Alternative Horsemanship™ with Samantha Harvey the Remote Horse Coach shares horse training and horseback rider coaching, philosophies, and approaches she has developed over three decades. Offering horsemanship clinics worldwide, distance horse coaching instruction, equine consultations, equine re-education and rehabilitation, colt starting, and lessons. Follow her #alternativehorsemanship on all social media platforms.
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Showing posts with label sam Harvey horse training. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sam Harvey horse training. Show all posts
The illusions of the "broke" or bombproof horse...
I recently had a mare arrive for training that had been used as a trail
horse. Her job had been to take care of a handicapped rider. She’d supposedly “gone everywhere” and had done
everything. When some folks tried her out,
they put a novice rider who hadn’t ridden in many years on her and rode
out. She was “fine.”
Unwanted scenarios- opportunities for improving your partnership!
Many times when folks are working with horses, they’d like
it to be a relaxing, enjoyable experience.
Yet often horses and humans need to build a quality partnership in order
to achieve a rewarding ride for the both of them. What most riders forget is that no matter how
“trained” a horse is, they are still looking to their rider for guidance,
confidence and boundaries. They are a
herd animal and they are deciding if they or their rider is the “leader” of
their herd.
The horse will question the pecking order of the herd the
rider and he create, but it may not seem apparent on calm, ideal days. When circumstances beyond our control arise,
and stress levels increase, typically only then do we as riders start to realize
that perhaps the quality of the partnership we share with our horse is not as “ideal”
as we would like to think.
As I’ve mentioned in past blogs, if you give most riders the
option, they will do everything they can to avoid a confrontation or
uncomfortable scenario with their horse.
Horses often realize this and have mastered becoming fantastic “people
trainers” as I say- teaching the human how to work around them in order to
avoid any conflict. The ideal for me is that
the horse asks “What would you like?,” and learns to work around the human.
The idea to write this blog came up as I went to work a
horse this morning. I spend my winters in
the desert, where one would think life is a lot more boring than my summers
spent in the inland northwest, but actually that is not the case. Down here near North America’s largest sand
dunes we have wind, (it took ten years before it occurred to me that ALL of that
wind was what built the sand dunes), and when I say wind I mean sand-blasting,
scary-discarded-trash blowing, tarps constantly flapping,
scary-animal-dashing-from-citrus groves, horse-tails standing
straight-out-to-the-side kind of wind.
I’ve experienced wind in other notorious places such as
Texas and Wyoming- and of course the ever present wind in Patagonia, but
somehow the wind here in the Arizona desert has extra elements of “scariness”
in terms of horses. Add in the fact that
this is the produce capital of world during the winter, so heavy duty farm equipment
randomly appears at various times. There’s
also a marine base and I’m near the flight approach/take off path; military
personal from all over the world come here to “practice” and so it is very
common to have a “Top Gun” show as a daily occurrence. Nothing like getting on a colt for the first
time with the horse’s body literally vibrating from the sound of six F18s
flying low and overhead.
Then of course there’s the sheep. The town here is a mixture of new and old,
traditional and modern. Often after
several cuttings of alfalfa hay have been raised, herds of sheep are escorted
down the main roads (herded by a few men with flags, a couple of dogs, a ram
and a goat,) and will randomly appear in an old hay field with three strands of
temporary hotwire fence strung up. A few
days later they’ll be moved on to another field. That’ll get every horse in the barn to stand
at full attention and often they display physical feats of aerial acrobatics as
if trying out for the Spanish Riding School
In this desert, there are no mountains in sight. Any activity happening can often been seen
and or heard from miles away; to the A.D.D. horse you can imagine how
distracting that might be.
Anyhow one of our wind storms began brewing last night and
by this morning the sky was thick with sand and debris, the trees were bent
over and the air was heavy with the horses concern. Most people avoid heading out to work with a
horse on a day like today, but for me, I see it as an opportunity. Just as when I look to buy a horse I want to
see the “worst” side of the horse rather than the sales pitch, when I’m working
with a horse, I’m looking for opportunities to create a solid citizen. I’m not striving for the “perfect” ride, but
rather to be there to help and support him experience a naturally scary
scenario and perhaps influence a change in his brain and emotions as to how he
perceives the chaos around him so that he learns to react in a physical
respectful, calm and safe manner.
Because the horse is a prey animal, the natural instinct
when unsure is to run. But my job is to
teach the unnatural response of, “Stop, think, and ask what the rider wants,”
then offer a physical movement. This not
only decreases the chances of a dramatic reaction from the horse, but also
builds confidence in him and the fear switches to a curiosity as to what is
happening around him. Changing from the
instinctual fleeing to curious mode literally allows more “time” for
communication between rider and horse, a mental participation from the horse which
in turn creates a physical softness.
This builds his confidence emotionally and mentally when a situation isn’t
ideal.
So rather than “challenging” the horse to be obedient on a
scary day, I would rather break down the “scariness” of it all- starting on the
ground. Rather than trying to avoid what
may be bothersome, I will break things down and ask the horse to only mentally
consider one or two things, and then offer ways for him to find softness in his
body, brains and emotions, so that he can figure out how he really feels about
something. The more he learns how to
think while I’m on the ground working with him, the more this increases his
confidence while I’m in the saddle.
The other part of avoiding the less than ideal circumstances
is that people are taught that things cannot get “ugly”- by this I mean many
people have the goal be striving for the ideal ride. But often the ground work during less than
ideal scenarios, such as when a horse mentally and emotionally is falling apart
needs to be addressed so that the horse can learn how to let go of feelings of
concern, worry and fear. If he is taught
to “stuff” those emotions, they will continue to build inside of him, even if
on the outside he is appearing as being obedient. It will only be a matter of time before all
of those pent up emotions come out physically dramatic.
I on the other hand I would like an honest “response” from
the horse for whatever he feels. That
being said, there are spatial and behavioral boundaries that need to be established
before the scary day along with effective communication aids, so that when the
horse becomes brainless and reactive, the person has a way to help the horse
work through the stress, rather than reprimanded him for not behaving. As I say, embrace the tantrum, but don’t
leave him in it. Help the horse “get” to
the other side. Remember the physically
dramatic behavior is a reflection of the horse’s brain and emotions. Change how he feels on the inside, the
behavior on the outside will decrease in dramatic, dangerous reactivity.
Every time a horse starts to get bothered and a person
critiques him or instead uses it as an opportunity to build his confidence can
detract or contribute to the quality of long term partnership and physical
behavior of the horse. Unwanted
behaviors/insecurities/worries/fears do not randomly disappear. Attempting to “desensitize” the horse through
repetitious behavior may temporarily work for that scary tarp, but it is only
teaching the horse to tolerate the scary tarp, rather than changing how he
feels about it. The day you move the
tarp, it’ll feel like you’ll have to start all over again. Instead, change how he feels about the tarp,
then it will not matter where the tarp is.
So the next time you have an opportunity in a less-than-ideal
circumstance, of course prioritizing your safety first, perhaps experiment with
approaching your horse’s concern with being a supportive influence, rather than
a critical one or just avoiding the situation all together.
Good Luck,
Sam
A gallop across the field... An alternative perspective
It had been a long time since I’ve galloped. Literally.
So very often I have people tell me their horse “loves” to
gallop, and as I watch the horse move at a faster pace, I often see fear in the
horse’s eye and body. In my personal
experience more often than not, the horse displaying what is typically
interpreted by the human as having the “desire” to run, when really it is a horse
trying to flee the scene.
For me, the more I learned about all the “stuff” I’d missed
in regards to my horse’s brain and emotions, the more I realized I had no right
galloping for many, many reasons. My
priorities have since shifted to the concept that not until the horse is
mentally, emotionally and physically with me, do I ask for the faster speeds.
Looking back I now would classify most of my galloping
experiences as A.) A challenge of surviving the ride based on my ego vs. doing what was best for my horse, B.)
A frightful experience for the horse due to lack of effective support I offered to the horse, and C.) Something I’m surprised I’ve did so frequently with as little crash-and-burns as I have had for how sort-of out-of-control I was.
Now you may be imagining me as having been on one “of those”
scary riders on “crazy” or “difficult” horses, but I was not. I actually blended in quite well with the
rest of the riders. Same strong horse,
same strong bits to stop, spurs to go, and devices to help keep the horse's head down, and
a hopeful mentality every time I swung a leg over the saddle.
No one thought it was odd to exchange equine related ER stories over dinner, to have dramatic rides or heart stopping experiences. The collective "we" in my world at that time thought that “that” was what it took to prove that you were up to the task. Accomplishing the end goal whether within a certain time frame, over specific obstacles, or just surviving better and faster than anyone else had, was our sole focus.
No one thought it was odd to exchange equine related ER stories over dinner, to have dramatic rides or heart stopping experiences. The collective "we" in my world at that time thought that “that” was what it took to prove that you were up to the task. Accomplishing the end goal whether within a certain time frame, over specific obstacles, or just surviving better and faster than anyone else had, was our sole focus.
An ex Chef’d Equipe to the USA Eventing team once told me in
a lesson to keep a riding journal. It
was some of the best advice I had ever received.
But it wasn’t until years after most of my entries had been made that I
then realized the power of what I’d written at the time. When I read it in present day, it seems as if
someone else wrote the journal, as if I can’t even remember how “I” used to be in
my approach towards horses.
I have always naturally been analytical, and I believe part
of what interested me in teaching others was my “problem solving”
mentality. But when I review the old
journal entries I realize, as literal as I was in taking the instruction back
then, and how much of it (classical) was addressing major and valid points in
my riding and my horses, every single instructor no matter their background or
discipline had “missed” presenting the pieces that would allow me to mentally connect
the whole picture of the whats, hows and whys I was supposed to be do
something.
It was like lessons would focus on what seemed (from my
student perspective) as to be some random problem, rather than addressing the root cause, which in my own riding (and many other riders)
was a weak foundation causing the unwanted results. We kept trying to band aid symptoms, rather
than do surgery and fix the foundation.
Most of the instruction was often focused on both what my
horse and I were NOT supposed to be doing, rather than creating a clear concept
in my mind as to what we were supposed to be accomplishing. No one mentioned that when the little pieces were
connected it would create the ideal “ride” we were striving for.
I was basically learning how to ride defensively and in a
critical manner towards the horse; critiquing each wrong move, rather than
communicating to the horse what I wanted from the start. It was sort of like a game of chess. I’d wait for his move, he’d wait for
mine. Then it was a mental challenge to
see who’d “win” the round. It was
exhausting. To work so hard to get “it”
right and feel like I was still grasping at air and even with the compliments from mentors, I never really felt my horse recognize any relief from my constant demands.
There was a time when I rode race horses from 6am-10am, then
headed to ride for a Dressage international USA representative and judge for three
hours, then early afternoons were spent at an internationally competitive
jumper facility and finally evenings with my own horses. I was riding a LOT of horses. Ranging from mediocre racing lines to
hundreds of thousands dollar “super-star” steeds.
And I approached each place as if it were a completely “separate”
world from the previous one. Why? Because that’s what I’d been taught. “These” are ______________ (discipline) and
this is how we _____________ ride these _______________(breed) kind of
horses. And I believed what I was told.
Never, ever, ever, EVER did I consider the horse was still a
horse, no matter the breed, background, discipline or experience level. I was
taught to consider lots of things ABOUT the horse, such as if the
swelling I felt in the leg was new or a result of an old injury. I considered the level of “excitement” the
horse would have if he was turned out too long or not lunged enough. I was taught a lap of walking around the barn
as equivalent to a “hack” or let down time for the horse. I was told trotting on the side of a narrow
European back country road in the pouring rain with cars flying past as “quality
training” to teach the horse to be reasonable even though every muscle in his body was taut with fear.
I didn’t give a second thought towards the fidgeting,
fussy horses. Or ones that had vices,
didn’t like to be groomed or tacked, and were a bit “hot” to start or ones that
I had to do things a certain way in order to get the horse to comply. I worked at barns where horses were kept sedated and with cages on their face to prevent them from attacking humans.
I didn’t realize that a horse could be respectful when led out of the stall or gate, could stand while being mounted or that his pinning of his ears when I applied leg pressure was not a fluke. I didn’t worry if he swished his tail, or couldn’t halt in the middle of a “work” session.
I laughed at the horse and all the things he was scared of and “forced” him through those scenarios. The ones that were difficult I was taught you just had to sedate to shoe or load into the trailer, and these were just normal occurrences. “That” was just how it was, and I had lots of other things to hurry up and do.
I didn’t realize that a horse could be respectful when led out of the stall or gate, could stand while being mounted or that his pinning of his ears when I applied leg pressure was not a fluke. I didn’t worry if he swished his tail, or couldn’t halt in the middle of a “work” session.
I laughed at the horse and all the things he was scared of and “forced” him through those scenarios. The ones that were difficult I was taught you just had to sedate to shoe or load into the trailer, and these were just normal occurrences. “That” was just how it was, and I had lots of other things to hurry up and do.
Now you might be thinking, sheesh, maybe I just wasn’t “getting
it,” and that it had nothing to do with the quality of the instruction. Over the years my learning experience has
ranged from the local Pony Club volunteers to Gold Medalist Olympians to the dying breed
of what I call “real world horsemen.” It
is very, very, very rare to have someone who can communicate in a way that
makes sense to “everyone,” and who can offer both the detail oriented
instruction and still offer the big-picture perspective all the while prioritizing
the horse’s needs first.
Way back then I could rattle off all of theoretical cliché dos
and don’ts of “classical” riding. But I
had no feel. I had no timing. I had no rhythm. I had no finesse. I had no awareness toward’s my horse’s brain,
emotions and body. I had no sensitivity
in how I used my energy. I had no
concept of pressure, whether it was physical or spatial.
And yet I was still going through the motions of appearing to
have somewhat successful rides on a multitude of horses.
As most people would agree, the horse is usually the best
teacher of all. The problem is most people
(not purposely- such was the case for me) are completely unavailable to
honestly hear and/or consider the horse.
I know that may sound funny, but it is true.
Give the person the option of A.) Sneaking past the “scary”
object and continuing on as if it didn’t exist, or B.) Stopping and addressing
what was bothering the horse and nine out of 10 folks would (and do) pick
option A.
Are they trying to avoid a conflict? A blow up?
A potentially dangerous ride?
Yes. And smart of them to think
that. But I mostly believe they choose
option A. because they don’t have enough effective “tools to communicate”,
they don’t have enough tools to give them options in how they communicate, and
they don’t connect the dots that if something is bothering the horse now, that
he will not just “let it go” and move on, but rather he will continue
to carry that emotion and stress and it will increase as the ride
continues if it is not addressed.
So it wasn’t until one day at some low level competition in England where I was grooming that I started for some reason to look around me. I saw stressed out riders. I saw stressed out horses. I didn’t see anyone smiling. Even the rare pat offered to a horse for a
good performance was perfunctory rather than heartfelt. I saw injured horses being asked to do things
too soon in their healing process. I saw
horses still willing to try, even with injury or fear or both. I saw how much “masking” was going on, all
for the sake of the “end result.”
Now don’t get me wrong, I think competition can be
awesome. But what I was finding was that
more often than not, the end goal became such a focus point that the quality of
the journey to get there was lost.
Perspective was nonexistent. Why
was I having to hand walk a soaking wet (with sweat) horse at 8pm on a cold
winter night after a top international level rider/instructor/Olympian decided the horse wasn’t “getting
it” and rode the horse for three, yes THREE, hours for the horse to “better understand.” Hmmm.
You may say, “oh bad trainer.” Well this same person is currently coaching top level competitors worldwide. For me, that was the beginning of the breaking point. The preparing of horses for photographing the “ideal "ride" to go along with the idealistic and inspiring magazine article by another big name trainer, and then behind the scenes when no one was around next day, to have the same horse run into the ground to “teach him a lesson.”
You may say, “oh bad trainer.” Well this same person is currently coaching top level competitors worldwide. For me, that was the beginning of the breaking point. The preparing of horses for photographing the “ideal "ride" to go along with the idealistic and inspiring magazine article by another big name trainer, and then behind the scenes when no one was around next day, to have the same horse run into the ground to “teach him a lesson.”
I also started realizing the more “soft” I was getting
towards the horses, the more severe the judgment, criticism and harsh instruction
was directed towards me. And as with anything,
once you start questioning the fundamental “basics” of a specific belief, the
rest of the thoughts and things you thought you knew start coming crashing down
at a rapid pace.
So long story short, I extracted myself from the horse world
as I knew it. I had to mentally and emotionally heal from a life long trauma I hadn't even realized was happening through my experiences.
I had to reintroduce myself to the horse the years later. The most basic fundamentals of being around an animal, showing it respect, offering my own availability to actually recognize what the animal was trying to communicate.
For the first time EVER I had no agenda, other than trying to figure out how to get my fire-breathing-red-head-thoroughbred at the the time to keep all four feet on the ground when stressed. And oh how my world changed.
I had to reintroduce myself to the horse the years later. The most basic fundamentals of being around an animal, showing it respect, offering my own availability to actually recognize what the animal was trying to communicate.
For the first time EVER I had no agenda, other than trying to figure out how to get my fire-breathing-red-head-thoroughbred at the the time to keep all four feet on the ground when stressed. And oh how my world changed.
Every time I thought I’d tried, offered and experimented “enough”
to get a change in that horse, he’d demand more of me. I think he was my karma horse for all I’d
unintentionally “done” to past horses I’d worked with. EVERYTHING was a big deal. He was either 100% okay or 110% not, and
there was NO middle ground. You couldn’t
manhandle his athleticism, you couldn’t “make” him do anything and I certainly was
not someone he trusted. I tried everything I knew, and nothing worked. At all.
In fact it just made things worse.
So I finally had to ask for help.
I remember laughing when I reminisced about the “old” galloping I
used to do at a break neck speed, and here I was just trying to get this darn chestnut
to walk a straight line at a reasonable pace without rearing, bucking or
_____________.
On one hand I was in awe of him because of his acute
awareness, his infallible timing, his athleticism and his persistence at not
becoming “submissive” towards me. On the
other hand it was overwhelming to feel no progress, and only a worsening in his
fear, worry and discontent.
With nothing to lose, I reconnected with an old timer who
wasn’t fazed by much. When I unloaded my
red steed, the cowboy straightened up by about four inches. His eyes danced with enthusiasm at my “project.” I was open to trying anything, so we started at
what should have been the “very” beginning of establishing a connection with
the horse in order to create a mental availability.
I was standing in the middle of a round pen while my horse
was having a nervous breakdown over something happening a mile away (literally),
when that cowboy stood up and asked if he could go in the pen. Ever have that feeling where you can’t wait
to “get away” from your own horse? I had
it. And then I watched.
It didn’t even take a full two minutes and there was this
HUGE but almost unintelligible conversation happening between my horse and the
cowboy, courtesy of using the lead rope.
He’d wiggled the rope with a finger.
He’d shift his hand ever so slightly; he’d pick up the energy in his fingers
just a notch. My horse hadn’t moved; no
circles, no fleeing, no dramatic behavior other than what at first appeared to
be just a few nods of his head. And
suddenly, he was blowing his nose. Over
and over again, dropped his head and let all tension out of his body, passed
manure, sighed, breathed, relaxed his eyes, and cocked a hind foot. The worry peaks over his eye were gone; there
was a softness and alertness in his body, rather than defensiveness.
I wanted to scream, “Why hadn’t anyone told me about …. About…
THIS?” How had no one ever, EVER offered me the idea that my horse’s emotions
could change everything? I mean, we
talked about stressed out horses, and how to contain them, sedate them, wear
them down, etc. but never had anyone I known even considered that we could influence
a mental and emotional CHANGE by doing so LITTLE if we were specific and clear. And then to imagine what we could ask physically of a mentally and emotionally happy horse? Wow.
So that week I had to re-evaluate everything I thought I
knew. Years after the fact, I was still
having epiphanies about what had happened that day. And from there everything gradually became
clear. There was NO option for me to NOT
address my horse’s mental and emotional availability in order to accomplish the
physical tasks I presented.
Which brings me to my most recent present day
galloping. With a refined sense of
awareness and understanding of the horse, as I increase my horse’s speed, I want
it to be a reflection of his brain.
Although the steps may be larger and faster, there still needs to be softness,
lightness and balance. If at any moment
I drain all my energy, my horse needs to immediately halt balanced on his
hindquarters, WITHOUT me pulling on his face.
If while cantering I feel him asking to drain into a slower gait, I need
him to relax if my aid asks him to go forward, rather than pinning his ears
or becoming defensive towards me. The
irony is the faster you go with quality, the slower it feels, and the more time
it seems you have.
So I spend a lot of time going slow nowadays. Very, very slow. I mean slower than you’ve probably ever
imagined asking your horse to go. As in,
one-step-at-a-time slow. I always joke
it takes me forever to go nowhere.
In the long run, by the time I’m asking a horse to move
forward, my goal is that the horse offers to do so with a willingness,
confidence and availability, and perhaps that carefree romanticized version we
all have in our heads of what galloping across a field felt like as a kid.
And the other day it happened. I hadn’t planned on it, it hadn’t been my
goal. But there I was working with a
horse that had come a long ways from his shut down, fearful, insecure self that I’d
met a while back. As we rolled up into a
light canter, there was a moment, almost indescribable, but where you can “hear”
the horse reaffirming he is okay. So I
asked for a larger stride, and as my seat instinctively lifted out of the saddle
and I lowered my upper body, almost floating above the horse, I could feel us
shift gears and we were off… He stretched out all 17 hands of himself and all I
could feel was the softness of the gigantic stride below me. Time stops in those moments. Nothing else exists. It is why we all ride. It is the ultimate escape and emotional
release for us humans.
As I slowed him back to a lovely trot, I realized my
adrenaline had kicked in. When I sat
back down in the saddle I instantly felt my fatigued muscles quivering in my lower back
and legs reminding of just how long it’d been since my last gallop. So even if for the rest of the day my legs
felt like Jello, I was still grinning, and so was the horse. And to me, that is what the gallop is all
about.
Sam
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