Hi Avril,
In answer to your question about Madame Fifi, she was always there. It is because of her that I met you. When I moved here back in 2007, I saw this horse in the bottom of the field adjoining our property. She had a beautiful foal at her side, and I used to marvel at how she cared and interacted with her baby. After a few months, the baby was taken away. I had never seen an animal so distressed, I didn't like it, but I knew that was how things were done, and thought of it as a 'welcome to real country style living'
But this went on and on. She kept having babies and she kept having them taken away from her. In between times, no-one was interested in her, she had not a friend in the world. Her sole source of pleasure was, from time to time, to take it upon herself to round up the cows. For the rest of the time, she tucked herself under a tree in all weathers. I have seen her with ice glistening on her back in deepest winter with no coat other than her natural one.
From then on I decided that I would be her friend. We were separated by the hedge, but sometimes I would just go up and sit on the grass during the night, in all weathers with my back to her, and she would just rest the other side. I sometimes slipped her a carrot, and when I was sure the farmers were asleep, I would climb over the hedge to just hang out with her. Pretty soon, she started sleeping and lying down next to our garden, and then, when I was out in the garden by day, she would follow me wherever I went. By this I mean the top or bottom of the garden beside the hedge. Then it was time for her to be whisked off once more and to have yet another foal and so the cycle continued. I made friends with Julie and discovered she had a horse, called MJ, and worked at the refuge. All the time, Madame Fifi and I were separated.
One day, and quite by surprise, I discovered her popping her head over the hedge. Until then she had been placed in a small fenced off area in front of the house for almost 2 years. I had the biggest grin on my face as I expressed my delight at seeing her, and immediately set about getting her a little apple. My friend was back. She remembered the routine after all these years had passed; she ran around the bottom of the hedge, up the side, and waited for me where I used to sit when I just wanted to show her someone cared.
This lasted for about 4 days; we were both so happy to be reunited once more. Then she was placed back in her spot to have her latest baby, and the misery commenced once more. I knew more than anything I wanted to buy her, and end this dreadful cycle, but they would not sell. So I made contact with you, I wanted a horse more than anything, and I knew my nerves were not so good, so I felt you offered a real solution for me, but all the time Madame Fifi was in the back of my mind, but she was a dream that was never going to happen.
Until......One day, one of the daughters of the farmer came to see me. She said that her mum couldn't cope with Fifi anymore, she had gone wild, hated everyone, and was quite a vicious horse. Her mum was thinking about selling her....I of course said immediately, that before she advertised her, I would be grateful if she spoke with me first of all - I had seen my chance!
6 months went by, I was called and asked to come down and see the latest foal; Brittany ( I know, say nothing Avril) So I went to see this little creature, who was placed in a barn, between cows. They could not let her out, as she was too 'difficult' to handle. Avril, it breaks my heart to tell you, but this poor little foal, just starting out in life was completely terrified. Her eyes were rolling in her head; she was rearing nonstop when Marietta (the farmer’s wife) tried to approach her. Her husband Georges was using a machine to bulk fire hay into the barn for the cows. Marietta felt this would help Brittany get used to farm machinery, but Avril, as I turned back to see the result, all I could see was a helpless, frightened baby, to the point of being out of her mind, dashing back and forth, trying to avoid the straw being fired out at her. They asked if I would like to buy Brittany, to which I replied no. I do want a horse I can ride, and I am ready enough to admit I do not have the experience to buy a foal. Despite the terrible name, she is beautiful, and I think she will make a great eventing horse. Since then, she has calmed somewhat. They have got in some guru, who had 'trained' her, but I have met him, he is a thoughtless fool. I offered them 500 euro's for Fifi, and they were very insulted. I said that for a broodmare who has had nothing done with her for at least ten years, not to mention the laminitis scare, they were not doing so badly!
Shortly thereafter, and with a complete breakdown of communication between us, I received a call from Marietta asking me to shut the dogs away as she had a 'suprise' for me. Into my garden came Madame Fifi complete with this 'trainer' on her back. He leapt off and ran up to her, jumping back on as if he were a cowboy. I was pretty unimpressed I may tell you now, but what did impress me was her. She was just looking at me, looking at me and blinking. She saw in to my soul that day, and she was telling me that although she didn't know completely what was going on, she did know it had something to do with me. For the few days after that, every time she saw me from her place at the bottom of the field, she would call out to me. That was that, time to agree a price, which I duly did, and don't ask!
So there you have it, we are finally untied. Her previous owners, a woman who was terrified of her, and a man, (whose village wouldn’t frankly miss him should he go on holiday) geed her up to the point of hysteria. That is my only problem Avril, her previous owners.
A few day ago, Georges came up to see her stable, and by the time he had finished geeing her up, she was completely beside herself. He called her and was screaming at the same time, and then shoved me in the tack room for my 'safety' when she came screeching to a halt. Well! I had had enough! To hell with being on good terms with your neighbours! I shoved him out of the way and stepped out into the melee. I gave her her dinner and told him that she was a good girl, and that she was always calm with me, which was the way it was going to be from now on.
They keep coming up, both him and Marietta, offering me 'advice' about what I should be doing to make her life better. I think it is a bloody cheek. She has lived out under a tree for 13 years, with not so much as one word of affection. The time is soon coming where I will be losing my rag with them, but I have to play it a bit carefully as it is them who rent me the land that I place her on. I have other fields I can use, but I want to keep her as close as possible for now.This lasted for about 4 days; we were both so happy to be reunited once more. Then she was placed back in her spot to have her latest baby, and the misery commenced once more. I knew more than anything I wanted to buy her, and end this dreadful cycle, but they would not sell. So I made contact with you, I wanted a horse more than anything, and I knew my nerves were not so good, so I felt you offered a real solution for me, but all the time Madame Fifi was in the back of my mind, but she was a dream that was never going to happen.
Until......One day, one of the daughters of the farmer came to see me. She said that her mum couldn't cope with Fifi anymore, she had gone wild, hated everyone, and was quite a vicious horse. Her mum was thinking about selling her....I of course said immediately, that before she advertised her, I would be grateful if she spoke with me first of all - I had seen my chance!
6 months went by, I was called and asked to come down and see the latest foal; Brittany ( I know, say nothing Avril) So I went to see this little creature, who was placed in a barn, between cows. They could not let her out, as she was too 'difficult' to handle. Avril, it breaks my heart to tell you, but this poor little foal, just starting out in life was completely terrified. Her eyes were rolling in her head; she was rearing nonstop when Marietta (the farmer’s wife) tried to approach her. Her husband Georges was using a machine to bulk fire hay into the barn for the cows. Marietta felt this would help Brittany get used to farm machinery, but Avril, as I turned back to see the result, all I could see was a helpless, frightened baby, to the point of being out of her mind, dashing back and forth, trying to avoid the straw being fired out at her. They asked if I would like to buy Brittany, to which I replied no. I do want a horse I can ride, and I am ready enough to admit I do not have the experience to buy a foal. Despite the terrible name, she is beautiful, and I think she will make a great eventing horse. Since then, she has calmed somewhat. They have got in some guru, who had 'trained' her, but I have met him, he is a thoughtless fool. I offered them 500 euro's for Fifi, and they were very insulted. I said that for a broodmare who has had nothing done with her for at least ten years, not to mention the laminitis scare, they were not doing so badly!
Shortly thereafter, and with a complete breakdown of communication between us, I received a call from Marietta asking me to shut the dogs away as she had a 'suprise' for me. Into my garden came Madame Fifi complete with this 'trainer' on her back. He leapt off and ran up to her, jumping back on as if he were a cowboy. I was pretty unimpressed I may tell you now, but what did impress me was her. She was just looking at me, looking at me and blinking. She saw in to my soul that day, and she was telling me that although she didn't know completely what was going on, she did know it had something to do with me. For the few days after that, every time she saw me from her place at the bottom of the field, she would call out to me. That was that, time to agree a price, which I duly did, and don't ask!
So there you have it, we are finally untied. Her previous owners, a woman who was terrified of her, and a man, (whose village wouldn’t frankly miss him should he go on holiday) geed her up to the point of hysteria. That is my only problem Avril, her previous owners.
A few day ago, Georges came up to see her stable, and by the time he had finished geeing her up, she was completely beside herself. He called her and was screaming at the same time, and then shoved me in the tack room for my 'safety' when she came screeching to a halt. Well! I had had enough! To hell with being on good terms with your neighbours! I shoved him out of the way and stepped out into the melee. I gave her her dinner and told him that she was a good girl, and that she was always calm with me, which was the way it was going to be from now on.
So there you have it, our history together. I was not surprised to see you write that Appaloosas are different. I always knew she was different, special. She seems to readily accept me as her alpha, and is polite as can be. The only expectation being when there is food on offer. We discovered today that we cannot both fit in the stable door at the same time while I was trying to deliver her hay net! One of us had to give in - it was her. I turned round, faced her and started walking, she stated reversing.
All I know is, she needs security, routine, and comfort, followed by food. All of these I provide, and I am trying to be the best I can be - for now. That is enough for starters. The fancy stuff can wait. I just want to prove to her beyond all doubt that she can rely on me. She has had no-one she can rely on her whole life. Apart from her babies, that she took such great care of, she has been in total isolation. Yes, I suppose you could say she was a 'charity case', but a more worthwhile cause I couldn't think of. I love her.
Blimey! Now that was an epic. You can tell I am sentimental, but hey, my heart is in the right place. I often say to mum that when my time comes, and I go up to the big house in the sky, I would be very happy if I could be allocated a work placement with St Francs of Assisi!
I am going to do a rescue next week, there is an English couple who have done a moonlight flit, leaving a horse and a pony behind. It has only recently come to our attention, the French neighbours have been providing water, but they now have no grass, and are becoming distressed. The local authority has given permission for the refuge to take them. we have no word from the previous owners, a shocking business. Who could do that?!
Ok then, I have been very quiet recently because Madame Fifi has arrived and my life, as I knew it, has gone. I shall write straight from the heart, and if it turns out to be a bit of an epic, then please forgive me.
I went down to farm to collect her 11 days ago, I thought that from her point of view, rather than just call her up, it would be better to get her, walk her up the lane, along the road and in through our gate. That way she would know that something really different was going on. For the first few days she was very quiet, except when I turned up each morning to start poo picking and turn her out. Well, my eyes almost popped out on stalks as she bucked, farted, reared and raced around and around. Happily none of this was directed at me. It was with no menace, she was just showing us all just how happy she was to find herself finally united with me after all these years. At least that is the way I am viewing it, and she certainly has not given me any reason to think otherwise.
In the past week, I have found myself experiencing many different emotions that are rare visitors to me; elation, terror, and taking the time to think things through from another’s point of view. I like to think I have always been considerate for the needs of others, but humans, dogs and cats don't seem that difficult to work out, whereas I am really starting to understand the simplicity of a horse’s needs. And in doing so, I am realising just how difficult it is to it get right! I am not sure if I am explaining myself very well, but I feel like I need to become more childlike, accepting the way things are, or least trying to, while trying not to alter or influence the outcome. At the same time I’m trying to view things in a uncomplicated way and it aint easy! As someone who has long since suffered with anxiety, I know just how easily the human mind can easily complicate itself to the detriment of living life itself - but that was always 'how things were' for me.
I say elation, as I can't quite believe that this beautiful creature who grazes at the bottom and the side of my garden is really mine! I say terror, as the enormity of what I have taken on still can scare me half to death. I have been worrying that I will get it wrong, and she will have to go. Either because I turn out to be useless at this lark, or I do not want her anymore. See what I mean? I slow myself down; remind myself that nothing that has been done cannot be undone. I think I have been placing myself under huge amounts of pressure. Years of dreaming and wishing, then when reality hits, doubts creep in. Another lesson I have learned, is that I have always expected highly of myself. I can see now that I have a long-standing attitude of being very hard on me, and that is not helpful at all. I kind of always knew it, but now I have to confront this personality flaw. It is very difficult to just let the story unfold when you are me. But I am trying, I really am.
So on to the good stuff. Avril, she is an angel, how lucky I am. I am quite confident that if she was to attend your training, with you at her helm, I would be receiving a call to declare graduation in no time at all. I find it amazing that such a horse, who should by rights be thoroughly damaged, is so willing to place so much trust in me. And she seems to be willing to really trust me.
On arrival and inspection of her stable, she was just too scared to go in on her own. She would gp in only if I walked in front of her. I turned her out in to her paddock, then kept a close eye, from a distance, on her. At suppertime, I went down, called her in, popped the lead rope on her and lead her into the stable paddock I had prepared for her. Already I had faced some dissent from Julie and the owner of the refuge. She has plenty of hard standing outside her stable; they thought I may as well tape her off there, but I was adamant that she had spent the past 13 years in the same place outside, permanently standing on grass, so I wanted to make the transition as gentle as possible for her. Especially as when I went to bed, she would be all alone on strange terrain. I felt she would have appreciated a little 'wander' space on grass. Of course I knew I would end up with mud pretty quickly, but so what? If I didn't want to have mud, I should never have bought a horse, and I may well add that my green 'Hunter' Wellies do not look as they did on our first meeting Avril!
Anyway, she dared not go in her stable the first night. I am sure she was glad to be able to drift away elsewhere during the night. In the morning, and for the following 3 mornings, a little head was peeking around the hedge up to our house. Waiting and waiting. When dawn broke, I would go out to her and take her back in to her paddock. By the 4th day, she no longer bothered peeking, she knew I would come, so I now get a lovely neigh in greeting instead. Each morning, upon setting foot outside, and after I poo pick at night, she goes and waits at the gate to be lead in to her 'spot' and by now, she loves her stable!
The first morning, I would say was the most challenging to date. I already knew that she was difficult to catch, I has seen Marietta have real problems, round and round she would go, chasing after her. When I arrived at the stables, I bought out her halter and allowed her to sniff at it ( it was a new one) and offered to pop in on her. No way, was her reply, and off she stalked. Avril, right then Mark Raschid came in to my head, and I remembered the story about 'old Salty' who also did not want to be caught, and the old man let him make the choice himself. For every 20-30 minutes I would offer her the halter, and each time she turned away, I turned away and walked in the opposite direction. I wasn't huffy at all, just 'matter of fact'. After almost FOUR hours, she allowed me to place it on her in a calm dignified manner. Wahoo! The following morning it took just 10 minutes, and now she comes to me, pops her head down, just a bit, but it's a try! I know you can hear what horses are sometimes thinking, I can't claim to hear the same, but I think it’s just possible I heard her say that I had ruined all her, fun, she liked having one over on the humans! I just thought back ' Well I am not the same as those humans' to which she replied, 'you’re telling me! - you’re a bit potty!'
She doesn't like being touched, groomed or having her feet inspected. Hardly surprising, she saw the farrier just twice a year, and the only interaction with the 'humans' was less than 5 minutes a day when her hay was delivered under her shelter, a tree. I am trying to work on this in incremental stages with her. I would like to teach her to stand, but for now it seems being able to drift slightly seems to keep her calm, but she always comes back to me at the slightest request. Yesterday I thought it may be a good idea to check out those hooves, so after a few tries, she picked up her front feet for me. I suppose I am not in a rush; she has literally nothing done to her for years, so I can't see that she will come to any harm by going slowly. She has never once bared her teeth, tried to kick or put her ears back, so I reckon that's a good sign, then again, she could just be playing with me! Who knows? We will find out.
Yesterday I was about to pop to the shops, it was pouring with rain, when I heard a hell of a commotion in the paddock; I popped my nose over the hedge to see a severely distraught horse. She had churned up the bottom of the paddock and came flying up to me, quivering and panting. She was literally trembling with distress. I just stayed with her for about 10 minutes, and talked her down with the sound of my voice, I wondered if it was because she couldn't get to her old tree, It was the first time it had rained since she had arrived so once she was calm I walked down to the gate between her paddock and my garden. She came flying up to me straight away, started crying out and pawing the ground. She seemed to be saying 'don't leave me'. So I brought her in, and she shot through the door to her stable, although as I walked her through, she was calm and not agitated. It was weird, I am not claiming to be anybody special, but it seemed as long as I was there, she was OK.
I then set about building her a passage so she could walk from paddock to stable as she chose. All the while, whilst I was in the rain she was in her stable, but she kept poking her head around the building to verify I was still there. Two hours later, she could come and go as she pleased, and I am sure you will not be surprised to hear after that she chose to stand under the flaming tree in the paddock! Still, it was all rather strange, she still has a foal on the farm, it is kept a long way away from her, but maybe she saw it or something. I don't know, but the lesson learned that day, was horses are creatures of habit. Maybe wondered why she couldn't get to her usual place after 13 years, or maybe she came to for help and I provided it.
I suppose, taking a broad view on the whole thing, one would be well within one's rights to say that I have bitten off way more than I can chew. Whilst I have absolutely no ambitions to ride her for the foreseeable future, rather sensible I think, I feel that if I can get this right, then I will be well placed to deal with all manner of different characters, both equine and human. Once again though, I remind myself, if it works, great, if things don't according to plan, then my plan probably wasn't a great one. I am trying not to have too many plans! We are both just trying to work it out.
She reminds me in some ways of Puzzle, the horse I rode on the Foundation Course. Physically, as well as mentally. She is looking for someone to help her. Honestly, if I walk and stop, Fifi walks and stops. If I turn left, she turns left etc. She is also underweight! To add to her complications, when she was pregnant, she had laminitis. I mustn’t over do the food or treats, and that is terribly difficult for me; I love to give treats! So aside from not being able to express my love by food, and having to think carefully as to why/when if I should slip her so much as a bit of carrot, you can still see her ribs.
I would love to bring her to one of your courses, but we shall have to see how she goes, poor thing. She has not been near another equine nearly all her life, I am sure she would enjoy herself, but probably wouldn't want to come home again!
Progress is being made, but boy oh boy, you are correct in your statement about being quick to re-act, YEEHAAH, it is like the OK corral here sometimes! One thing is for sure, if I go western, I won't be needing to teach her how to do a sliding stop!I went down to farm to collect her 11 days ago, I thought that from her point of view, rather than just call her up, it would be better to get her, walk her up the lane, along the road and in through our gate. That way she would know that something really different was going on. For the first few days she was very quiet, except when I turned up each morning to start poo picking and turn her out. Well, my eyes almost popped out on stalks as she bucked, farted, reared and raced around and around. Happily none of this was directed at me. It was with no menace, she was just showing us all just how happy she was to find herself finally united with me after all these years. At least that is the way I am viewing it, and she certainly has not given me any reason to think otherwise.
In the past week, I have found myself experiencing many different emotions that are rare visitors to me; elation, terror, and taking the time to think things through from another’s point of view. I like to think I have always been considerate for the needs of others, but humans, dogs and cats don't seem that difficult to work out, whereas I am really starting to understand the simplicity of a horse’s needs. And in doing so, I am realising just how difficult it is to it get right! I am not sure if I am explaining myself very well, but I feel like I need to become more childlike, accepting the way things are, or least trying to, while trying not to alter or influence the outcome. At the same time I’m trying to view things in a uncomplicated way and it aint easy! As someone who has long since suffered with anxiety, I know just how easily the human mind can easily complicate itself to the detriment of living life itself - but that was always 'how things were' for me.
I say elation, as I can't quite believe that this beautiful creature who grazes at the bottom and the side of my garden is really mine! I say terror, as the enormity of what I have taken on still can scare me half to death. I have been worrying that I will get it wrong, and she will have to go. Either because I turn out to be useless at this lark, or I do not want her anymore. See what I mean? I slow myself down; remind myself that nothing that has been done cannot be undone. I think I have been placing myself under huge amounts of pressure. Years of dreaming and wishing, then when reality hits, doubts creep in. Another lesson I have learned, is that I have always expected highly of myself. I can see now that I have a long-standing attitude of being very hard on me, and that is not helpful at all. I kind of always knew it, but now I have to confront this personality flaw. It is very difficult to just let the story unfold when you are me. But I am trying, I really am.
So on to the good stuff. Avril, she is an angel, how lucky I am. I am quite confident that if she was to attend your training, with you at her helm, I would be receiving a call to declare graduation in no time at all. I find it amazing that such a horse, who should by rights be thoroughly damaged, is so willing to place so much trust in me. And she seems to be willing to really trust me.
On arrival and inspection of her stable, she was just too scared to go in on her own. She would gp in only if I walked in front of her. I turned her out in to her paddock, then kept a close eye, from a distance, on her. At suppertime, I went down, called her in, popped the lead rope on her and lead her into the stable paddock I had prepared for her. Already I had faced some dissent from Julie and the owner of the refuge. She has plenty of hard standing outside her stable; they thought I may as well tape her off there, but I was adamant that she had spent the past 13 years in the same place outside, permanently standing on grass, so I wanted to make the transition as gentle as possible for her. Especially as when I went to bed, she would be all alone on strange terrain. I felt she would have appreciated a little 'wander' space on grass. Of course I knew I would end up with mud pretty quickly, but so what? If I didn't want to have mud, I should never have bought a horse, and I may well add that my green 'Hunter' Wellies do not look as they did on our first meeting Avril!
Anyway, she dared not go in her stable the first night. I am sure she was glad to be able to drift away elsewhere during the night. In the morning, and for the following 3 mornings, a little head was peeking around the hedge up to our house. Waiting and waiting. When dawn broke, I would go out to her and take her back in to her paddock. By the 4th day, she no longer bothered peeking, she knew I would come, so I now get a lovely neigh in greeting instead. Each morning, upon setting foot outside, and after I poo pick at night, she goes and waits at the gate to be lead in to her 'spot' and by now, she loves her stable!
The first morning, I would say was the most challenging to date. I already knew that she was difficult to catch, I has seen Marietta have real problems, round and round she would go, chasing after her. When I arrived at the stables, I bought out her halter and allowed her to sniff at it ( it was a new one) and offered to pop in on her. No way, was her reply, and off she stalked. Avril, right then Mark Raschid came in to my head, and I remembered the story about 'old Salty' who also did not want to be caught, and the old man let him make the choice himself. For every 20-30 minutes I would offer her the halter, and each time she turned away, I turned away and walked in the opposite direction. I wasn't huffy at all, just 'matter of fact'. After almost FOUR hours, she allowed me to place it on her in a calm dignified manner. Wahoo! The following morning it took just 10 minutes, and now she comes to me, pops her head down, just a bit, but it's a try! I know you can hear what horses are sometimes thinking, I can't claim to hear the same, but I think it’s just possible I heard her say that I had ruined all her, fun, she liked having one over on the humans! I just thought back ' Well I am not the same as those humans' to which she replied, 'you’re telling me! - you’re a bit potty!'
She doesn't like being touched, groomed or having her feet inspected. Hardly surprising, she saw the farrier just twice a year, and the only interaction with the 'humans' was less than 5 minutes a day when her hay was delivered under her shelter, a tree. I am trying to work on this in incremental stages with her. I would like to teach her to stand, but for now it seems being able to drift slightly seems to keep her calm, but she always comes back to me at the slightest request. Yesterday I thought it may be a good idea to check out those hooves, so after a few tries, she picked up her front feet for me. I suppose I am not in a rush; she has literally nothing done to her for years, so I can't see that she will come to any harm by going slowly. She has never once bared her teeth, tried to kick or put her ears back, so I reckon that's a good sign, then again, she could just be playing with me! Who knows? We will find out.
Yesterday I was about to pop to the shops, it was pouring with rain, when I heard a hell of a commotion in the paddock; I popped my nose over the hedge to see a severely distraught horse. She had churned up the bottom of the paddock and came flying up to me, quivering and panting. She was literally trembling with distress. I just stayed with her for about 10 minutes, and talked her down with the sound of my voice, I wondered if it was because she couldn't get to her old tree, It was the first time it had rained since she had arrived so once she was calm I walked down to the gate between her paddock and my garden. She came flying up to me straight away, started crying out and pawing the ground. She seemed to be saying 'don't leave me'. So I brought her in, and she shot through the door to her stable, although as I walked her through, she was calm and not agitated. It was weird, I am not claiming to be anybody special, but it seemed as long as I was there, she was OK.
I then set about building her a passage so she could walk from paddock to stable as she chose. All the while, whilst I was in the rain she was in her stable, but she kept poking her head around the building to verify I was still there. Two hours later, she could come and go as she pleased, and I am sure you will not be surprised to hear after that she chose to stand under the flaming tree in the paddock! Still, it was all rather strange, she still has a foal on the farm, it is kept a long way away from her, but maybe she saw it or something. I don't know, but the lesson learned that day, was horses are creatures of habit. Maybe wondered why she couldn't get to her usual place after 13 years, or maybe she came to for help and I provided it.
I suppose, taking a broad view on the whole thing, one would be well within one's rights to say that I have bitten off way more than I can chew. Whilst I have absolutely no ambitions to ride her for the foreseeable future, rather sensible I think, I feel that if I can get this right, then I will be well placed to deal with all manner of different characters, both equine and human. Once again though, I remind myself, if it works, great, if things don't according to plan, then my plan probably wasn't a great one. I am trying not to have too many plans! We are both just trying to work it out.
She reminds me in some ways of Puzzle, the horse I rode on the Foundation Course. Physically, as well as mentally. She is looking for someone to help her. Honestly, if I walk and stop, Fifi walks and stops. If I turn left, she turns left etc. She is also underweight! To add to her complications, when she was pregnant, she had laminitis. I mustn’t over do the food or treats, and that is terribly difficult for me; I love to give treats! So aside from not being able to express my love by food, and having to think carefully as to why/when if I should slip her so much as a bit of carrot, you can still see her ribs.
I would love to bring her to one of your courses, but we shall have to see how she goes, poor thing. She has not been near another equine nearly all her life, I am sure she would enjoy herself, but probably wouldn't want to come home again!
I am trying to get her prepared for a visit from the farrier, he popped his nose in yesterday, and I explained she was what one might call a 'work in progress'. He wholeheartedly agreed as he backed in to the relative safety of the stable.
Upon discovering that she was being shifted to a new section of grazing this morning, she got herself in to such a tizwaz that in the end she just collapsed, and rolled and rolled, and then rolled some more. I am telling you now, this horse of mine would be a cowboy’s rough and tumble dream.
On a more serious note, although I am thrilled that she is so thrilled at her new life, I do think it is time we tried to really get her focus on something. In many ways she is quite a lot like me; needs to be kept busy and thus out of trouble. Quite vocal, rather impulsive, not as brave as she makes out, has underlying insecurities and yet, at the same time, generally stoic.
So our Julie is going to saddle up, isn't great to have great friends? She asked if I will go on foot with her, I replied “sure - someone needs to be around to call the SAMU!” (ambulance.)
Happily, Julie is one of those great riders that despite any tricks Madame Fifi may throw her way, she will still be on board. Besides, all jesting aside, Madame F is not a mean horse, never once has this exuberance ever been towards or directed at a human. She just needs a job to do and to learn a few basic ground manners. She has actually let me pick up all four feet for a clean, but it takes her a few minutes to calm down and get into her 'left' sensible brain. This is helped by persistent and calm re-positioning of her. The repetition of it seems to help her come back down to planet earth. I really do not get any sense that she is trouble, just feeling her hooves, and settling in. At no time have I felt threatened by her, and I am always quick to claim my space when needed.
This morning, whilst I was in the stable getting her haynet down to re-fill for the night, I heard thunder of her hooves coming in my direction, and an almighty clatter of her feet once on the hard standing. The sliding stop/spin ended just outside the stable door; she had obviously heard my fiddling with the haynet ring. BUT! I was ready for her, I had already seen her energy was well up, so I stepped out, asked her what exactly she thought she was doing, and slapped the lead rope, ( I had thoughtfully decided in advance to have one about my person, ) on myself and drove her back. As quick as a flash, she changed; back to being sensible, polite and biddable.
Oh blimey Avril, there are some days when I wonder what the hell I have got myself involved in, and others I feel so happy I could just chuck myself down to the ground and have a good roll myself.
Tomorrow, I am going to start trying to get her to move a bit more, but in a constructive manner. She needs to be brought back into some light work of sorts I think - she has got so much bloody energy, she certainly is not the same as the bedraggled, pathetic, wide eyed looking creature that arrived here just three weeks ago.
It is interesting, but I have noticed, that when I am inside the house, I can’t stop wondering (worrying) what I should do with her, and how I should be. The moment I step outside I change. I am confident. The fears melt. I am not sure, if sometimes I am pretending that I am as cool as a cucumber. But either way, neither the negativity, nor fear is there. Of course I am sensible, trust is great, but keeping in one piece is better, I feel!
However, it is very clear that all these worse case scenarios that have been in my head, thus far have not materialised. This has quite significant implications; if I can be locked into a worry frame of mind when the horse is happily unaware of this, eating her grass, and upon going out to her the worry is gone, then A) what a waste of time it was to worry about it, and B) couldn't the same be said of much, if not all of my 'worry habit'. It seems to be dawning on me, that I have failed to really grasp that much of my so called 'anxiety' is truly bound up in that word 'habit'. Hmmmmm.
Update 11th Februarty 2012
Why sneaky behaviour gets you bad behaviour, when to choose your moments, and how the direct approach is best!
I awoke this morning to a deep carpet of snow, Fi was not waiting for me as usual, so by this I judged that she was not terribly enthusiastic about snow, and preferred the comfort of her stable.
I was correct in my assumption, and so popped her some hay in her stable, whilst I set about organising a paddock that had shelter. When I came back, she had not finished all her hay, but came out to see me; I thought it was a good time to put on her halter. Fifi had other ideas, and the former refusal to be haltered became apparent once more. Luckily for me, as her stomach was telling her that there was more hay in the stable, and I just happened to be in the way…..compliance to my request shortly followed thereafter.
The rest of the day passed without much ado. At lunchtime, I went down to fill up her hay net, but I then was facing the battle of wills as I tried to tie it up without interference and determination on her behalf to get at it. I drove her back with the old rope slapping trick. This time though, she totally misread my ‘firm’ face. When I went into the stable, she started to creep in behind me. So I really made myself as big as possible, stamped the floor and just imagined that I was a bigger and bossier horse than her! Thinking about it, she doesn’t know that I don’t eat hay, so keeping her away, whilst I was sorting things out, kind of proved to her that I meant business, and she could eat her share, once I had given her permission – it worked a dream so all good stuff!
Later however, it all went dreadfully wrong, hence the title of my latest instalment.
At suppertime, I like to go and collect her, I think it does her good if she knows that there is someone who cares enough to ‘come and get her’ and also I control the routine. But I am telling you now, as it turns out; mother does not always ‘know best’
I had failed to appreciate, that with a day passed on snow, that she was probably a little more hungry and bored than usual, despite some breakfast and lunch. I don’t like to have her near me when I am trying to place the ‘hallowed green dinner bucket’ into the stable, for the same reasons as above. Now one may well wonder why I didn’t employ the same system as sending her away, but it was because I wanted to collect her and bring her in.
So, I hid the green bucket with her dinner in it under the hedge, as she had brought herself ‘in’ already. I then lead her back out into the paddock, and shut the fence, whilst I set about getting her dinner installed. Big mistake, HUGE mistake. She had spotted the bucket.
I heard it before I saw it (as is often the way with my MadameFi) she went mad, and I do mean mad. She raced around the paddock stomping and wailing. By the time I started to approach the paddock she was wild. More than a hint of the Fifi I had heard about from her past owners. She was furious, just as she openly displays her happiness, she openly displayed her displeasure. She was running around the paddock but when I arrived, that gave her an audience. She stomped her left foot over and over, the mud and snow was flying up, and I swear the hole left behind must have been half way to Australia, but there was a worse display yet to come….. she started rearing. Up and up she went, she was not ‘boxing’ at me, but she was quite literally beside herself with temper. I still didn’t feel it was directed at me per se, it was the situation, a situation that I had created with my sneaky behaviour.
I have no idea why, but I trusted her enough, to feel that she wouldn’t rear at me, so without thinking too much about what could happen, I went into the paddock and clipped her lead rope on. One thing was for sure, I had decided that she was going no-where until she had calmed down. This she did, the moment I was near to her , as I said, I had no reason to believe that she was going to outright challenge my position as the decision maker ( even if I do make some really dumb ones) I opened the gate, and lead her though to her night time paddock and stable. I brought her back round to me before I took her halter off, but I could feel she was very strong and somewhat like a coiled spring. As I went to close the gate, she tried to pull away from me, instead of politely waiting as usual. I just went back to the starting point (i.e.; her facing me whilst I shut the night paddock up) It was only as I went to undo her halter, so she was free to go to her stable, that I realised just how much my right leg was shaking with fear. I had not noticed the adrenalin, but the moment she was on her way it hit me. I do wonder if it travelled up my leg and into my right arm as I took the halter off!
On reflection, I feel it would have been far better had I let her come in as she had originally chose, but driven her away whilst I sorted everything out as before. Trying to sneak the food bucket in, for fear of if’s but’s and maybe’s had done neither of us any good. I could not be cross with her, she was merely being a horse, albeit a stroppy one, no, it was I whom I was cross with, as I had created this situation not her.
Still, the good news was, I was surprised at just how brave I could be, I did not think, that all the tea in China ( nor vodka in Russia) could have ever persuaded me to approach a rearing, bad tempered horse, and yet I did do just that.
Oh my MadameFifi, it is a good job I love her, but I will say, NEVER has one of your safecobs ever looked so attractive Avril!
Is routine always a good thing?
Following on from the other day’s happenings, my confidence started to take a nose dive. Although I had been brave (or foolhardy) the other day, seeing her rear with impatience and anger had thrown me. I continue to work on picking her feet up, and as I go around her, she is starting to pick her feet up in advance, the blacksmith says she will need her tootsies done in about 6 weeks’ time, and I am feeling that we are getting closer to the stage where he will be able to go about his business in relative peace. She is unshod, and has only had shoes just once in her life'
However, when we moved on to the grooming, which she is starting to now appreciate (occasionally) I could feel her start to lose her patience with me. I continued just a little, as I wanted to end on a positive note, however, within seconds, the foot stomping had begun. Normally I correct her with my ‘firm’ voice, but she ramped it up a bit, next, I placed the dandy brush over her raised leg, I had seen Julie do the same, I thought it was rather clever; Julie did not exert downwards pressure on the brush, but Fi could feel discomfort if she continued to bash her leg against it and thus stopped. This worked thankfully, but all the while I now knew that this stomping, could and had escalated the other day into rearing. It was wreaking havoc in my mind.
However, when we moved on to the grooming, which she is starting to now appreciate (occasionally) I could feel her start to lose her patience with me. I continued just a little, as I wanted to end on a positive note, however, within seconds, the foot stomping had begun. Normally I correct her with my ‘firm’ voice, but she ramped it up a bit, next, I placed the dandy brush over her raised leg, I had seen Julie do the same, I thought it was rather clever; Julie did not exert downwards pressure on the brush, but Fi could feel discomfort if she continued to bash her leg against it and thus stopped. This worked thankfully, but all the while I now knew that this stomping, could and had escalated the other day into rearing. It was wreaking havoc in my mind.
I made the connection that the food bucket was the main source of trouble. I had seen her stomp her feet in various situations, but a stern word or the brush normally corrected it. However it was the food bucket that had tipped her right over the edge. As I said, I had decided that sneaking about with the bucket was now a no go area, this had to be met head on. For the last few days, I had made sure that the gate was shut as before, and allowed her to see me approach. As soon as so much as hoof was lifted, I reprimanded her sternly with my voice, turned and walked away – just a few steps and listened to when the stomping stopped. When the stomping stopped, I would approach the gate once more, after a few false starts, Madame kept all four hooves on the ground.
Although I felt she was learning to calm somewhat, I came to realise, that in giving her, what I thought was a comforting ‘routine’ I was creating the opportunity for her to show her displeasure when all did not go according to plan.
I got chatting to Ann, the founder of the refuge Epona I volunteer for, Ann rather darkly said, that should all her gang (some 40+ equines!) be on hard feed of any kind, order as she previously knew it at her yard would unravel very quickly.
It wasn’t so much the ingredients of the feed ( Fi is on a fibre and vitamins mix, no sugar etc. ) Ann did feel the very act of giving her her dinner, at the same time in the same place every day, was a routine that we could both do without. She knew that MadameFi had never had a routine before, so why did she need one now?
‘Cause routines are good for animals, children and adults!’ I replied.
‘Why?’ was her response.
‘ Ummm, well………’ I couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation, except that was because it was the way it was ‘always done’ and in theory, it should give a sense of comfort, security.
She asked me to consider how much routine a horse in the wild would have when it came to finding a good spot to graze on, to think carefully about when and how I presented the food bucket to her, and to consider ways to alter the regime, without denying her her food.
Finally she added, that if she gave her horses a treat on the 1st of February, they would be waiting for another on the 1st of March!
I thought long and hard about this, but it did make sense to me.
So sometimes when I pop her daytime hay into the paddock (the ground is frozen and much snow has fallen -8c today) I sometimes pop some hay in her green bucket and give her that at the same time. Sometimes the green bucket gets left in the field when she comes in, and sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes it’s in the stable awaiting her, others it arrives later or earlier. She is losing her fixation on the bucket now, and although I was expecting fireworks, I seem to have the opposite; a much calmer horse. Not even my Madame could be impatient 24 hours a day!
Although she comes across as a horse who is rapidly getting over inflated ideas about her place, the reality is, that she is not terrible confident and it doesn’t take much to correct her. It just takes patience, patience and then some more. It also takes a lot of looking at things from her point of view. I have no idea if I have done the right thing or the wrong, you already know I have not a clue what I am doing really. I take some advice, leave others, and just try to muddle my way through. For now though, my girl seems calm and happy, and that is good enough for me.
Avril, thank you for kind words of encouragement, and thank you to those who have so encouragingly emailed or commented about our story together, I would love to say it has been chocolates, love hearts and flowers (some days it is) But the reality is, that my Fifi was always going to be a challenging horse, and the jury is out whether or not I will be able to rise to this challenge!
All I can do is my best, and I am really trying, but it can be quite wearing!
A Fantastic day!
After a dark weekend of misunderstandings, both human and equine ( it is quite astonishing just how much controversy a little horse can cause) I really got a good vibe from Fi today, the sun was shining, and she wanted to stick around as ‘housekeeping’ As I call it, arrived and mucked out, i.e.; me. I was coming to the end of a big bag of wood shavings, and all that remained was a large plastic sack. So, as she had seem me rustling and shaking it out in her stable, I thought she may like to check it out. She was a little wary at the plastic sack being closer to her person, but went with the flow, after a short while she was putting her head in the sack, and didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered when the wind took it up on her side and back. Ok, so far so good. I then decided to see if I could rub her all over, and I meant everywhere, yep, we could do that as well. So as a grand finale, I decided to go and get the umbrella. It wasn’t a really big scary one, but one that popped up and down never the less. Well, her eyes popped out as she saw my little winter sun parasol, but her feet remained firm. Good sign. The she started sniffing at it, she had a slight shiver each time it popped open and closed, but after a mere few moments, she was wearing it on her back quite happily. What a girl! I am so proud of her; she is quite the little brave heart. I and I do believe she is starting to trust me a little now. Of course, the good vibes could be gone tomorrow (most likely when the hoof picking moment arrives) But it was there, I felt it, and oh boy, what a wonderful feeling it is.
Sally x
Two steps forward, one back and a question of respect!
I have not mentioned the weather much, but it is hard here. Mother Nature has once more decided to deliver much snow, and the stoic French country folk go much about their business as usual, with the help of course, of a tractor as the preferred mode of transport.
The rest of us mere mortals do not dare take to the roads, the snow has frozen and there is nothing but ice for as far as the eye can see. I have not seen my husband for almost 6 weeks, save for a flying visit of 16 hours which resulted in disaster. He had to leave at 4am, the car en-route, and in -10c conditions froze solid and thus I received a call at 4.30 am asking for rescue. I was wondering as I layered up, if at the end of this adventure, if we wouldn’t both need rescuing! Anyway, after an extremely cautious drive, I finally found him wandering along a lonely country lane at about 5.30am. All was resolved, and I was back in bed by 7am, shaken but not stirred. The alarm clock went off all too soon at 8am, to go and sort Fifi out. She is the only early riser in our family, I hope one day she will come around to our way of thinking, but it is doubtful.
As usual, I received my morning whinny, and it always makes me smile. I let her out of the stable paddock as usual, and as she resembled a horse that lived at a saw mill, it was obvious, that she had decided it was worth the risk to lie down in the wood shavings and make the most of the warmth they provide. Clearly it was better than the tree she had grown used to over the years. I went about my usual jobs, and sorted out her breakfast’ lunch’ and dinner portions of hay. I then came indoors for a warm up before the usual chores commenced. When I emerged from the house and into the grey and gloom, I was pleased to see that Fi wished to pass the time with me, rather than hoovering up all her breakfast. By the way, she has gained more than a few pounds, so although keeping an eye on the situation, it has pleased me that her ribs are not so evident., actually she is looking pretty good, a glossy tangle free mane and tail, and clean shiny fur, and is probably looking as well kempt and healthy as I have ever seen her.
So, as I had mucked out and was waiting for the Jeye’s to dry, I slipped on her halter and decided to give her a quick brush down and hoof pick (always a contentious subject with her as we know) I showed her the brush as a courtesy and commenced as usual. She gave me the hardened eye, and within a second she turned round and bit me, I mean really bit me hard! (This was no mutual groom – it was temper, impatience and annoyance pure and simple) As it turns out there really are four moments in a second, and within one of those moments she got a sharp whack with the tail end of my lead rope on the side of her neck (not the metal end obviously) Now, I am not sure how that information will be received by you, but, I can assure you it was not done with temper, nor surprise, in fact I was ready for her. This was why I was able to deliver the correction as quickly as she dished out hers.
I know that natural horsemanship is thought as flowery, but in my mind, the reality is that by her biting me, she was trying to tell me that still has great issues in respecting me. Anyway, at the very least, it must surely be a serious infraction in a herd of two. I cannot imagine a lead mare would have put up with that, passively persistent or not. A simple ‘hey Fi, can you quit please?’ Would have done neither her nor myself any favours.
The whole point is that MadameFi has been a herd of one for virtually her whole life. She is not used to having someone set some rules and make some decision with both of us in mind. This is indicative by the fact that she loves the company, so long as no choices are made involving her. If I had a round pen, I would probably send her away and continue to do so until she asked for some dialogue. It is not just because I have seen this done, it makes perfect sense to our situation, I feel it would probably bring this whole ‘relationship’ issue out in the open and thus be able to be resolved more quickly. As we have learned she does have a shocking temper, but at the same time is not so very brave in many respects, as she co-operates pretty quickly. I seriously doubt that she would rear at me directly, I mean I suppose she could, but in any case, we don’t need to cross that bridge, I am getting quite adept at reading her so my fears are not really an issue so much now. Sure, I am developing eyes in the back of my head, but I do not feel unsafe. Because I have always done my best for all my animals, I can truly say that when push comes to shove, I can be brave enough for the two of us. A pride of lions?! No problem! Let me at ‘em! (This would of course be after a brief visit to the ‘Le President’ of the local hunting, shooting, fishing fraternity to borrow his blunder bluster!)
So that is about it for today, after the ‘incident’ with the teeth, all was quiet and the wood shavings were removed and feet cleaned. I can ask her to turn her head gently in my direction, and with an almost imperceptible look from me she will yield her hindquarters. She will lower her head upon the slightest pressure and even quicker release. I can touch her all over, there are no ‘no go’ areas really, except her ears. As I have been able to check her all over, I have discovered the poor thing has ear plaques, I guess from years of no protection from the flies. As she is fine with me spraying conditioner on her mane and tail, I do not foresee a problem with fly repellent this summer, the jury is out on a fly mask for face and ears!
After I gave her a little rub, to reward her for calming down and allowing me to get the jobs in hand done, I suggested she go and get the rest of her breakfast which she thought, was possibly one of my better ideas.
After she had departed, and I reflected on the events and the outcome, a conversation I once had with you, Avril, came to me as clear as a bell. You told me that I must not ever want anything from a horse, that it was important that a horse was allowed to be just a horse. I hadn’t really understood what you meant at the time, but I do now.
Suddenly, it doesn’t matter anymore if she didn’t love me or even like me (though for the record I feel she probably does) just as long as she respects me, and that I respect her. That is all that counts, I am quite sure, and everything else will come, in time from that.
Meanwhile back at the ranch……
Well, I am sat in front of a roaring fire with the obligatory ‘aperitif’ I shall waffle off a few words, whilst I have a few moments spare. The past 11 hours has been passed in a whirl of horse sorting, dog walking and trying to bring some order to the cats. Mick and Julie have departed for two weeks in search of some sun, and I also find myself dog sitting for some family. In all I have 2 horses, 3 dogs and 12 (yes 12!) marauding cats under my jurisdiction. My husband is still nowhere to be seen, but he assures me the Italian Ski resort he is stopping at is very much to his liking, no KFC – his staple away diet, but plenty of pasta, steaks and pizza, so he and his stomach are well catered for.
I have had a couple of lovely days with (Madame Fifi) Fi; she has been really in a ‘nice place’ mentally. Friendly, willing and generally in a sunny mood. She still has no grass to eat, the combination of dry cold winds, snow followed by ice, has turned all the paddocks into a barren place. However, I have kept up the good work, making sure she has plenty of hay.
For the last few days, we have reached a compromise; at lunch time, I call her in, and place small hay net under nose, so she can chomp whilst I clean her hooves, and give her a brush down. This worked pretty well for the first 2 days, all was calm.
So it didn’t feel like I was going to ‘pounce’ on Fi, I always do a bit of light sweeping of the yard, whilst she peacefully eats before doing the evil necessary – her thoughts not mine. Yesterday, she started to turn her back end towards me as I started brushing her. I have yet been able to get her to do a front quarter yield at my request, so as she was doing it herself quite naturally, I felt it was an ideal moment to keep the momentum going. Up until now, wary of the back end, I would step away, but today I stepped to the front of her and continued to walk around with her. She seemed quite surprised to find herself being moved rather than her moving me, but after a bit of ‘round and around’ we both stopped, and she went back to eating her hay, and all went ahead smoothly.
Today however, she decided to pull some further antics.
After a bit of trying to evade her back legs being picked up, we got there, but I felt there was much room for improvement, and made a mental note to come back to practise a little bit later. Anyway, brushing duly commenced, and so did her biting. I have used soft brushes, hard brushes, none of which make a difference. I genuinely feel it is just her way of being huffy at being made to ‘suffer’ by having the mud removed. Well, I am afraid, whilst she felt she was being made to suffer, I felt it was the final insult. Round pen or none, I sent her away. I was not cross, but enough was surely enough. I chased her out of the stable area, and kept her feet moving, Fifi was SO shocked! Although, she could have taken herself out in to the main paddock, she didn’t, she stopped and waited for a few moments, before she rather sheepishly made her way back to me. Misdemeanour over, I allowed her back in to the stable area and commenced once more, after about 5 mins, she tried to bite me again! This time, there was a split second before she found herself being driven away, my arms were up in the air, the lead rope caught her on the backside and she scuttled off like she had a hot potato under her tail. When she was a goodly distance away, she stopped, and turned to look at me. Avril, the pathetic, hurt look she gave me, you could not imagine, she is certainly not one to underplay her part. Eyes blinking under Lady Di lashes, with her nose to the ground, she oh so slowly made her way back to me. I fixed her with my hardest eye possible and waited. What seemed like an age, and with her moving the slowest I have ever seen her, she eventually arrived and nuzzled me. I turned and she followed and the rest of the groom passed without incident.
She is such hard work, just the simplest things takes an age. It is not as if I am hurting her, or even being unreasonable, at least I think I am not. I suppose looking well cared for is not high on her list of priorities, but she must surely feel better to have the burrs and knots out? I would not be speaking the truth if I did not point out that I am feeling a little ground down to nil, that 6 weeks on, we are still having problems with the stuff that shouldn’t be such a big deal, but it is obviously to her. I have tried and tried to negotiate with her, I do not want to force her to submit to my will.
I have briefly discussed my frustrations with Michael, he has said when he is home, all will be well as he will be sorting her out, quite what form this ‘sorting’ out will take, remains to be seen. But since he has been on one of your courses Avril, he firmly believes he has ‘special’ powers with equine communication. Ha! I wish him luck!
I am taking the weather in to account; it is flaming miserable, so maybe that is affecting her as it is all of us. I have no doubt in experienced hands; she would be the most quickly resolved happy horse. I know her enough to confidently say she is a genuine soul; genuinely happy/genuinely cross or genuinely impatient. Made me laugh the other day; one of my pals said, ‘what you got there Sal, is a horse with a mind of its own’ Like they thought she could’ve had someone else’s!
I wanted to touch on a subject today, that may ring bells with some of your readers, and countless others who may well stumble on this page and are heartened to know they are not alone, and seemingly permanent confidence issues can be resolved.
Whilst reading with abject horror, the proposal to bring back horse diving in the States, it is indeed clear that not only are we often stationary in our ideas about riding and horsemanship, but in this case it seems as the people who have dreamt up bringing this ‘show’ back are actively going backwards, backwards being the operative word, and in more ways than one.
However, an incident that took place this week, that brought to the fore some very old and painful memories for me, showed me something that for some reason surprised me; the average riding school has been ‘stationary’ in decades.
My friend’s daughter who is now 12 years old was subjected to terrible humiliation and shown a complete lack of care, or indeed any thought, to the fact that here was a young, impressionable and open mind. When I asked her what had occurred, I was frankly staggered. Like many little girls, she had pestered her parents in to allowing her to have riding lessons at a young age, about 5, I guess. As is the way of these things, she was popped on the dinkiest Shetland, and someone lead her around. From that moment on, generally I find that one of two things will either occur; The NEVER AGAIN or the love affair begins. For Louise, it was the same for me. I couldn’t get enough, and slowly worked my way up through the years until I was about 11, then it all went horribly wrong. Louise had found out that some unbelievable 30 years on, that things do not change. Like me, she had learned to walk, trot and canter with questionable ability to actually control the horse. But it didn’t matter, as long as you were not in front; your horse followed the other, so all was OK right? What next to do with these young riders? Well, it is obvious really; you get them jumping! The ground poles were ok, not much to worry about there, then the jumps are raised to about a foot off the ground, by some miracle, and with heart in the mouth you manage to stay on – just. It seems as if all the other children are smiling, and the teacher is delighted, of course, one child may have taken a wee tumble, but it is all brushed off as a fuss about nothing, and the shaken child is ordered back on the horse, and generally made to laugh about the incident, whether or not they actually feel like doing so. Peer pressure rules the day, so the hapless child climbs back on board, after being told that until they fall at least ‘x’ amount of times, they are not a ‘proper’ rider anyway. Meanwhile, some of the children who manage to stay on just, start to think about the situation. Particularly the child who has a strong sense of survival. Such as myself and Louise. The teacher, in his/her bid to sweep the whole affair under the carpet, less she should find herself with no pupils, doesn’t take the time to discuss how things could be improved, nor to listen to the child’s concerns. As far as the teacher is concerned, she is making a ‘proper’ rider. So the following week the worried child goes back to the riding school, she loves horses with all her heart, she wants to be a proper rider, and if that is the teachers definition of proper, then she has no choice but to put her trust in the teachers hands. The jumps quickly reach about four feet high, the class is starting to thin out, but no-one seems to notice. I can remember looking at that jump; I can remember it as if it was yesterday. I knew I was not going to be able to stay on. Now you can say it was my negative attitude that caused the fall, but I prefer to think that it was because I had not really been taught anything of real value in all the years of riding. So off I set, full of fear, the horse went up in the air, so did I, but we did not land together. I landed awkwardly; I was given the same treatment; Come Sally, up you get, get back on, and do it again! So I did, again and again, and again and again I fell off. The final time, I actually managed to soar over the fencing, and land in the ditch, catching my head and neck on an oil drum. I am now approaching total panic and frustration, and I dread to think what my poor old riding horse Dallas was thinking. The teacher decided that best cause a halt to the proceedings, and felt it I was going to fall off that much, I may as well learn how to do it properly, she didn’t express these thoughts, merely acted upon them. She called me and Dallas over, and over I limped. She offered to give me a leg up, which I accepted, I still wanted to be a ‘proper rider’ and so once more I placed my trust in my teacher. She rewarded that trust by deliberately over-sending me, with the leg up. I flew right over the back of the horse, and fell off the other side. Oh yes, how we all laughed at that, myself included at the time, I didn’t want to let the show down, I didn’t want all the others to see how scared and humiliated I was.
I never went back, I stopped riding; the love affair was over. Here was a child, who would race to the window at the sound of distant horse hooves, in the hope she would be rewarded with a glimpse of a horse and rider. A child who would hang around, mucking out, feeding, cleaning tack and poo-picking, just to be near horses, who had every book, with pictures of every breed, and during the week, would go to her riding clothes just to be able to smell that ‘horsey smell’
Some 7 years later I had the very great fortune to be living in Israel, I was staying on a Western style ranch, although I was delighted about being in such a lovely place, never once did I accept the offer of riding, and I barely glanced at the horses. Right up until I was listening to Louise I had always found that strange, how could I have gone from the child above, to the adult who had zero interest? It was only when I was listening to Louise that I realised just how vulnerable and impressionable as a child one really is, simply put it is easy to shut down a child’s mind. Teachers have a very special job, and it was heart breaking to hear of history repeating itself so many years later.
Louise too had reached the jumping stage, and just like me her confidence was rapidly leaving her. In her final lesson, and several falls, her teacher too humiliated her. She was told in no uncertain terms, that if she was not going to jump, then there was no point in her being there. She was to leave the lesson, un-tack the horse, and go home. Possibly Louise is a more independent child than I was at her age, the teacher was given a rather snappy ‘fine’ and off Louise went. It didn’t take long for the tears to start though, and her mum brought her round to see ‘Auntie Sally’ to cheer her up. Louise told me that she didn’t have any ambition to be a jumper, or anything else, other than a leisure rider. This now no longer seemed possible, so she too had decided to quit riding whilst she was still in one piece and with her confidence shattered.
Well, I couldn’t let that happen, I knew just how much she loved horses, just as I did at that age. She was at a turning point on her young life, and I didn’t want her to lose that special brand of happiness that only horses can provide. Subsequently, the refuge I volunteer for had received an email from an elderly couple who have two horses that they were now struggling to look after. The husband’s health had taken a very bad turn and the wife had arthritis problems, not helped by all the snow and ice. They lived near to Louise, and so I have put them in to contact with each other. Louise goes over there a couple of times a week to muck out, poo pick, groom etc. and the wife in turn teaches Louise on a one on one basis on riding and management. A perfect solution for all concerned and the spark is back in her eye.
So what of me? Well, after having this cathartic discussion with Louise, I have been able to make the connection with the past, and so understand why I almost have a pathological fear of falling to this day. When I made pals with Julie, she was delighted to learn that I could ride, and as you know proposed that I ride MJ. It was soon to become apparent, that although I had a good seat, I actually knew nothing about riding in the real world, with tractors, cows and mad dogs. I couldn’t steer, control, or do anything really other than to be able to stay on. When we hear so frequently about ‘lost confidence’, one has to wonder how much confidence was really taught and given in the first place, it is certainly true of horses, many of whom pass your door Avril (and that is to say nothing of the humans!)
All it takes is for the teacher to take the time it takes to teach properly and more importantly still; patiently. So many miss-matched riders and horses; so many miss-understandings. All because the teachers didn’t take their privileged responsibilities for both horse and human seriously enough.
I am very lucky, I have been offered riding lessons from scratch with Ann at the refuge, and when the weather allows, I will re-commence once more. I have been riding without stirrups on the most magnificent Trait Breton called Peter. Of course the past still plays a part, but having made the connection, I will be trying very hard to make a quantum leap of faith. So much so I am considering learning to ride bareback! The past needs to be left behind. Of course, it is easier said than done, but I found a quote the other day that sums it up nicely and gives us all hope;
- First we are unconsciously incompetent (you aren't aware of what you don't know)
- Next, we are consciously incompetent (you suddenly know what you don't know/can't do)
- Then we are consciously competent (you think about it and then you can do it)
- Finally, we are unconsciously competent (you don't even have to think about it and you do it automatically)
I think this explains our learning curve very clearly, I feel that many of us get stuck at number 2 (which out of the 4 stages, is surely the most uncomfortable) but those of us willing to make a change in any area of our lives that need altering will surely reach number 4, if someone else can do it, why not you or I?
The question of respect, help from an unexpected source and Michael’s ‘sorting out’ technique……revealed!
I said in a previous ramble that I felt as long as we respected each other, me and Fi would just get on fine, the rest would follow. I have now had cause to re-view this statement, and I am not sure if in time to come I will not look back at some of my words with a twinge of embarrassment. When my family dropped their dog off, I was in the kitchen making tea, I glanced up and out of the window, to see my 7 year old niece haring through the run between the paddocks and stable, with MadameFifi in hot pursuit, and swiftly bringing up the rear was Freddy the dog!
My heart was in my mouth, and I hurriedly asked my step brother to get out there ASAP and rescue all that need rescuing, with specific reference to my niece. He said I shouldn’t worry so much and turned his attention elsewhere. I had just got outside, when Ellie, Fifi and Freddy were racing back in the same formation, but this time in the opposite direction! They resembled the ending of the Benny Hill show. I could hear Ellie laughing and calling Fi, and I guess Freddy just joined in for the fun of it. I yelled out to Ellie to be careful, but she yelled back that she was OK and that Fi would not hurt her on purpose, they were just having fun.
And so it was that as I was reduced to a stressed out worried auntie. Ellie came in, puffed out with the dog and demanded some fizzy orange. I asked her if Fifi was Ok? She said ‘fine’ and went on to tell me that one time Fifi had come running up to her, and she got a little bit worried, but she put her hands up to her and asked her to slow down, which she did about three feet away and walked the final part to greet her. Now clearly I knew nothing about this and I went in to an aunt like lecture about the danger of running from and to horses. She let out a big ‘know it all sigh’ and pointed out that she knew all this stuff, but she knew in a second that Fifi was a kind horse and meant her no harm. Since then, they quite enjoyed a run around. She could run up to Fi, who apparently didn’t turn a hair, away from Fi and Fi had merely joined in with the fun.’ She likes to play Auntie Sally!’ Was her response to my concerns. I pointed out to her, that MadameFi was never quite convinced that there was not a tiger lurking in the hedgerows, and just to be aware that she could hurt her, if she felt something was amiss, albeit clearly unintentionally.
So there you have it, I was thinking respect was the biggy, but I had really overlooked the biggest point of all; TRUST.
Here was a 7 year old giving Fi complete trust, and receiving complete trust in return. How could I possible expect her to respect me, if I didn’t really trust her? Ok, it is difficult to trust a horse that has bitten and reared, but to be fair to her, she was just being a horse, and I was in all reality a nervous owner, pretending to be the big boss who knew what she was doing.
As if Fifi was going to fall that little ruse.
She knew all along I was a great pretender, she spends her entire life on the lookout for trouble, and so of course she could spot me a mile off as a fraud. Frankly, I think she has deliberately gone easy on me, because she does like me.
You hear so much about horses must respect your space, you must show them who is boss, but unless something like rearing, kicking or biting does come on to the scene (in which case for the record I do think you have to dish out strong and quick discipline) I think we need to think about giving them a break from all this stuff. In the past week I have been much more trustful of Fi, and I have been rewarded with the same courtesy. I now lead her with no Iead rope or halter; I will have a little jog up to the paddock, and encourage her to follow me up there in the same style. The other night I went in to her stable to re-tie the hay net with her right by my side. When I asked her to shift, so I could get the thing attached, she complied, no problems. We are both more relaxed around each other. I have changed, she knows it, and so she has changed too.
One of the other reasons I was able to relax my guard around her was because I had an unexpected insight in to her natural place in the pecking order, without the help of a herd. This is why I say understanding came from a most unlikely source……..
During the past 6 weeks, I have sometimes wistfully thought how I would be able to make more headway with Fi if I could see her interact in a herd situation, and for those of you lucky enough to have a herd or several different herds, how the horses can do a lot of the hard work for you. However, for a horse that has always been in isolation, I did not feel that after a recent change of ownership, that the time was right to chuck her in the deep end. Anyway, for those of you that have read the Madame Fifi thread on the forum, may have noticed that I wrote that one of my cats called ‘Mini-Me’ had been doing sneak attacks on her. In actual fact, he had pretty much launched a full campaign of terror. I was really worried that she would stick a hoof in his head, but as cats are pretty much uncontrollable, I didn’t have much choice other than let the story unfold itself. I have no idea why I was so surprised at the outcome, but Mini has completely established his place with Fifi, and it is most definitely above her.
When anyone visits with dogs, Mini always has the same routine. He never runs, he always turns and faces the new ‘in comer’ then by various means of aggressive behaviour, dominates. When whichever animal has been reduced to a quivering wreck, he then sets about making friends. To which the terrified dog readily accepts gratefully.
So when Fi arrived, Mini was fully aware a new animal was on the scene. Granted, a little larger than the norm, but never the less, pecking order needed to be established. Now, I see Mini as very much a passive leader with the other animals in our household. He is never mean for the sake of it, always calm, and never does anything without a reason behind it. But he does like to establish his leadership role, by means already mentioned. Once done, he moves on, and everybody is happy.
So he had to work out a means whereby he could establish his place with the latest arrival, Fifi. It was immediately obvious to Mini that he was at a disadvantage in terms of size. Actually, none of this was obvious to me at the time, it is only looking back at his actions that all became so clear. Mini would always approach Fi from a great height. The most extreme was to drop on her head whilst she was eating some hay under a tree. Other tactics involved jumping up on the partition between the stables, stretching up on his back legs and clawing at the roof, making himself much taller than her. Another favourite was to jump up on the hedge between the stables and swimming pool, so to her, as he approached, he looked like he was enormous.
This went on for several weeks; he never once approached her from ground level. About 2 weeks ago, I had placed Fi’s hay down in the paddock, and I watched her make her way over to it. I couldn’t really make out what was going on from a distance, but I saw her go up to her hay, turn her head and walk away from it, back to the grass less, snowy patch. I couldn’t work out why, I knew she was hungry, so decided to investigate. As I approached I couldn’t believe my eyes; there was Mini, lying down in her hay. Interspecies communication had taken place, Mini-me had clearly said ‘come and get it if you dare’ and Fi had clearly decided discretion was the better part of valour.
If a little itty bitty kitty could establish his place above her, then it was obvious, she was not, would not, nor ever would be that high up in a herd pecking order, as I had previously suspected. I have submerged myself in learning about herd interaction in order to better understand my girl. If I understand correctly the Alpha horse does not spend all day running around correcting behaviour problems of the entire herd. He somewhat passes the buck. So if we say there are 10 horses in a herd, alpha would be directly involved with disciplining numbers 2-3. If horse number 8 in the herd hierarchy got out of line, then numbers 7 and 9 would be involved in setting things straight. Number 9 would assist number 7 (he may get to move up the scale himself) and number 7 already is above number 8. Of course, number 7 would not discipline number 8 with the same inimitable style as alpha, if he did, then he would be alpha, but he is in lowly position 7. Therefore, I am persuaded to believe that you can discipline your horse using TOO MUCH alpha, depending on where your horse would be in the hierarchy. I decided to put my learning’s and new beliefs to a test.
Fi still has the habit of raising her hoof, with the threat of a bit of stomping whilst being groomed. The first time she did this whilst I was brushing her, I gently corrected her and continued brushing, and pushed her leg back to the ground, with more or less a polite request. She then sighed a bit and stood still for a further 5 minutes or so, whilst I continued. Throughout the grooming process, her attention is here and there; she finds it difficult to stand still (I do not tie her for grooming or hoof picking- in fact I have not tied her full stop as of yet) The second time she Iifted her hoof I really grabbed her leg, shoved it back down and said ‘no’ in a very firm voice (way more alpha) This time there was no sigh from her, she was upright, tense and worried. Now you could say that was a good thing, she would be less likely to do it again, but it took me twice as long to calm her down and get her set up for me to finish grooming her. She definitely was not relaxed completely though. For the next grooming session I just went back to gentle correction. I had toyed with the idea just to ignore it in the hope she would get fed up with herself doing that, but I think that would have been too passive for her – I do not think she would be right down the bottom of the hierarchy, that place was reserved by Marietta (her previous owner) in Fifi’s eyes. Whilst I used the’ brush on the leg pressure’ That I previously mentioned, it meant I was breaking off from doing the actual brushing, which of course was what she wanted in the first place. So by the end of the next groom, and with gentle but definite correction, she has stopped lifting her leg. Since I sent her away with a flea in her ear, and a lead rope landing on her backside after biting me, she has not tried that again. That was alpha with bells on, but then, as I said, certain situations such as biting warrants much tougher action in my humble opinion. For the last week, minor misdemeanours have been matched with minor correction, very small misdemeanours have sometimes been overlooked, and happily there have been no major misdemeanours. I have been missing out on little signs she has been giving me. I am so glad that I have started to learn this subject, as I would still be missing them.
The say the horse is the best teacher – they were right (well that and a 7 year old little girl and a bossy cat) as an aside, I have finished looking after MJ. After I had groomed him and insisted he get his hooves cleaned out on the final day, he spoke to me. He quite clearly said, ‘YOU HAVE CHANGED’ ( I didn’t get the impression he felt it was a good thing either, but he will get used to it I am sure) For 3 years my beloved MJ gave me the run around, and I had never once been able to get all four hooves up for a clean. I did this time – he was surprised. So thank you Madame Fifi, you really are teaching me a lot.
So finally, on to Michael’s big ‘sorting out’ method…… The football came out! Off he trotted in to her paddock, with her hot on his heels. After Fifi had warmed to the theme, a game of 2-aside football duly commenced. One well warmed up Fifi and once seriously knackered husband later, a draw was declared. She is not quite ready to play for France just yet (but one suspects she would be more likely to be selected than Michael) either way, they were communicating and both had fun. I am pretty sure Madame thinks Michael is the ‘fun’ part of the outfit, but I was always a cricket girl myself and I am not convinced a hard ball whistling through the air, past her ears would be viewed as so much fun.
Talk about spare the rod; I do hope you are not sat with your head in your hands at this stage Avril!
Sally xox
*********Riding update from Julie-Ann**********
Sally has asked me to put a few words in about Fifi and her training to be able to accept a rider. Neither of us had originally thought that riding for the foreseeable future would be an option for MadameFi, but we had hoped that it may be possible one day. Having seen the farrier-come-trainer-come-jockey whizz her around the garden before Sally bought her, we felt there may be some chance it would be possible. For the first 6 weeks or so, Sally let Fi settle in, but I had just popped her up the lane and back one Sunday afternoon. It was clear that she was not used to having a bridle or saddle placed upon her. I did it in incremental stages and used some distraction techniques to help get her settled. As I said, we were only out for about 15 minutes and during that time she had zero steering, zero control over her timing and zero balance. Last week, I again took her out, just in walk along the country lane and local track. It was possibly one of the bounciest rides I had ever had. Sally commented that she kind of walked like Jessica rabbit at her most seductive. However, she was forward going, alert and interested. I find it difficult to explain exactly how I know what I know, and how I feel what I feel, but I will try!
My main task was to remain completely balanced in the saddle, she has very little balance, and I know Sally has been trying to help her in this area. I did not interfere with Fi unless she needed guidance. As long as she was walking forward and straight I left the reins alone and kept my legs off. If she started to drift I would apply a very light aid from the reins and then followed up with my leg. Like I say to Sally, old fashioned it may be, but imagining the four legs of the table and controlling the front and back legs is a clear and effective way of operating. After only about 20 mins, I could feel that Fi was tired so turned her around and walked her back. On the way, there was a very large puddle on one side of the track, and as she was pooped out, I asked her to drift over towards the puddle. She was in it before she realised she was, and she did stop and have a little splash about, I could feel she was OK with it, but interested and surprised all rolled in to one. On that note, I gave her a great stroke, said she was a very good girl and homewards we set. Once we had un-tacked, a very sleepy Fi was gently led back to her paddock by Sal.
Fi is an interesting case; Sally and I were discussing riding hours on the clock, Sally felt that probably over her lifetime she had done about 130-150 hours in the saddle, and the majority of that was as a child in a riding school environment. Fifi on the other hand, although 14 years old, has probably around 15-20 hours on her clock. I have ridden three year olds, and I have ridden older horses, but never the combination of the two. Sally has a goal of a thousand hours on her clock, and I would like to see many more added to Fifi’s. Hopefully then both Sally and Fi will be a more suitable match in riding terms.
Anyway, that aside, we took Fi on an interesting jaunt this week. It was a very testing ride in terms of ‘spook’ potential. A four year old would have been quite possibly a bit overwhelmed, but our Fi is 14, she has seen life and learned that not everything is out to kill her. So I thought I would give it a whirl. My horse MJ takes this route sometimes, and he was pretty excitable at first, and he is 21 years old!
The route is a very narrow track, with a fast flowing noisy brook that flows alongside it. It is also very dark with overhanging trees and branches. Couple this with frequent bends, so one is unable to see around corners, and I think you will start to get the idea…..
The track is next door to another track, and this one leads up to Gerald’s and Claudine’s cottage and large garden. Fifi is accustomed to this track, and all the delights it holds, as I know that Sally has walked her up there on occasion, for Fi to get some good grazing in and was undoubtedly slipped some carrots from Gerald’s vegetable patch. So I was not surprised to feel her hesitating, as if between two worlds, when I asked her to take the far less attractive option.
Just as we started in, I could feel her attention completely move away from me, the darkness and roaring water sounds threw her.
Bearing in mind that she has spent best part of her entire life in one spot, I knew this was a big ask, and I was expecting some sort of reaction. It is difficult for me to explain why I chose this moment, to test her yet further, but I would say, at some unconscious level, if there were going to be fireworks, I would have preferred it to be in the safer location, at the start of the track, for both of us. Plus I wanted to see if her attention would come straight back to me. I reached behind me and gave her a pat on the bottom (I had done this before whilst riding her) then stood up in the stirrups and wiggled a bit, before finally reaching over head and rubbing her forelock. Now for a horse, this would feel like she had a very large active creature on her back, with a big invading arm span. In a second her attention switched back to me, and I gave her a few words of encouragement that she was being a good girl, so far so good. As I knew she was focused back on me, I slowly asked her to move forward, starting to feel she was relatively sound. She obviously wanted to get pass the river as quick as possible, it was very much a case of ‘if I don’t look at it, it doesn’t exist’ though her ear was locked on to it the whole time. Also, a bird chose that moment to fly across our narrow path, shooting out head level from the steep bank to our side. Fi could not have cared less about that bird; it was the river she wanted to get past. As we rounded the first bend, the river goes in a different direction, so she was afforded some release from the pressure. Next, shortly on the agenda would be a flooded area, where a stream meets the river banks. This is quite deep in places, but I had walked Fi through a shallow puddle before, and although she was highly surprised to find herself stood in it, she didn’t worry about it. This area is bigger and deeper, and there is no way around it. So we walked slowly towards it. She didn’t attempt to balk at the idea, but she did paw a little as she made her way through it. Once in the middle, and in the deepest part, she had a good old time stomping and splashing; checking its depth. I didn’t interfere with her at all, I wanted her to get used to the idea. When she had had enough of her investigations, it was time to move forward once more. I was getting a very nice feeling from Fifi; she was curious, forward going and interested to see what was next. Next was a steep rocky part to the track, with a forest type area just a head in view. She negotiated this carefully. She is unshod; she has only had a set of shoes once in her life so I just kept my balance as neutral as possible. Her feet are not in bad condition, in fact they are as hard as nails, but of course I have to consider her soles, so I directed her, with a very small amount of leg pressure to the least rocky area. Sally would like to keep her shoeless, as she has read up on the subject and feels that the circulation is far greater when the horse is unshod. Quite how practical this is in our area remains to be seen. Her latest idea is to invest in a pair of ‘EasyBoots’ that can be slipped on when she is likely to be going over rough terrain. I don’t know, call me old fashioned, but only time will tell. The blacksmith is due out in the next week or so for a trim, Sally has come up with a slightly unconventional technique in getting her to pick up her feet, due to a dodgy back (Sally’s not Fi’s) It seems to be working, I suspect a lifetime with dogs has brought on this approach, I shall say no more (but the I have heard the word ‘paw’ and ‘up’ being used!) either way, it’s working, Sally’s back is getting a rest, and I don’t envisage a difficult time for the blackie.
So, on to the final part of our ride, and Fi’s first refusal. We arrived on to the forest track. At the far end of the track is an active quarry. Fi went forward for some distance, until the noise of the quarry became louder. She is very relaxed around large lorries and tractors – that is because of the dairy farm life she is used to, however, in this instance, all she could see was glimpses of large and noisy shapes between the trees, thus she was unable to identify what it was she was heading towards. Sally had decided to walk with us, but by this stage was quite some way behind. Fi ground to a very firm halt. I tried keeping her moving forward, I placed a little more pressure on her than normal, and encouraged her, but she was going no-where, and I certainly did not want to force her. However, at the same time I didn’t want her to get the idea that she was in the position to pick and choose her moments. So we sat there and had time to gather our thoughts, she didn’t go backwards or side to side, she was thoroughly ‘planted’ so to speak. It was time for her mum to offer some guidance. I called out to Sally, and explained that we had what I called an ‘I need my mummy’ situation on our hands and hooves. Sure enough, if Sal walked ahead and asked Fi to move forward, Fi would move forward without hesitation. I had picked a tree about 10 meters away to turn her and bring her back home, but we needed to get there first of all. Sally walked forward, and tried to slow down once Fi had gathered her forward momentum, so in theory we would overtake her, but the moment Sally slowed, so did Fi. Sally came up with the plan; that she would walk forward, I would not allow Fi to join her until I allowed her to go forward, and at that stage, the moment she reached Sally, we would turn and head back. That worked wonderfully and we were on our way home. Sally with a daft grin on her face, naturally thrilled that Fi had trusted her to be lead in to the unknown and disturbing. I would have been proud too. We rode the same way back as we came in, she didn’t turn a hair or ear at the river or anything else. What a girl. To complete the outing, on the lane home, an animal transporter’s air breaks went off behind her, and a group of cyclists came whizzing by. Not a flicker from her.
She really is a most remarkable little horse, curious, cautious and courageous. I look forward to our next adventure very much.
Thanks for reading Julie xx
P.S I am thoroughly enjoying reading Missy’s diary Avril – it is a real page turner.
Last note from me (Sally) Just to say a great big thank you to Julie, and to those of you who have sent kind words of support. My little ditties are about a month behind, so much has been going on at the corral in between times, but I shall save them for another time. Must just tell you all one thing that happened the other night though.
Madame is still not that keen on people ( more of which another time) so it was with huge delight, that when I popped down to the stable paddock one recent night, I found her lying down and that she actually allowed me to come up to her and stroke her without moving or worrying. She just lay there quietly. I crouched down eventually and we spent just a few moments together. Absoulutely amazing. ‘Course, it could be because she had a tum full of hay, and was neither inclined or able to get up, but I prefer to think it is because she is starting to give me her trust. It was just beautiful to me. I welled up on the way back to the house!
Sally xox
Well, as
promised, the latest ditty. Some of you have suggested that perhaps I have
‘camped up’ the goings on at chez moi, but I assure you dear reader, that is
not so. Frankly, one would be hard pushed to make up the things that happen in
rural France. With the exception that I have changed some names (as I have no
desire to end up in court or hospital) my little tales are based wholly upon
fact not fiction.
March 2012.
Great
excitement in the village ‘commune’. This
weekend is to be the Hunt Ball. The villagers’ normal attire for 364 days of
the year consists, for women of head scarf, willies, and a rather shocking 50’s
style ensemble of a garishly coloured housewife’s ‘pinny’. The men, almost the
same, but the headscarf is replaced by a cap. The pinny with blue overalls, while
the wellies firmly remain.
So the local
hunt ball always causes a stir. It is the one time of year when all who have
their shutters firmly closed, and the drawbridge pulled up by 8pm at the latest,
throw caution to the wind and dig out their glad rags. You cannot get an
appointment with the local hairdresser, the queue extends pass the Mayor’s
office, with ladies looking for perms and red hair colouring. I have no idea
why red is the choice colour, but it is nothing to do with this seasons
fashion, it has been red since we moved here 5 years ago.
Allowing
myself to get caught up in the hype, I too rummaged through my wardrobe to give
my ball gown an airing. Whilst I did not go for the red, permed look, I did
decided to transform my locks in to a most magnificent beehive, if I do say so
myself. To complete the ensemble, I pulled out jewel encrusted shoes (the most
expensive shoes I have ever bought, coincidentally the most uncomfortable) that
have never seen the light of day since moving to the countryside, with the
exception of the hunt ball. So there I am, dolled up and enjoying a small
G&T to assist in the ‘build up’ for the great night ahead.
One knock on
my door later and the scene is shattered. Mick and Julie arrive and the first
question I am presented with is ‘why on earth can I not keep my horse under
control’?! Naturally I was surprised at this unexpected
question–come-statement, and even more surprised to look past Mick’s shoulder,
to see Fifi in the large flower bed, tucking in to my Camellias! As Mick
approached her, she skipped off to the next tasty location, this time the
vegetable patch, and wait, what is that I can see in the darkness, in another
flower bed? A COW?
As my eyes
adjusted to the gloom, I could see flashes of black and white dotted all around
my garden. I quickly kicked off the posh shoes and my feet plunged, on auto
pilot, back into the wellies. I reached behind the front door, as I knew mum
kept her walking stick there, I felt and found it, and off I set out into the
melee with a determined look in my eye.
You can
perhaps imagine my look of surprise (and the cows) when I reached out with
flailing arms, secure in the knowledge that the ‘walking stick’ was in my
hands, only to discover I had, in my haste, grabbed the feather duster! Still,
as they say, ‘any port in a storm’ I hitched up my skirts, and shooed the cows
with my feather duster. Eventually they
shifted and started to make their way back out into Fifi’s paddocks. I was
slipping and sliding, and when the last cow was banished, I turned my attention
to my Madame. She was having a ball of a time (I am glad one of us was.) Round
and round she went, absolutely full of herself, and very much profiting from the
unexpected situation. I have mentioned, I think, in a previous post, that I had
taught her to drop her head on command.
This became
most useful, as when I finally caught up with her, I asked her to drop her
head, which she duly did, and I was able to slip her halter on. I frogged
marched her back to her stable area, and strung the odd bits of electric tape
back together. Seemingly, the cows had staged a break in, tore down all her
electric fencing in their enthusiasm, and decided to investigate further, by
going the whole hog and coming into our garden. Of course, at the first sign of
the fencing down, Madame Fi was not going to waste the chance for some fun, and
must have tagged on to the end of the stampede.
She had the
good grace to look shamed faced, and quietly set about eating her hay.
When I finally arrived back at the house, I
was greeted by hysterical giggling from my so called pals and husband. When I
looked at myself in the hall mirror, I found myself laughing too. The belle of
the ball had been replaced by the mad woman of Borneo; Cowshit up and down my
dress, red faced, and as for the beehive, well it looked like a cross between
Marge Simpson and the tower of Pisa. Honestly, you would have thought a flock
of crows has flown in, and being unable to find their way out again, took up
residence.
I arrived at the ball, shaken and stirred, and
upon hearing my tale of woe, the president of ‘le chasse’ set about organising
me a nerve calming pre Second World War bottle of Calvados. This is seen as an
almost mythical elixir in our parts; it starts many a tractor and its driver on
a frosty morning, and so it was deemed that my traumatic start to the evening
was grave enough to warrant some ‘l’eau de vie’. As for the rest of the evening
I have no recollection.
The morning after the night before
Once I had
partaken in my own version of ‘l’eau de vie’ which this time included a bottle
of coco cola and several painkillers, I decided to investigate the damage and
check on Fifi. There were cows pats everywhere, and Fifi looked tired. I was
not really in the position to communicate much, which for me, was very quiet. I
did my usual duties; poo picking, mucking out etc. After that I started to
groom her. Fifi was not settled at all. I presume it was because she sensed a
change in me. I know Avril, you are not too hot on chatter whilst being with
one’s horse, but I suppose Fi is used to a bit of idle chinwag from me, and in
me being very quiet seemed to unsettle her somewhat. I am pretty sure she knows
the difference between my idle chatter and directly communicating with her, I
think she can sense the change in my intonation. Either way, when I do make a
concentrated effort in being quiet around her, it sometimes feels like I am deceiving
her, as it is not my true personality, and I sense she knows this. I don’t
know, maybe she would prefer me to shut it, but then again, she is a rather
vocal little horse herself, so maybe we make a good team; the pair of us
prattling on.
However, far
from having sympathy for her mother’s plight, Fi was being just about as
difficult as it was possible to be. All head high; glaring eyes, teeth
flashing, snatching at the haynet; generally not a pleasure to be around. She
obviously felt the same way about me. I was not cross, but I was disheartened,
so with that I said to her “you may as well go if you don’t want to stay,” and
shooed her away. She trotted off back in to the paddock and I went up to the
house as miserable as sin.
I think it
has been my lowest point to date with Fifi. I was really fed up that we
couldn’t be guaranteed a smooth time together. It depended so much on her mood
of the moment. If she was in a good mood, we were fine, if not, well it is not
a pretty sight. I had remained the same throughout, (hangover aside) but
although her behaviour had not actually deteriorated, it hadn’t improved sufficiently
either, in my opinion! I discussed it with Julie, who felt that at 2 months or
so in, it was still very early days for a little horse that had lived her
entire life in isolation, and I just needed to give her more time to come
around to the idea that she was now being actively included in a herd of
humans, dogs and cats.
I had noticed, when Julie was around Fifi, she
tended to take choices away from Fi with fairly surprising results. As we know,
Fi has had a lifetime of making her own choices on a general day to day basis.
I didn’t want to take too many options away from her during her transitional
period, or even when we were settled and set up for the future.
One weekend, I had been out shopping, and
Julie had said she would come up and get Fi out for a hack. As I arrived back
home, I could see the pair of them down at the stables. I carried the shopping
in and afterwards went down to help out if needed. The first thing I noticed
was that Fi was tied up. I had never done that to her before. Secondly, she was
eating her hay, quiet, calm and as contented as a little lamb. I remarked on
her behaviour, and the fact that she was tied. Julie said that she felt ‘giving
her the freedom to hang around’ if she chose to do so, was all well and good,
but it could also be stressful for both her and I. I asked how so? Julie said
that automatically I would be wondering if she would ‘stay put’ and she would be
wondering ‘should I stay put?’ This way, there was no wondering to be done on
either part – she would be staying put!
Well, as it turns out Fi is a bit of a
fatalist, maybe it is a relief for her to have someone making choices for her
instead of her having to work it all out. From that day forth, I have tied her
at grooming time and she is as relaxed as can be. I wouldn’t want to be tied,
so I didn’t want to do it to her. She however, obviously has different thoughts
on the subject – crazy horse. How am I ever to get this right, when you need to
use so much reverse psychology all the time?!
Still, that
is not to say that Julie has not encountered difficulties with Madame. I had
already said to Julie, that I wouldn’t be too surprised, if Fi started to
become a little more evasive as her rides progressed. The reason for this being
was that it was not so much that she would be grumpy being called back in to
work, but the fact that she had never been in work in the first place! I was
pretty much spot on in my assumption.
The first
few rides were somewhat of a novelty factor, and it was pleasant for her to see
new things and places, but once the penny dropped, that this was becoming a regular
thing, she had no desire to go to work for a living! The first sign of this,
was when Julie had dropped the halter, and looped it around her neck to pop on
the bridle, she shifted this way and that, and was definitely getting ‘humpy’ I
do know the signs by now. When the saddle came out, you would have thought we
had brought out a lion. “FORGET ABOUT IT! “ Said Fi, as she went round and
around. It was like watching a two year old having a complete hissy fit.
Problem is
of course, once you have started a course of action, such as saddling, you
can’t back down, or else Fi gets to learn she doesn’t have to do something if
she doesn’t fancy it.
Finally, after what seemed like an endless
tussling match, the saddle was on, and she was revved up to the nines. I did
mention to my dear pal, that I was so glad that it was her getting on and not
me. Julie said I worry too much, should be a great ride.
Ah,
confidence, what a wonderful thing. Fi was chomping literally at the bit, I
asked Julie if she wanted to wait a while for her to calm down, but she replied
‘not at all!’ and off they set at full pelt up the country lane. Yes, it was definitely
yet another one of those ‘yeehaa’ moments.
This is
where you get to realise there are riders, and there are RIDERS, and it is not
just all about staying on board. Julie instinctively was giving Fi nothing to
brace against, no-one to have an argument with. In fact, she was making life
easy for Fi. If Fi wanted to go charging about like a hooligan, then that was
fine. Pretty soon, Fi realised that no one was trying to shut her down and that
she was, quite literally being given a free rein.
With no-one
to battle with, she began to wonder what the rush was for, and immediately
dropped down in to a walk – no point in wearing oneself out eh?
As Fifi is a master of thinking in reverse, I
am sure you will not be surprised she decided to try something else…….If going
fast didn’t work, how about a grinding halt instead?! So she planted herself
but good and proper.
Julie
requested that she move forward, and applied a little leg pressure – nothing.
She did the same, and applied a little pressure from the dressage whip at the
same time – nothing. ‘ Right then’ thought Julie, she didn’t want to get into a
fight, so instead she sat there awhile (happy at least that a rear had not
taken place- which she had half expected) after about 5 minutes, and still no
signs of movement, Julie hopped off and offered to lead her. After a bit of
umming and ahhing on Fi’s part, they set off. When they had walked for a while,
and Fi was moving forward nicely, Julie once more got back on.
This worked
well for a while, when Fi planted herself once more. Once again, and after
another 10 minutes of taking in the view, Julie got back off. She told Madame,
that she would be quicker to get home if she continued forwards, as they had
come so far, but going backwards, side to side or up and down was not an
option. Now, I don’t know if Fi understood all this, but she must have fallen
in with the plan. Julie was only giving her the forwards option, so eventually,
Julie got back on and a tired and thoughtful Fifi arrived back at the stables
shortly thereafter.
I gave her a good brush and wash down. It was
a very hot day, and she was just a bit sweaty. As I groomed her hind quarters, Julie
asked if I was checking for welts marks from the crop?! I had to laugh; I knew
that was not her way with horses –even my one. After that, I sprayed her with
some homemade fly repellent (equal parts of water, white vinegar, baby oil and
mouthwash- cheaper and seems to work) and wondered if this was the ideal moment
to place her fly mask for the rest of the day. We have been building up to it
for a few weeks, the sound of the Velcro had unsettled her to begin with, but
after gradual exposure, she didn’t seem duly bothered by the sensation and the
altered vision. I had wondered about leading her for a little while with the
fly mask on (it covers her ears as well – I wanted to protect her ears after I
discovered the ear plaques) Anyway, Julie just popped it on, untied her and I was
busily worrying how she would react, when she trotted off into her paddock, had
a bloody good roll, before getting down to the more serious business of the
day; eating.
All in all,
I think the hack had been a positive experience for Fifi, and I don’t anticipate
her baulking so much at the idea next time around. She has stopped since,
occasionally, but I generally tend to cycle around with them both, and so long
as Fi is not being cheeky in trying to sneak grass at an inappropriate moment,
a general word of encouragement from either myself of Julie, followed by a bit
of leg, and she moves off once more.
This leads
me nicely on to another subject I wanted to cover;
Why we do what we do, and for whom?
I have
mentioned ‘sneaking grass at an inappropriate moment’.......Inappropriate for
me, but not for Fi, but how do you differentiate between the two in a way a
horse will understand?
The other
day, and for a little treat, I thought I would hitch her up, and walk her in
hand to Julie’s to spend some time in the opposite paddock to MJ’s. I was sure
she would appreciate a wander through the lanes and tracks, to discover her
‘amour’ awaiting her. I should mention,
this was before Julie’s ride when she had stopped on occasion (so the next part
is totally my fault!)
Anyway, we
were about half way along, without stopping, and were going at a very forward
walk, my choice, not hers – I had taken the decision to set off, and I had set
a fairly brisk pace – expecting her to fall in with my plans. However, my idea,
as it turns out was not Fifi’s. She ground to a halt. Well, I am no expert at
these things as you all know, so I decided to give her a wee tug, to get her
shifting. You will not be surprised to learn that did not work. A couple of
circles, then set off again? No, that didn’t work either. I know! Michael hold
on to her, I walk forward and she would surely follow? Yes? NO. Now I am not
usually slow in the learning department, but the penny really did drop that if
a 550 odd kilo animal does not want to move; you ain’t gonna move it.
Michael, as
new to this game as myself, observed that she did look very tired, and ‘off
colour’ It was true, she was yawning, and with sleepy look in the eye, and as
usually, she is very much a ‘have pony, will travel’ type of beast, I gave her
the benefit of the doubt, picked a tree to walk towards a few feet away (which
she complied with) and then we turned round and headed home.
I rang Julie
and said that the ‘playdate’ would not be taking place, explaining the
situation. Julie remained sceptical about the tired theory, and to be fair,
Fifi had picked up her pace on the way home, even more so when she thought we
were going past our gate – towards Claudine’s and Gerald’s lush grazing!
After some
quiet contemplation, it would appear that I had been had. I didn’t beat myself
up too much about it, I am not very experienced in these matters, but it did
lead me to wonder how I could overcome this hurdle, as it seemed odds on that
she would try this again. I came up with
3 ideas;
1) If she stopped and refused to go
forward, to bring the wrath of 5 tigers down on her.
2) If she stopped, then I would stop
too, and very much like those rubbish magicians that pull a pop up bunch of
flowers out of a hat, I would pull out of my rucksack, as if by magic; a chair,
a sandwich, flask of tea and a good book! She could stand there, not being
allowed to eat grass, or turning to go home, and I was pretty sure that at some
stage refusing to go forward would lose its interest, not least as she is
impatient at the best of times.
3) We take our time and we ‘amble’ over
to Julie’s. By this mean, I treat her as I would my dogs when I take them for a
walk. For them, going out for a walk is the highlight of the day, not an
occasion for a route march with determination. If Fifi is being taken out for a
walk in hand, why should I treat her any different? I choose where my dogs go,
I choose where we stop for a rest, which river is safe for them to swim in, and
when it is time to go home. I am going to try the same with my Madame (minus
the river of course) We will set out, I will not let her pick and choose where
she can eat grass, but I will stop for her and let her eat some grass, then move
on once more – hopefully, once she realises that we have time on our hands for
a gentle stroll that also involves the pleasure of rooting around the
hedgerows, she will be more willing to move on to the next spot along the
bridleway.
I will let
you know which option worked the best!
In just
about every interaction we have together, I am constantly trying to find ways
to improve the conversation. ‘What I want’ is not always what my horse wants,
so I have to use my noodle to try and seek a solution, to cause my idea’s to
become hers. That is why I ask the question; when we do what we do, for whom do
we do it?
Should we just expect our horse’s to be
delighted that we are taking them away from their friends or grazing or comfort
zones? Based purely on our presumption that they will have a ‘jolly nice time’
going out with us?
Why would
they want to have to work for a living anyway?
Should we expect them to be perfect 100% of
the time? Why?
What
percentage should the relationship and balance of control actually consist of?
Personally I am aiming for 48% or 49% for Fifi
and 51%/52% for me.
I want to understand when and more importantly
why she is speaking to me, and
discover a way to a genuine working
partnership.
She is a thinking, living spirit; an individual with dreams hopes and
desires – she deserves my consideration, and effort to understand her surely -
doesn’t she?
A Blacksmith calls………
And leaves
with head and all body parts intact. Phew, what a relief. She obviously
appreciated the pedicure, as for two days afterwards, she only moved around in
one gear; full throttle! The good news is that he found her hooves in
exceptionally good condition, no signs of past laminitis, and sees no reason
why she should be shod at this stage - I am thrilled with this news.
Playtime!
As you know,
I have so far, been unable to summons the courage to ride my little horse
(though there may possibly be some news for you on this front next time!)
I feel thoroughly incompetent aside Julie, and
firmly believe she needs a rider with finesse at this stage. However, I did
want to do plenty of ground work with her and in doing so, hopefully helped
Julie and Fifi in finding her balance and understanding voice commands.
Naturally I have perused Avril’s videos and photo’s to get some ideas, some of
which have been implemented with surprising results – more of which another
time.
I think at this stage, I should mention that I
am not a dedicated follower of any particular ‘system’ There is a lot of
information on natural horsemanship out there, and for the most part I feel
that pretty much everyone has something useful to bring to the table, it is up
to the individual to see what works, and what doesn’t for their horse.
Anyway, back
to Fi and me. It became pretty apparent that if she had had any ground work
done many moons ago, she certainly did not remember any of it. This was most
unfortunate; I was hoping one of us would have an idea on what to do! I had
looked at blow by blow details and how and what we should be able to achieve;
at one stage I had a book in my hands, whilst being stood next to her, dearly
wishing she could read it herself.
So we started with some basic stuff; asking
her to do hind and front quarter yields, which after many a false start, we
finally achieved. Going backwards and forwards could also be ticked off the
list. All in all we were doing pretty
well. I would walk her around, getting her accustomed to voice commands such as
whoa, walk on, trot on etc. I have wanted to get her to do a little lunge work,
but I am very strong on my views on this subject; I do not agree with sending
any animal around, and around in a seemingly endless fashion. It would be
completely mind numbing I would expect, much like us doing our times tables at
school. In any case, as Fi had not a clue on what was being asked of her, I
would be lucky to get so much as a step in the right direction at all.
We are working on this though, and we have got
up to half a circle at very close range (I can see how easy it is to be lunged
oneself as opposed to lunging the horse!) Can’t say I found it mind numbing
either – we were too busy trying to get ourselves untangled from all the knots.
Well, all
this is well and good, but I wanted to add some fun to her training. I did some
tarp work, she wasn’t in the least bit bothered by this, and even stopped
awhile for a photo opportunity. She was quite undisturbed by the umbrella,
though there was a little ‘shiver’ each time it popped open and closed to start
with.
I placed various garden objects in our make
shift ring, and moved her towards each one and let her investigate, this was
anything from a garden chair or the birds water table, to a parasol. I have
placed a black plastic sack on a stick, and rubbed her all over. I have just
seen the water bottle and stones on your Facebook page Avril – that has been
added to the list of thing to do. We have done a little pole work, thanks to a
few branches of an old chestnut tree chopped down last year. She has almost
certainly never done anything like this before; to watch her exaggerated steps
to clear the obstacle, you would think she was facing Beecher’s Brook– as
opposed to reality of the 3 inches or so. I have whispered to Fi that she will
not be expected to enter the Prix de la Arc de Triomphe anytime soon, so not to
worry.
However, her
personal favourite is ‘hide and seek’ this involves 5 or 6 cardboard boxes
placed randomly around the ring of varying depth. To start with, I would place
a treat in each one. I wanted to see if she would check each box out, even the
ones that she had to bury her head in. I also wanted to see if she could process
the information that all the boxes were worth investigating. I then placed
treats in random boxes, and she easily worked out that if one box was empty
upon investigation, it was always worth checking out another. Since then, I
have placed things in her path between the boxes, even hidden the boxes
themselves. She just loves this game. It has crossed my mind, that as she is
such a natural at searching and seeking, if I couldn’t somehow turn this to my
advantage during mushroom picking season? A truffle hunting horse, now there’s
an idea!
After all
this activity, we end our session by playing a game of ‘chase me, chase you’
whereby I run about this way and that, with the promise of a carrot if Fifi
catches up with me. My main goal in playing this with her, is that I am
preparing her for human activity in all its forms. Many people are not aware
that someone running to and from and around a horse may be unsettling. However,
most people would try to help I believe if there was an emergency. I already
knew she had experienced this type of activity with Ellie my niece, and I
suppose for once, having anxiety has been a positive thing. With all my ‘what
ifs’ I am able to imagine many a scenario of disaster for Fi and me. Examples
include; What if I was to slip and fall underneath her? What if she gets her
leg trapped somehow in a fence and someone comes running up to her to help?
What if the stable should catch fire?
I am not
saying I worry ceaselessly, in fact, since the arrival of my beloved Madame, my
anxiety has noticeably diminished - presumably as I have other things to occupy
my mind these days. What I am saying though, is that personally, I believe that
in trying to prepare my horse for any event can only be a good thing for both
of us. With gradual exposure, and a thoughtful approach I am sure most things
can be achieved.
Many horse
owners may say that allowing my horse to stop herself, by treading on her lead
rope is a dangerous thing to do. That may well be true, but can I guarantee
that neither myself nor someone else, when leading Fifi, are not going to
accidentally drop the lead rope? Of course I can’t. Far better to cover these
situations in advance in my opinion, than for me or my horse to be a victim of
circumstance by an unexpected accident.
Now where
was I? Oh yes, chase me, chase you. Fifi is far from daft, happily she resides
usually firmly in her left brain, but this does present its challenges as well;
my mum was watching me running around, and observed somewhat dryly that there
appeared to be more chase you, than chase me. Fifi was stood in the middle,
just turning her neck in observation, as opposed to feet. Well, she knows she
was going to get that little carrot eventually anyway didn’t she?
Our grand
finale is topped off with some rubs and hugs, and then she follows me back down
to the stable for some hay and a groom. Now she has been tied up and made to
give it a chance, she has discovered she does like to brushed and fussed over
after all, and guess what? I don’t necessarily have to tie her up now.
She seems to
enjoy our playtime, nowadays; I cannot so much as even open my front door
without her racing up to see what’s next. When I think of her reaction to
Marietta over all those years, it makes me feel sad for both of them. Still at
least for now, things seem to be moving in the right direction for us.
Playtime
over – time for a siesta!
Until the
next time and thanks for reading and your support as always,
Sally Anne
xox
