Today we had the chiropractor here for 4 out of our 6 equines. I have been sick with a mild flu, and today was the first day after several that I've been out to the barn. I was late with breakfast tubs, it was time for the chiro to arrive, and I made the call that we would get adjustments first and breakfast after.
I thought I was making a wise decision to leave all the horses in the paddock instead of allowing them into stalls. I knew bringing them in would trigger the salivation for tubs, and figured they'd do better walking and waiting than standing behind stall doors waiting.
This was a good decision for 5 out of 6 equines.
But we started off well. Keil Bay went first and I had a few minutes to curry the dried mud off him. He was clearly thinking it was breakfast time but I told him, out loud and in English, that his most favorite thing in the world was on its way and that he would get breakfast after everyone got their turn.
Keil Bay is an absolute foodie. He adores his meal tubs. He adores treats of all kinds. And he can get pretty demanding if he thinks you're holding out on him. But this morning he stood quietly while I curried. He managed to release himself from the straight tie I'd done and even then he stood quietly, lead rope hanging to the ground. When the chiro drove up, he began to lick and chew.
Keil's adjustment went quickly because he is so incredibly cooperative and helpful as she does her work. He turns to her gently between each adjustment and says thank you. He licks and chews. He bobs his head when she is at a place that in fact doesn't need adjusting. He stands perfectly still when she reaches a place that does.
As soon as she finished the tail stretch and began to write down and explain what she'd just done, Keil inched very politely to the feed room door. But when I reminded him that 3 others still had turns, he walked nicely out to the gate and went through without a fuss.
Apache Moon, the pony, went next. He is always suspicious about these "treatments" but he stood quietly and allowed her to get to work. About halfway through he went into a trance and relaxed completely. By the time she was done, he was licking my hands.
Rafer Johnson was next. He was mightily wary and took his time entering the barn aisle. Redford came through the fence and between both donkeys being away from her, and Rafer's obvious reluctance, Salina began to ramp up into a mild mare frenzy.
She whinnied. She paced. She trotted up and down the fence in the paddock. After a few minutes Rafer met us halfway and we proceeded with his adjustments. He was absolutely fine with each one.
When I brought Salina in, I knew she was going to put up a fuss. She had worked herself up, and she had no desire to stand in the barn aisle and get her own adjustments done, even though she normally relaxes into this kind of thing and feels better as a result.
She went up and down the barn aisle a number of times. She bobbed her head, lipped at me, fussed at me, and marched out of the barn with me every time the chiro got ready to put her hands on Salina's hips.
I started out calmly, but I had not had breakfast, had lost my hair band so my hair was flying all over my face, I wasn't feeling all that great to begin with, and it was annoying me that Salina was acting like a diva. I ramped up a little bit. I fussed back at her. I got a little bossy. And she continued to refuse to stand still.
After about 3 more trips down the barn aisle and out into the barnyard, we came in to the aisle again and I stopped. "I just need to breathe," I said to the chiropractor. "I'm feeding into this whole thing."
I planted my feet, let the lead line go slack, and took a deep breath. I breathed in deep and slow and let it go all the way down my legs, through my feet, and into the earth itself. When I breathed all that breath back out, Salina dropped her head and allowed the adjustments. She didn't move an inch. She didn't lip at me. She relaxed her eye. She did what she does best - mirrored my centeredness, once I was smart enough to pay attention and do what needed to be done. Which was address MY frenzy and not hers.
I got quiet and she did too.
billie hinton’s camera-obscura:
life and lessons on November Hill Farm
Wednesday, February 08, 2012
Sunday, February 05, 2012
Thursday, February 02, 2012
lessons in riding: a tribute to a friend
Our good friend and massage therapist said goodbye to a grand old mare yesterday. Go well, Polly!! Your herd will miss you but we know you're running fast and free.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
writing retreat week
I've been at one of my favorite and most productive places on the planet since last Monday. I'm happy to say that I've completed the first draft of my second middle grade novel, Fiona and the Water Horse, which is book two in my Magical Pony School series.
Now it gets to sit for a couple of weeks at which point I'll return to it, weave any loose threads in, add anything I forgot or that comes to me between now and then, and after that I'll send it to three Good Readers, who will give me some feedback.
Cover design, a final edit, and it will be published just in time for the spring equinox, which is when this book takes place.
Meanwhile, everyone at November Hill has struggled on without me. Although they all sound quite fine when I check in by telephone!
I'm sure there's a way to add images from my iPad but at the moment I can't figure it out. I've been adding them to Facebook all week, so come visit me there if you want to see some of the photos. Our writers' rooms have all been spruced up since we were here last, and we've had some ghost activity. Par for the course here at the Magic Mansion.
Tomorrow I'll be heading home, with a stop by two feed stores for a couple of things we need. Can't wait to see the entire November Hill crew, human and animal alike. I suspect tomorrow night will find me watching however many Downton Abbey episodes there are by now in season 2, surrounded by cats, Corgis, equines (outside my window) and the human family. That's when I'll know I'm home again.
And.. almost forgot! I will be publishing a "Billie Hinton short" just in time for Valentine's Day this year - a fun and whimsical celebration of love and celosia called PASSION FLOWERS AND ITALIANS. It will be free on Valentine's Day on Amazon.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
apropos of nothing, really, a reposting of my appeal for humane and connected horsemanship
an appeal for humane and connected horsemanship
Seventeen years ago I was given a book by William Sears, M.D., called The Baby Book, in which Dr. Sears talked about his theory of parenting, referred to as attachment parenting.
Dr. Sears' theory of attachment parenting (often called AP), calls for developing a secure bond with our children, the goal being a secure, connected child who grows into an empathetic, connected adult.
Attachment Parenting International offers the following guiding principles, which facilitate strong, nurturing connections between children and their parents:
With only a few tweaks of language, all of the above could easily be set forth as guiding principles for living humanely and in connection with horses (and donkeys, and all equines).
Last week it was Pat Parelli and Catwalk.
This week I have read an article about a miniature donkey strapped into a harness against her will and parasailed up and down a beach in the name of "publicity." The donkey was terrified, landed quite roughly, and apparently was in such distress while in the air, left many children crying in upset confusion. And yet, after a public outcry when the owner was finally located and the donkey examined by a veterinarian, there will apparently be no charges of abuse or cruelty because the donkey sustained no physical injuries.
In the smaller circle of equine community, I have read a post on a forum about the need to keep working our horses, despite the heat, because of the need to maintain a training schedule. Heat indexes where I live have ranged from 112-119 degrees for the past week. It's easy enough to see that extreme heat affects horses more quickly and more seriously than it does the average, healthy human. They have hair covering their entire bodies. Their digestive tracts rely on regular intake of forage and water to remain functional. When we ride them, they are not only working, but carrying our weight.
I received an email informing me of things to do to haul horses safely in heat, in advance of Pony Club National Championships coming up next weekend in Virginia. Nationals are held in Kentucky and Virginia on alternate years, always in late July/early August. Why schedule something that involves hauling horses and ponies from all over the US during the hottest time of year?
I read a Facebook entry referring to a pony as a "butthead" because he didn't want to go into the ring for a show class, tried to leave, and bucked. Has the pony been checked for physical pain? Bit fit, saddle fit, muscle soreness, feet checked, chiropractic issues? The pony's behavior is indicative of something being wrong, either physically or emotionally. How else can he express it? My guess is that if he didn't want to go into the ring to jump, and that was paid attention to, he wouldn't have then needed to buck to get his point across. And yet no one listened. He was a "butthead."
Is there no end to the narcissism, self-centeredness, and downright ignorance of human beings? I can't think of any reason save an emergency trip to the vet school that would call for loading any horse or donkey into a trailer at this time of year, in this heat, with the expectation that the horse/donkey stand in a strange stall, hot, stressed, and yet ready and willing to perform strenuous work in a competitive setting.
I can't imagine having hauled any of my horses to any event this week and being remotely capable of disparaging them because they resisted being ridden.
And I could no more strap Rafer Johnson or Redford in a harness and drag them through the air for the sake of making a little money than I could one of my human children.
What in the world are we thinking when we expect animals to serve as vehicles for our bank accounts, our egos, and our apparently desperate need for external validation?
Alice Miller wrote a number of books about parents who expect these things of their children. She describes in great psychological detail what this does to children, and how the effects ripple into adulthood. It's time someone wrote a similar treatise on people and their horses. There is no ribbon on earth, no amount of money, and no genuine self-gratification worth the cost of treating animals like objects, with no feelings, no rights, and little effort on our parts toward creating, nurturing, and maintaining a deeper relationship.
When we ignore the deeper, unspoken needs of the equines we ride and use for our own purposes, there is a cost. Not dollars and cents, although certainly we may end up with broken down horses and big vet bills at some point down the road. The cost I refer to is a psychic, soul-deep cost that I'm not sure we even know the consequences of incurring. It's a cost to humanity and to growth as human beings.
I know this sounds serious. I believe it to be true.
I'm not opposed to competitive horse sport, but the reward of competition should be based in the maturing of the rider's increasingly connected relationship with the horse, and in the making of sound, safe decisions based on the needs of the horse, who can't leave a voicemail saying "oh, by the way, I really don't feel like carrying you over jumps in 90+ degree heat - how about we do it another time?"
As much as our children rely on us to intuit and meet their needs when they're too young to do it for themselves, our horses and our donkeys (and our cats and dogs and birds and all the other wonderful animals we surround ourselves with) need us to be their biggest, most thoughtful advocates and partners.
And I can say with certainty borne of experience, when we say NO to "smack him harder," when we say NO to "that noseband needs to be TIGHT," when we say IT'S TOO HOT TO HAUL, WE WON'T BE THERE when we get the email asking about the upcoming horse show, and when we say "I'll do what it takes to find out why you bucked in that last class" - what we get in return is something far more valuable than a training schedule checked off, a thumbs up from an unenlightened trainer, a few new clients for our company, or a fistful of cheap show ribbons.
We get connection. We get devotion. We get to participate in the magical relationship that is the amazing and most genuine gift horses and donkeys offer humans.
And more than that, I think we elevate ourselves as humans. We raise the bar for our own species. Instead of expecting more of them, how about we expect more of ourselves?
Dr. Sears' theory of attachment parenting (often called AP), calls for developing a secure bond with our children, the goal being a secure, connected child who grows into an empathetic, connected adult.
Attachment Parenting International offers the following guiding principles, which facilitate strong, nurturing connections between children and their parents:
- preparing for pregnancy, birth, and parenting
- feeding with love and respect
- responding with sensitivity
- using nurturing touch
- ensuring safe sleep, physically and emotionally
- providing consistent and loving care
- practicing positive discipline
- striving for balance in personal and family life
With only a few tweaks of language, all of the above could easily be set forth as guiding principles for living humanely and in connection with horses (and donkeys, and all equines).
Last week it was Pat Parelli and Catwalk.
This week I have read an article about a miniature donkey strapped into a harness against her will and parasailed up and down a beach in the name of "publicity." The donkey was terrified, landed quite roughly, and apparently was in such distress while in the air, left many children crying in upset confusion. And yet, after a public outcry when the owner was finally located and the donkey examined by a veterinarian, there will apparently be no charges of abuse or cruelty because the donkey sustained no physical injuries.
In the smaller circle of equine community, I have read a post on a forum about the need to keep working our horses, despite the heat, because of the need to maintain a training schedule. Heat indexes where I live have ranged from 112-119 degrees for the past week. It's easy enough to see that extreme heat affects horses more quickly and more seriously than it does the average, healthy human. They have hair covering their entire bodies. Their digestive tracts rely on regular intake of forage and water to remain functional. When we ride them, they are not only working, but carrying our weight.
I received an email informing me of things to do to haul horses safely in heat, in advance of Pony Club National Championships coming up next weekend in Virginia. Nationals are held in Kentucky and Virginia on alternate years, always in late July/early August. Why schedule something that involves hauling horses and ponies from all over the US during the hottest time of year?
I read a Facebook entry referring to a pony as a "butthead" because he didn't want to go into the ring for a show class, tried to leave, and bucked. Has the pony been checked for physical pain? Bit fit, saddle fit, muscle soreness, feet checked, chiropractic issues? The pony's behavior is indicative of something being wrong, either physically or emotionally. How else can he express it? My guess is that if he didn't want to go into the ring to jump, and that was paid attention to, he wouldn't have then needed to buck to get his point across. And yet no one listened. He was a "butthead."
Is there no end to the narcissism, self-centeredness, and downright ignorance of human beings? I can't think of any reason save an emergency trip to the vet school that would call for loading any horse or donkey into a trailer at this time of year, in this heat, with the expectation that the horse/donkey stand in a strange stall, hot, stressed, and yet ready and willing to perform strenuous work in a competitive setting.
I can't imagine having hauled any of my horses to any event this week and being remotely capable of disparaging them because they resisted being ridden.
And I could no more strap Rafer Johnson or Redford in a harness and drag them through the air for the sake of making a little money than I could one of my human children.
What in the world are we thinking when we expect animals to serve as vehicles for our bank accounts, our egos, and our apparently desperate need for external validation?
Alice Miller wrote a number of books about parents who expect these things of their children. She describes in great psychological detail what this does to children, and how the effects ripple into adulthood. It's time someone wrote a similar treatise on people and their horses. There is no ribbon on earth, no amount of money, and no genuine self-gratification worth the cost of treating animals like objects, with no feelings, no rights, and little effort on our parts toward creating, nurturing, and maintaining a deeper relationship.
When we ignore the deeper, unspoken needs of the equines we ride and use for our own purposes, there is a cost. Not dollars and cents, although certainly we may end up with broken down horses and big vet bills at some point down the road. The cost I refer to is a psychic, soul-deep cost that I'm not sure we even know the consequences of incurring. It's a cost to humanity and to growth as human beings.
I know this sounds serious. I believe it to be true.
I'm not opposed to competitive horse sport, but the reward of competition should be based in the maturing of the rider's increasingly connected relationship with the horse, and in the making of sound, safe decisions based on the needs of the horse, who can't leave a voicemail saying "oh, by the way, I really don't feel like carrying you over jumps in 90+ degree heat - how about we do it another time?"
As much as our children rely on us to intuit and meet their needs when they're too young to do it for themselves, our horses and our donkeys (and our cats and dogs and birds and all the other wonderful animals we surround ourselves with) need us to be their biggest, most thoughtful advocates and partners.
And I can say with certainty borne of experience, when we say NO to "smack him harder," when we say NO to "that noseband needs to be TIGHT," when we say IT'S TOO HOT TO HAUL, WE WON'T BE THERE when we get the email asking about the upcoming horse show, and when we say "I'll do what it takes to find out why you bucked in that last class" - what we get in return is something far more valuable than a training schedule checked off, a thumbs up from an unenlightened trainer, a few new clients for our company, or a fistful of cheap show ribbons.
We get connection. We get devotion. We get to participate in the magical relationship that is the amazing and most genuine gift horses and donkeys offer humans.
And more than that, I think we elevate ourselves as humans. We raise the bar for our own species. Instead of expecting more of them, how about we expect more of ourselves?
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