The Little Red Roan, Revisited posted 5/15/2008 11:49:42 PM | 14 kudos what's this?     report abuse tagged: horses, trust, fear, understanding

redtigr

To be loved by a horse, or by any animal, should fill us with awe-
for we have not deserved it. ~ Marion Garretty

It’s been a few months since I wrote about my little red roan mare, Rita. We’ve passed the winter in our wary dance and I’ve held off reporting on the small increments of her progress – or mine – depending upon one’s perspective. I realize I was thinking any day, any week, there would be a breakthrough; an obvious turn-about that would warm everyone’s heart and give me a sense of accomplishment. And so I waited.

Meanwhile, I developed a few problems of my own that cut down on my ability to spend time working with Rita. A “falling arch” has made riding a painful and chancy affair at best – and when that is combined with the recurrence of an inflamed herniated disc – well... it’s been go to work – then get home and prone. So, most of our time has been while I'm feeding or grooming one or more of the horses. This is not a bad thing. In fact, quiet time, during which I ask little of Rita except that she tolerates my presence and touch, is exactly what is needed to gain her confidence. But Rita has ideas of her own; ideas put there by mishandling or abuse.

If your horse says no, you either asked the wrong question, or asked the question wrong. ~Pat Parelli

I don’t normally leave halters on my horses out in the pasture as they might snag on a branch or fence post. When Rita arrived last October, I was advised by her former owner to leave the halter on for a couple of weeks to insure that I could catch her. (It’s much easier to clip on a lead rope than to halter a head-shy horse.) But Rita fooled me. She wasn’t difficult to catch at all; in fact she would follow me about and nicker to be fed. I removed the halter. Within a couple of weeks she figured out that all she need do to avoid being touched was to stay an arm’s length away. Once haltered, or busy with her feed, she would allow me to run my hands over her and groom her without threatening to bite me, (as in the beginning) but in the pasture she would no longer allow me to touch her.

If you act like you've only got fifteen minutes, it'll take all day. Act like you've got all day and it'll take fifteen minutes. ~ Monty Roberts

The time came for the farrier to return and I was filled with dread. I’d made little progress in getting Rita to “give” me her feet. Sometimes she’d allow me to work with her fronts, but with my back problem, I was nervous about pushing too much for her to yield the hinds. She would dance away and pull back and become a nervous wreck. I considered having the farrier skip her, but her toes were getting long and really needed trimming – so I told Kevin he was free to sedate her.

Kevin arrived early last Thursday for the six horse trim. For obvious reasons he wanted to do the others first and they were all on their best behavior. When it was time to trim Paloma, the donkey jenny, I cross-tied Rita adjacent to the trimming pen since Rita and Paloma get on well. I hoped this would have a calming affect on the little red roan. It seemed to work, as she stood quietly while Kevin worked on Paloma’s hard little hooves. And now it’s Rita’s turn.

She knows. As Kevin approaches, she quivers; ears flicking back and forth, every muscle tensed for flight. I watch from a few feet away, remembering the last time – hoping with all my might that weeks of gentle handling will show in her reactions. He touches her just as I have done, speaking softly, making no sudden movements especially near her head. She leans on the halter ropes but does not lunge. He allows her to inspect the rasp and hoof tools, to smell the scents of familiar horses on them. He begins slowly to trim the first hoof. Rita does not relax, but her expression says she will tolerate this. She holds her head high and away but keeps her eyes on him until both fronts are neatly trimmed.

Now for the hinds. As soon as he tries to lift the off-hind, she pulls back, but the double halters hold. She lunges forward and stands; trembling again. Soft talk and gentle persuasion and she’s letting him hold the foot. He places it back on the ground, pats her, then lifts it again, trimming a little before lowering the foot gently. This is repeated until he must bring the hoof forward to file the wall smooth. This is the part I could not do and she is obviously nervous about the new positioning. She rolls her eyes; shifting her weight, but standing without lunging. I am quietly thrilled. When both hinds are finished, Kevin walks around her lifting each foot then slowly lowering each to the ground. She tolerates this quietly. I give her some grain and release her and she trots off to join Paloma.

I’m so proud of her that a couple of days later I let her into the yard with Bogo to eat some of the clover in the lawn. When it’s time to put them back, it takes forty minutes of following Rita up and down the fence line before she finally lets me put a lead on her. You never chase a horse; you just wear them down – or they, you.

sigh... little increments...

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Blogs by redtigr: Hearing voices... Gifting admonition for the gents... Mercy drops round us are falling... an update, Part II Mercy drops round us are falling... an update, Part I Why we are in such a mess... How Dry I Am... The Little Red Roan, Revisited On Penning A Poem (for Unionman) New people... Comfort Zones and Danger Zones and Zoning in... To reap the whirlwind... In the South, February is April... "Forever is composed of nows" The real thing... I, for one, am not from Venus... Superpowers ...and supersculpture... email exposure... the tar pool... Let the rain come down on me.. That Little Red Roan... I seek... Illustrating a blog... November 9, 2007... a blog about life, without rancor Sunday morning... early. ...the quality of light... (a tardy repost)