Liberty

With Rock, I practiced “sending with draw” tonight and sort of got the hang of how it works. I tried to keep the right balance of intensity, rest, variety, and mosey. And I kept to my re-instated policy of no cookies if you’re frisking me for them, no cookies for easy stuff, and yes cookies if you stand parallel to the fence and stay there while I rest my legs on you. At one point while I had a leg on him he began to paw vigorously. I have no idea if it was frustration at not getting 15 more cookies or if it was an invitation to get on his back — kind of a “get on already and let’s go do something” impatience.

I wanted to slide onto him at that point, but something held me back. Not fear. But anxiety. I don’t think he would bolt or buck or rear, as he’s never done any of those things with me on him, and in fact even if he spooks, he spooks in place first. He has always taken care of me when I’m on him. In fact, once when I started to slip, he shrugged me back into the saddle.

Yet, tonight, I realized that I didn’t trust him! How can I expect him to trust me, if I don’t trust him?  My hesitation was more that I’m not sure if I would hurt him, as he has no muscle tone in his back, and his front feet are (as usual) a bit off. And yet, I did not trust him to let me know simply by wincing. I felt like I had no idea how he would react, if I eased myself up there and accidentally prodded his tender spots.

I sat there on the fence panel for a long time, while he stood parallel and licked the railings in that meditative way that he does. What did I really think he would do? Worst case, couldn’t I just slide off? (Maybe not easily, in those full-seat Polartec breeches.) In all the time I’ve been developing this partnership, he has never done anything that threatened my safety. Ever. Even on The Walk, even once long ago when we were brand new and he was terrified of a tractor, he was aware of where I stood and did not run over or through me.

I wonder what he was thinking about while he massaged his tongue on the rails and while I thought deeply about trust.

When I brought Salsa in to play with figure 8 and our first level 2 touch-it, Rocky did not want to relinquish the pedestal. I had to drive him away three times before he stayed at a safe distance. (The look on his face was priceless, too.  “That’s MY platform!”)

Salsa did the figure 8 just fine, even with the cavaletti in the middle, all of 10 inches high. He also caught on real fast that pawing the pedestal doesn’t count but getting two feet on it does.

I risked allowing Rocky to step up there too, with me between them, and then I drove them both off.

I experimented some more with encouraging their ideas (“you wanna go that way? great! go that way faster!”) and with Rocky, sending with some draw in my aura; if I got even a quarter circle with the bend in his body and his facial expression saying “when do I get to come in?” I invited him in. And when he went out a little wider and a little wilder and didn’t look at me, I kept my energy up to move him until he did look at which point I instantly relaxed into friendly invitation — and he came in, all three times. By the end of our session he managed almost a complete circle with good focus on me and not breaking gait. I was so proud, especially as we were in the covered arena (too big but with sodium vapor lights), not the round pen (right size but pitch black).

Rock has been galloping around bucking like a yearling during the first few minutes of his turnout with Salsa in the arena, so yesterday I decided to take my Australian saddle out there and see if it fits him and if so, get back to our freestyle patterns. Early last year Jenni and I tried it and it seemed pretty good for him but felt odd for us. Now that I evaluate it with my Parelli-opened eyes, I think it is going to be a good “balance point” saddle.

While he and Salsa concentrated on rolling and investigating all the obstacles for cookies, I dragged every pole out and let it fall some what haphazardly, although generally in a north-to-south direction. I also moved some barrels out and spread the tarp flat. Rock doesn’t know where his feet are and he doesn’t pick them up very high either, so for a while I’m going to try scattering stuff around. Not specifically to play with, but to be there in hopes of teaching him his responsibility #4: look where you are going.

I let him play for a while longer and when he started looking to me for ideas, I suggested that he get on the pedestal with all four feet. Just a soft point with a finger, and a firm picture in my mind of what I wanted. He got right on up and waited for his treat.

He is solid now with getting the front feet up there but still seems to be lifting his back feet and putting them down at random, until they’re on the platform. He will end up with the toe of one hoof barely on the wood or halfway in the crack between two slats of wood. When he gets down, he picks up a front foot and kind of paws it around until it finds the sand, whether that’s in front of him or to one side, and then he leans forward and keeps picking up feet in turn until they are all on the sand. I need to get this on video, because it’s funny, even though it’s kind of sad.

I let him stay there for a while–he really does like it up there!–and then suggested he stick to me. We walked a circuit around the arena, stepping over poles or walking between them. (I didn’t care which route he chose as long as he stuck to me, as the goal here is for him to watch his step, not to jump poles.) When we were lined up with the pedestal, I said “let’s trot!” and we jogged up and put two feet on the platform. He got a treat and we hung out there for a long time, watching the ranch.

We did another circuit in that direction and then one going the other way. I finished up with a zig zag all over the arena, including poles, barrels, and tarps, and ended with all four feet on the pedestal while I sat on the fence near his head.

He was so good through all of this that I decided not to push it with re-introducing freestyle. I really really really really want to ride, but I know that the transition back to saddling might bring up some Issues, and I had the wit to accept the perfect liberty session and end things while he still wanted more. I’m under no illusions, I know right now the treats are 97% of his motivation, but Linda says that “pretty soon” I will learn to be more interesting than the treats if I just follow the program.

I played with Salsa a little bit at liberty, just a few hindquarter and forehand yields, and then I cleaned all four feet. At liberty. He did so well! He still worries about the left hind, so I made sure to say “okay” and put it down quickly, wait, then have him lift it again for one stroke with the pick, then back down.  I can tell from his posture that it’s not emotional resistance, it’s a physical soreness or stiffness, and I think that allowing him to set it down and rest from time to time is building trust.

Next on-line session for Salsa will start with figure 8 and introduce the level 2 touch-it! And I need to rake out that round pen so Rocky and I can get moving on the official liberty patterns.