the cute things I find stashed in my desk

(drawn, of course, by my daughter, who has a gift for capturing the true spirit of a thing)

wolfen

Last night my daughter spent about an hour photographing three of our cats who were all in the dining room laying claim to various spots on the dining room table, the chairs, and the space beneath and around.

The two sisters, Keats and Osage, and the youngling male Mystic, who was found by our massage therapist's son by the side of a dark road, so tiny he had to be fed by hand.

Mystic is a beautiful and very striking cat. The most unusual thing about him is that reminds me of a wolf. The way he moves is wolf-like, and there are moments when he seems distinctly canine. It's so odd seeing canine and feline together in one sleek creature.

He was an adorable kitten. And now he's all grown up.

an absolutely amazing editorial by sylvia loch

Go read it HERE.

horses and discipline - bits and pieces from here and there

This week I read a post from someone experiencing difficulty in re-training a horse she'd acquired expressly for the purpose of learning all she could about working with horses who explode into fits of bucking. She had made tremendous progress - the horse had come to respect her, trust her, and all the ground issues had resolved. She realized however, that she had been holding back with one particular thing under saddle because she knew it would trigger the explosion, and the day she asked for it, the horse ended up unseating her, for the first time.

She posted wondering if she had made a mistake in taking this horse. I read on for the comments, noting that my impression of her summary of working with the horse was one of admiration. She had made much progress with almost all the horse's bad habits. She had earned the horse's respect and trust. And she had gone to the really tough place, and hit the rough spot with this horse - and then stopped to question herself before moving on. Assessing what happened and why, questioned her own part in what happened, in order to make the best decision for herself and the horse.

All of that made me think WOW. IMO, she was getting close to a break-through.

In the many comments that followed, there were only two people who shared my perspective. Everyone else encouraged her to either sell the horse or have a "come to Jesus" meeting over this issue, or have a cowboy do it for her.

I've read this kind of thing before, but never in a scenario where a really good horsewoman/rider took a horse on purposefully, did great work, and then hit one rough spot and needed some support to continue. I was shocked that most of the readers seemed to only see the one moment in the one ride where the root of the problem was faced, and chose to focus only on that.

She clarified a number of times but no one really shifted in their advice. There was no credit given for all the progress. The horse was either irrevocably "broken" - OR - needed "breaking."

This was a horse who couldn't be ridden with a whip - and yet had come to the point of trusting her so much she could carry one. And many advised that she needed to use the whip hard enough to "matter."

I was at such a loss for words I couldn't comment. The lack of insight into discipline, punishment, and the effects of such on an obviously traumatized animal astounds me still.

I also read a different post in a different place about how to deal with horses who bite. This was not a horse who pins its ears and comes at people, out for blood, but a horse who reaches in while being led and takes a nip.

The bulk of responses offered that the poster needed to make this horse think it was going to die the next time it offered to bite. Those were literally the words chosen - the horse needs to think it's going to die.

I suggested that using the handle of a whip, positioned so the horse will poke itself when it turns to nip, works well and without the drama or the "game" aspect that often comes into play with this kind of behavior. And further, that getting quieter, not louder, can be very effective with this kind of thing.

There is so much advice out there about being the alpha - with horses, with dogs, with children. And much of it involves being meaner and tougher and harsher than the most dominant behavior we encounter.

It makes me wonder how much of this has anything to do with genuine observations about the nature of our relationships to horses and dogs and our kids. It seems to have more to do with our need, as humans, to dominate the things around us.

Where does that come from?

As I typed the last line I felt something tickling on my shoulder. When I looked down at it, I saw one of the much-loved ballerina spiders who live with us. They generally stay in corners, up high, and rarely come anywhere near me. This was, in fact, the first time one has ever touched me. My reaction? A loud "aiyyy" sound and an instantaneous knocking off of the spider. Both based in fear, because although I love these ballerinas, I still have a deeply-rooted fear of spiders and can't tolerate one crawling on me.

I think the human need to dominate is probably based in fear, which rarely gets addressed. There's usually something around to be dominated, and we're sanctioned to act out aggressively in these contexts, where being big and loud, taking the alpha role, is the right approach. The right thing to do.

What if we choose, not to get bigger and louder, not to scream or jump and strike out, but instead to get quieter, more centered, more observant, and respond from THAT place?

What if we looked deeper into ourselves and asked what I am afraid of?

*******

I've had comments turned off most of this month, and while I've gotten back to posting here, have not yet decided if I can return to posting and responding to comments the way I did before. I love the comments, and I love responding to each one, but I have needed a break from that.

Today, I'm interested in what you think, and I'm turning comments back on for a bit to see what you have to say.

the boys of summer

Typing from my new location, a quiet corner in the bedroom, right by a window that overlooks the front field and Salina and the donkeys' paddock. I'm thinking the change is good.

I am slightly horrified to report that I only got a little bit of my barn cleaning done this weekend. I did make a start, though, and hopefully created some momentum toward completion.

I did enjoy some time with horses and donkeys, and while I sat and got donkey hugs, watched Salina whirl her hindquarters toward the Big Bay with a squeal, and fielded horse flies, my daughter captured a couple of handsome boys with the camera.

Redford has made peace with the cowboy and the two of them are on quite good terms these days:



And Rafer Johnson seems to be signaling that it's time for a picnic supper:



Considering that all of the equines are getting more lush grass than normal, I think the table will have to stay bare for now!