In which I stand on a soapbox and talk about training Miss Fiddle

Let me begin by saying that I'm not a professional horse trainer, and I don't even want to pretend to be one. I do not fix problem horses, I don't offer advice about tack or equipment for other people, and I don't put my horse on a pedestal as an example of a Well-Behaved Horse.

I do, however, believe that every time you interact with another living being, you are teaching something and you are learning something. Every single time.

Think for a moment about the last interaction you had with another living soul. Did you order the dog out of the kitchen? Did you kiss your son on the forehead? Did you promise your spouse that you would pick up bread and milk at the store? All of those creatures learned something about you. What did you teach them?

Those creatures had some reaction to your behavior. Did you like the reaction? Do you intend to change your behavior to get a different reaction, or repeat your behavior to get the same reaction again? They are shaping your behavior at the same time you shape theirs.

Cool, huh?

It's not always completely straightforward, especially in a new relationship. The other creature, be it horse, dog, or new co-worker, has experiences that lead her to believe that if she does this, then you will probably do that. A dog who sits on command at my house can reasonably expect a scratch on the nose or a nice cookie. Dogs from other households might expect a cookie every single time, and they might be confused when I praise them without food. I learn (by watching their initial confusion) that praise wasn't what they expected. They learn, eventually, that there will be cookies, but not always.

When we have understanding about behaviors, we are both happier.

So, how did we get Fiddle from this:(July 2007)

to this:(May 2009)

to this:

(March 2010)?

It was a long, slow road, actually, and although I did the lion's share of training with her, I didn't do it all myself.

What I wanted was a reliable trail and endurance horse who could move forward with ears forward on a loose rein, could behave appropriately in a crowd of unruly others, and could pay attention to me and follow my instructions all the time. That's a tall order.

I needed her to be able to do the following:
* Control her impulses

* In an unfamiliar situation, do something that has been "right" in the past
* Look to the handler for help and guidance

I like to start my dogs and horses with a trick or two, some default behavior that is always "right." For dogs, the default is "sit." A sitting dog is a good dog.

For horses, the default trick can be anything that will allow the horse to communicate, "I do this because I want to be good." Fiddle's trick is to hold up one foot and arch her neck down.

This trick teaches control of the feet (we teach it for all four feet), and control of impulses. She can't bite or kick anybody when she's doing this trick. She is being good. For Fiddle, it's a relief to have a behavior that is always good. She can default back to it when she is uncertain, and that lets me know that she wants more guidance.

When I first got Fiddle, she seemed to be a very angry young horse. Although she was nearly 5 years old, she acted more like a cranky toddler than a nearly-mature mare, and she hated to be confronted with unfamiliar situations. She frequently tried to kick and bite people, she would plant her feet and refuse to walk properly on a leadline, and she pinned her ears at everyone.

Because she had learned elsewhere that she could scare some people by trying to bite them, we kept her away from timid people who might allow that behavior, and surrounded her with canny people who would get in her space and make her move her feet if she was inappropriate with her face. Every single time she tried to bite someone, that person (who was warned in advance what she might do and how they should respond) would crowd into her and make her yield her hindquarters, trot in circles, or back up--in other words, we were teaching her that "biting" equals "working".

We gave her the same response for her threats to kick. If she aimed a foot at someone, that person would work her. Eventually, she learned to keep all her feet under control when she was around people, because "kicking" meant "working."

The key at this point in her life was keep timid people away from her. This mare believes that if you give her an inch, she deserves to take a mile. If she ever succeeds with a threat to bite or kick, she would learn that sometimes she could get away with it. This is much harder to eradicate than the absolute you will always have to work if you try to bite.

To help her cope with her fear of uncertainty and new situations, I took Fiddle into every weird situation I could find:

We travelled to Standardbred Play-days in Canada, I hauled her to the ocean, rode her into the backcountry, and took her to ridecamp to build and mark trails.

It's important to note that, although I rode this mare extensively, I did not put her into endurance competitions for three years--until I was reasonably sure that she could do the work correctly. Remember, she is always learning. If she learns that one of the things she can do is throw a bucking wobbly at the start line of a ride, it might take years to convince her to quit doing that.

Instead, she learned that camp is a place where you go stay for a week, and you have to work every single day, so it doesn't take much for me (now) to convince her to walk quietly through camp and over the start line.

I took her out in crowds whenever I could--to local poker rides, to playdays, and to trailheads that I knew would be crowded--and I enforced the requirement for good behavior while she was there.

I put all kinds of bizarre tack and equipment on her, and then asked for the same good behavior.

I took her for my riding lessons, and insisted that she try new things. When she is naughty, she has to work harder. When she is good, she gets quiet praise and sometimes a cookie.

She learned that the things we do together are FUN, and that often there are cookies.
When I find something that she feared (white plastic bags, for example), I incorporate that thing into her everyday environment, by hanging the scary thing on her fence, or having it poke out of my pocket. Her feed in camp comes wrapped in white plastic bags!

Horses can't learn to cope with something if you avoid the situation. Rather than say, "my horse can't do endurance because she hates being in unfamiliar places", I taught her to accept new places. Rather than say, "I can't use white plastic bags", I taught her to control her impulse to flee from them. This is ongoing, BTW, she still hates them.

In fact, it's all ongoing. Every time I interact with her, she learns something, and she will continue to learn stuff for the rest of her life.

So, there's my philosophy of horse training: Whenever you interact with your horses, you are always learning and you are always teaching. Pay attention to what you are teaching your horses, and pay attention to what they teach you.