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Sitting on the Edge

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range

One trainer

No tools

Just body language

 

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

 

 

Sitting on the Edge

 

Buffeting winds, snow storms, and rain coming in sideways… indeed, here we are in March. With the elements at extremes this week, Myrnah and I found ourselves sitting on the edge of comfort as we rode together. The new wide-open pastures, herd mates to keep an eye on, and weather to brace oneself against have all lent an exciting edge to our practice.

 

Myrnah is settling into her new home flawlessly; from watching her go out in the pasture every morning to watching her saunter in again every evening, she seems the picture of relaxed contentment, completely at ease with all her new horse friends. I find myself wishing I had done all my training in such an open, natural, herd-based situation. Yet the weather I mentioned above has left the ground a sopping-wet, squishy, squelching mess to walk around in, reminding me why we pull horses into the dry paddocks for the winter months. So Myrnah and I tread lightly, pretending we are just kids playing in mud puddles, and trust that summer is indeed just around the corner.

 

After her move, I gave Myrnah a couple of days adjustment time in her new space, asking very little as she got used to her new surroundings. Come Monday it was time to get back to work, regardless of the wind. Walking around the puddled grass paddocks, side by side, practicing our turns and stops, backups, and transitions of speed gave me a chance to assess Myrnah in her new space. What I found was my seemingly perfectly adjusted mare was carrying a level of tension imperceptible to the casual eye. My hand resting in her fur could feel the clench of muscles and the unusual brace against requests from me. She was trying to do all I asked, yet her internal comfort was on the edge of panic. Between the new space and the weather and the life changes, Myrnah’s confidence was stretched thin.

Like a mountain climber who sits on the edge of cliffs with nonchalance the rest of us envy, Myrnah too needs to get comfortable on the edge. Her edge is more metaphorical in nature, yet it is an edge that will always be there as life throws unexpected twists and turns her way. This week, for Myrnah and me, was about sitting on the edge of comfort and getting comfortable with the added energy and uncertainty of life.

 

Monday we practiced our groundwork, and then, when I got on from an old stump in the paddock, I could feel Myrnah humming with excitement, every muscle braced for flight. I got on and off, and walked with her some more, and got on and off again. Finally, when I thought she could handle it, I stayed on. The wind was howling, and I could feel her struggling against the gusts as she balanced my weight and hers. The exercise that felt so easy the week before in the calm of the high valley paddocks now challenged Myrnah to the very edge of what she could handle. In order to get comfortable with this higher energy, she needed a way to keep lowering her internal stress, and we needed to be careful we didn’t add to it. Like a mountain climber sitting on the edge of a cliff, there was not a lot of room for error here on the edge of comfort.

 

So Monday, I suggested she just graze while I sat on her back. The calming, repetitive ripping of new green shoots gave her just enough relief from the other tensions around us that she was able to sit with me and be less than comfortable without needing to run from the feelings. For me, the feeling of her bracing against the gusts of wind as she moved one hesitant step at a time to reach the next bit of grass was completely thrilling in its own way. Every step I asked myself: Can she handle this? Can I sit on her a little longer without overwhelming her? To find the answer was yes again and again, was intensely gratifying in the simplest way.

Tuesday, we did more of the same, only this time venturing farther away from the herd to explore new spaces on the hill above. Not so much wind, but swirling white snow blizzarding around us, lent its own dizzying excitement to the adventure. The first time I asked Myrnah to walk when I was riding, I found I had pushed the edge too far and all her muscles bunched up in reaction. I jumped off as she threw a couple of little bucks, and so we did some more ground work together until her tension lowered and we were able to find a place on the edge of comfort that didn’t feel so precarious. When I got on again, we took travel one very tentative step at a time, stopping often to graze, traveling just a little, and then stopping to graze again.

 

Wednesday, we stayed closer to the herd, but found we were ready to graze less and travel more, even with me riding. When I would feel Myrnah’s muscles bunch up and stress start to overwhelm her, we would just stop and sit with it. Given time, she would take a deep breath and let me know she was ready again. It was a dance through the sideways-sleeting rain. Travel, feel the stress, back off, stop, think about it, realize it wasn’t as frightening as was thought before, and travel again: these things take time, yet have immeasurable value. The ability to push oneself to the edge of comfort and not panic increases the ability to learn, increases the day to day enjoyment of life, and lets the unexpected things that come up become fun instead of frightening.

 

All in all, I am brilliantly impressed with my three-year-old mare, Myrnah. The challenges she has faced with grace over the last couple of weeks are really quite amazing. How many horses do you know who can join a new herd in a new pasture, and then be ridden bridleless and bareback away from the herd to explore new spaces? In my experience that is asking a lot of a horse, and Myrnah has far surpassed that when you consider she is only seven months off the range, three-years old, and been ridden perhaps only ten or fifteen times in her life so far.

This mare has me sitting on the edge of comfort too. The feeling is both thrilling and calming, an intensity of focus and uncertainty, excitement and quiet reassurance from deep within, all melding into a way of being that feels beautiful beyond belief. It takes time to develop, and yet having that comfort on the edge pays dividends that make it well worth the effort.

 

So here is to wind and weather, new spaces, new horizons, and sitting on the edge of comfort until it too becomes comfortable.

 

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

The Winds of Change

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range

One trainer

No tools

Just body language

 

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

 

 

 

The Winds of Change

My home is tucked in a valley. Between a hill to our backs and a dense forest in front of us is the most beautiful gem of garden and green. The wind hardly ever touches us here; by the time it filters down to us from the world outside, it is just a breeze kissing skin and fur with a playful caress. It is a peaceful place and has provided a perfect beginning for Myrnah and me. In keeping with our locale, the winds of change have been gentle and forgiving as we develop together.

 

This week it became time for change to blow through us a little stronger, and for the larger world to become our playground. With spring growing in strength, the green grass coming on lush, and the ground beginning to dry out, the larger pastures of Plumb Pond beckoned. It was time to move Myrnah from the dry, quiet, high ground of my home to the larger windswept pastures a mile down the road.

 

I think this has been the most apprehensive moment I have weathered yet with Myrnah. The night before the move I felt sick with worry. Was she ready to move gracefully into the larger herd of horses? Would these winds of change tear through our relationship like a storm, fraying our connection and weakening our bond? Would she feel grateful to me for bringing her to a new family in a location that feels like heaven on earth for horses, or would she fault me for changing everything she knows, and throwing her head first into an unknown herd?

 

Even the logistics of getting her to her new home felt challenging. I pulled the trailer into the top pasture where the ground was hard and dry enough to drive on. From there, as Myrnah stepped out of the trailer, we could see the current herd of four grazing the midlands below the pond on the other side of the barn. Myrnah is wary of new horses; I knew this from playing approach and retreat with the various horse paddocks at home. Her first choice is to run to a safe viewpoint and watch them from afar. To my surprise, on this windy Thursday in March, Myrnah showed an unexpected boldness. We alternately walked and stopped to watch the herd, and walked again making our way almost all the way to the barn in short order. Then Myrnah’s youth and inexperience took over and she turned around to retreat up the hill again- a safe vantage point to view the new herd from a distance. I was ready for this change of heart and simply retreated with her.

 

Over the next hour we advanced down the hill to the barn, lost confidence, and retreated back up the hill several times- more and more time for Myrnah to spend ears pricked and focused intently on the herd below. Finally the winds of change blew her confidence up a notch, and we were able to walk past the barn, over the hill by the pond, and proceed out through the electric wire gate into the field the horses were in.

 

The bald eagles called to each other above us, the Canadian geese grazed next to the pond beside us, the deer traveled the lowlands on the far edges of the pastures, and Myrnah’s new herd watched us intently as we made our way down the hill to meet them.

 

As we reached the middle of the pasture, all four of them came at us at a run as horses sometimes will. Myrnah stood the charge with her customary quietness, and I pushed the running horses to the side into a circle around us. When they ran back down to the bottom of the pasture, Myrnah and I followed quietly and gently, stopping to graze when we got close. Antheia, the beautiful grey two-year-old mustang was the first and most friendly of the herd. Coated head to toe in the fresh mud she had found to roll in, she sauntered over so say hi, first to me whom she knows and secondly to Myrnah. Myrnah, mostly interested in grazing and cautious of new horses, was reticent yet patient with Antheia’s inquisitive nature. The other three horses mostly ignored us, allowing us to tag along behind as everyone munched the new spring grass. It wasn’t long before I felt I had facilitated what I needed to for Myrnah. She was here and as confident as I could set her up to be; the rest was up to her.

All in all our herd is thirteen strong, soon to be fourteen when Myrnah’s baby is born. For the next few weeks Myrnah’s herd will grow a few at a time as we move them all from winter paddocks to summer pasture. At first, day times spent grazing and nights in paddocks adjacent to the pasture, eating dry hay all night to soften the change of diet. Little by little they will stay out more and more until they are out on grass full time. Myrnah will continue to come in every night until she foals. Once she is on full grass her nighttime lodging will be the lushest pasture of all, the pasture above the barn where all foals at Plumb Pond have had their beginnings.

 

There is a balance I am aiming for here with Myrnah: between her comfort and adjustment to her new large family on the one hand, and a quiet space for her to retreat to as she becomes a mother to the new little one.

 

It will doubtless be interesting to see how our riding and training progress with all the new changes. Wednesday, before the move, we had our best ride to date. Confidently walking all around the drive way, stopping, backing and turning on cue, Myrnah doesn’t seem to mind carrying me at all anymore, even going so far as to trot a few steps now and then when I ask. It really does feel like a gift, all that she does for me.

 

Now that the space and the herd have changed for Myrnah, we shall see how her relationship with me evolves. The winds of change blow stronger in the pastures of Plumb Pond as the herd and the space broaden Myrnah’s focus. I am thrilled to be part of the evolution and promise to keep you all posted.

 

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

The Beauty of Adrenaline

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range, One trainer, No tools, Just body language

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

 

The Beauty of Adrenaline

 

It was a classic Pacific Northwest day: a light and steady rain all morning followed by a pervasive mist falling from the sky for the rest of the daylight hours- a damp, yet beautiful, February day. On this particular day, Myrnah and I had an adventure planned. Sometimes, stepping outside the normal patterns can change the way you look at everything. Step too far and the change feels stressful; step just far enough and the thrill of energy that courses through your veins is intoxicating. Myrnah and I needed something new; we needed to feel the beauty of adrenaline.

 

Without tools to push development on a faster track, we have found ourselves practicing the same tasks over and over for months. Go, stop, turn, back up, walk together, trot together, get on, get off- rinse and repeat. We have often changed the location of practice in areas around our home, but have been cautious about straying into unfamiliar territory. More specifically, strange dogs and random cars in our neighborhood have been seen from a distance and that has been fun- a moment of intensity as I wonder what Myrnah will do about the stress, and she wonders if she needs to do anything at all. Then the moment passes leaving just a little extra energy in its wake.

 

This week Myrnah and I were going somewhere different: a trip in the horse trailer, her first since traveling from southern Oregon with Cleo as wild horses. Myrnah has breakfast in the trailer most days of the week (she has local hay available all the time, it is just the richer eastern Washington timothy hay that gets doled out in smaller quantities in specific locations), so getting in the trailer is nothing out of the ordinary. Driving away and leaving all her friends behind was a completely new experience however.

 

Our destination was a three-acre lot at the San Juan Country Fairgrounds. Used for parking during the fair, it remains empty for the rest of the year. A beautiful combination of woods and grass, well-fenced so encounters with cars and dogs would be limited to what we saw through the fence, it was a perfect first destination. A big thank-you goes out to the caretakers who allowed us to come use the space.

 

Margaret came up from the city to film the event, my daughter, Cameron, walked up from town after her swim lessons to see how it was all evolving, Myrnah and I were there for as long as it took to get home again- that was the thrilling part of the adventure. I really didn’t know how soon Myrnah would be willing to get back in the trailer to go home after the trip to town. I didn’t know how much this adventure would push the edges of her comfort zone. I had a feeling we were ready though.

 

Eleven-thirty on Thursday morning, Margaret pulled in the driveway, set up the video equipment, and we were ready to roll. Myrnah hopped right in the trailer for breakfast. Cleo knew something was up when I brought over one of the school horses to be in the paddock next to her for the day, and we were off.

Traveling, Myrnah did nothing but impress me as usual. She stood loose in the three-horse stock trailer with the relaxed grace I have come to appreciate so much about her. I felt her turn around a couple of times when we were stopped at a stop sign, but, other than that, she seemed to just stand quietly observing the world go by.

Once at the fairgrounds, I let her be in the trailer for a few moments while we got gates closed and the space organized. Myrnah seemed still and patient with a soft eye, licking and chewing as she watched and digested all the changes. I opened the door and she came out gently, yet so beautifully alert. There really is a beauty to adrenaline.

 

For the next hour and a half Myrnah and I alternated traveling and exploring the space together and letting her graze the grass that was far lusher and greener than anything we currently have at home. My favorite moment of the day was when I discovered she would follow me, with ears pricked forward, at the trot when I started to run. The added energy of the new location made speed feel fun for Myrnah instead of the disliked task it usually presents as at home. So we weaved through trees and ran across meadows, played with circles and stops, back-ups and the best part- grazing the green, green grass everywhere underfoot.

The interesting part of the day was when a group of children came out to play in the school yard on the other side of the fence. They were far away, yet the racket they made put Myrnah on high alert; and then, to my dismay, she took control of the situation and trotted off with me running behind until Myrnah had gotten us as far away as she could from the disturbing chaos. I have to admit I was glad for the fence that stopped her; I am not sure I am fit enough to have run as far away as she would have wanted to go. Once she felt safe enough, she reconnected to me, and, little by little, we made our way back to the center of our play area. Our bond felt tenuous after that, as though Myrnah wasn’t sure she could trust my decisions as a leader; but she didn’t distrust me either, she just held tight to her right to leave if the children or the basketball players across the field scared her too much.

For the most part we worked well together with lots of breaks to watch the players across the fence. Every once in a while though Myrnah would lead me in a fast run across the lot to the far side where she felt safer. She didn’t leave me, because I was right there with her, but it was clear she wouldn’t have stopped if I had asked, she took control of the situation and led us to safer ground.

 

After an hour and a half, the people playing in the neighboring field were not so worrisome anymore, and I decided it was time to load up and go home. Myrnah had other ideas.

 

We could approach the trailer and stand at the open door for a brief period of time, and then Myrnah would take definitive action, turning away to go somewhere else. I can stop her, and turn her and ask her to go forward, but I cannot make her do something she doesn’t want to do. She and I both know that.

 

Early on I wrote a blog: “For Every No, There Is a Yes Nearby”. Thursday, loading in the trailer, I definitely leaned on those ideas. For months I have been telling myself I would really like to spend more time walking with Myrnah. It is something horses do together and I feel we both benefit from it- traveling side by side, stride for stride, traveling miles, not just a few minutes, the rhythm and distance building the bond between us. Well, here was my chance. Walking together was the yes Myrnah was offering me; trailer loading was a no until she decided otherwise. Grazing was over for the day; there was hay and water in the trailer and until she decided to head in there, we were moving together.

So we moved. Sometimes, when Myrnah wanted to emphasize how much she didn’t want to get in the trailer, we ran away from it together. I want to practice trotting with her anyway, so it was a win-win situation. Whenever Myrnah wanted to look at the trailer, standing fairly close to it, we could rest. For an hour and a half we traveled together with only brief rests at the trailer. When we were standing there I would move forward a test step towards the trailer to see if I could walk in first to play with the hay and splash in the water bucket, but every time she would turn her head away and tell me she would rather go somewhere else than watch me walk toward the trailer. So that is what we would do, move together some more.

I have to say, about an hour into this trailer project I found myself considering all the contingency ideas: calling someone to come pick up Cameron and take her home for the night. Saying goodbye to Margret and letting go of the filming aspect of the day, bundling up in all my coats and putting on my head lamp so Myrnah and I could just keep traveling together through the dark until she was ready to load into trailer. I was there for the long haul. If Myrnah needed me to jog a marathon with her before she was ready to get in the trailer, that is what we would do. Lucky for me, just after I had figured out all my contingency plans, Myrnah decided she was ready to go home. We were standing resting, looking at the trailer, and this time, when I began to walk forward into it, she kept looking at me. I walked in and splashed in the water bucket and she quietly followed after me. She wasn’t thirsty, but did munch on a little hay. I walked out and closed the big door, reentering by the side door to sit with her, relaxing and listening to her chew before we headed home.

 

The drive home was as uneventful as the drive out had been. Myrnah was happy and relaxed as she stepped out of the trailer, perhaps just a little more alert than usual with the beauty of adrenaline still coursing through us both. Another challenge conquered, the stress proving energizing and fun, the day bonding us together just a little more.

 

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com 

 

PS The next day, Friday, Myrnah jumped right in the trailer without hesitation. Completely unscarred from the previous day’s adventure, the beauty of adrenaline seemingly all positive this time around. May we always be so lucky as we push forward into the unknown.

Breakthrough!

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range, One trainer, No tools, Just body language

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

 

Breakthrough!

 

Progress with Myrnah is a meandering path of smelling the roses. We have plenty of goals we would like to reach; however, the journey is entirely more important than any destination. As you all know, I sat on Myrnah a couple of times back in October while she was eating hay, and she was completely at ease about it. Then abruptly she decided she didn’t like weight on her back, and we embarked on what seemed like an endless discussion developing her tolerance of my getting on and off. Our training in that area largely seemed to plateau, and every time I broke the process down, it seemed I needed to break it down some more, take it slower, wait with more quiet understanding, and enjoy the moments with her regardless. I am pleased to say yesterday we had a breakthrough!

 

Every day Myrnah and I practice moving together: walking trotting, turning, and generally traveling through space side by side with as much grace as we can muster. The fun part is, she continually asks me if we can stop at the mounting block and play that game instead. Even though she can’t tolerate my sitting on her back for more than a moment, she seems to trust me to respect her apprehensions and is drawn to the process of learning about weight on her back as much as I am. For months now all she could tolerate was a moment of my sitting on her. I would slide on, feel every muscle tense up for a reactive explosion, and I would slide off. If I wasn’t quick enough, I would be sliding off as she scooted forward or backward. Myrnah’s tension was instantly high enough in response to weight on her back there wasn’t any chance of asking her to bend her neck around to look at me, or really to ask anything at all of her. All we could do was quietly and patiently play advance and retreat, allowing her to realize the weight was only temporary.

This week on Tuesday and Wednesday came the breakthrough in riding. Myrnah and I had begun pushing the envelope a little in terms of trotting together side by side: another exercise which she was brilliantly relaxed about back in October, yet became averse to shortly thereafter. So each day we patiently played advance and retreat with the movements, enjoying the time together regardless of the apparent progress.

 

On Tuesday when we began to advance to trot more frequently (yet briefly) Myrnah became more and more insistent that the game at the mounting block was the one she would rather play. Once there I would take my time to settle with her and then slide on where, to my surprise, on this day, her tension would come up only slowly giving me a few more seconds to sit there each time before I slid back to the ground. It may not seem like much to the outside observer, but after months of approach and retreat the change felt dramatic and exciting to me.

 

Wednesday we played more of the same and were even able to start asking for a bend around, Myrnah’s nose coming over to investigate my hand or my foot any time I asked. And then we began to move together. The first few times it was a pure offer from Myrnah: a few hesitant steps forward followed by her reaching around to touch me as if to ask if we were still all right. Pretty soon I was able to ask for those few steps, my leg just behind her elbow asking her to move, just like we have been practicing using hand pressure when we walk side by side. We traveled no more than perhaps six steps each time I sat on her, and sometimes we just stood and didn’t travel at all. The breakthrough in interest between Myrnah and me about riding together felt amazing.

It really has been interesting to train Myrnah without any recourse of action when she says no. When I have tools I have all sorts of games of distraction I can play to get around a no. With Myrnah, all we can do is sit with it, play with it, let it be, and let her say no as many times as she needs to before she decides she is ready to say yes.

 

I honestly don’t know if this is the best way to train a horse. I don’t know if Myrnah is any happier or better off than any of the other horses I train using more tools of force. I do know, however, this process is teaching me more about horses every day than I ever imagined it would. Myrnah I feel is teaching me every bit as much I am teaching her, and the high of the breakthrough this week, simple as it was, means more to me than most of what I have accomplished with my other horses over the years.

 

I don’t know how it is that one simple little change can feel so monumental. This breakthrough is worth every moment I have spent patiently approaching and retreating for months. It feels like there are no words to convey the brilliance of this moment for Myrnah and I, but trust me, it’s all worth it.

 

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

Myrnah’s snowy mountain hike

Myrnah thinks that looks like a very big hill to climb…

“Are we really walking up that?”

Almost half way up…

Pine branches are yummy!

Snow is yummy too!

We reached the top!

Cold and windy at the summit.

Headed back down.

Have to stop to make a snow angel, Myrnah’s not so sure about this game.

Stopping for a snow snack.

Elsa likes the snow, Myrnah likes some branches in her snow…

Down the hill through the dark woods…

Almost home.

Not so sure about the snow monster guarding the driveway… luckily monster turns out to be friendly.

Thank-you Cameron for building a fabulous snow monster, and for talking these amazing pictures!

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

Christmas walk with Myrnah

Today Myrnah and I took our longest walk yet: Twenty minutes out though the wide open woods with John and Cameron keeping us company . Thank you John for the brilliant photographs. Christmas time is shaping up beautifully this year!

No Boundaries – Just Trust

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range

One trainer

No tools

Just body language

 

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

 

 

 

No Boundaries – Just Trust

Myrnah and I walked out the gate and past all the fences yesterday; we have reached that point of trust in each other, and it feels amazing. We walked out of the paddock, through the front yard, and down the drive to the edge of the property: no fences between us and the rest of the world, no boundaries – just trust. Myrnah could have run away, but she didn’t. At the end of our driveway she looked longingly down the road, but acquiesced when I told her it was time to head home again- that was far enough for our fist venture beyond the fences.

Trust has to be earned. All of us intrinsically need to feel safe. When Myrnah and Cleo first came home with me, trust was built between us in small incremental steps. As a human I am a natural predator; horses are natural prey animals and as such we have very different instincts. Prey animals have a tendency to run from fear; predators have a tendency to attack and control when faced with fear. If we are going to work together, we have to build trust in a way that allows us to act like partners instead of predators and prey.

Boundaries such as ropes or fences help us predators feel in control of prey animals; the lack of boundaries makes a horse feel safer, because they can run if they need to.

Living as I do in a small island community where horses would not be welcome wandering free wherever they chose, I have to use fences to control them. It is a very predator-type thing to do, so I have done my best to make the paddock as big as possible and always give them room to run away from me when we are working together.

In the beginning we had six-foot-high fences. Once the trust between us had built to a point that lowered the intensity of their desire to flee, we moved things around and the fences are closer to four feet now. A little while later the horses trusted us enough to stay in enclosures of a single electric line.

If the fear is high enough, horses will jump or run through almost anything. If a human’s fear is high enough, we will enclose and abuse horses in an effort to feel safe around them. Written like that it seems rather obvious neither tactic is in the best interest of a functioning partnership. Yet going against our natural instincts is a constant challenge.

Trust is built with time and understanding. The ability to make requests of each other and have those requests honored is what builds trust.

Simple things illustrate this well. Humans like to pet animals. Horses don’t naturally like being petted (though domestic horses often do because they have been taught). A wild mustang enjoys being groomed by a partner, but being petted by a not entirely trusted predator is different.

For a partnership to develop, the human can request permission to pet the horse and, if allowed, respect when the horse requests the petting action to stop. Now if the horse reaches out with their nose and asks the person to stop and the request is ignored, the horse resorts to instinct and walks away. This is a very quiet example of distrust instead of partnership. In order for trust to build, requests have to be heard and honored between partners.

That is a great deal harder than it sounds. As people we like petting and it is hard for us to remember horses may be asking for something different. The next time a horse moves away from you, ask yourself what might the horse have wanted? What was he asking for that you didn’t hear? Sometimes the horse is asking that you follow when they walk away, because being together like a herd feels safe. Usually though, I find they are first asking us to be quiet. Just exist and be quiet together. As the saying goes, “be a human being, not a human doing”.

As a human, when a horse walks away we want to control it with a rope, or trap it with a fence, or chase it so it knows that is “wrong” or stand back and take it personally that the horse doesn’t want to be with us. If we can think like a horse though and follow, playing with advance and retreat as a game like a horse would, until the trust is built on understanding the horse’s request for a herd in that moment, then we are back on track to building a strong mutual trust, and it’s our turn to make a request. Asking the horse to move, or asking him to let us pet him, the important part is to listen for when he thinks it is his turn to ask us for something.

Mutual respect of requests is the basis for mutual trust.

So when Myrnah and I began to go out walking, we started with a boundary of high fences. If the fledgling trust between us should have plummeted in its first flights, the boundary fence would have kept us together somewhat. I aimed for a balance: fences intact to keep my predator instinct feeling safe, fences far enough away to allow Myrnah her prey animal instinct to flee should she need it.

As time moved on and the trust grew, the boundary fences became smaller and farther way. Yesterday our trust allowed us to let go of the boundary altogether for a short period of time. The freedom of knowing there were no fences to catch Myrnah if she ran was simply exhilarating. Although we are so bonded now, that I never doubted her. I think she and I agree, exploring the world is most fun, with someone you trust.

No boundaries – just trust – is an ever evolving concept. Yesterday was just a milestone along the way. Here is to the many more ahead of us.

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

First Ride On Myrnah!

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range

One trainer

No tools

Just body language

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

 

First Ride On Myrnah

As life with Myrnah seems to be, this week was both unassuming and life changing all at the same time. Long story short: I took my first ride on Myrnah and I am flying high about this next step in the journey.

The details are more modest and quiet than the headline would lead you to believe. I love that dichotomy of quiet unassuming details gathering together for results that seem bigger than the sum of their parts.

Tuesday morning Margaret was here to do some filming for me. Myrnah and I went through our routine of grooming, basic yielding, and walking together. We went out the gate of the paddock into the woods to explore, and, when she found the bucket with a little bit of hay in it, I noticed there was a rock right next to us. It wasn’t planned, it just made sense to step up on it and belly over her back while she nibbled bits of hay. This moment in itself is monumental because, as recently as a week ago, Myrnah would have been irritated with me for distracting her from eating. Tuesday Myrnah didn’t mind at all.

I got off and on several times- just bellied over, my full weight on her for far longer than ever before. Myrnah stayed unconcerned, so I threw a leg over her back and used the rock to push me up astride. One leg on either side, I laid on her neck, relaxed, peaceful, feeling her breath, listening to her chew, watching carefully for any signs she might like me to get off. After awhile I decided I had pushed far enough into new experiences and got off to resume my more customary position next to her.

When she finished eating, Myrnah took me on far more exploration of the woods than ever before. Showing confidence and exuberance, she sometimes picked up the trot and let me run alongside her, seemingly just for the joy of doing so.

We were out for hour more or less, before she took me back to the gate, then to the trailer letting me know she had had enough exploration and would like to go have breakfast. I like this routine we have created. At some point we will take this pattern and apply it to traveling to other places to explore. Myrnah loves the trailer as it is where she gets to eat the rich, Eastern-Washington hay. One of these mornings, when we feel ready, I will let her in the trailer, close the door, and take her somewhere new to explore together- somewhere fenced where she can’t get in trouble with traffic or danger, yet somewhere that isn’t home. We will travel around side by side or riding and explore the world, returning to the trailer for the remainder of breakfast whenever she is ready, and make the return trip home.

Until then we will continue exploring more parts of the woods close to home, continue developing her confidence carrying me, and continue honing her trust to let me direct her speed and direction with increasing accuracy.

Beyond the simple dictates of essential training I have begun to widen Myrnah and Cleo’s social context, expanding their trust in humans beyond myself, and giving a few wonderful friends the chance to walk through the steps of earning trust and feeling connection with recently wild horses.

I also put a new horse in with them for the first time this week. Lir, a two-year-old Gypsy horse was a perfect first domestic companion for them to know, even-tempered, respectful, and easygoing even in the presence of horses less so. I was there with them for the first few hours, sending Cleo or Myrnah away from Lir and me when they showed any aggression, allowing them to be close with us when they remained polite. I understand horses will work things out as they need to in a herd; I also need them to understand that aggression has no place anywhere around people. When people are present all communication needs to remain polite.

Cleo seemed to understand me completely right away. I only saw her coil for one kick at Lir. I sent her away and after that she was the model of civility when I was around. Even when I was on the other side of the paddock she might be standing next to Lir, reach out to touch him, and then look over to me quickly to make sure I was OK with that, then reach out again commencing a game of touching each other with their noses- a game that looked surprisingly similar to the games I play accustoming Cleo to being touched by me.

Myrnah was not so convinced Lir was a good addition. Time and again she would approach and then pin her ears, bare her teeth, and charge. When I was there, I would send her away. She would move a few feet off, look at me and then walk to a different spot in the paddock, as though she hadn’t a care in the world. I know she ran Lir around the paddocks some when I wasn’t there to enforce civility, but after a few days they had formed some sort of truce and would pass each other like two ships in the night, carefully avoiding aggravating each other.

Lir left on Monday to go to his other home on Orcas. The Mustangs are again on their own for a little while. Soon another companion will come up for them to get to know as winter is fast approaching and dry spaces to live are in high demand here. Hopefully, by the time spring is on the horizon, before the foal is imminent, Myrnah and Cleo will be out in a pasture bonding with the larger family of horses who will be family to the new little one.

I don’t know what it is about mile stones that makes me want to look ahead in anticipation of future mile stones. First ride on Myrnah this week, just ten weeks from being wild on the range. When the other miles stones will fall into place only time will tell.

I will keep you posted,

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com