EXCERPTS

Chapter Six - “And Baby Makes Two”

I was the ultimate nervous mother as the time approached for Silk to have her baby. Once again, the similarities between my own situation and hers were obvious. I was older than most moms when I had my one and only child, and when the time came, delivering my daughter wasn't easy. I re-lived those memories, and as Silk's time approached, my stress level sky-rocketed. Of course, I heard horror story after horror story while I was at work at the tack store about problems with mares giving birth.

Silk was fourteen, which is old for a maiden mare, and she kept going into the early stages of labor and then, backing away from it. I hadn't realized that horses can stop their labor if they feel there's anything threatening. For two weeks, Patricia got up in the middle of the night every two hours to check on Silk. I slept fitfully, with my clothes piled next to my bed, expecting the phone to ring. Twice, she called me thinking that the time had come, but my mare wasn't quite ready.

Finally, on May 23rd, at nine pm, Silk's water broke. It took me ten minutes to get to the barn from my house, and by the time I arrived, the baby was already out and lying next to her mother. What a thrilling sight! I immediately went into the foaling stall with Joe and helped him “imprint” the baby, introducing my scent and touch so she would accept me along with her mother.

She was a chesnut filly with a white blaze in the shape of a seven on her face. We decided that it was a lucky sign. About twenty minutes after she was born, the baby stood up and boldly wobbled over to the fence to meet the three ranch dogs, who were lined up like an attentive audience watching one of the greatest shows on earth. Silk was exhausted, but she was also a very gentle and accepting mother. She was very glad to see me, and wasn't over-protective of her little one.

I will always remember the beauty of that scene. The night was so dark, and there was a warm glow from the work-light. The foaling stall was tucked half under the barn and half open to the sky. Both horses were wet and there was some steam coming from them. And all of us, people and animals, were so happy and relieved. It wasn't until the next day that I learned I had missed the dramatic part.

When the vet checked the baby, he told me that Joe had to reach into Silk and pull the filly out just before I got there. He said that I was so lucky that Joe was so experienced at delivering foals because I probably would have lost both Silk and the baby if he hadn't been there. I was stunned. No one had said a word the night before. I hugged Joe and told him that he was my hero. Patricia said, “God did it. He just used Joe's hands.”

From Chapter 8 "Trying to Find the Try"

"Make the wrong thing difficult, and the right thing easy." Those same horse gurus that I admire also give us that advice. Sounds good, but in reality, how do you do that? Of course, it's different with each horse and each situation. What's also true is that these trainers spend most of their time working with horses. They get up in the morning and concentrate on the horses, day after day. The rest of us take the kids to school, deal with problems at work, get stuck in rush hour traffic and if we're lucky, have an hour or two to spend with our horses a few times a week. So, for me, figuring out how to make the wrong thing difficult, in the three seconds I have to respond to my horse when she does whatever wrong thing she's doing, isn't always clear.

I mulled over how to achieve this for quite a while. Then, I discovered that I was once again trying too hard. It doesn't have to be complicated to make the wrong thing difficult. Sometimes, just asking the horse to move its feet or circle and go the opposite direction of where it wants to go will do the trick. Nothing dramatic, just an instinctive reaction. It does, however, require my complete attention. When I first began riding Silk, my trainer would point out that I let her get away with something, and I wouldn't be aware that anything had happened. She might have grabbed a tasty weed or leaf off a branch while we were on the trail. She might have sped up while we were jogging in the arena, and I didn't check her back. I used to look at it as a battle of my will against hers. Now, I see that it's an indication that my mind is wandering , and I'm not feeling in sync with Silk. I don't mean that I'm obsessively focused on each movement we make. Just like a surfer feels the wave or a skier feels the mountain, I'm learning to feel my horse. When I ask and she tries, we are in harmony. It makes both of us happy.

Ray Hunt talks about not "hammering" on a horse when it does something wrong. He suggests that you show him that it's not a good thing to do, but not make too big a deal out of it. It's like trying to discipline a kid. If you get so angry that you're out of control, you'll either make the child more rebellious or you'll scare him. There's no teaching involved when you're in situations like that. No one can concentrate. The same is true with your horse.

When you're unsure about what you're doing, the horse feels it. And if you keep on going and force the horse, you run the risk of the horse bucking or rearing or refusing. You get scared or nervous or even angry. The horse tries to take charge because it feels that you aren't in control, and its instinct is to protect itself. The incident escalates until neither one of you trusts each other. The next time that you see the same kind of situation coming up, you might attempt to avoid it, which only confirms to the horse that it's okay not to try and it's okay to disobey you. It's understandable from both your point of view and the horse's.

So what do you do? I've been there, and I've learned to break down the thing that you want to do into smaller parts. With each small effort, both you and the horse will become more confident and unified. It's not a matter of whose will is stronger or who will win. Sometimes, a step back will allow you to take two steps forward more easily. Whether you're trying to get a horse to lope off smoothly or stop when you ask for it or whatever, you've got to make sure the horse understands what you're asking so that he can succeed at doing it. When he does, let him know you're pleased and don't keep pushing for more.

They told me that Silk was a burned-out show horse. I didn't really understand what that meant. Then, I watched other people push and push their horses, and I began to see what that kind of mental stress can do to the horse. It builds up resistance and fear and rebellion.

Some people may say that I'm not demanding enough, but I don't care. Silk and I are on the same page, and that's what counts. I don't ever want to show her, but I do want to feel safe and have fun when I ride her. We do a little bit of work each time to help her be more flexible and to keep up with the basic responses that I expect from her, being collected and stopping and backing and honoring my requests. After that, it's all about wandering around and enjoying being out and about. I don't get to ride as often as I like, but I do feel that Silk looks forward to it when we do. That's actually one of the most important changes that I feel, and it tells me that we've come a long way from when I first got her.