Toughen up, princess
Today I went to work: Yay! And started documenting a disaster recovery process! I have a perfectly valid reason to write the words "Don't panic" in large friendly letters. Then this afternoon I went to the stables and managed to be useful and learn new things.
One of the lessons learned was not something new, but a long-held suspicion that has been confirmed: I really don't know anything about horses. At all. In theory, I must know something, but the rate at which I'm discovering what I don't know is far outstripping my rate of acquistion of new knowledge.
I believe I have a definite knack for calming down twitchy, stamping, head tossing, nipping horses. Definitely not every horse under every circumstance, but I think long-term experience in soothing a variety of mammals has translated well into horseflesh. I can be non-threatening, unpredator-like. The soft and fuzzy side is pretty well covered.
It's time I learned how to be bossy.
It's a rapidly humbling experience when a horse one is leading comes to a full halt and declines to proceed. There's only so much coaxing, calling "Walk on" and clicking I can do before I rapidly run out of soft options. What I need to understand now are the limits of acceptable discipline for this particular establishment. Calm confidence is not enough any more; I need to be able to establish that I'm the boss. I need to find my firm horse voice, and remember how to flick a rope and deliver a slap. I need to find out how to act dominant without being too scary. I can use my upper body to shove a horse sideways or backwards, but getting them to walk forward is another matter.
I was warned that one of the horses that needed to be groomed was a bit nippy. He didn't like his girth area being groomed, and tended to turn his head and snap at the air. He wasn't aiming for the human, just the general location of the irritation, but if you got in the way of the teeth you could be damaged just the same. No problem, I said, and it wasn't. I could tell in plenty of time when a nip was coming, and either got out of the way or deflected the action. It was very kung fu. But later when the coach was demonstrating how to rug this horse and he tried it on her, she used her growly voice and advised me to hold his headcollar in place so he couldn't turn, and to "not let him get away with it". She let me know that I was partially responsible for that horse's ongoing education.
It's just struck me why I felt uncomfortable with the idea of applying discipline or censure to the horses. It's partly that I don't know what the local standards are (not drawing blood seems like a good idea, but there are a lot of ways to hit or speak to a horse). But it's mostly that I'm thoroughly indoctrinated to not discipline other people's children. It's generally ill-advised to discipline other adults too, so the instinct to survive the moment and not get involved is strong. It's like being invited to intervene in toddlers' tantrums in the supermarket. My current behaviour in this case is to try to express sympathy and soothing vibes for the parent, and pretty much avoid any contact with the child themselves (unless they're lost).
So if a horse is grumpy I can soothe it, but if I want to make it go where I want it to go and it doesn't, I'm out of vocabulary. I have to be able to wake them up without scaring them so much that they become dangerous.
But horses are not kids. Horses are also not cats, so I can't hiss and rowr at them, bare my teeth, arch my neck and hold my fingers like claws (well I could, but that's one of the ways you freak them out). Horses are also not dogs, so I can't loftily ignore them, nor use my dog growling noises. Horses are herd animals that respond to the direction of the lead mare. I need to learn how to act like the lead mare. I need to learn the horse dialect of The Voice Of Command, preferably without the Accent Of The Bully.
All I need is about 50 years of full time exposure to horses and I might eventually learn a thing or two. Maybe when I'm 90 I'll let myself actually ride again and the learning process will start all over again.
Today was a good day.
One of the lessons learned was not something new, but a long-held suspicion that has been confirmed: I really don't know anything about horses. At all. In theory, I must know something, but the rate at which I'm discovering what I don't know is far outstripping my rate of acquistion of new knowledge.
I believe I have a definite knack for calming down twitchy, stamping, head tossing, nipping horses. Definitely not every horse under every circumstance, but I think long-term experience in soothing a variety of mammals has translated well into horseflesh. I can be non-threatening, unpredator-like. The soft and fuzzy side is pretty well covered.
It's time I learned how to be bossy.
It's a rapidly humbling experience when a horse one is leading comes to a full halt and declines to proceed. There's only so much coaxing, calling "Walk on" and clicking I can do before I rapidly run out of soft options. What I need to understand now are the limits of acceptable discipline for this particular establishment. Calm confidence is not enough any more; I need to be able to establish that I'm the boss. I need to find my firm horse voice, and remember how to flick a rope and deliver a slap. I need to find out how to act dominant without being too scary. I can use my upper body to shove a horse sideways or backwards, but getting them to walk forward is another matter.
I was warned that one of the horses that needed to be groomed was a bit nippy. He didn't like his girth area being groomed, and tended to turn his head and snap at the air. He wasn't aiming for the human, just the general location of the irritation, but if you got in the way of the teeth you could be damaged just the same. No problem, I said, and it wasn't. I could tell in plenty of time when a nip was coming, and either got out of the way or deflected the action. It was very kung fu. But later when the coach was demonstrating how to rug this horse and he tried it on her, she used her growly voice and advised me to hold his headcollar in place so he couldn't turn, and to "not let him get away with it". She let me know that I was partially responsible for that horse's ongoing education.
It's just struck me why I felt uncomfortable with the idea of applying discipline or censure to the horses. It's partly that I don't know what the local standards are (not drawing blood seems like a good idea, but there are a lot of ways to hit or speak to a horse). But it's mostly that I'm thoroughly indoctrinated to not discipline other people's children. It's generally ill-advised to discipline other adults too, so the instinct to survive the moment and not get involved is strong. It's like being invited to intervene in toddlers' tantrums in the supermarket. My current behaviour in this case is to try to express sympathy and soothing vibes for the parent, and pretty much avoid any contact with the child themselves (unless they're lost).
So if a horse is grumpy I can soothe it, but if I want to make it go where I want it to go and it doesn't, I'm out of vocabulary. I have to be able to wake them up without scaring them so much that they become dangerous.
But horses are not kids. Horses are also not cats, so I can't hiss and rowr at them, bare my teeth, arch my neck and hold my fingers like claws (well I could, but that's one of the ways you freak them out). Horses are also not dogs, so I can't loftily ignore them, nor use my dog growling noises. Horses are herd animals that respond to the direction of the lead mare. I need to learn how to act like the lead mare. I need to learn the horse dialect of The Voice Of Command, preferably without the Accent Of The Bully.
All I need is about 50 years of full time exposure to horses and I might eventually learn a thing or two. Maybe when I'm 90 I'll let myself actually ride again and the learning process will start all over again.
Today was a good day.