Why do I blog?

I guess this is a question almost every blogger must have asked themselves at some point.  Why do we do it, why do we sit behind the computer in our spare time and stare at an empty screen, trying to gather our thoughts and make the effort of painstakingly putting them into words? Why do we press publish at the end to launch these thoughts into cyberspace? What do we expect to get out of it?

The answer to that will be different for everyone. When I started this blog I wrote for myself. Trying to paint pictures in words. I wouldn’t describe myself as a verbal kind of person. In fact, words don’t come easy to me. I think in images. A lot of artists keep extensive sketch books with ideas and the preliminaries for their works of art. It doesn’t work like that for me. Ideas form as images in my mind and when they are ready, I put them into stone, or onto paper. I have never felt the need for sketch books. It’s much harder to put my thoughts into words, but I do enjoy it. Anyway, I wanted to keep a journal about my horses and I wanted it to incorporate photo’s and so I came to blogging. Initially, I wrote in a kind of vacuum. My blog was out there, but I had no readers and I hadn’t really worked up the courage to leave comments on other people’s blogs, so I wasn’t attracting attention. I wrote to release, to remember, and to try and make myself laugh at the trials and tribulations of life with horses and my blog was just a private bubble. When I first noticed that people were reading my blog, I was surprised.

This has always been a small blog, but it still grew to become something more than just a journal; it became a place to connect, to share and discuss. It became part of a community of horse lovers who are interested to share their experiences. Over the years, I have enjoyed the contact with like-minded people all over the world, and I have had wonderful comments on my blog. Support when I needed it. Advice, especially appreciated when I just started out transitioning to barefoot. I have learned things that you won’t find in books. Sometimes I got comments that made me laugh out loud (and that’ll teach you not to sneak some blogging time in during work hours!). Always, I enjoyed the stories of what I came to regard as my blogging friends.

In spite of all that, I was ready to give it all up. Because unfortunately, I have one reader who is definitely not my friend. I have had really unpleasant comments from this person, and it has taken the joy of blogging away from me. I felt that this person was reading over my shoulder every time I started a new post, ready with another snarky comment, and the words just dried up.

I have no problem with critical comments. I am always interested in other people’s point of view and I’ve had discussions here about topics like bits versus bitless and barefoot and hoofboots, but in the end it is obvious that everyone is always looking for the option that suits their horse and their particular situation best and these discussions have taken place in a respectful dialogue. Unfortunately, there is always the risk of running into the person that seeks to ridicule and crush ideas and when it is about the one thing that matters most to me, the relationship with my horses, I found that I am vulnerable.

You can moderate unwanted comments, but you cannot stop a person from reading your blog.  I thought about stopping blogging altogether, and then I considered changing the settings to make this a private blog, but I realised that I don’t want to lose what I have enjoyed so much over the past few years. And it’s not the writing, it’s being part of the horse loving blogging community. So I have decided to start a new blog, under a different name. If you’re interested, please leave a comment below, and I’ll let you know as soon as my first post is up.

Thanks

Persistence pays

One of the things I really love about having my horses at home is being close to their private lives and I’ve learned a lot from just watching them. So when Ben came three weeks ago, I was interested to see how they would get on, because the last time Ben was here he was the only gelding with three mares – and life was easy. Now, Arrow is here and that was bound to change the dynamic. Over the past three weeks I have spent a lot of time out in the field, watching the horses as they grouped and re-grouped as a herd. It has been fascinating.

Ben chased Arrow off as soon as he saw him, and aggressively proclaimed his territory and his willingness to defend it. He wanted Arrow out of his sight and Arrow ended up on his own in the next field. Not for long though.

The first thing I noticed about Arrow when he came here was that he was very pushy. I put it down to bad manners due to never having been handled properly. After all, a horse can’t learn any social skills if he was kept on his own and tied to a stake since he was weaned. I have done quite a bit of ground work with him since, and Arrow is very clever and he learns quickly, but you have to be on top of him all the time; give him an inch and he will take the proverbial mile and more. Perhaps pushy is not the right word, but Arrow certainly doesn’t take “no” for an answer just because you say so.

Anyway, Arrow was on his own, and he probably thought that it was best to give Ben some time to forget about him and since the prospect of spending the night on his own didn’t daunt him he stayed out of sight. The next morning, he was back. Ben went for him the moment he noticed him, so Arrow beat a hasty retreat, but he didn’t go far. After a few more lunges, he had figured out the edge of Ben’s tolerance and that is where he stayed. Close enough that Ben kept throwing him dirty looks, but too far away for Ben to actually feel the need to chase him off. Gradually, with an almost professional use of the concept of “approach and retreat” and the least amount of effort he could get away with, Arrow began to move back into the herd. Ben found that no matter what he did, he couldn’t get rid of this irritating little interloper, so he decided to ignore him. For a few days they all grazed together in a group, with equal distances between them.
Then they began to pair off, with Ben and Minnie on one side of the field and Arrow on the other side with Cassie. I would have loved to see how that happened, but I imagine Ben decided to drive Minnie away, but he can’t drive Cassie and so Arrow ended up with a mare by default.

Ben went home this evening. It will be interesting to see if this experience has changed how they interact with each other now Ben is gone. Arrow has shown that size doesn’t matter; he may be small, but he is full of attitude. And he learned that it really pays to be persistent!

Ben and Rosie

Every summer for the last three years, Ben and Rosie have come to stay with us for the summer holidays. Now, Rosie is gone and Ben arrived on his own.

On the morning of Rosie’s last day, my horses came to the gate together and stood there, silently waiting. The day was muggy and oppressive,  the damp ground was steaming,  and the air was thrumming with the buzzing of insects, but instead of moving to higher ground and trying to find relief, my horses ignored it all and kept their vigil. They were still there, standing at the gate, waiting, when Máire arrived with Ben.

How do horses know these things? Because they do know. There is no doubt in my mind that my horses knew Rosie was leaving. The time these horses have spent together over the last few years has bonded them as a herd and it seems to me that they are connected in ways far deeper than we can understand. Ben and Rosie live 20 miles from here, but that distance meant nothing. I can’t put into words the feelings they invoked in me when I watched them, but I was deeply moved.

In the evening, I go out into the fields to find the horses and I watch them as they graze. Ben is with Minnie and Cassie and they stay closely together, concentrating on the serious business of finding the choicest grasses and the best herbs in the hedgerow. It is good for Ben to be here, in the company of my horses, his herd.

Good bye sweet Rosie, we will miss you.

Release

Cassie has been sick. It began with little things. Swellings on her face and body. Hives, I thought, a reaction to fly spray, except that they all burst open and scabbed over and then the hair started coming off her face. Then she started coughing. A summer cold, I thought, and I started her on a course of anti-biotic powders in her feed. It didn’t make any difference, instead she slowly got worse, and I watched her anxiously as her energy disappeared and she shuffled about like an old, old horse with dull eyes and no interest in anything. I could feel how depressed she was. Then her glands started swelling up, and I got the vet out, terrified her throat would swell shut, my own throat aching in sympathy.

The vet blamed the bad weather and for sure the relentless rain and the cold of this poor excuse of a summer we’re having would make anyone sick. Arrow started coughing too, but he had no other symptoms and, even though it took a long time for the cough to disappear, he remained his cheerful self. Whatever was wrong with Cassie, it had completely compromised her immune system, and even when she started to improve a bit physically, she still seemed depressed.

She spent long periods of time in her stable, standing in the back. In the evenings, I would go and sit with her to keep her company. Not wanting to impose myself upon her, I’d sit on the opposite side from her, leaning back against the stable wall with my eyes closed, trying to empty my mind and just focus on my breathing. In…. Out…. Slowly. It is not that easy to empty your mind and it is interesting to see what thoughts come up uninvited. Thoughts about lost time and lack of achievement. Of plans unfulfilled. I started wondering why these things came up. I am not ambitious, I don’t care about competing in any kind of discipline, so why do I feel under pressure to make some form of progress? I don’t need to do anything with my horse, but it feels like I should. Because you get asked, what do you do with your horse, do you hunt? Jump? Dressage then maybe? No. I don’t even ride. I just sit with my horse and breathe.

I sit with Cassie and I listen to her breathing. I can’t hear her breathe in, I can only hear her exhale, but if I breathe slowly enough she’ll synchronise with me. Cassie comes up to me and stands over me. I don’t touch her, I just sit quietly with my eyes closed, but with every breath I can feel Cassie’s head lowering until her head is resting on mine. We stay like that for a while. Then she lifts her head, yawns, and she rubs her face against mine. When she starts grooming my back, I scratch her chest. I wait for her to move away to doze in the back of the stable. Then I leave.

An Irish summer

A few years ago I went to Scotland for a couple of days. They had wonderful postcards in the highlands: Winter in the Highlands, Summer in the Highlands etc. They were all the same; thick grey fog with dim outlines of a couple of sheep. We could make similar postcards for the South-West of Ireland, except it would have to be rain. Endless, interminable rain. Only the temperature might give you a hint what time of the year it is. I can’t remember the last time we had a decent summer, but this year is worse than ever. After a couple of nice days at the end of May, June has been a complete wash-out and July is off to a bad start. The land is a swamp, the rushes are growing better than ever and the mud is of a boot-sucking quality I was unprepared for, so when my wellie got stuck I got an unpleasant surprise when I shot forward to tumble headlong into a pool of muck. I was not amused, but it did provide some entertainment for my horses.  Minnie and Cassie watched with utter astonishment as I trashed around. Ah well, at least I didn’t damage my camera!

In a country where everyone is always hoping we finally might get a bit of a summer, even though we all know better, the weather is a great topic of conversation. The language is full of meteorological euphemisms. “A soft day” for instance means a day with a very fine, misty drizzle and a balmy temperature (too warm for a jacket, but if you don’t wear one you get soaked, miserable!). “Not a bad morning” means it isn’t raining…yet. And dull, gloomy overcast days often elicit exclamations of  “Isn’t is a lovely day?” Just because it isn’t raining.

Personally, when I think of a soft day, I think of blue sky with white puffy clouds sailing along in a gentle breeze. And a lovely day is definitely not one of those grey, overcast days, where the clouds are so low that they smother the hills. I yearn for days where I don’t have to wear thick fleeces and rain jackets, but it is the lack of blue sky that gets to me most. Still, even in this wet Irish summer, there is beauty to be found. You just have to see it.

From the rocky road on to the right track

A while back I went to a demonstration in an Equestrian Centre. I met a father and daughter there who had barefoot horses. The father trimmed the horses himself. I was obviously interested in their experiences and when I noticed them bringing out their horses I went over to ask if I could see their horses’ hooves. They were talking to a man who was giving them advice. I gathered that the father’s horse was a bit sore on his feet and the man was pointing out what was wrong with the trim and what needed to be done to make the horse comfortable. I had heard that the Equestrian Centre had started with one or two barefoot horses, so I thought the man must be the Equestrian Centre’s trimmer.  I was wrong. This man, who was talking all the talk, was not a barefoot trimmer at all, he was in fact about as qualified as I am; he did the same barefoot trimming clinic with Dermot McCourt that I did two years ago.

I would not call myself a barefoot trimmer anymore than I would call myself a dentist because I know how to brush my teeth. In Ireland it is illegal for anyone to shoe a horse unless they are fully qualified by an approved governing body. But anyone can set themselves up to be a barefoot trimmer, it is not a protected profession and not all qualifications are equal. I have been trimming my horses’ hooves myself for the past 2 years from necessity. I went to Dermot’s trimming clinic because I wanted to know more about barefoot and hoof care in general. When Dermot first set us up on the road to barefoot, I knew that he wouldn’t be able to maintain their hooves. A four-hour drive is just too far away, but I was hoping to find someone nearer who would trim them properly every 8 weeks or so and I was prepared to do light maintenance in between. The farrier I had used was not interested in doing the trimming, I couldn’t find a qualified barefoot trimmer and so I ended up having to trim my horses myself.

Fortunately, I was not alone. Máire and I trimmed our horses together, and we progressed from sweaty palmed insecurity and taking photographs to email to Dermot for advice to something resembling confidence. We trimmed very conservatively, and our horses stayed sound, but I always felt a bit uncomfortable. Horses’ hooves change all the time and our trimming sessions were fraught with unanswered questions while we pored over their feet and wondered if what we saw was normal, why did this lump appear on the sole, is this frog shedding normal, or is there something else going on? The more I read, the more insecure I felt, because for every opinion you can find the opposite. Trim the bars – leave them alone, trim the frog – never touch the frog, thrush is smelly and black – thrush doesn’t always smell, hooves need to be trimmed every 2 weeks – you shouldn’t really trim, it’s all down to diet and exercise, the list is endless, a morass of contradictions. The transition to barefoot was a rocky road (and I haven’t even mentioned hoof boots yet!)

So when I was told that a barefoot trimmer had recently moved to the area, I was delighted and made an appointment. The trimmer was friendly and I liked the way my horses were handled. I was told that they all had thrush (the non-smelly variety), and that Cassie hadn’t fully transitioned yet because of it. I hadn’t noticed that (obviously because of it being non-smelly), although Cassie’s front frogs certainly looked rather ragged, but I had put it down to spring shedding. The following morning, the day I was to leave for the clinic with Alexandra Kurland, Cassie was very lame on her right fore. I was devastated, because it was obvious Cassie was not fit to go anywhere. It was when I picked up her hoof to examine it for heat that I noticed how short the trim was. She was practically walking on her soles.

When I came back from the clinic, Cassie was still lame and she has only started to improve over the last few days. There was no abscess. But even though she was improving, she was landing toe first and I was worried about thrush and frog disease. I also felt guilty, because I felt responsible for the pain she had been in. I wanted her to be seen by someone like Dermot, someone with a huge amount of experience and an approved professional qualification, who could tell me about the state of her hoof health, so I asked around and eventually I came up with the name of a master farrier. A master farrier who shoes international competition horses and with an excellent reputation for all round hoof care. I rang him and after a lengthy telephone conversation, I asked him to come and look at my horses.

I have to admit that I was really nervous and I more than half expected him to say that the only solution was to put shoes on Cassie, but he didn’t. He was modest, with a calm, quiet manner that was reassuring. He took his time looking at Cassie, checking the way she stands, and how her leg and pastern axis related, explaining what he was looking for and what he saw. He told me his views on barefoot trimming and the difference between the barefoot trim and a trim to prepare the hoof for a shoe. He was passionate about hot shoeing and making individual shoes for horses and how important it was to make sure the horse has correct break-over and a well-balanced hoof, for the shod horse as well as the barefoot horse. Then he trimmed Cassie’s frogs. Fortunately there was no underlying disease or thrush. He checked Minnie and Arrow, and trimmed frogs where needed. He had a wonderful way of helping Minnie to lift her left hind leg, which is really hard for her, and explained to me why her left fore grows the shape it does, something I had always wondered about. We have discussed a trimming schedule, where he will come and do the proper trim and I just keep things nice and smooth in between visits. It is such a relief…

Teeth on wings

We are pretty lucky in Ireland. We don’t have to deal with scorpions, malaria flies, poisonous spiders and on the whole our insects are fortunately not equipped with the exaggerated array of weapons that a lot of tropical bugs carry around. But we do have midges. Lots and lots and lots of them. Scientific research suggests that one hectare can harbour as many as 50 million midges. 50 million! The area around here is an ideal habitat for midges; we are surrounded by pine forestry and more often than not the ground is wet and marshy and covered in rushes. This year the midges are worse than ever, because we had a wet summer followed by a mild and wet winter. Usually we don’t see them until May, but this year the first ones were out in February. They hate wind, but unfortunately the wind here often dies down in early evening, just when the midges like to come out.

Today we had a fairly good breeze up here, but it didn’t last into the evening. The horses were restless, constantly swishing their tails, stamping their feet and biting their chests and they couldn’t settle down to graze, they kept moving around trying to find relief and obviously not finding any, in spite of all having been treated with midge repellent earlier. Then Cassie jumped the fence and tore off across the front field, kicking and bucking. I ran outside, was immediately attacked by a swarm myself and had to run back in to get a jacket with a hood to cover myself up as much as possible. I then calmed Minnie and Arrow down and called Cassie. To my surprise she came almost immediately and let me put a lead rope around her neck. She was absolutely covered in midges, it was horrible.

I brought her to the stable and brushed the midges off. Her neck and chest were covered in bumps and swellings, which really worried me. When I first got Cassie, she suffered from sweet-itch, which was treated initially with steroids and then with homoeopathy and I got her a sweet-itch rug. She responded really well to the homoeopathy and she hasn’t suffered from sweet-itch since. I repeat the homoeopathy every year before the midge season starts. The rug has been stored in a bag in my tackroom, but now was a good time to bring it back out. I have used every available midge repellent, but this year nothing seems to work. Garlic, tea tree oil, citronella, and neem oil don’t keep them off either. Is there anything that does work? I am going to have to keep Cassie rugged when the midges are out, it is not fair on her, she can’t cope. While I was rugging Cassie I got tormented myself and ended up with dozens of bites on my face, so now I’m covered in stinging red swellings, but at least I can go inside. No such relief for the horses.

Clinic with Alexandra Kurland 3

On Sunday morning, we went out onto the lawn for a T’ai Chi session. Alex took us through several exercises that help to find balance within your own body and exercises that help to extend the range of movement in your joints. We did hip rotations, shoulder rotations, located the four balance points in our feet, and learned an exercise that extends the range of movement in your neck. Everything is done by bone rotations, muscle doesn’t come into and as a consequence you can’t overdo these exercises as there is no force. It all felt very good and gentle, but the effects were powerful. We did the T’ai Chi walk, and focused on what the body needs to do when you want to walk a circle, which leg initiates a turn, what happens in your body when you halt and then walk backwards. All of this we can take back to our horses, because how we hold our own bodies and when we ask a horse to do something all affects the horse, both in groundwork and in the saddle.

Then we paired off to practise rope handling again, with the experienced participants helping the beginners. It was enlightening to be both handler and horse, to experience how much it matters how the rope is handled. I had already been the horse on Saturday when Alex wanted to demonstrate what a difference it makes whether you’re tense or relaxed. She asked me to hold the end of the rope between my hands, stretch my arms forward as the horse’s neck and close my eyes. I had to tense up and tell her when I could feel her sliding down the rope towards me. I closed my eyes and when I thought I felt something, I said “now”. Alex had her hand right under my hands. We repeated it, but this time I had to relax all my muscles. This time I could clearly feel her coming. I opened my eyes and saw that Alex had barely started to slide down the rope, and the belly of the rope was actually on the floor. This is why it is so important to always slide down the rope slowly, so that the horse can feel us coming and won’t get startled, especially if the horse is tense. I really like this way of rope handling, the slow sliding makes it feel polite and safe, whereas when someone just takes hold of the rope it feels abrupt and rude.

After lunch, we went back to the horses. This time Alex let us work on our own, and she gave us her feed back afterwards. All three beginner horses (and handlers) were showing how far they had come over the course of the weekend. Unfortunately, Máire and I had a long drive ahead, so we couldn’t stay to watch the advanced horses. Before we left, Alex asked us what was the most important thing we had learned that weekend. I had to think about that for a moment. It was impossible to pick a single thing. The whole weekend was a constant stream of information and experiences, and the amount of learning was incredible. I really came to understand not only the importance of the Foundation Lessons, but also the depth of them; there are many layers to the lessons. And although I wasn’t able to bring Cassie this weekend, I came away from the clinic with a much better idea of how to proceed with her.

Looking back, I realise that the clinic with Alex was a real paradigm shift for me. Clicker training is not something you can switch on and off; you can’t just take your horse out of the field, do a clicker training session and then put her back. It is not about how far you can take your horse in a traditional sense, it is about how you build your training plan. It is a mental attitude. What you think affects your body, which affects your horse. You have to be balanced yourself, in body and mind, before your horse can be balanced. As Alex says, everything is connected to everything else.  All I have to remember now is to take those treats out of my pockets before I throw my clothes in the washing machine!

 

Clinic with Alexandra Kurland 2

When we got up early on Saturday morning, the sky was blue and it was already warm. There was a stiff breeze, but not a cloud in sight and it looked like we had another beautiful day ahead of us. At the Centre we were greeted by our horses who were eagerly awaiting their breakfast. Minnie seemed more settled now and some of her restless energy had quieted down a bit, so I was able to groom her at liberty. She stayed with me and showed no sign of wanting to wander off and I was able to find my way back into that very easy and intuitive connection I have always had with Minnie. I was so impressed with how she had adjusted.  I took her away from home without any preparation, put her in a strange place where she had to cope being surrounded by other horses, being moved from place to place during the course of the day and lots of people coming and going. On top of that, Minnie had been out of work for a very long time indeed and she had no experience of clicker training other than some basic targeting and watching Cassie. I was asking a lot of her, but she rose to the challenge magnificently. She handled what would be a very stressful situation for her extremely well, and I felt really happy that she was there with me for the clinic.

We started off the day with more discussions. One of the advanced participants told us how she came to clicker training. Initially she was not interested. She had an extensive background in traditional horse training, had worked with horses for years and she felt that she was an experienced and competent horse woman, who didn’t need any of that nonsense. Then one day she was out riding with a friend whose horse, a Thoroughbred, suddenly lost the plot as highly strung horses sometimes do. As she was thinking about what she should do to help her friend, her friend lifted a rein and the horse plunged its’ head down and calmed itself. Impressed, she turned to her friend and said: “Wow, you have to teach me how to do that!” Later during the same ride, her friend’s horse spotted a terrifying, horse-eating object and had a big spook. She told us that she expected a big scene, but to her astonishment her friend said “Touch!”, the horse went forward and touched the object with its’ nose and they calmly rode on. That is how she came to clicker training. Initially she only wanted to learn those two things, to teach her horse to calm itself and to get it past a spooky object and she was still resistant to clicker training as a method. She said that it took her a while to realise that those two things were practical applications of two of the foundations lessons, head lowering and targeting, and that there was much more to that clicker training than she had thought.

There is a lot of resistance to clicker training. It is viewed as cheating, bribing the horse with food, only good for teaching tricks, or – think about this one – ok for dogs but not for horses. Why? Alex explained that it is because society on the whole is punitive and clicker training, with its use of positive reinforcement, is outside the cultural norm.  It is easier for us to criticise than to compliment.

We discussed component parts. In order to solve a puzzle successfully, you need to have all the necessary skills to work out the answer. Eg. to teach a horse to stand on a mat, he needs to understand and be able to follow light cues for forward and backward, otherwise you can’t set the horse up for success. For a first session to be successful the horse doesn’t need to actually step on the mat. Clicker training and the foundation lessons encourage dexterity of thinking; it makes you a better trainer, because you have to find the component parts of any behaviour you want to teach, and realise that components are always made up of their own component parts. Both horses and humans learn better in tiny increments.

When I worked with Minnie that afternoon, we continued with head lowering and worked on my skill of backing her in a square. Head lowering is not a forward motion, so anytime Minnie tried to rebalance herself by taking a step forward, or started to paw, I had to ask her to step back, using a rope handling technique Alex calls the T’ai Chi Wall. For the T’ai Chi Wall, you have one hand on the clip of the lead rope, one hand on the horse’s shoulder with tension on a short rope between. This acts like a trampoline, it bounces the energy back, without adding fuel to the fire. This is incredibly powerful, but it feels safe to the horse, because you use bone rotations, not muscle. It is important to empty all the tension out of your shoulders before you start.

Under Alex’ guidance, I began to understand how backing in a square with the T’ai Chi Wall helps a horse to understand the cue for head lowering from a single rein. With a lifting feel on the clip, the T’ai Chi Wall brings the head to the outside and that swings the hind quarters towards you. It also causes the head to drop down a fraction when it moves away to the off side. As soon as that happens you click and reinforce Then ask again. The horse will go down with the head to the off side. They will try to rebalance by taking a step forward or moving their head up. You move the horse back and ask for head down again. The horse will work out how to balance and bring the head to the near side without coming up – this gives maximum stretch to the spine. I had watched Minnie do this with Alex the day before, but now I could feel all the tiny shifts of balance myself, and I also felt how my own balance affected her. This is why the food delivery is so important; if you’re off-balance when you present the food, you unbalance your horse. If I kept my shoulders and hips aligned and presented the food in balance, Minnie’s  position was balanced as well.

Minnie and I had a good session. She stayed connected to me throughout in spite of lots of distractions on the beach and being sand-blasted by a very stiff breeze. I was very proud of her. My beautiful mare.

Clinic with Alexandra Kurland 1

Last Thursday morning, I got up early to get organised to go to the Irish Clicker Centre in Tralee for the clinic with Alexandra Kurland. Máire was coming around noon with Ben and Rosie, who was going to stay with Minnie and Arrow for the days that we’d be away, and I had lots to do before then. The list of things to bring when travelling with a horse for a few days is endless, and I also wanted to move the horses into the back fields, where it would be easier for my husband and daughter to look after them. So I had a busy morning piling up Cassie’s tack and buckets and feed and filling haynets and then I moved the electric fence, and when my jobs were all done I went to get Cassie to give her a nice groom and get her ready for the journey. Except that there wasn’t going to be a journey for her because she came out bobbing her head with every step. She was lame. I anxiously felt her leg, but there was no heat. Well, that was a relief anyway. I lifted her foot and tapped it. She flinched, so the problem was obviously in her hoof. Great! Máire arrived and we had a look at Cassie together, but there was no getting away from the fact that I couldn’t bring her to the clinic. So I brought Cassie back to the field, delighted my husband with the news that he had to look after a lame horse and took Minnie out.  By now it really was time to go, so all I had time for was to put travelling wraps on her legs and then I led her into the horse-box and we were off.

The journey down to Tralee was long and hot – after weeks of unseasonably cold weather summer had finally arrived – and there were lots of road works that held us up. I was anxious about Minnie, who doesn’t like being confined at the best of times, and when we checked on them she was all lathered up, but otherwise she travelled well. When we arrived, Minnie and Ben were given time to relax in a field, before we settled them in the arena where they would be staying for the nights during the clinic. There were 6 horses in total for the clinic and the other horses were kept in pens around the arena. This was hard for Ben, who found himself surrounded by geldings who were all obviously out to get Minnie, his mare! There was a lot of squealing and striking with front legs, and Ben made sure to keep his body at all times between Minnie and his adversaries.

 After settling the horses, Máire and I went to meet Alexandra and the other participants and observers over dinner. Alex talked for a while about how she likes to run the clinics. She likes to use the first day for collecting information, finding the questions. The second day is for finding answers and teaching, and the last day is for looking at the improvement and how to go forward after the clinic. Then she asked all of us what we wanted from the clinic. When it was my turn,  I explained that I had put a lot of thought into what I wanted from the clinic, but for a different horse.  That Cassie was lame, and that I was here now with Minnie, whom I hadn’t done any work at all with for months, because I had been so busy working with Cassie to get her ready for the clinic. That Minnie’s only experience of clicker training was basic targeting. I explained Minnie’s background and that what I wanted most for Minnie was to teach her to carry herself better, so that she has a chance to stay sound and pain-free. Alex told me not to worry about not being there with Cassie. “Sometimes these things happen for a reason and it may well be that you are here with the horse that you need to be here with”.

That was nice, because it made me feel a bit less apprehensive of being there with a horse who hasn’t done any of the foundation lessons, but it also illustrated Alex’s attitude. She takes the horses as they come, and works on the issues they present, because that is the lesson they need to work on, without pushing them further then what they are ready for and that also goes for their handlers!

That first evening we talked until quite late, and that set the tone for the whole clinic. Alex doesn’t believe in working 9 to 5; we started early and finished late, with wide ranging discussions continuing during meal times and back to practical sessions afterwards.  The first morning, Friday, we started with a theorethical discussion, and then we went to the horses. Of the 6 horses there, 3 were very advanced with experienced trainers, and we started with these. I enjoyed watching these horses in self collection at liberty, but it also made me nervous again, because I was well aware what a novice I am and Minnie had been very unsettled when I groomed her earlier. I also felt very self-consious, because of the video camera’s that were rolling, but when it was my and Minnie’s turn, I forgot about them, because Alex put us at ease very quickly.

She asked me to walk around with Minnie and complimented Minnie on handling the situation well, in spite of being such a nervous horse. At this stage Ben was in a pen at the bottom of the arena, and Alex decided that it would be easier for Minnie to work at that end, so she could see Ben. She started off by holding up a target for Minnie to touch, which she did immediately, and then she used the target to bring Minnie’s head down. Head lowering is a good exercise to calm down nervous or anxious horses, which is why it is one of Alex’s foundation lessons, but Alex explained that it is also one of the hardest lessons when a horse is really anxious, because a nervous horse brings it’s head up so it can check its environment for dangers and when we ask it to bring its head down it can’t see.

We spent some time letting Minnie get used to touching a target near ground level, for which she was heavily reinforced and as an extra reward I walked Minnie around so she could move her legs, which is calming for her. Then Alex took over, and she began to teach Minnie to lower her head from upward pressure on the lead rope. As head lowering is not a forward motion, she backed Minnie in a square, until she got the slightest downward motion from Minnie’s head, then she released and clicked and reinforced. It took quite a while for Minnie to bring her head down, not because she didn’t get it, but because there was a lot going on in her environment. It was windy. There were people and horses on the beach, children, boats. But she came down. And when she did, she did it beautifully.

Alex worked with Minnie for quite a long time. She explained that when horses are nervous, it is important to make sure that the lesson is really understood. Otherwise you are going to leave the horse with more questions, and you’re setting both yourself and the horse up for more problems the next time you go into the arena.

While I watched Alex working with the 3 novice horses, Minnie, Ben and Moffet, a 4 year old cob who was also only just starting with clicker training, I realised that the foundation lessons are about much more. Minnie’s lesson was about head lowering, Ben’s lesson was about food delivery and Moffet’s was about backing. But all these lessons were also about balance and all 3 horses came out of their first session looking better. With Minnie, I could see how she was gradually finding a better way to hold herself and how she was making tiny adjustments that made a real difference in the way she looked. It was amazing.