I can just imagine how everyone in the party must have been rather annoyed on the way out, as they waited for Stinz: nervously huffing and dancing back and forth in front of the Sisters while he worked up the nerve to *leap* through them the first time!
I had a big black mare who was like that, years ago. I used to have everyone else go on ahead, so she’d get anxious about being left behind. That worked much more nicely than trying to crop her through, like her previous owner!
Always being the herd leader helps. Unless the horse has been the herd leader, and watched her feet – and when we became the herd leader, she went sloppy-footed, because now WE were driving!
@LC, you give me hope for humanity, in that you can give a hoofer what she wants while getting what you want at the same time. From flat-foot to another, thanks!
—
How far the folk in Stinz existence have fallen, in terms of their societal structure, their world view, and their technology! From steam engines and electrical devices to mule trains. Even the wealthy folks have it bad…
Perhaps living in this little valley with its backward ways isn’t such a bad thing after all.
But once We have to change our way of life, we forget the old one and the new one becomes something to master and be proud of. The new generations don’t know it, either. And they don’t believe it when their grandparents try to tell them about this thing called “airplanes.”
Donna: that’s fascinating — I’d not known that! I think the only strong lead mare we ever had was my dad’s, and I sometimes think she considered him her stallion, because she’d watch out for him in odd ways. One time they were in a hunter-jumper competition and finished the round. Dad relaxed, but as they were cantering slowly back to the gate, the mare apparently decided there was one more jump left — so she took it! Surprised the heck out of Dad, too, even though he was good enough to stay smoothly with her. As he laughingly noted, how could he punish her for enthusiasm?
—-
Thank you, Matthew! I admit I was surprised at how easy it was, once I realized all I had to do was think like a horse. At that point I could see what the mare’s concerns were, *and* think of a way to present them to her so she wasn’t scared any more.
I remember cracking up my family, for example, when I realized that one of our horses was terrified of walking up to a particular jump. He backed up really well, though… so I backed him to the jump, so he couldn’t really see it. Then, once he was there already, he sniffed and snorted all around it and realized it wasn’t nearly as predatory as he’d originally thought.
Sounds like she thought he was her colt! And she was giving him lessons.
Watching a film of a wild filly being trained to back a human in 45 minutes, heard the trainer say, “She just needs to realize we’re not as bad as we smell.” We smell like meat-eaters. I wonder if vegetarians have an easier time training horses?
I can just imagine how everyone in the party must have been rather annoyed on the way out, as they waited for Stinz: nervously huffing and dancing back and forth in front of the Sisters while he worked up the nerve to *leap* through them the first time!
I had a big black mare who was like that, years ago. I used to have everyone else go on ahead, so she’d get anxious about being left behind. That worked much more nicely than trying to crop her through, like her previous owner!
Always being the herd leader helps. Unless the horse has been the herd leader, and watched her feet – and when we became the herd leader, she went sloppy-footed, because now WE were driving!
@LC, you give me hope for humanity, in that you can give a hoofer what she wants while getting what you want at the same time. From flat-foot to another, thanks!
—
How far the folk in Stinz existence have fallen, in terms of their societal structure, their world view, and their technology! From steam engines and electrical devices to mule trains. Even the wealthy folks have it bad…
Perhaps living in this little valley with its backward ways isn’t such a bad thing after all.
But once We have to change our way of life, we forget the old one and the new one becomes something to master and be proud of. The new generations don’t know it, either. And they don’t believe it when their grandparents try to tell them about this thing called “airplanes.”
Donna: that’s fascinating — I’d not known that! I think the only strong lead mare we ever had was my dad’s, and I sometimes think she considered him her stallion, because she’d watch out for him in odd ways. One time they were in a hunter-jumper competition and finished the round. Dad relaxed, but as they were cantering slowly back to the gate, the mare apparently decided there was one more jump left — so she took it! Surprised the heck out of Dad, too, even though he was good enough to stay smoothly with her. As he laughingly noted, how could he punish her for enthusiasm?
—-
Thank you, Matthew! I admit I was surprised at how easy it was, once I realized all I had to do was think like a horse. At that point I could see what the mare’s concerns were, *and* think of a way to present them to her so she wasn’t scared any more.
I remember cracking up my family, for example, when I realized that one of our horses was terrified of walking up to a particular jump. He backed up really well, though… so I backed him to the jump, so he couldn’t really see it. Then, once he was there already, he sniffed and snorted all around it and realized it wasn’t nearly as predatory as he’d originally thought.
Sounds like she thought he was her colt! And she was giving him lessons.
Watching a film of a wild filly being trained to back a human in 45 minutes, heard the trainer say, “She just needs to realize we’re not as bad as we smell.” We smell like meat-eaters. I wonder if vegetarians have an easier time training horses?