Picking Up Your Feet.

 

I'd like to apologize for the exceptionally grainy images for this post. I had decided to bring my new camera to the farm to document May and I, and the settings were never adjusted to the arena's light, or to May's movement. I'm working on getting a photographer to come out and take images specifically for the blog, but these will have to work for now. 

 

 

Anyway, onto the training session! Mandy was kind enough to pull May from the pasture and place her in a stall until I could get out of work. Once I was there, I guided May around the arena for a few minutes, walking a relaxed path and exercising some basic commands until we came to a complete stop. I was touching her all over, running my hands over her feet and lifting them a little (which I've done every time I'm around her) when she decided to bite the top of my head. Mandy took that as a good indicator that we should start working on getting May comfortable with letting someone lift up her feet.

 

Now, it is incredibly important that horses learn not only this but to also learn to be comfortable standing on 3 legs at a time. Farriers need to tend to horses hooves, vets need to be able to work on an injury, and an owner needs to be able to pick up the foot of a calm horse to see if there's a need for a vet or farrier in the first place. May hasn't had much success with the farrier in the past, so it was time to finally nip this uneasiness in the bud.

 

 

We chose to use a lead rope to pick up her feet so that it was less dangerous to us, and began just by gently rubbing the rope against her legs. Once she was relaxed and accepting of the rope, Mandy then put it around the back of each leg, one at a time, until she was comfortable with that, too. She was less than happy to comply with this, and she paced in circles while we made ourselves pivots and slowed her down with "woah" commands.



It's at this point that I feel like it should be said that I am still terrified of May. My trust in her has grown exponentially, but I still question everything that I do and everything that she could do, and that uneasiness spurs a lot of hiccups in her attitude to happen. Every time I'm with her, I see how much improvement she's made with being handled, and being well mannered, and it makes me feel instantly better. Still, I dwell on previous experiences and I put expectations out there when we're together that something bad is going to happen. Those things make her great improvements seem like tiny little spurts of luck to me, instead of the moved mountains and huge victories that they actually are.

This fear is really prohibiting me from becoming a strong leader and companion to May, and I realize that every time that we're together. Since Mandy and I have talked at length about this (and she knows the signs of me panicking), she will often switch from teaching May something, to teaching me instead.

Now, I have a fear of standing in front of May to get her to stop when she won't stop otherwise. It's not that she's ever hurt me when we've worked together, or that she's temperamental when I'm standing there, but I still get excessively nervous. Often when I throw my hands out and shout a booming 'WOAH', I'm shaking. Being that this is something that I need to work through, Mandy makes it a point to consistently teach me how to confidently stop any horse that might be moving towards me. It always takes a few dozen tries to get over my nerves, but I eventually get there. By mid-session I was throwing my hands out to stop her, and my hands were as still as ever.

The other form of stopping May is using the 'traffic sign'. This makes me equally as nervous, but again, by the time we had reached mid-session I was doing it and May was listening.

Now, I'm going to make another post about this that goes more into detail, but I have learned to back May up with just my finger. Mandy reminded me to use this in addition to the other methods if May is trying to walk into me. Every time she listens to this command and backs up, I nearly fall over in pride and excitement. I cannot believe, even for a second, that we mastered this trick.

Anyway, after about 30 minutes of getting May used to the lead rope on her legs, Mandy and I were finally able to lift up each of her legs, one by one. She fought it a little, as any horse would at first, and then she slowly started to get used to one of her legs being off of the ground. She did so well that we didn't push her to do anything else, and just enjoyed the moment of victory.

After our training session, we walked May into an open stall and Dan and I spent a chunk of time grooming her. I was so grateful to have him at the farm to witness a training session in person, and to allow him some time to get to know May a bit more. He hadn't been to the farm since I first adopted her, and seeing them together made me extremely happy.

 



Cue awkward half-family photo!







Adventures in May-therhood

Today was an exceptionally trying day for May and I. I hadn't been able to make it out to the farm for the entire week, so I planned on having the majority of today set aside to devote to her. Our normal routine has been for me to come out, chase her around her pasture, attach her halter and lead rope and then work on training her with them. Jessica, a volunteer (who I completely adore and couldn't do any of this without), usually helps me lead her to the indoor arena, where we also work on herd separation, grooming, bonding, and more lead training. It needs to be said now that I am not familiar with horses, especially foals, so the training is mostly comprised of whatever I think might be best for her to learn. Everything is sort of on the fly with her, as we're both beginners.

Anyway, as I made my way onto the pasture today with Jessica to continue our routine, May decided it was the day to be a perfect angel. She didn't move when I approached her, or while she was grazing. She let us put on her new blanket, and she let me groom her without any movement or motion, or resistance, or anything. She played it cool while I hugged on her, and snuggled her, and baby-talked her, never moving away, or putting up much of a fight. It was crazy. Like, I didn't know if she was sick, or if she was just happy to see us, or if she just really didn't care about whatever we were doing to her. So what I initially thought would take us two hours to do, took maybe 30 minutes, and before I knew it I was making my way out of the pasture to work on the farm for a while before coming back to get her.

We worked on fixing broken fences in the pastures and paddocks for a while before finally going back to grab May. I had a gut feeling that she was acting too good to be true, but she surprised me when she leisurely walked on lead from the back pasture to the barn, only needing to be nudged from Jessica here and there. It was when we got to the barn though that May started to act up, resisting us with heavy thrashing, pushing, and jumping, which was terrifying to watch. There was nothing that we could do to ease her down from her panic attack, and every foot forward was met with a retaliation. At one point we had four people trying to control her, and when it became clear that she was on the verge of hurting herself, we decided to take a time out. We stayed where she wanted to stay and gathered around her, petting her into a calm.

At that point, I realized that I was scared of her. I had no idea how to react to her movement or her attitude, I had no idea how to control her, and I had no idea how to move her in either direction, be it to the pasture or to the arena. I was so worried that she'd hurt herself, or one of us. The resulting feeling of total failure sunk in, and I started to doubt everything. I couldn't do this, I thought. I am not able to do this.

It was then that I looked over at May, who was panting frantically with wide, scared eyes, and I snapped back into reality. I could do this because I WANTED to do this. I WANTED to be a part of her experiences, good or bad, and I wanted to be the one who made her feel safe. Made her feel easy, and calm. This moment, this temper-tantrum (or any other temper tantrum) wasn't going to throw me off and scare me away. I could do this. I was willing.

























I got up enough courage to try it again. With a little smooth talking we were able to slowly bring her into the arena. I decided to let her run around and get all of her many frustrations out. She yelled as loudly as she could and she threw her fantastically dusty fit. She ran at me and headbutted me (smacking both Jessica and I in the head), and then she yelled some more. I stayed with my commitment, and took her headbutts and her tantrums, and I waited them out. After a lengthy amount of time later, she slowly started to wind down enough to where I could put my arm around her for hugs, which calmed her down even more.

And then magic happened. Despite being dangerously upset with me twenty minutes beforehand, May decided she loved me again. She let me groom her without being held in place, and without moving an inch for almost half an hour. She nuzzled her head into my brush. She turned her head to lick my hand as I brushed her sides. She leaned her body into mine for support. She posed for the camera and accepted kisses on her nose like she was never mad at me for a second. It was just incredible.She followed on lead like a champ, and she got the point where she was walking me in circles instead of the other way around. As the sun shone in and the breeze swept through, I looked over again at May who was calm and content, and I felt whole.

There might be those moments where I feel lost and over my head in this, but those other moments, the ones where she is so totally mine, surpass everything else. They make the tough, scary moments and the glimpses of doubt go away. She is a living, breathing reminder that every second of work that goes into her will be worth it. She is so totally worth it.

If it weren't for all of the incredible, helpful people at the farm, I wouldn't have the confidence I have with May. They make such an effort to be as involved as I need them to be, and they help me on a level that I can never express enough thanks for. Without them, this journey wouldn't be as sweet or rewarding as it is right now.

Until next time.