The Importance of Paying Attention

Today, I had my first ever horse accident. And it happened because I wasn't paying attention.

I was breaking in a potential new farm hand, first day on the job. He was very interested in working with horses, so I spent a lot of time talking to him about the importance of body language, groundwork, horse care etc. It was a windy day. Trees were swaying, tarps were snapping and flapping. I was picking the hooves of Bree, the horse that can be reliably counted on to spook at anything, anywhere, at any time, while explaining to the new guy that Bree was wearing a rain sheet because he is spooky. You will understand how ironic that was in a moment. I don't routinely blanket my horses, but when it is very windy Bree gets nervous about standing under the tarp shelters. He is also pretty claustrophobic and doesn't like enclosed spaces at all. Which means on the really wet, windy days, he gets soaked. We had been having a succession of those kinds of days, so, he was wearing a rain sheet.

Had I been paying attention, I would have taken into account that Bree was already likely to be a bit jumpy because of the high winds. Had I been paying attention, I would have noticed that while I was bent over Bree's hoof, talking to the new guy, Bree had turned his head away from me, staring intently at something in the distance. Had I been paying attention, I would have been aware that this meant that he had bent his shoulder and rib cage into me. Had I been aware, I could have a) corrected his bend or b) better yet, demonstrated good lead mare qualities by supporting him in checking out the scary thing that was worrying him over there or c) at the very least got out of the way. But I wasn't paying attention, so I didn't do any of these things.

When Bree spooked and jumped, the only direction he could go was the one I was standing in. I caught a glancing blow from his shoulder to the side of my head, and went down on my shoulder. Ouch.

Dazed and pretty sore I picked myself back up. It was immediately obvious that Bree was very upset by the incident. I really, really just wanted to go home and put an ice pack on my face. But leaving things as they were would have meant that Bree would now associate the last time he got his hooves picked with "bad things happened". So, face throbbing, I headed off to catch him, reassure him and finally suggest that we now finish the hoof picking job we had started, since, after all, it was really no big deal. He was okay with that.

I was lucky. I got off with a bit of a shiner, and a stiff shoulder. It could have been much worse. Both my great-grandfather and a cousin died as a result of being kicked by horses. And they were farm folk and had worked with horses their entire lives. In the future, I shall pay better attention.

The new farm hand quit at the end of his first day on the job. He did say that I had to be one of the toughest women he knew. Hm.

Making Progress.... Slowly!

I am pretty new to this horse training business, learning as I'm going along. I also tend to err on the side of caution. The miserable weather we had been having, alternating relentless rain and wet, sloppy snow, hadn't been helping, either. Consequently, the training of our two young Spanish Mustangs was not progressing as quickly as it possibly could. My farrier certainly thought so. When he was here in December, he assessed the situation with a practiced eye and declared "I would have all of this done in a day!" (meaning catching, halter breaking and leading, picking up feet etc.) Um.

Spurred on by the gauntlet on the ground, I decided to make some time the following week for a round penning session with Xoia, the filly. I started with her simply because she is a couple of months older than Xeo, and pretty much the boss. My thinking was that once I could reliably catch, halter and lead her, it would be much easier to start working with him.

It was a pretty low key affair. I still worried about overtaxing her, being only 8 months old, so I didn't push her very hard. Basically, I just kept her feet moving, walking mostly. Whenever she turned her butt on me I increased the pressure briefly to make her trot, but she didn't do that very often. Around and around we went. I don't know what I would have done had she resisted for a long time, but in the event it took less than half an hour for her to decide that standing and facing me was considerably less work that walking around in circles, and she allowed me to approach her and rub her head. So far, so good.

It didn't seem like a terribly big deal at the time, but the overall effect was surprisingly dramatic. The following day, I had a new horse. As soon as I showed up, she came over to say hello. She followed me around the pen while I was working. She happily stood to have her head rubbed. She was still jumpy about me moving around to her side, but with a bit of patience allowed me to halter her. Leading went from mostly yielding hindquarters to get the feet moving to calmly walking along. Well, well.

I decided to take her for a walk around the property. This was her first venture outside the pen since she had arrived. We walked though puddles, followed narrow rabbit trails through the brush, jumped over logs, walked across a tarp and dragged it around, checked out a small wooden pen, visited the other horses, the goats and the chickens. No problem.

Since then, she has been coming along in leaps and bounds. New things are approached with caution, but a basic attitude of: "If you say it's alright, then I guess it must be!" Picking up hooves? "OK!" Rainsheet? "Hey, look what I'm wearing!" She almost halters herself now in the expectation that we might be going for another adventure.

We'll be having lots of adventures. 

Escape Artists, Part 2

The story so far....

Some weeks ago Xeo was found standing outside the closed, latched, 6' high round pen in which the little mustangs are currently living. There were signs of him having scrambled over, which baffled us as he could barely reach the top rail with his nose. Since it didn't happen again, we dismissed it as a fluke.

Then, a couple of weeks ago, I was working with Xeo outside of the round pen, having tied Xoia up inside as an exercise in standing tied. I wasn't particularly expecting the lead rope to still be attached to the rail when I came back, as it had taken both of the mustangs mere days to learn how to undo a safety knot. What I hadn't expected, though, was to find her outside of the pen, gate wide open. This gate features a heavy duty spring latch, designed to be horse proof, which I at times find hard to open. I couldn't imagine how she could possibly have done this by herself and chided myself for not closing the gate properly....

Well, it seems I wrongly blamed myself. When I got there today, the gate was again wide open and the mustangs nowhere to be seen. In a bit of a panic, I grabbed halter and lead rope and started tracking their hoof prints around the property. Real easy to do after several days of almost continuous rain! They seemed to have simply followed the paths that we had walked with them before and I found them visiting with the other horses and goats. The very good news: as soon as Xoia saw me she walked up to me and let me halter her. Good girl! Xeo, not wanting to be left behind on his own, followed us back to the pen. We had a little issue when we reached the gate and Xoia firmly planted her 4 little hooves in the ground, refusing to go back in. A few minutes of yielding hindquarters, round and round in circles, changed her mind.

The baler twine in the picture is my temporary attempt to keep the little escape artists contained until I can go back tomorrow with a piece of chain. And a lock that requires opposable thumbs to operate.