In which there is some fizz but no badness, and Fiddle puts the blade down

Since our last ride included several sub-optimal draconic episodes,* (*understatement)

Today: ready for goodness.

today's objective was a long ride with maximum cooperation.

We headed out solo.  

The mossy log on the left (about 100 yards from the parking lot) was
 the subject of very close scrutiny:  intense ears and a few fizzy steps to get past it.

This is always the best way to clarify our communication:

I'm not feeding her fizziness.  I required continuous forward motion,
 but didn't demand a particular speed or gait most of the time.

we can focus on each other without being distracted by whatever the other people and horses are doing.  

Total time spent fizzing:  about 10 minutes.
After that, she gave up and put her attention on the trail.

 Soon, she figured out that the only thing she was going to get when she gave the hairy eyeball to various trail objects was a one-rein check and a cue for continued forward motion.

She gave this nasty hole in the trail a very careful examination.
The ground around the hole is untrustworthy and prone to collapse
because of all the rain we've gotten this week, so I dismounted and led her  past it.

 I deliberately chose trails that were in bad condition, so that she would think about what she was doing. 

 Fiddle is a very savvy trail horse--she knows how to navigate on slick, overgrown trails, and she does it very well.  

This route through bad terrain gave Fiddle an opportunity to be Right (using her trail-skills to the best of her ability), while simultaneously being Good (doing what I ask her to do without fussing).  


We ended up on a wide, flat, mostly-unused logging road that we haven't been on for months.  We were listening to each other, and we were cooperating, so I decided to ask for More:  


Okay Fiddle.  Put the blade down and go!


"Putting the blade down" is a phrase I learned from Dennis Summers' book 4th Gear: Power Up Your Endurance Horse.  


It refers to the thing that happens when the horse's whole being is focused on moving FORWARD: the head goes down, the back raises up, the nostrils open wide, and the rear end propels the entire machine down the trail.  


Fiddle's "blade-down" trot is awesome to ride.  We haven't done much of it recently because I want to be careful to stretch but not over-stress the area affected by the surgery.

At the trailer:  "fit to continue".

 It felt good.  We both thought it felt good.  Hooray!

Right side surgery incision site: Spay Day + 5 weeks

Left side surgery incision site: Spay Day + 5 weeks

Time on the trail: 2 hours 45 minutes
Distance:  14.25 miles
Average speed: 5.5 mph
Weather:  heavy clouds, some rain

An awesome ride on a cooperative Dragon:  priceless.

In which we dance the Dragon Tango: two steps forward and one step back

After the wonderful breakthrough a few days ago, I was eager to "cement the lesson" by practicing it on the trail.

Fiddle had other plans.


We rode out yesterday with the Usual Suspects, and I could feel the Cloud of Snarkiness building.  Some days, she is completely content to tag along at the end of the train, and other days I'm riding a horse they should have named "Road Rage."  Guess which horse I had yesterday?


Yeah.


We practiced the halt-to-trot transition with excessive praise early, and she responded really well...until it was time to separate from the group and go solo. 


This is where Fiddle's personality is important to understand:  she would rather be Right than be Good.


She figures that she knows how things "ought to be".  


If I ask her to do something else, she figures that I'm probably Wrong, so she points out my Wrongness.  If I insist that she try the new thing, she gets mad--not because she doesn't want to do the new thing, but because she is, by gawd, Right, and I am Wrong (and also probably Stupid).  


Splitting away from the group is fine, we do it all the time.  However, we usually split up at the same place on the trail.  Splitting up in a different place is, by Fiddle's light, Wrong.  


Sigh.


We ended up fighting about it--and the fight was very venomous this time, because I was trying the new way of moving her forward out of a tantrum, and she decided that she didn't need to be cued anymore.  I swear, it's like having a teenager.  I could point her down the trail, but heaven help me if I cued her to go forward with anything other than the calf muscle of one leg, because "I'm not an idiot, I know how to do this, you can leave those damn spurs off!"


Please note that she doesn't mind the spurs when I am cuing her to do something that she didn't anticipate, like a lateral move, in the arena or on the trail.  She appreciates a precise cue, which the little Prince of Wales spur delivers nicely...I can use it to touch an exact location on her body to cue, rather than using the slab side of my leg.  She likes that.  However, since she was anticipating the cue to move forward, she got mad when I "over-cued" it with the spur.  She got REALLY MAD.  It was quite impressive--I'm sorry there aren't any photos.


The good news is that I think that I've (mostly) figured it out.  I will take her out solo this week to practice our new skill (with barely perceptible cues, which apparently is now important), and report back.  


Do I wish that my horse was sweet and compliant?  Yeah.  Sometimes I do.  She actually is "sweeter" post-surgery--we've all noticed it.  However, she's still a Dragon. She still has opinions, and she still isn't shy about sharing them.  Most of the time, that's a good thing.  I just wish I could ride her today so I would know that the issue is fixed, but my work schedule doesn't work that way. 


I have to wait, and continue thinking about how I'll do things differently the next time I get on-board.


Bah.  I hate waiting.

In which another Starfish is saved, which makes me smile. Please pass the word!

In August 2010 I wrote a blog post about a great article I'd found online:  a bunch of standardbred folks had gotten together to save a standie that needed help.  

Since writing that post, the author of the article and I have exchanged many emails about standardbreds and people, and making sure the right people find the right standie.  Ellen works for the United States Trotting Association, and is the driving force behind the USTA Full Circle program, which is a database of horse names matched with the names of people who are willing to help that particular horse if that particular horse ever needs help.  

I like Ellen's style:  she isn't trying to save the whole world and all the horses in it in one swell foop.  

Instead, she and her friends are trying to make a difference to one horse at a time.  If you haven't read the story of The Starfish Rescuer, go do that now.  Here's the link.

Here is the current Starfish project, shown in before- and after- photos:

Top photo was taken 3 months AFTER Bella was rescued.
"After" photo by Barbara Livingston

Bella was a 1.5 on the Henneke Scale when she was seized by animal control in October 2011.  To learn more about Bella the "15-year-old-yearling", you can read Ellen's article HERE.

And, if you know of anybody in the Maryland area who is hunting for a really cool horse, have 'em contact Ellen and the Starfish at 732.780-3700 or email ellen.harvey@ustrotting.com 

photo by Barbara Livingston

This mare deserves the best.

In which there are breakthroughs, big and small, and rewards for good behavior

Excellent riding lesson today!

reins wide, engaged rear engine, lifted back, lots of impulsion!

 The most important new thing (for me) is our training breakthrough:  the value of excessive positive reinforcement.

"GOOOOOOOOOD Girl!"

 Fee has always responded best to physical feedback, rather than verbal praise.  I can tell her she's a good girl, and she understands that she's done something well.  

Shoulder-in.  Working on flexibility, gently stretching and
using muscles that got impacted by the surgery

However, if I actually want to motivate her to repeat the good behavior, I have to praise her and touch her at the same time.  I've known that for a long time.  But today, I tried something new.

Shoulder-in, notice the hind feet crossing nicely!

In the past, when Fee got frustrated, or just felt snarky for some reason, she would plant her front feet and threw a tantrum.  You can see video footage of a typical tantrum HERE. 


In the video, you can see typical behavior leading up to a tantrum:  the swishing tail, the braced front end, and eventually, the back feet shooting off in all directions before I am able to get her moving forward again.   


Notice in the video when she is finished with the badness and does move forward, she does it with a light step and perked-up ears:  she threw the tantrum, and then moved out of it without a grudge.


As soon as I mounted up this morning, I could feel a lot of snarkiness under the saddle, so this time I decided to see if I could get her moving with that no-grudge attitude before she got to the plant-feet-and-buck stage.


We practiced halt-to-trot transitions, which she doesn't like. 


Today, instead of correcting her for walking a stride or two before picking up the trot, I waited until she trotted the first stride or two, and then gave her copious praise and petting for moving forward into the trot.  No praise for the walk, but tons of praise and petting for trot.


Hmmm.  This was new.  She had to think about it. Moving forward, even badly, is super-praise-worthy?   Hmmmm.  She started moving forward out of the halt with fewer walk-steps.  Hmmmm.


We did that for about 20 minutes during the warm-up, when nobody else was around.  


And you know what?


IT WORKED!


In the lesson, when I asked for something difficult, she started to brace herself to refuse, but instead of pushing her forward, I collected her and then asked for the same kind of trot departure that earned her so much praise in the warm-up...and SHE DID IT! 


Okay, she still threw her feet around. 


But she didn't plant the front feet at all--she pinned her ears and threw up a foot so that I would understand that she didn't like my request, BUT then she moved forward and did what I asked!


This is huge for her, and I'm so happy. I praised her copiously every time she moved forward after throwing out a back foot, and she got better and better about not getting stuck in tantrum-mode.


>>happy face<<


In other breakthrough news, Duana and Hana are working really well together now:

Hana: soft through the bridle, using her rear engine

 Hana's "pirate name" is BAD RADISH, and when she is feeling naughty you understand why we call her something hot and red and round!


But Du is learning how to establish firm boundaries with Hana Banana Wanna Cookie, and Hana is learning that Du really will enforce the rules!

Huge improvement for both of them.  Hooray!

 There's more than one way to reward good behavior.  

Saddling up, almost ready to head out

How about following a really good, strenuous riding lesson with a nice, quiet, laid-back walking trail ride with a bunch of friends?

Blue skies above:  nothing prettier!

 Yes, I think that's a nice reward.

Lots of babies and green horses in the group,
so we just strolled along and enjoyed the day.

I never get tired of this view:  blue skies seen through happy ears.

For those who are counting, today is Spay Day + 29, and she's looking fine!

left side incision site: Spay Day + 29

right side incision site:  Spay Day + 29

Of course, we all know what Fiddle's very favorite reward is:

"FOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!"

 Good girl, Fiddle-i-fee.  Very, very, good girl.

In which Rocky learns a good new skill, and I'm not very delicate

Rocky practices evading ferns.  Ferns are skeery.

Rocky is gradually gaining all the skills he will need to be a successful endurance horse. Walking and trotting on uneven terrain is no longer a gigantic challenge.  He's quite good at walking and trotting uphill, and at walking downhill without losing his balance and crashing onto his nose.

Looking like a real grown-up endurance pony!

 He's getting more graceful about trailer loading and un-loading.  But today, Rocky had a little problem:

"Mama?  I tells you something?"

 Rocky didn't quite know how to communicate the discomfort.

"Is something I gotta do, but maybe my clothes are inna way?"

 This is not a picture of Rocky's problem.

Pink flower:  not a problem.

 Endurance riders, as discussed in an earlier post, aren't very delicate in regards to bodily functions.

Lilacs.  Not problematic.

 In fact, endurance riders are not only comfortable talking about bodily functions, it's not unusual to return from an errand at a vetcheck to be told gleefully by the horse-holding-person, "He peed lemonade, you're good to go."   

Washington State flower:  the only problem with it
 is trying to remember how to spell "rhododendron."

 Or something along those lines.  

early strawberries!

 Talking about body functions is important in our sport.  Maintaining awareness of bodily functions of the horse (and sometimes the rider also) is essential to keeping track of the horse's wellbeing.

Chives and sage flowers

However, writing about bodily functions is something I don't normally do...but in this case, it was such a major training breakthrough that I really must share.

Lavender.  This is the last photo of flowers.  After this picture
is a picture of Rocky and his function.

 It took Rocky the better part of 15 minutes to finally figure out that he can pee under tack.  Urinating with a rider onboard would absolutely 'splode his brain, so Patty dismounted.


Even so, he circled and worried, and did a very good impression of a toddler doing the pee-pee dance.  Patty loosened his girth and held onto his nose so he had to stand still.  And, finally:


(last warning, this picture isn't a flower)

gallons and gallons and gallons

 Rocky peed.


And peed.


And peed, and peed, and peed, and peed.


I've seen less volume from fire hydrants.

Good boy, Rocky!

Good color, and he splashed all four feet simultaneously.


And then, we mounted up, and headed back to the trailer with a tremendous sense of accomplishment.


Endurance riders <<---pathetically easy to entertain.

In which we formally introduce Rocky, and he takes baby steps

I'd like y'all to meet Rocky.

 Rocky is a homebred Arab, born at Fish Creek Farm, and made from parts found hanging around the place.  He's five years old now, and starting to learn how to do his Real Job.

Steep learning curve:  Rocky can't eat and walk at the same time.  Yet.

Rocky has been handled his entire life, and his training has been very slow and gradual.  


Prior to starting endurance training with Patty, Rocky spent a bunch of time in the arena learning basic dressage.  In the arena, he learned to carry a rider, to walk/trot/canter, to turn, and to reverse.  He can collect himself a little bit, and he can extend a little bit.  He doesn't lose his cool when the rider swaps diagonals, or zips up a jacket.


But he had never seen bicycles before.

"Quick!" Patty said to the nice man on the bicycle.
"Hand him a cookie!"

 We didn't even make it out of the trailhead parking lot when Rocky's learning curve started shooting skyward.  First the bicycle, and then

The man in front is walking at least 7 dogs on leashes.  

 DOGS.


Even Ariana gave all those descended-from-wolves people her full attention.  Rocky often sticks close to Ariana, who seems to know so much more than he does about the wild world.


Before we swing up into the saddle, Rocky needs to learn one more skill:

"Pony stays OUTSIDE!"

 the porta-potty.

"I stay outside."

 Porta-potty skills are actually pretty important, as Patty learned the hard way many years ago:  her old (now-retired) endurance horse spent his career in terror of porta-potties.  I can only imagine how inconvenient that must have been!


Finally, out on the trail:

Rocky is actually pretty brave about leading the parade

 It's good to let the baby horse set the pace; as long as he's willing to move forward, he can go slowly enough to see everything that he needs to see.

He's not very coordinated yet--his feet land sort of randomly when he trots.

 Rocky depends on his rider for reassurance, but he also checks in with Arianna pretty often.

"I'm doing this right, right?"  

 Besides, he thinks she's pretty coolio.

"Whoooo, mare germs!"

 Time to test the retention:  does he remember what the wheely things are all about?  YES!

"Hey...any of you guys gots a cookie?"

 Swampland horses also need water skills.

"Walk in the puddle.  Gotcha."

"Oh hey.  DRINK the puddle, too!"

 Rocky's only big bobble so far happened when Meagan's horse Rhythm farted.  We were trotting up a big hill, with Rhythm in front, Rocky on the inside, and Fiddle slightly behind on the outside.  When Rhythm made the noise with her bum, Rocky's brain froze up.  His back feet slid under him, his head went up, and he clocked Patty in the head, whiplashing her neck.  Yowch.


(I'm pleased to report that Fiddle did NOT react.  Not to Rhythm, and not to Rocky's bobble.  Can we credit the removal of hormones?  I think we can!!!)




We made sure Patty wasn't concussed, fed her a few ibuprofen, and finished the ride with the knowledge that muscle relaxers and a therapeutic laser were waiting at home.  She'll be fine.


Here's one more skill that baby horses need to learn:

Tripod horsey gets a snack break

Because otherwise, who will take pictures of Gigantor?

"Foooooooooooooood!"

Good boy, baby horse!