A litte adventure with Freya, part 3

On the second day of the clinic, Freya was scheduled for a bodywork session with Crissi McDonald, who happens to be Mark's wife, but who is also an accomplished trainer and author in her own right.  I have to admit that I haven't read any of her books, but I do read her blog from time to time, and I enjoy the way she writes and thinks about horses.  More recently, she has become certified in the Masterson Method of bodywork, and I was so excited that the clinic was offering sessions with her.  I have wanted to have a certified Masterson bodyworker work with Freya, but there aren't any close enough to us.

I've written about the Masterson Method before.  Gemma and I use the Bladder Meridian Technique frequently on Star and we've been working with Freya on it too.  When we first got her, she was completely intolerant of the use of the technique.  Simply touching her neck was enough to make her dance around and get quite worried.  Over time, though, she has become more accepting, although she still worries a bit, particularly when we work on her neck.  So I was interested to see how a session would work with a professional who has lots of experience working with horses not just in a bodywork setting, but with horses in general.  

Freya's session was scheduled for 10 am and we had an option of where to work with her - in the indoor arena or in her paddock.  I decided that the indoor arena made the most sense.  The session wasn't limited to an hour like the sessions with Mark and Gray, so if horses started moving around outside from their paddocks to sessions with Mark or Gray, I thought Freya might worry.  Whereas, she seemed to be reasonably calm in the indoor arena, especially after my session with Gray the day before.

Gemma led her in to the arena and we met Crissi.  She was exactly like I've seen her on videos with Mark in the online classroom or Facebook.  She seemed like one of those people who is restful to be around and she is kind and thoughtful.  

Crissi started the session with an evaluation of Freya's body.  I didn't get to watch the whole thing because we realized the halter we were using didn't have enough room for her to fully yawn if she needed to, so I went to the trailer to grab a bigger one.  Essentially, though, Crissi seemed to be doing a short version of the Bladder Meridian Technique.  She was looking for problem spots and areas that might need more of her attention.

Then she started working on Freya's neck.  Freya demonstrated the discomfort she has by moving around.  And this was when I got what might one of the top five most useful pieces of advice I've ever gotten when it comes to working with horses.  Crissi said something along the lines of, "It's important to let horses move when they feel like they need to move.  It's the way they manage their discomfort or worry about a situation.  Lots of problems are created when people don't let horses move when they feel like they need to move."

As an example, someone asked Mark about horses that paw and how it should be handled.  Mark said that he used to try to stop the pawing in a variety of ways, but that now, he lets the horse paw, unless there is an issue like the horse is pawing expensive arena footing or there is a safety issue.  He said he does the same thing with horses that like to use their mouths to chew on things.  Again, he said he used to try to stop it, until he started working with Dr. Stephen Peters.  Dr. Peters specializes in equine neuroscience and he explained how important using the mouth to relieve or release tension is for horses.  So Mark says he now tries to let horses chew on something like a lead rope when they need to chew to help them manage their mental state.

As another example, I put this theory to the test after the clinic was over.  Freya was in the wash stall while Gemma was washing her tail.  She got impatient, which she sometimes does, and pawing is one of her primary ways of expressing that impatience.  So she started pawing.  The wash stall has rubber mats, so there was no risk she would dig anything up or cause any problems, so I decided to let her paw and see what happened.  

Another boarder was talking to me at the time, and as soon as Freya started pawing, she actually started to tell Freya no.  (Note: Please do not discipline other people's horses unless you are the one handling them or they are doing something that is directly impacting your safety.  In this case, there was no reason for someone else to intervene, but I think this idea that horses shouldn't be allowed to express themselves has become so ingrained in people that they tell horses no instinctively.)

I interrupted the boarder and explained what I was doing.  And we all watched while Gemma just kept washing Freya's tail and Freya pawed for maybe 20 seconds.  Then she stopped.  And then maybe a minute later she started pawing again, but this time the intensity of the pawing was significantly reduced and she stopped after maybe 5 seconds.  After that, she cocked one hind leg and patiently waited for Gemma to finish washing her tail.  That was pretty cool to see, and I will definitely try to be more aware of ways that I can let the horses I'm working with express themselves and move to help manage their mental state.

But back to the bodywork session with Freya.  She definitely struggled with the bodywork for quite a while.  Crissi stayed with her, though, and let her move around in a small circle for maybe a minute each time she seemed like she needed to move.  Then she would start to ask if Freya could stay still for a few seconds before moving.  And eventually, she got Freya to what I think of as a Zen-like state that I see horses get into when they become very tuned in to the bodywork.  If you are standing next to them or doing the bodywork, you can see and feel them turn inward as they become very aware of how you are touching them and focus their attention on their body.  I wouldn't consider it necessarily relaxed, because there is an intense awareness, but usually a horse that has been moving around and shifting weight and fussing a lot will stop and stand very still.

Crissi wasn't able to go through the entire repertoire of techniques with Freya, because after about an hour, she started to lose her ability to focus.  But I felt like it was such a huge step forward for her, especially after she has struggled with allowing a state of vulnerability and awareness, that I was thrilled.

We took Freya back to her paddock, and I was able to chat with Crissi for awhile.  Crissi's assessment was that she didn't feel any major issues with the work she was able to do, which was good news after Freya's struggle with the health of her feet.  But she did notice how protective Freya was about being touched with intention.  That level of protection is not ideal and probably didn't happen overnight.  Based on Crissi's experience, she thought it meant that there had been some significant length of time where Freya's interactions with humans had not included a sense of consideration for her mental state.  (Note that I'm paraphrasing here, and going off my memory, so I might not be writing this exactly the way Crissi expressed it.)

My takeway was that at some point in her life before we got her, Freya didn't have what she considered to be positive interactions with humans.  It could be tempting to think that maybe she was abused, but I actually don't think that.  Based on my contact with her two previous owners and what I know about how she ended up at the auction we bought her from, my primary working theory is that she ended up in a situation where people had expectations about what she could handle that exceeded her actual abilities.  And when she tried to tell people she was uncomfortable, she was ignored or disciplined.

In all honestly, the story of how she ended up the way she is matters less than that we understand where she is now and come up with a plan to help her get to a better place.  But the reason that I'm focusing on the theory that I am is because I've started paying more and more attention to how the average person interacts with their horse.  And I see a complete disregard for the way a horse feels about something as the norm, plus horses are often disciplined for expressing those feelings. Obviously, there are some safety factors to consider.  There are boundaries that shouldn't be crossed by a 1,000+ pound animal when interacting with humans.  

But there are plenty of things horses do that people try to stop them from doing when it isn't necessary.  Like fidgeting, pawing, chewing, head tossing, even shifting weight.  People seem to expect their horses to stand perfectly still or walk in a certain way, but they don't take into consideration that the way they interact with their horses may have led their horse to think they want something different (like releasing pressure at the wrong time, giving inconsistent cues, or not providing clear direction).  

I have been super guilty of doing all these things myself for probably decades, so this analysis is less of a judgment and more of an observation.  But I can see that an animal who has spent 55 million years evolving into a creature who needs to be highly attuned to its environment and its herdmates to survive must find it very stressful to be around people who don't pay attention to their environment or the animal they are interacting with.  People are on their cell phones while leading their horses.  They are chatting with other people while grooming.  They are day dreaming while riding.

One of the things that I found so interesting about Nimo is that while he had this amazing work ethic under saddle, the second my attention wandered, he would quit working.  He wouldn't start again until he had my full attention.  He very effectively trained me that when I rode, I needed to be focused on him and what we were doing.  (He eventually made some exceptions for me when we were out on the trails for hours at a time, so I could let my attention wander a bit if we were on familiar trails just walking along.)  And paying attention all the time was hard.  I had to build up the mental muscles to do it over a fairly long period of time.  But I learned because Nimo was consistent.  Which tells me a lot about what horses expect and need from their handlers as well as the ability of a horse to understand and maintain focus and awareness.

I don't know that most horses are so good at training their riders, but it occurs to me that even if they don't tell us (or we don't hear them), they still have the same need.  And that the need doesn't disappear when we are working with them on the ground.

I know that since the clinic I have started looking for more ways that I can tune in to the horses I handle and be present when I am working with them.  And I had an interesting experience with Donut as a result.  

Recently, one of the horses in Donut's field started colicking.  Gemma was actually the one who noticed first.  She said it looked like he was trying to pee, but couldn't.  She told me as we were leaving the barn, and I admit that I didn't give as much attention to what she said as I should have.  I was already thinking about getting home and having dinner and enjoying a quiet evening with some time to myself.

But I stopped the truck at the field as we drove out and saw that the horse was now laying down.  Something about the way he was laying didn't look right, so I went out to investigate.  And my conclusion was that he was indeed colicking.  I texted the owner and then got back in my truck and drove back to the barn and resigned myself to a late dinner.  I planned to stay until the owner (who is a friend) got there.

I kept an eye on the horse and when I noticed that he was getting up and then laying down over and over, I asked the owner if I should catch him and try to get him walking.  I wasn't seeing anything violent and I know the guidance on how to handle colic has changed a bit from thinking they need to be constantly walked to letting them stand or even lay down as long as they aren't in danger of physical injury.  But many people still prefer to walk their horses.  The owner said I could try, but not to risk my safety if the horse didn't want to be caught.  He can only be handled reliably by his person (that is a story that isn't mine to tell and would take more than one blog post to explore), although he generally consents to me catching him and leading him. 

Because of the pain he was clearly in, though, he didn't want any humans messing with him, so he made it clear by trying to kick me in the head that he wasn't interested in interacting with me.  Normally, I would discipline that behavior a little more assertively, but in this case, I knew the horse was hurting and defensive.  And honestly, I don't have any skills or training in handling violent horses, so I decided that my goal would be to stay near him and ask him to walk if he looked like he was going to lay down.  My objective was to try to keep him as calm as possible by not getting too close, but to keep him from potentially hurting himself.  

But Donut being Donut decided she wanted to hang out with me.  Right next to me.  And chew on my boots and my hair and basically make a giant pest of herself.  (Yes, I could probably do something about that behavior and over time, I will if she doesn't end it on her own, but she is only 2, and I'm cutting her some slack as long as she doesn't try to use her teeth or do other things that might hurt me.)  And perhaps interestingly, keep herself between me and the colicking horse.  One lady watching said it looked like she was trying to protect me.  I don't have any way of knowing that for sure and your guess is as good as mine.  But Donut stuck to me like glue for over half an hour while I stalked that poor colicking horse and tried to find the sweet spot between asking him to walk but not putting so much pressure on him that he felt defensive.

At one point, the horse seemed to be standing quietly and not trying to lay down, so I let him rest.  Donut was with me, and for maybe 2-3 minutes, we had a connection that felt like what I had with Nimo.  I was worried about the colicking horse, and I felt like a fish out of water trying to handle him from a distance.  Donut stood next to me and rested her head on my shoulder and just stood with me.  Not chewing, not messing with my hair or my clothes.  I'm sure it sounds a bit nuts, but I felt her with me.  Like this mature presence telling me that no matter what happened, I had a friend.

It was an incredible experience and an important reminder that there is so much more complexity to horses than most people get to see and feel.  And it made me think that it was a good thing that Gemma and I went to this clinic, because I think it helped sensitize me to the horses around me and gave me the opportunity to have a connection with Donut that I might not have had otherwise.

A little adventure with Freya, part 2

The drive down to the clinic was pretty uneventful.  I had opted for a slightly longer time on the road in lieu of driving on the interstate, which can be unpredictably backed up and heavy with truck traffic, and it turned out to be a great choice.  It took us about six hours, including a stop for gas and to check on Freya.  She seemed to be taking the trip in stride after her initial irritation at having her plans for the day seriously disrupted.  

When we got to the farm hosting the clinic, I found the owner and asked for details on unloading Freya and parking the trailer.  It was a really nice farm with a great set-up.  We parked next to the paddocks that would be hosting the horses for the clinic and chose one for Freya.  We were one of the first people to arrive, so I worried that the lack of horses in sight would upset Freya.  But she walked off the trailer like she'd always lived there and went straight into her paddock and happily started munching on grass.

The farm was in a beautiful setting with nice paddocks for the horses.

We got water and hay set up for Freya and unloaded the hay and tack trunk from the truck bed and got the trailer organized for the next few days.  After checking on Freya to make sure she was still doing OK, we headed about 15 minutes down the road to our hotel to get checked in.

I had reserved a room at a hotel with kitchenettes so we wouldn't have to go out looking for food and we could focus on the clinic.  We had a little time before the evening session with Mark, so we unpacked our food and supplies and fixed a light dinner before heading back to the farm.

At this point, I was still thinking that it wasn't going to be an issue for Gemma to ride in the clinic.  But when we checked in for the session with Mark, the organizer pulled me aside and explained that Mark was really not comfortable with Gemma participating in the clinic because of her age and that he would prefer if I did the sessions instead.

I was a little bit thrown because I'd already emailed Gemma's experience, and I really thought she'd be OK.  But I can see from Mark's perspective that he didn't know me or Gemma, and I admit that I have seen kids Gemma's age struggle with coordination in the saddle and understanding even basic instructions, even if they have been riding for awhile.  I could tell Gemma was disappointed at the news, but handling it really well.  I asked the organizer if it would be OK to talk to Mark in person about the situation after the session, and she said it would.  I wasn't quite sure how I was going to convince him to let Gemma participate, but I was hoping something would come to me soon...

We spent the next two and a half hours in a Q&A session with Mark.  There were probably 30 - 40 people there and everyone had the opportunity to ask as many and whatever questions they wanted.  Gemma was easily the youngest person there by about 30 years, but everyone was very supportive of her being there.  Even more surprising was that as Gemma listened to the session, she thought of her own question and asked it.  She wanted to know if Mark thought horses could read human minds.  Of course, she already knew the answer is yes, but she was curious about Mark's viewpoint.

As with all of the questions, Mark took her question seriously and provided a thoughtful answer based on some research that had been done.  He said he wasn't sure if horses could read minds, but that research did support some kind of connection.  The study he discussed involved participants who were very scared of horses.  I can't remember all of the details he gave, but the gist of it seemed to be that they put the scared people in a round pen with a horse.  The person was blind-folded and then the person's and the horse's responses were observed.  Again, I can't remember all of the specifics, but I think the researchers found that the horses gave down-regulating signs, like they were trying to help the person feel less scared.  Which is a super interesting result.

I asked Mark how he chooses the horses he buys.  I have a membership to his online classroom, and I've been intermittently following the video series he has done on Top, a horse that he brings to clinics.  And I was curious about how he decided to get that horse.  Because the horse was not without issues, and Mark said he has been working with him for about two years.  He explained that he used to breed and train his own horses, and at one clinic, a woman he was working with expressed a bit of frustration with him as she pointed out that he didn't have to deal with the issues she was dealing with because he bred and trained his own horses.  He said he took her comment to heart and over time eventually sold his breeding stock and started buying horses that had issues like the ones he saw in clinic participant's horses, so he would know exactly what they were dealing with.  I thought that was a pretty impressive thing to do and showed a real commitment to the work that he does.  In the case of Top, he bought the horse off of a video and said he saw something in the way the horse reacted to an error by his rider.  After the mistake, the horse basically just shook it off and went on his way.  Mark said he liked that reaction because it meant the horse could experience stress and then quickly get back to a good mental state.

After the session was over, it was about 8:30 pm.  Gemma and I had been up since 6 am, we'd been on the road for six hours, we had gotten Freya settled in, checked ourselves into our hotel and eaten dinner, and sat through a two and a half hour session.  I knew Gemma was done in for the day, but I really wanted to see if I could find a way to resolve Mark's concern about Gemma's participation.  Zero bright ideas had come to me about how to do that, but I approached him anyway.

I introduced myself and explained the situation and asked if it would be OK to talk about it.  Mark said it would.  So I went through the same points I'd made in my email about her having taken lessons for three years, that she rides multiple horses in multiple disciplines, that some of the instruction she gets is focused on her coordination in the saddle and that she has been working with an instructor on more complicated things like balance of the horse.  While I was talking, Gemma came up to us.  

Mark turned to her and started asking her questions about her experience, her horse, and what she hoped to learn.  And I thought she did great.  She answered all of his questions.  She was enthusiastic and honest.  And I guess she did what I couldn't.  She convinced Mark that she should be allowed to ride with him.  We decided that I would do the session with Mark's student instructor the next day (Friday) and Gemma would participate in the session with Mark on Sunday.

I was so relieved that we'd been able to find a solution, and I had my first good night's sleep in a long time that night.

The next morning we were up at 6:30.  We got ready and packed snacks and then headed out to the farm.  We found Freya in good shape and fed her breakfast and picked manure from the paddock.  At about 9, we headed to the outdoor arena where Gray, Mark's student instructor would be working with people and horses.  I didn't know anything about her, although Mark had explained that he was very selective about his student instructors.  If my memory is correct, there are only eight of them.

Taking instruction from someone I don't know is super hard for me.  Not because I don't want to listen or try the techniques they suggest, but because it is hard for me to trust and communicate with someone I don't know.  To help me do better in my session, I wanted to watch Gray work, so I could get a better idea of what to expect when my session came up.

I really enjoyed watching her.  She was pleasant and focused on working with her student, and she would throw in the occasional joke as well as check her audience to see if they had questions.  Observing her teach definitely helped me feel better about my session with her, which would be that afternoon.

Being nine, Gemma didn't have the attention span to watch lesson after lesson all day, so after the first lesson and half the second, we moved back to checking on Freya and then we went back to the hotel for lunch.  My session was scheduled for 2 pm, so we came back at about 1 to make sure there was enough time to get ready.

I wouldn't be riding Freya - I hadn't even brought a saddle or a helmet.  I knew that any work I did with her would be on the ground.  As I've written before, I really felt like she had a fundamental issue that needed to be resolved with the bracing she was doing, so I wanted to start on the ground first.

We ended up working in one end of the indoor arena while Mark did a session at the other end.  It was at least a full-size dressage arena, so there was plenty of room.  I knew the work we would be doing wouldn't require a huge amount of space, and I thought Freya would be more comfortable if she could see other horses.

When I walked her into the arena, I could tell she was a little nervous.  She wanted to look around a lot and stop and then walk.  I gave her the opportunity to do that while we waited for our time, thinking I was doing the right thing to help her figure out her surroundings.  I later learned that I wasn't helping her as much as I thought I was. 

At this point, I'm going to freely admit that while I have spent decades of my life learning to be a better rider, I have spent very little time actively trying to improve my horsemanship skills.  As a rider, I've still got a lot to learn, but I also feel confident enough in my skills to say that I can classify myself as a good rider.  I don't think I have the skill set to work horses that need special handling, but I think I could ride most horses that don't have serious issues without getting myself into trouble.

Comparatively speaking, the amount I know about how to handle horses on the ground is pretty minimal.  I've been able to get by because I generally interact with horses that have basic skills and good temperaments.  I've read a lot and watched a lot of videos on handling horses.  But when it comes to practical experience with an expert instructor, I've got almost nothing.

Which is one reason I wanted to go to this clinic.  I need to move beyond a theoretical understanding and start using the techniques I've been reading about and watching.  But I know that I need an expert to help me.

So when it was my time to work with Gray and she asked me what I wanted to work on, I explained that I felt like Freya had this low level of worry that I wanted to help her with.  And I mentioned that when I ask her to do something, like back up or move over, she has trouble giving just one step.  Instead, she moves a lot of steps, as if she is compelled to move.  I also pointed out that she was having trouble standing still.

Gray watched me handle Freya and asked a couple of follow up questions, and then she asked if she could work with Freya for a bit.  I willingly turned over the lead rope and watched.

I know I've written about my concern about leading a horse from in front before.  I did some work with Donut on it a few months after I got her and I found it to be very disconcerting and anxiety inducing.  But I had noticed that everyone at this clinic was leading their horses from in front.  And it was clear that after Gray worked with Freya for a few minutes that Freya was perfectly comfortable being led from in front.  Not only that, but her anxiety and trouble standing still was completely resolved.

I learned to lead horses from the side.  In fact, I spent several of my teenage years practicing for showmanship at halter for 4-H shows, which required the handler to be in a certain position on the side of the horse while leading.  What I discovered at this clinic is that leading from the side may be OK after you've mastered leading from the front, but that it isn't where you start.  One of statements I heard over and over at this clinic was that horses need direction from their handlers.  Not giving direction can get you into all sorts of trouble.  In Freya's case, not telling her where I wanted her to be was likely causing her some anxiety or at least not relieving any anxiety that she currently felt.

I was definitely having a moment or two as I processed not only the idea that I may have spent the last almost four decades of my life looking at something as basic as leading a horse in the wrong way, but also that I may have caused myself and my horses unnecessary difficulty because I had never learned a better way to lead.

Gray was not to be deterred from her attempt to help me improve, though, and she gave me back the lead rope so I could practice.  It turns out that the person Mark should have interviewed to see if she could handle the clinic was me, not Gemma:)  My timing was awful, and I struggled to let go of my own bracing as I worked with Freya.  We did eventually get the essentials of it, though, and I found that if I could lead so that the horse was positioned just behind me instead of several feet behind me, I didn't have any worry about being run over by accident if the horse spooked.  One thing that I initially struggled with was the use of the lead rope and making a noise to indicate to Freya that she was in the wrong place.  The most common technique is to swing the lead rope in front of (not at) the horse and make a "shhhhhh" sound to indicate the horse needs to move either away or back from the handler.  My coordination being virtually non-existent and also being a bit self-conscious hindered my early efforts.

The next thing we worked on was addressing Freya's bracing.  We started with the halter and just putting a gentle pressure backward on the lead rope.  The goal wasn't to ask Freya to back up, it was to ask her to soften through her poll, even the slightest bit.  Again, Gray had to start off the exercise, and what she found was the same thing I did.  Freya was very responsive but she didn't understand how to soften.  She started backing her way around the arena, not understanding that she was being asked to soften.

It took awhile - maybe 10 minutes - for Gray to help Freya understand what was being asked.  Gray pointed out that sometimes (probably a lot of times if we are going to be honest) when horses are trained, the training only requires that the horse moves its feet, not that it does the movement with softness.  So bracing or pushing into pressure becomes what the horse thinks it is supposed to do.  It could also be that Freya's reaction developed over time due to inconsistent or uneducated riding.  And Gemma and I had been reinforcing it simply because I wasn't sure how to change the response.  And I doubt I could have done it as diligently and accurately as Gray did.

After Freya understood that the pressure was asking her to soften, Gray turned her back over to me to practice.  Again, my timing sucked and I struggled a bit, but I did get to the point where Gray felt we could move on to the next step.

We swapped Freya's halter for her bridle and Gray worked with her again.  This time applying slight pressure to both reins to ask her to soften her poll.  And by slight I mean something like a quarter pound of pressure.  Just enough so the contact was stable and steady.  It took some time for Freya to grasp what was meant, but eventually she did, and then I practiced with her.  Interestingly, I realized that I might have had an easier time had I been riding, because my coordination in the saddle is much better than it is on the ground.  But as you'll discover, this ended up being good practice for Gemma's session with Mark.  I also want to note that the response Gray was looking for was very subtle.  It could be seen by a careful observer, but it was more of a feeling than anything else.  The movement Freya gave was very slight.  Maybe just an inch of her nose moving in.  The change was really in the way she softened through her poll just a little.

This was the subtlety that I felt was most appropriate for her.  In my Science of Motion work, we had worked toward the same type of goal of yielding through the poll, but the intensity of what was expected was too much for Freya and it worried her.  The softness we were looking for with Gray didn't worry her.  She didn't soften at first not because she was worried but because she simply didn't know what we were asking.

All too soon, our hour with Gray was up.  I felt like I learned so much, though, and that I could now see a way forward with Freya that could help her.

The other benefit was that Gemma had been watching carefully.  She had made herself at home in the arena, befriending another lady who was watching the session.  By the time Freya and I were done, Gemma and her new friend were comfortably seated next to each other on the floor of the arena, actively engaged in a conversation.

Gemma immediately started practicing the leading technique as she walked Freya back to her paddock.  And her timing was already better than mine.

A little adventure with Freya, part 1

"I need a drink!" Gemma exclaimed as she took a swig of her emergency stash of chocolate milk.  I nodded in commiseration and said, "I need a donut!"  Thankfully, I had the foresight to buy an extra Boston Kreme donut the day before, and I reached for the bag next to the driver's seat as my heart rate settled back into its normal rhythm.  

We had just survived the most unusual route thanks to my erratic navigation app, and we were now apparently on the right interstate headed in the right direction toward home, my trailer full of a probably confused Freya in tow.

The events that led to this more-exciting-than-I-really-wanted drive started back in October, when I found out about a clinic in North Carolina with my favorite horseman.  Well, actually, maybe they really started back in February 2003.

Back then, I was still fairly new to northern Virginia.  I had a cute six-year-old Appaloosa named Preacher, and I imagined that he was going to be with me for the next twenty plus years.  He had a mild, intermittent lameness that several vets had been unable to diagnose, but I was confident that it was something minor that we would figure out over time or that would resolve on its own.

I had become friends with a lady who was a big fan of a guy named Mark Rashid.  He had published at least a couple of books by then, and my friend thought they were gold.  She worked as a barn manager for a stable that had 50 lesson horses plus about 15 boarded horses, and she was always looking for ways to handle the horses better and easier.  She found out about a clinic that he would be at and it was only about a two hour drive, so she encouraged me to sign up with Preacher and she would be taking her horse.  The clinic filled fast, and we snagged the last two spots for our horses.

Even though we registered in February, the clinic wouldn't be held until October (I think - my memory is a bit fuzzy on the exact timing).  By then, so much had happened in my life.  Preacher was diagnosed with a fairly advanced case of navicular disease in April and the condition of his feet got worse and worse.  In June, the unthinkable happened, he shattered his hock when he was turned out in the pasture, and it was not something that could be repaired.  I watched while the life ebbed out of a very special horse when the vet came to put him down in the field, because he couldn't walk.

Despite my extreme grief over Preacher's loss, I knew that I would want another horse in the future.  So I held on to my stall at the stable I'd been boarding him, much to the irritation of the owner and probably other potential boarders.  It was then, and still is now, very hard to get stalls at good facilities, and when you do get a stall you only let it go if you absolutely have to.  So I was under a bit of pressure to find another horse to fill the stall. (I was still paying full board, but I guess seeing an empty stall really bothered the owner, and he started sounding like he would force me to let it go if I didn't get a horse soon.)

So I spent weeks looking for a horse.  I eventually decided I really wanted a Friesian yearling.  I would have been happy with an older Friesian, but the price of yearlings was the best my budget could do.  So I think it was about the beginning of August when I made an offer on a yearling named Hjalte.  He was sweet and seemed to have basic skills.  The seller accepted my offer, we signed a purchase agreement, and I transferred the purchase amount to her bank.

And once the money was transferred, I got a frantic call from the seller saying she'd decided she couldn't sell the yearling after all.  It was a bit of a mess, but I did get my money back.  I was definitely soured on dealing with private sellers after that experience, though.

So I turned my attention to a farm in Maryland that had lots of Friesians for sale, and whose business was actually selling them.  I felt more confident in the sales process, and the farm had two yearlings, a filly and a colt, for sale.  I ended up choosing the colt, who was a bit of a handful, but who had a huge personality and a clear love of people.  I made an offer, which was accepted, and then all of a sudden I had a horse again.  His registered name was Geronimo f/t Friesian Conn., but he seemed like a Nimo to me.  So that is what I decided to call him.

Nimo needed to be gelded before coming back to my barn, so arrangements were made, and the surgery was performed.  I was there, and it was hot and sweltering and there were a few complications.  In the end, Nimo was fine, but I admit to no small amount of anxiety while he was healing.

Once he was healed and vaccinated and his hooves were trimmed, a friend came with me to pick him up and haul him to his new home.  One of the first things that I discovered after we got him home was that he had a little trouble leading.  It wasn't so much that he didn't know how.  He did.  It was that he didn't always feel like moving forward.  And that was creating a bit of a problem at the stable.  The stable was a hybrid self-care situation.  Various boarders would do chores like feeding and turnout in exchange for a reduction in board, but boarders were responsible for cleaning their horses' stalls and providing hay and feed.  So the boarders were having a little trouble leading Nimo out to his field.  They solved this problem by feeding him treats with every step.  Sigh...Even then, that horse could con food out of people faster than you could blink.

I knew I had a problem that needed to be solved quickly and that's when my friend reminded me that I had signed up for the clinic with Mark Rashid.  I had forgotten about it in all the events that had happened, and to be honest, I wasn't really that confident that some random horse guy was going to be able to fix this problem.  On the other hand, I really needed Nimo to lead better or he was going to weigh 2,000 pounds in six months with all those treats.

So just two or three weeks after I had brought Nimo to the barn, we headed off to the clinic.  He did great at loading in the trailer, he was easy to haul, and he had no trouble going to a new place.  He was with my friend's horse, who he knew a little from playtime in the arena, so he had a friend, but he didn't worry about being separated from her.

When it was time for our session, I managed to get Nimo into the round pen where we'd be working and showed Mark the problem.  You'd be walking along with Nimo, and then he would just stop, and no amount of finagling would get him going until he was ready.  Mark watched for a few minutes and then suggested a solution - every time Nimo stopped, I would turn around and start acting like a crazy person.  I would be jumping up and down, waving my arms, and yelling.  Well, I can tell you who I thought the crazy person was about then.

But I'd paid a bunch of money and we were already there, so I gave it a try (or maybe Mark did it first and showed me how it worked...again, my memory is a bit fuzzy).  Anyway, Nimo was very responsive to the technique.  It took about 10 or 15 minutes before I got my timing right, and then we were in business.  I vaguely remember using the technique maybe a handful of times more after the clinic, but it didn't take long before Nimo was an equine good citizen about being led to and from his field.

I ended up auditing a couple of clinics with Mark in future years, but I didn't have the resources to pay for a full clinic session, and I wasn't that sure what we would work on.  By the time I realized that I could use some help from Mark and I had the money to pay for it, he wasn't coming to that location or any other location that felt close enough to haul to.  And I also had discovered Science of Motion, and for a long time, I really thought that was the right path for us.  (I still think it was, but I think a few tips from Mark would have helped us immeasurably, and I really regret not seeking out a clinic with him before Nimo died.)  I read all Mark's books over the years, of course, but for me, reading and doing are not even in the same universe, so the information has felt mostly theoretical.  Until recently.

Back in October, I stumbled across a Facebook post by a lady hosting a Mark Rashid clinic in North Carolina.  Well, much of North Carolina is within a decent hauling distance, so I mapped the location and discovered that it was about a five hour drive.  Because of all the hauling I used to do for endurance rides, that didn't feel intimidating, and I immediately emailed the clinic organizer and snagged the last available session with Mark, plus a session with his student trainer, Gray, and a bodywork session with Mark's wife, Crissy McDonald, who has become certified in the Masterson Method.

I was elated.  Even though the clinic was too late to help Nimo and me, it wasn't too late to help my daughter, Gemma, and her horse, Freya.  Freya has been going through her own saga, but at the time I registered for the clinic, I was seeing a lot of bracing in response to pressure.  Like tensing when Gemma put contact, even light contact, on the reins.  I also noticed that while she was incredibly responsive to requests to move on the ground, she was bracing through her response.  For example, if I asked her to back up, she would immediately back 6 steps, but she didn't seem able to soften or yield to the contact.  She also seemed incapable of backing one step at a time, no matter how softly I asked.

I knew that the bracing was a fundamental problem that needed to be resolved before we could advance with her.  I also knew how I would approach it if I was the one riding her, but I wasn't quite sure how to handle it on the ground.  I tried a technique that I watched Mark do with a new horse in his online classroom, and I just couldn't get my timing right.  Plus Gemma was the one riding her, and I didn't think she possessed the feel or the patience to work through the issue under saddle the way I would.

So I put my faith in Mark for the clinic and tried to tread water with Freya until then.  As it happened, she ended up with a chronic thrush infection in all four of her hooves.  I didn't realize it was thrush at first, because it happened during our dry fall.  And there was no odor or oozing fluid.  But she started looking sore on her feet.  I was thinking I was going to have to put shoes on, when my instructor checked her feet and noticed that she had cracks in the bulbs of her heels.  I felt incredibly ignorant, having owned a horse that never had much trouble with hoof infections, and I didn't know that heel cracks are a sign of a sometimes deep infection that can be really painful.

Once I knew, I immediately started treating, but the infection was unresponsive to several highly recommended products.  Finally, I stumbled on a product called No Thrush that is a powder, which was just what I needed as winter came in full force and temperatures were often below freezing, so liquid and gel products couldn't be used.  No Thrush did heal the cracks in Freya's hind feet in about a month, but the front cracks were stubborn, and I ended up doing a round of Today (an antibiotic for mastitis in cows).  That resolved one of the front cracks and made a significant difference in the other.  But I think it is going to be an issue for awhile.  At least Freya doesn't seem sore anymore.

I had pulled her out of ridden work for two months, because she was so sore from her feet that her lumbar area and neck also became quite sore.  I had the chiropractor come out once a month to help with the soreness, and finally, during our early February session, it looked like Freya was starting to feel better.  Shortly after that, I did a lunging lesson with my instructor, and she was moving so much better.

So I put Gemma back on her for short walking sessions for a couple of weeks, and then we added trot back in.  And it was clear that the braciness was still there.  Gemma was able to help work it out intermittently, but I felt we needed a better plan and a more structured approach that made sense to Gemma and Freya.  I should say that I don't think the approaches that were being taken by either of the other instructors we were working with were right for Freya at that time.  Freya's problem was so ingrained in her, we needed to find a very gentle way of chipping away at it without triggering her threshold for feeling anxiety.  Science of Motion techniques were too intense when used by me or Gemma.  I think if my instructor was the one working with Freya, it would be OK, because my instructor has years and years and years worth of experience that we do not have.  But the reality is that Gemma and I are the ones working with her, and we need to find techniques that work for us and Freya.  Luckily, we were scheduled for Mark's clinic.

So on Thursday, March 3, we loaded the truck and trailer, and hauled Freya down to North Carolina.  As I drove, I reflected that I really didn't know what to expect from Freya.  She is generally easy to handle, even if she is worried about something, and I knew she'd been hauled to shows before we got her.  But none of that meant that she would be OK at the clinic.  We were staying four nights, and that is a lot of time for a horse to handle being away from home.  And kind of a lot for a nine-year-old kid too.  But I knew in my heart that this clinic was the best chance for us to find a way through Freya's bracing.

What I didn't realize when we left was that while I knew Gemma would be able to handle a lesson with Mark, Mark was skeptical, so Gemma's participation in the clinic was by no means assured...