A Little Bit of Leadership

I wish girls were more like horses. Every time I have a problem getting through to one of my female clients at work, I try to take a little time out from my frustration and compare them to a horse that I have worked with. This not only helps me come up with an understanding of what is going on with them and how to deal with it, but it also tends to reset my sense of confidence, knowing that I have dealt with this before, and have some arrows in my quiver, so to speak. However, even with the knowledge and skills I may posses when it comes to a “horse” of this particular nature, I often lack the emotional skills to follow through. It is one thing to handle a rearing and striking horse, another to handle a cursing and spitting child: even though the technique is really the same.

There are many times that these techniques work out however: setting boundaries, using body language, sharing power, understanding “herd” dynamics. And there are other times that the system of humanity requires a different approach.  For example, I cannot halter a human.Things would be so much simpler if I could.... so little communication occurs when the other person is not present. The other day I had a very frustrating and ridiculous display of dominance from my girls. They refused to do anything all day, which resulted in an almost  comical standoff situation in the field. Girls on one hill, staff on the other. If staff made a move, the girls would run.

This situation required some leadership, but everyone was out of ideas. I knew what I would do if they were horses, but I could not do it alone, and I could not seem to communicate it to the other staff in an effective way. So I eventually just started with another staff member walking in an arch towards them. You could see the look on their faces, not quite sure whether to run or stay, and if they were to run, which direction to go in. The result was a scatter in their group, allowing us to get some of the troublemakers separated from the rest. My purpose was not necessarily to “capture” them, but rather to have them see that I had some type of plan, and that if they foiled me, I would not be frustrated.

I have been noticing things about leadership lately, especially when it comes to horses. Lead horses in a herd are most often mares, these horses are most alert to danger, responsible for finding food and safety, and are, as a result the most honored and respected members of the herd. LEAD horses, however, are different from DOMINANT horses. Dominant horses are responsible for creating the hierarchy in the herd. These horses are pushy, get in fights, and are always looking for an opportunity to make a case for their place in the herd. In observing a herd of horses, as we do with people, we often can mistake dominance for leadership.

Lead horses, though they are the most alert ( and may even appear spooky), are full of self confidence.  The lead mare goes out first in the group, searches the way, and her herd mates follow her unquestioningly. They trust her to know when to run and when to relax. We look for confidence in our leaders as well, and can always tell the difference between true self-confidence, which is a quiet truth, and a self-proclaiming confidence, that in its obesity loses its value.

Lead horses are not fighters. By that I do not mean that they never have an “altercation” with another horse, but that their communication is typically clear, free from emotion, and physical contact is typically a last resort.  Leaders usually use more psychology than force. I have wondered many times why my horse might be refusing to take a step in a particular direction, and then realized that his herd leader was giving him the “look” from about fifty yards away. Leaders cannot waste their time and energy on petty arguments.

One of the most interesting qualities of a lead horse is the ability to remain forever hopeful. Survival in the wild is full of twists and turns, and flexibility and the ability to reroute a plan is of utmost importance. Horses live in the moment and this is not too hard for them. Human leaders often find having an attitude of endless opportunity more difficult. However, it can show up in the simplest forms such as taking a suggestion from an employee or persisting in finding a way to fund a program. Leaders need to have the ability to keep their herd alive, no matter what obstacles crop up.

Though it would be nice if people were more like horses, it’s probably more helpful for me to wish I were more like a lead horse. In trying to be a leader for both my horses and my clients, it can be an overwhelming task. There is another aspect of leadership that I was reminded of that day with the girls; that leadership happens in the moment. A lead horse does not maintain her status of lead horse if she falls down on her responsibilities. Just like horses, people are looking for a leader in every moment. Though it may seem overwhelming, it really makes it simpler. You can be a leader in this moment. You can make the choice to approach the situation with leadership instead of dominance, in this moment. A little bit of leadership right now can truly change the course of things. Each moment holds endless opportunity for the future, if we chose to see it that way. 

A good leader

You scratch my back.....

Ziggy and Ceasar scratching each other's backs

This is a good time of year to gain lots of brownie points with your horse. Horses are shedding their winter coats, and the combination of hotter sun and loosening hair makes for some itchy equines. There I am armed with shedding blades, brushes and nimble fingers. But the most important tool in my toolbox is time.

Scratching a horse from head to toe to relieve the seasons changes can take hours combined over days and weeks. Some may wonder if it’s worth it. Wouldn’t your time in the sunny spring be better spent riding or playing with your horse? The reality is that the hair will come off eventually by itself whether we put the effort in or not. But its really not just about the hair, or the itching.

Mutual grooming is a natural part of herd behavior to horses. Two horses will stand next to each other, nibbling on each other’s shoulder, neck, withers, back or flank. They do this mutually, and seem to know just where it is best to scratch. Horses show their appreciation and enjoyment of a good scratch by sticking out their upper lip, looking for a place to return the favor. My body, not being quite as long as a horse’s often lacks the proper location for a mutual groom. But I do my best to oblige, and often get a good shoulder scratch in return. 

Grooming can become a herd event. Ziggy and Ceasar waiting for their turn.

 
This behavior may seem like an automatic response to a nervous stimuli, but keep in mind that horses have big teeth, and people have thin skin, and too much instinct does not always end well.  When horses are mutually grooming each other they clearly are aware of each other’s preferences and can communicate this and work with one another. When horses and humans are mutually grooming each other, the same concept applies. Riley has a very big mouth, and a strong desire to use her teeth, being a horse with thick skin herself. However, when she goes to scratch me, and I ask her to be gentle with me, she does.

Mutual grooming is one important way that horses build bonds with one another. It strengthens their friendship and trust, and it proves to the pair that they are welcoming each other into their personal space (horses have a lot of ideas about personal space). The areas they scratch are areas that they cannot reach themselves. How good does it feel to have a good friend scratch your back, when you can’t get to it? But would you let a stranger do it, no matter how itchy you were? I recall the first time that Lucy actually was able to express her enjoyment of a scratch by me, after we had built a relationship and trust. Now she comes over and plants the part of herself that she wants scratched in front of me.


As humans, though our bodies aren’t quite as long, we do have an advantage over their equine pasture mates. Belly scratching.

Bucky enjoying a good belly scratch

In herds, horses often form pair bonds. This is two horses who become particularly attached, even though the herd may be much larger. Springtime hormones aside, it is these pairs that are typically seen grooming one another. Sometimes it is the little things in a relationship that make up the big things. Sometimes there is more value in just being there to scratch someone’s back, than in all the fancy maneuvers, cookies, presents or words you can say. Taking the time to do nothing but help your friend with an itch can mean the difference between a withholding relationship and an unselfish openness.

Pair bond Lucy and Buddy. Taken seconds before Lucy decided that I was a better scratcher than Buddy :)

Today’s a good day to go "scratch" your horse, husband, kid, friend or dog, and let them know that there is nowhere else in the world you would rather be than here with them in this moment.

Lessons Learned

A gardener was at a well drawing water for his garden. His little dog was jumping and barking on the side of the well and lost his balance and fell in. The man immediately took off his clothes and jumped in the well to rescue his dog. Just as he was bringing the slippery and struggling animal to the top, the ungrateful wretch bit his hand. “Why you little monster!” the gardener exclaimed, “If that is your idea of gratitude to a master who feeds you and treats you kindly,then pull yourself out of the well!” And with that, he dropped him back into the well. Moral of the story: Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.


A milkmaid was on her way to market, carrying a pail of milk on her head. As she walked along, she began to think of what she would do with the money that she would receive for the milk. “I will buy some hens from a neighbor, and the hens will lay eggs that I will sell. With the egg money, I will buy myself a new dress. It will be a green dress, because green is best for my complexion. And in this lovely green gown, I will go to the fair. All the young men will strive to have me for a partner, and I will pretend I do not see them. And when they become too insistent I will disdainfully toss my head....like this.” As the milkmaid spoke, she tossed her head back and down came the pail of milk, spilling all over the ground. Moral of the story: Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.

As children, we are taught that lessons get learned this way. In fact, it would be nice if when life was about to teach us a lesson, that someone would simply hand us a card with a clever little morality statement that would just clear things up for us. However, my lesson this week came to me in a much different way than I expected.

First the story: I went out to play with Lucy last week on a lovely evening after work. I was annoyed at the little bit of time I had been able to spend with her lately, so I made sure I was going to enjoy myself that day. I began to do some driving from behind,much like we would do any other day. I could tell that Lucy was a bit disconnected from me, not her usual self. However, I continued with the game, and as her responses became less willing, my requests became more insistent. I did not realize what was going on until I got hit hard with a hind hoof in the gut.

Moral of the story: Well, no one handed me a card with a clever quip, so I had to work to figure out the lesson for myself. First I had to figure out what happened, then figure out what it meant. However, my brain went more quickly to creating ideas about what it meant first. How could she do this? Is our relationship in shambles? I must be an idiot.....I expected that the moral of this story would be a negative one. After all, they usually are. I expected that when I told this story to people that they would immediately criticize my horsemanship. I expected that whoever handed me the card with the morality quip would cause me to feel defeated,frustrated, foolish and powerless. But I soon realized that I held the card,and that I got to say.

As I thought about about this incident and talked to friends, I was clearly aware of the mistakes I made in the situation. I compared my horsemanship of that moment to all the rest of the moments that Lucy and I have had together. I became clearly aware that the mistake I made was simply in that moment, and did not mean anything about anything else. This recognition opened a whole new door to growth. This simple statement allowed me to take responsibility for what I did in that moment, making it much easier to resolve than if I had made it more complicated, and allowed me to continue to feel good about where Lucy and I were regardless of said incident.

I quickly knew that I also needed to let it go. Horses live in the moment, and I knew that Lucy had already given it up. I needed to allow this incident to somehow teach me a lesson, not in fear, but in power. I went back to play with Lucy, making sure that I was more respectful of her feelings, but continuing to trust her as I always had. I became more aware and more grateful of the many beautiful things in our relationship.

After the conversation this past week, with myself, with others, and with my horse,and through the emotional journey that I have taken over the past few years, the moral of this story surprised me. Instead of feeling wrong, instead of feeling broken, powerless and confused, I felt more confident, more powerful, and more in love with my horse.

Moral of the story: A lesson learned is a good thing.

Connection and Control

A newcomer to our equine therapy group was trying to sort out the task of building a relationship with his horse. He had chosen Socks, a young but quiet unstarted mare. Holding a halter in his hand, he seemed to be caught up in the idea that he could not do anything with his horse until he had the halter on, which he did not know how to use. I asked him what the halter represented to him in building this relationship. The young man, still sorting out his way with his horse, much like he was sorting out his way in life,  fumbled his answer, “....connection.....I don’t know ...control?”

My previous blogpost entitled "The Hunger" describes a moment in time when my desire to control my horse through force came bubbling to the surface. This moment scared me because I recognized that when we try to control others, we damage our relationships.  I did not want my relationship with Lucy to be damaged in anyway. Throughout the winter season, Lucy and I focused more on playing at Liberty (no ropes or halters) and riding bridleless. When communicating with a horse with no ropes or headgear, trust and connection are intimately tested and communication is acutely refined.

Throughout our time playing this way, I have become more in tune with my horse’s perspective, and my horse has come to trust me in a way that exceeded our already good relationship. In playing at Liberty, a horse gets to express all its opinions. It gets to leave if it wants to, and the human has the responsibility of causing the horse to want to come back.

One play session with Lucy seemed to be the culmination of the communication we had been creating. We had been playing at Liberty in the usual way, and Lucy was following me at my side. I began to ask her for more particular things, such as yielding her forehand. Lucy can at times get opinionated when I ask this, and in this case, she felt free to express her opinion by moving over one step as I asked, and then running off to the other side of the arena, turning and facing me, and then coming back. This turned into quite the game, and we repeated the same pattern probably six or seven times. Though I was a little confused at first, I soon began to notice that my horse felt free to leave, and happy to come back. She trusted the connection, and so I did too.

This rhythm continued until Lucy did something that confused me. She left and went over to the mounting block, and despite my coaxing, would not come back. I sat there for a moment like the boy in my group, trying to sort out this relationship with my horse with a “ Hmmm.... control?...connection?” Then I had a thought about what Lucy wanted and decided to test it out. I went over to her and climbed up on the mounting block. She responded by sidling up over to me for me to get on. I grinned at the thought that my horse was asking me to ride her, bareback and bridleless.

Because my horse requested this of me, and communicated it to me so clearly, I did climb up on her and we had a lovely ride. However, this was not my plan for the day. In fact, I sat there for a few moments and questioned whether I should get on or not. I was feeling the need for a saddle. It was a very windy day. Lucy had already spooked a little at something in the corner. She had already shown that she would freely and clearly express her opinion today. These fears made me feel that I should probably not climb up on my horse with out some sense of control. But with all that communication and worry in my head, I had to trust her. I had to trust the connection.

The young gentlemen in my group found his rhythm with his horse as well, through noticing and respecting her boundaries. I can’t remember whether he ever got the halter on or not, but his relationship was tested, and he and his horse then came back together based on the bond they had built. It turned out that it was connection used to build the relationship, not control. Connection created through communication and trust.

Self Imposed Limitations

BE

Bucky is not a horse that has self-imposed limitations. He does not think anything will kill him. He does not believe in man-made rules, and much of the time he does not believe in horse-made rules either. He feels that wide open fields are for galloping across, no matter what some farmer may be trying to grow in them. Fences are irrelevant, and numerous stall doors have had irreparable damage done before we gave up on that idea. If he does not want to be bothered, he won’t. If he feels that you need to be bothered, you will.

Though Bucky has never been the most sound or athletic horse, this has never stopped him from spinning on a dime and throwing an infamous double barrel kick at an irritating pasture mate. His elderly stature has not held him back from expending all his energy covering ground in double time in the front of the trail riding group - for the first half of the ride anyway. He doesn’t even let the fact that he does not have the necessary equipment to produce offspring keep him from trying. Life is good, the sun is for sleeping in, hay is delicious, and I am pretty sure that he holds out the hope that if he’s lucky enough, one day he just might get to come live in the house with the people.

Lately, Bucky and I have been missing each other. I keep promising him a trail ride, or at least some hang out time. But I continue to find that it is too cold, or I don’t have time, or that I am tired, or need to ride another horse. As I was getting worried about the distance seeming to grow between us, I became aware of my own self imposed limitations. This dear and constant friend of mine needs and deserves my attention, yet I often allow less important things get in the way of finding the time to just hang out a little. That’s all Bucky really prefers to do. He doesn’t get all caught up in the idea that horses are for riding....

Bucky has taught me many lessons in my life, and this continues to be one of the most persistent. Just BE. He has always given me a sense of confidence and security. Just like a baby’s strong attachment to his mother, from this safe foundation I was able to explore my identity, self-confidence, and emotional fitness. This confidence can help me BE. Unless, of course, I decide to limit myself. We often create limitations for ourselves with things we think we “should” or “must” do or be. We create rules and regulations and stress. We avoid what we love and need to pay the bills or run errands. Or somehow we tell ourselves that we are not good enough, or that we don’t have the right opportunities to follow our dreams.

I have these moments when I am with my horse that often keep me from being in the present. Sometimes they are reliving the moments in the past - our learning experiences, trail rides, and bonding time. Sometimes they are hopes and dreams - the wish to go ride in the mountains, or have him live in my backyard. While I am often living in the past or the future, however, Bucky lives in the moment, and this enables him to do exactly what is necessary at any time, whether it be a wild play with his friends, or a calm strength for me. More often than might seem necessary, it includes biting someone on the rear end. Theses are the things that make him the best therapist I know. What is it that we miss in life because we are limited by our own created things, such as our perception of ourselves, our wistful dreams, our thoughts about how we should comport ourselves, or even our resources?

Perhaps we limit ourselves because we lack confidence. There are so many experiences that we have when we are young that can either cause or hinder our confidence. At that age, however, we do not have the processing skills or coping mechanisms to not make something about us. When we get older we develop these things, but often still act as though we do not have them. Ironically, it is when we are young that we experience the most internal freedom. Self-imposed limitations can be a crutch brought on by fear of failure, or fear of success. Societal norms teach us to live in a box. We then work very hard at creating our box. This works out fine when we are comfortable in our box. But I imagine more often than not we would prefer to be in the pasture.....or the pasture next door.....

Bucky seems to perceive life very simply and with confidence. A stall door is just a flimsy piece of wood. We can figure out ways to squeeze through electric fences. If someone else’s opinion clashes with his, he will simply work it out, or leave. But most importantly he does not get caught up in thoughts and worry. If he wants something, he does what it takes to get it. If it works out, great. If not, on to something new.

I do not believe that this lesson with Bucky suggests that we need to throw all caution to the wind, sell our homes, travel the world, etc. This is an internal lesson about why we tell ourselves what we do. Surely we work to pay for our home because we love our family. But is our work keeping us from our family? We tend to make things harder, more complicated, and more important than they are. If we can perceive life simply and with confidence, like a young child or old horse, we may be less likely to impose limitations that keep us from living the life that we love.

To Every Season....

I am not sure which is worse, the mud or the ice. Right now, there is both. In the summer, I ride all day long (well, almost). I sit in the pasture and hang out, taking little naps with the horses under the trees. We go places and do things. Fun things. In the fall, I often take advantage of opportunities to do some horsemanship learning, and go on lovely trail rides. In the spring I enjoy the hopes of better weather and plan horsey get-togethers with friends. I dust the mud off my pony and we start getting back in the swing of things.

But in winter.....I trudge through the snow with feed buckets. I have been wondering how this dreadful weather is affecting my relationships with my horses. I feel like I am not spending an appropriate amount of time with them, and certainly not doing much riding or playing. I hunker down in my coveralls and wait for the water trough to fill up, and maybe get in a few mediocre scratches. I’m not DOING much. But through the eye opening in my head to toe winter getup, I am doing a lot of NOTICING.

I generally try to have good observation skills, however my observations typically precede actions, but not before interpretations. Well, when there is the danger of slipping on the ice and falling on your bottom, neither your feet nor your thoughts can move too fast. I have been watching Lucy at feeding time, take her sweet little looks to the boys to get them to share with her. There is so much interaction in these short moments. I am not sure exactly how many different levels of “No, get out of my face!” there are, but Lucy does, and she knows exactly which ones matter. And being aware of that means all the difference between getting to nibble some more food, and getting kicked.

I have also noticed how I have been holding my breath watching this the past few days, knowing that if anybody moved too fast, someone would end up slipping and sliding. But they all stay on their feet (which is more than I can say for myself.) They seem to know exactly how little extra energy it takes to cause a problem in this dangerous muck, and it appears to me that they do not need my warnings of “Careful!”

All it takes to keep yourself or your herd member safe is to notice. Pay attention to the second they start to slip, maybe even think about it before hand. Horses care a lot when we notice. Riley has helped teach me this, because she notices everything. And she notices when you notice. Noticing does not necessarily mean doing anything. It just means, “Hey, we are on the same page here.” It is a sign of friendship, and understanding. It is how we learn about each other.

I am also noticing that the herd is hunkering too. They are not playing too many games in this ice. They are also hiding in their shed with their faces in the hay bale- putting on a few extra pounds (ahem!). And they don’t seem to mind too much that we aren’t going trail riding or working on our lead changes at the moment. I guess we are on the same page. Good to notice. 

A Love Story

Portrait of Buster by Ellen Strack

I am going to tell you a love story. It may not be as romantic as you are hoping, and it does have a sad ending. It is not so much the story of two individuals but of many. It did start, however, with a lesson from a horse.

I was a one horse girl for a long time. I rode other horses, and I even owned other horses, but only one had my heart. I was perfectly happy with this scenario, until a horse came into my life that changed a lot of things. Buster came into my life because of my love for Bucky, my first horse. He needed a companion, and we were told of someone giving away a horse. As soon as I met Buster, I knew he was the one. He reminded me of Bucky. I just knew they would get along. It is funny that I had these thoughts, as I later understood after getting to know him that he and Bucky could not be more different, and though they were fond herdmates, they were never peas in a pod. I guess the connection I felt simply told me that he belonged in my herd.

I was happy to have him at first, because he was a horse that my friends and family could ride. He was cute and all, but I called him my sister’s horse (even though she really wasn’t interested.) One day I took a friend out to ride, and became concerned when Buster suddenly began to cough and found it difficult to keep up. Over the next few months, he continued to have trouble breathing, lost weight and was generally depressed. The vet diagnosed Buster with heaves, which is basically like asthma for humans. We treated him with steroids, antihistamines, even human inhalers. Nothing seemed to help much. I began to get creative with his treatment, making herbal concoctions. As I worked to help him be healthy it became apparent to me that medication alone was not the answer. I had to give him love. I had to give him my heart and let him know that I cared that he got better. This was a difficult thing for me at the time. I was used to holding back. With my family, with my husband, with others in general. The only place that I could let my emotions go was with Bucky, and that typically came out in the form of buckets of tears. I knew this was a journey that I had to begin to take, and that Buster would help me along the way.

As my life began to take a very important turn, I was given the opportunity to move my horses to a new farm. Buster was doing somewhat better at the time, but the small area that he lived in, and his constant standing in the dusty barn gave little room for his recovery. As soon as we got to his new environment, he was 99 percent better. I hadn’t realized the relationship that Buster and I had built during this time. But it began to show. I would look into his eyes- the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen on a horse- and get lost. I would snuggle his soft face. I would call him my Tiger. Partly because of his “tigers eyes” and partly because under his fluffy teddy like self, I could see the life force of a tiger.

Two happy memories I have of this time I will never forget. The first time I let him out into the 28 acre pasture I saw the happiest horse I have ever seen. I cannot forget the picture, he must have literally grinned from ear to ear. The second was a few days before he fell ill. As though he knew what would happen, he came up behind me and placed his head on my shoulder. Then I knew that we had a relationship, that despite all my attempts at withholding, that for me this horse had cracked open the walls between love and self-doubt, between depression and passion, between love that gives for givings sake and love that receives in joy.

I sat with him all day in the rain. I read him books, I talked to him. I talked to him about how we could fly together in the sky one day, and he told me of his gratefulness and love for me. When I got up to leave he tried to come with me but couldn’t, which is why I stayed there. I stayed until it was time to let him go.

And that is my love story. Buster helped me discover the love I had, and it kept growing. I began to learn to allow myself to love more, love my husband, love myself. I began to love other horses and allow them to teach me their lessons. As I experience love everyday, I think of him and know that love is not something to fear because you may lose it. It is something to cherish and learn from for now, and hold onto because it never ends.