A young horse was brought to a clinic that had only been started under saddle a few weeks earlier. It had travelled interstate and it took many hours to get to the clinic. It was very sensitive and being trailered so far and ending up in such a strange place with strange horses and strange people had tossed its comfort limits out of the window. It was a very frazzled gelding.
I didn’t know the owner or the horse, so I thought it was a good idea to suggest to the owner to show me what he and his horse had going on. This way I could make some sort of assessment before putting on my guru hat and looking up Google what to do next.
The owner asked if he could do some liberty work in the round yard as a starting point to help the horse move around and calm its emotions.
The owner was in the round yard with his horse as I coached him from my chair outside of the pen. The horse was running around frantically looking for any friendly face that could make life appear not so frightening. The owner was insignificant to the horse and seemed at a loss what to do. By the time he tried to do what I was instructing the moment was over and things were getting worse.
After a few minutes, one of the fence-sitters asked, “Wouldn’t it help the horse if it was made to run more around the yard so you can establish leadership and focus?”
I didn’t say anything but got out of my chair and asked the owner if it would be okay if I had a try at helping the horse.
I walked into the yard as the owner walked out. I approached calmly, but confidently, and haltered the young horse. Then I led the horse to the middle of the yard. With my left hand, I took the lead rope under the horse’s chin by the knot. I held the rope in my hand with my thumb pointing down and the palm facing forward in the direction of the chin. I waited while maintaining a hold of the lead rope. The horse tried to fidget and look around and call out to find a friend. I just quietly persisted in holding the horse under the chin. To all those watching it seemed I was not asking the horse for anything. I was doing a lot by subtle holding but it was too subtle for the others to notice at the time. It looked like the horse and I were just standing in the middle facing each other while waiting for someone to call lunch. It seemed that way, but it wasn’t.
After about two minutes had passed I noticed a very slight shift of weight from the front to the hindquarters. It was so small, yet so clear. However, I was pretty sure nobody else saw it. Then I felt an infinitesimally tiny adjustment by the horse to softly raise its head, then lower it, as if it was asking for permission to do that. Then his weight went from back to front, then from left to right, again as if they were questions rather than demands. All this activity was going on, but not one foot was being moved. It was perhaps eight or ten minutes before I felt the horse sigh, take a deep breath and at the same time drop his head.
I threw the end of the rope over the horse’s back and walked away to get the saddle. The horse followed me and stood calmly while he was saddled with the lead rope on the ground. I rode the horse for a few minutes before asking the owner to come back into the round yard and ride his horse.
When the session was finishing, I asked the audience, “How much did I make that horse move his feet before I saddled him?”
Watching the horse at the start of the work in the round yard impressed on me that he didn’t need to be made to run. His feet were not the problem. His feet were only busy because his mind was busy. I thought of how meditation works and how calming it can be because it addresses the thought. As I watched I had the urge to try some meditation on the horse. So I did.
By holding the lead rope so very close to the chin I was in a position to block the movement. His brain wanted his feet to flee my presence and my feel. I blocked everything that felt was a hard leaving thought with just a tweak of a finger or an imperceptible slight roll of my wrist. But when I felt an attempted move that was accompanied by a calm, soft thought, and nothing like an escape, I allowed it to happen. It took about 10 minutes for the horse’s mind to stay with me and not be searching for escape. In my view, I was able to block out the stress of the outside world and replace it with a world of just me and the horse - calm, quiet, and without trouble. No running, no fleeing, no need to exhaust the horse either physically or mentally.
Over the years I have improved and refined my skills with this approach. I have learned to be better at using it, but also in knowing when not to use it. I have extended it to be able to direct the movement with the same or similar techniques. There is nothing magical about it. It’s not an approach I own. I credit people like Harry Whitney for inspiring me to try playing with these ideas. Lots of trainers apply similar methods. I just wish more people talked about directing and influencing the thoughts with less emphasis on driving a horse’s feet. I had seen and heard the idea to change a horse’s thinking and emotions before worrying about the feet for sometime before I met this young horse. But it only all came together when I got out of my chair that day. I needed that horse to be the horse person I am now.
Jean is using the feel of her left hand to teach Sugar the early stages of a leg yield. Notice how closely Jean’s hand is to the chin. It gives her a very clear, yet subtle line of communication to Sugar’s mind.