I FEEL YOUR @%*&*#!

Is it just me or do normally sweet horses morph into a cranky Mr. Hyde alter ego in winter? I feel their pain, really I do; nothing can dampen spirits like the Pacific NW in January--dark, cold, and wet, wet, wet. Thinking a Costco "happy light" is in order--for me and my boys in the barn! I notice the horses look more forward to feeding time in winter and even just taking them out of the paddock/barn and giving them a good grooming can lighten the Mr. Hyde mood that takes over on days of unrelenting rain.

Soon I will be able to talk more openly about my current book project (the one stealing most of my creative energies these days). I can't wait until the first drafts are finished and publication is around the corner. For now, I'll be content with sharing some general thoughts and look forward to any feedback.

One of the topics the work explores is the shared emotions of horses and humans. This begs the question, Do horses have emotions? I say there is no doubt, but for those that aren't sure check out the work of Temple Grandin and neuroscientist Jaak Panskeep. It's been pretty well proven that the basic emotions of humans--including fear and anger--are shared by all mammals. How do we know? By stimulating specific emotion circuits deep in the limbic region of the brain predictible behavior is the result--ie: Rage circuit makes a dog snarl and the human feel angry, etc.

With that in mind, I've been watching my very emotional (yet introverted) stallion more closely and trying to listen, not just react, to what he tells me with his behavior. Of course I have a story for you:

A few days ago I returned from a day long gaming show with my daughter (it took hours for my butt to defrost--wintertime arenas contain a brand of "cold" found nowhere else on earth). Poor Cowboy--sporting a five inch winter coat and case of the winter flabbies--had worked hard. I thought it appropriate to reward him later with an apple. Since he and Eli share a paddock/stall I figured I'd share the apple between them. When Eli saw me enter the barn and approach the stall, he immediately turned tail and walked off. I felt snubbed. Gee, I haven't seen you all day and you give me attitude?? Well, fine. I fed the entire apple to nice Dr. Jekyll and ignored Mr. Hyde who had returned and hung at the back of the stall watching. And grumbling. He did not approach and I did not look at him--Take that. I have other horses that enjoy my attention. When I began cleaning stalls it became apparent Eli was angry with me. Really angry. He seemed to want to come into my space but I was less than enthusiastic about sharing it with an amped up stallion that wanted to give me a piece of his mind. At one point he walked in to the stall, backed up to the wall, and shook his head at me with ears pinned. Not okay. I made an ugly sound, raised my hand and said, "Well get out of here then." We were a good ten feet apart but just the sight of my raised hand made Eli rush out of the stall like I'd beaten him with a whip. Now he was pissed and offended. It took maybe 15 mintutes for him to come near me again. Eventually he walked back in the stall and stood, his head down, ears struggling at half mast, about six feet away as I worked. Negative energy radiated from his body yet he seemed to want to have a conversation. As long as I didn't touch him (or stare at him!) he wanted to share space. Curious. A couple of years ago I would have dealt severely with an angry horse. Not by physical punishment but by making him work until I saw a level of submission. I was still ready to do this, should I see any aggressiveness, but this horse has never threatened me and the behavior was atypical so I decided to try to decipher what his emotion was telling me. I left the barn confused and curious. I'd managed to soothe his anger a little by singing to him (he enjoys this) but he remained aloof and tolerated the nightly blanketing only because he had to.

The next day I approached when I saw him watching me from the pasture. I waited for him by the fence line. "Dr. Jekyll" walked over all sweet and affectionate. I rubbed his neck, then produced another apple from my pocket--oh joy!

A friend shared some thoughts with me later. She suggested I pay closer attention to the environment before engaging with him and be sure I wasn't obtuse to any horsey "social culture" going on. Horses aren't people but they do have an animal culture and seem to appreciate when we respect boundaries and show some sensitivity. Of course, stallions have unique social issues to consider and I have more to learn here. And the issue of respect of boundaries is huge--especially for a stud. It is never okay for a horse to threaten or hurt me--bite, push, kick, etc. This is a very firm boundary for which there are swift consequences. That said, I find I jump too quickly to assumption--That horse is trying to dominate me; doesn't like me; is just being a "jerk." I find those scenarios are much more rare than I imagine. The horse is, after all, just a horse. He has his own life, agenda, needs, and emotions. Listening for the message behind the behavior should be the first step I think. What do you think?

I'm not sure what was going on that dark, wet afternoon. A few things I considered later: It was a day for Mr. Hyde to show itself in bored, underworked horses; I'd immediately assumed Eli was snubbing me by leaving(human beings, especially women I think, project emotion onto their horses that often doesn't exist) and decided to snub him back; I fed a subordinate horse a special treat. The last thing is rather huge to a stallion who places more value on things like who eats first and who moves who. Usually I always feed him first, honoring the pecking order that exists with two other geldings. I didn't know he was angry--and perhaps he wasn't--until after the apple feeding. He could have left for any number of reasons when I walked in the barn.

I don't like to anthropomorphize, but its interesting to "decode" horse behavior. It seems too often we don't want them to be too expressive becauses we worry about control. Safety is important, no doubt. In no way should pushy, aggresive behavior at feed time--or any time--be tolerated. Not saying that at all. But just what was Eli saying? Hopefully I'll listen more closely next time. And I may decide to buy that happy light.

HIDE OR SEEK

The first Bible verse that tacked itself to my brain cells was memorized at age seven. The daughter of a pastor, scripture had an important roll in my childhood, but I don’t remember being particularly excited by Bible reading. I do remember a certain Sabbath school contest and my small mind expanding to record multiple verses for a magnificent grand prize: a beautiful set of colored pencils. I worked hard to memorize a boatload of verses I cannot recall today. All except one: Ask and it shall be given you; seek and you shall find; knock and it shall be opened unto you.

Spoken by Jesus, Matthew 7:7 echoed in my cranium long after the colored pencils were worn down to nubs. For me it has trumped other more popularly memorized verses—such as John 3:16—every time. God knew his child of small faith and large fear needed a promise to remember always: Seeking is rewarded.

Currently I am doing much reading/research in preparation for a literary project and recently began Animals Make Us Human by autistic scientist Temple Grandin. Grandin shares fascinating research into the emotions of mammals including discoveries by neuroscientist Dr. Jaak Panksepp. Panksepp considers seeking—curiosity, wanting something, investigating—an emotion. Also called the “Christmas emotion,” seeking is is anticipation of good things. It energizes and motivates.

Clicker training is all about seeking. Especially when variable reward is introduced and the animal has to try various behaviors as it seeks the “well done” click and cooresponding reward. I’m pretty sure Chance has avoided much seeking over the course of a largely pathetic existence. His life had been small and fearful and unpredictable. This produced a horse that alternated between lashing out in anger and hiding in fear. How much of his behavior is due to inbred wiring and how much is due to lack of nurturing/care I’ll never know. It really doesn’t matter.

I do know he has lived with me in a state of constant vigilance. Remove him from his safety zone of stall and medium sized paddock and he is on alert for terror of all kinds—a saddle pad on fence, a man jogging down the road, every move of the horses in the field behind him. As a family member said, “He’s scared of his own shadow.” This has not stopped us from riding him, but his mental state makes for an unpredictable horse (and the need for a Velcro butt). Clicker training is a last resort as I cling to a shred of hope Chance’s brain will make new neuropathways and he can develop a thinking habit rather then a reactive one.

Our first clicker sessions of ten or fifteen minutes were not real encouraging. Chance has an extremely short attention span. It took a long time for him to understand the click and link it to a reward. Often he’d lose interest and move away, looking off into space or nipping at non-existent grass with his teeth. The reward of grain or carrots didn’t seem enough motivation to inspire seeking behavior. At that point I’d simply leave and try again later. When one is used to using negative motivation to train it can be frustrating when the animal is unresponsive. Sometimes I wondered about his intelligence.

Without a doubt I have noticed an increase in Chance’s attention span over the last two months of experimentation. The list of behaviors I am shaping in him currently include these: head down for extensive periods of time, come on cue, follow a target, responding to “touch” on various objects and “push.” Most recently we began working on moving his feet calmly, one step at a time, when touched with a whip. He now follows me like a dog and tries various behaviors on his own to see if they will elicit a click. The head down is particularly funny because it is the one he uses most often when he isn’t sure what else to do. He’ll approach, bob his head, then hang it inches from the ground and wait. For a horse that spooks at dirt clods this adrenalin lowering activity is quite useful.

I nearly saw his thoughts the day Chance discovered the difference between “touch” and “push.” I’d set up a white canister and small buckets to practice touch, sometimes insisting he touch several on cue before getting a reward. For “push” I added a hand motion. It took a few days before Chance made the connection between the canister falling over and getting a click rather then just touching it with his lips. I began adding rocks so the canister was heavier and thus took more effort on his part. I didn’t want it to be accidental when he pushed it over. At first he became frustrated. I was encouraged that he did not give up or disengage as before but continued moving the object with his lips while I waited. When it tipped over I told him “good” and clicked. The light bulb blinked on at that moment. When I asked again to “push” he immediately pushed the weighted canister over and even pushed the buckets with wide bases that took more effort. He seemed very pleased with himself. Watching an animal’s pleasure in discovery—something scientists would have mocked a few years ago—is amazing. Seeking simply feels good.

Confident in our training for the day, I stroked Chance’s neck and told him he was a very good boy. Before I could gather up my silly training devices, he returned to the canister and knocked it over again for good measure. I clicked and rewarded. Seek and you will find.