted to stand outside near the other horses (who had sensibly gone into their own sheds) even once she was shivering under her rain sheet. Once she figured out that the shelter was dry though, she began using it on her own when the doors were re-opened the next day. We haven’t had to shut them since.

PinelandKurLeeNewCar 100 — Lee’s new friends, Taydee the Connemara and Marybeth Applebottom, the chestnut appaloosa mule.

After a day or two to settle in, I took her for her first ride. I decided to start in the fields first. Lee’s new neighbors whinnied as we left, but she didn’t answer, and instead was all business. But when we got to the fields, she became quite unsettled and agitated, and was being overly spooky and difficult. “Here we go,” I thought to myself. “I knew this would happen. She is going to be unrideable here.” I ended up having to dismount for safety and led her in hand for a bit, full of negative thoughts and wondering what I had gotten myself into.

The fields were soaked after the heavy rain and I was worried about leaving hoof prints once she started to act up, so I decided that maybe I should try taking Lee down the dirt road instead. I had hesitated to start with this, because the traffic on the road can occasionally be unpredictable and since she can be too, I thought it might be a bad combination. However, I knew that on the road I could more confidently ask Lee to go forward and it seemed like maybe that was just what she needed.

Lee having breakfast shortly after arriving at her new home.

So I gamely re-mounted and headed off down the road, away from the farm. Almost instantly, my reliable distance horse was back. She happily trotted off, one-two-one-two, going all the way to where the pavement starts near the town line, and then home. No issues. No spooking. No drama. She was in her Zen place.

And so it has gone with Lee at Namaste Farm. Since that first ride, she has gone all the way into Newmarket and into a little subdivision, she has ridden alone and in company to Adams Point and seen her first cormorants and sailboats, and she has even come to tolerate the fields (though the bugs which live on them, not so much). She has done nearly two hundred miles of trail since her arrival, and is just one of the herd.

I don’t think I will ever stop worrying about things which haven’t happened and might not ever happen. I can at least recognize that the worry and anxiety I feel is, for me, an inevitable part of change, but I also am trying to learn to be more accepting of the fact that some variables are just out of my control. I think worry starts with some kernel of truth, but then it can grow and mutate and take on a life of its own.

Lee completes her first two day 50 mile ride at GMHA, with her friends Roxie (middle, ridden by Denny Emerson) and Camille (ridden by Robin Malkasian).

I need to start to give Lee more credit for the animal she has become. On August 1-2, she completed her first two day 50 mile competitive trail ride (CTR), and I never felt one ounce of quit in her the whole weekend. In a week, she has more than recovered and was joyfully jigging all over the place on our AM ride today. While I am sure there will be situations in the future where the “survivalist” Lee comes back, I also think that I know the horse well enough to start to trust that she will cope more often than she won’t.

As we all know, trust in any relationship is a two way street. Perhaps Lee and I are more alike than we are different in our tendency to worry. Sometimes I take care of her, and sometimes she takes care of me.