As you know, the goats pride themselves on being useful.This time of year, they are a great help with the fall yard chores.

The grass needs one last cutting, and leaves have to be raked (or eaten) up. The goats are on it. The chickens also help by making sure that grubs don’t overwinter in the lawn. Such a hard-working crew!

 

We’ve had several hard frosts, which have wilted the mums. Pip tidies up the planters.

 

The raspberry canes need to be cut back. The goats make the job easier for me by removing the leaves first.

 

The goats even do jobs that I didn’t think of. Both boys were adamant that before the first snowfall that parsley should be eaten back to the root base. They were so enthusiastic about this task that they convinced me that they were right. Caper says that his miraculously expanding belly is up to the challenge.

Thanks for easing the workload and leavening the mood, boys!

Humans are word focused. Unless someone says look! we often don’t. One of the joys of riding is to tap into the world through my horse’s senses. I can feel when Tonka takes in a deep breath to smell the air. I see his ears swivel. I feel his body orient to something – something that I can’t smell or see or hear, but that he can. I look with him, and sometimes it comes into focus for me.

Tonka and I went for an explore along a river at a state forest.

 

Tonka’s ears flicked first, then his neck turned.

 

Do you see what he saw (or first heard, or smelled)?

 

Wild swans. (Sorry about the quality of the photo. Taking pictures from horseback with an iPhone is difficult!)

 

I always pay attention to the ears. Here’s Pip enjoying the water celery at the back of the pond. One ear is to the food, but the other is pointed back and up. I wonder what he’s aware of that I’m not?

 

Lily has radar ears. She even pays attention to what flies overhead. Her ears keep the farm safe.

 

Alas, not every animal has ears worth watching. Some animals have floppy ears and are only aware of the immediate world around them. That’s okay. They have other, endearing qualities.

Have your animals’ ears clued you into something that you would have otherwise have missed? Leave a comment!

Over the last year, I’ve heard from one of my readers who was going through the process of planning for and building his first coop. He told me that he was an experienced builder of high-end cabinets and wooden boats. Ted asked good questions. Yesterday he sent me photos of his set-up. I was as impressed as I thought I’d be. Ted generously said that I could share his design with you.

The building is a riff on a classic monitor style (there’s an illustration of one from the 1930s here.)

 

Ted lives on Cape Cod, and this building lets in light and air, but can withstand ocean winds and storms. Because Ted has a storage shed nearby, the entire interior or this 8 x 12 foot coop is used by the chickens. But, it could easily be divided, as I do with my Little Barn. (Plans for my small barn are here.)

 

Note that Ted has smartly predator-proofed the interior with

on the windows.

Even more than the coop, though, I’m impressed with the design of the outside pen. He used greenhouse hoops! Areas can easily be covered with tarps for shade, snow and rain protection, as need be.

 

Hardware cloth is also used here – it’s longer lasting and more predator-proof than chicken wire. You can see the master builder’s touches in the mahogany jungle gym and swings.

It makes my day to see a thoughtfully designed, well-made and spacious coop that is a healthy and happy place for both the hens and owner. Thanks for sharing, Ted!

I have two barns and two flocks. This gives me flexibility to divide my hens into different groups. Over the years, I’ve had a young flock and an aged flock. A flock of mellow hens, and one with those more assertive about their resources. I’ve been able to raise chicks in one barn and have everyone else in the other. Right now I have only four hens in one coop and ten in the other. I’m planning on merging these two groups into the Big Barn. Fourteen hens can fit comfortably there. I’ve got several reasons to do this.

I remember last winter. There was a lot of shoveling and water hauling. All of the hens in one space will ease up the work load.

 

Phoebe lives in the Little Barn. Unlike the late, great Empress of the Coop, Candy, this little rabbit isn’t that fond of the chickens. She doesn’t have it in her to boss them around. She prefers to avoid them. Unlike Candy, Phoebe pees in the coop. The added moisture and urine isn’t good for the respiratory health of the hens in the winter. If we moved the chickens to the Big Barn, and leave Phoebe where she is, she’ll happily live there on her own. Phoebe likes to tunnel in snow, so we wouldn’t have to shovel the pen. Also, it’s easy to clean up after her, because she has one area that she pees in. Tidy, less work, and a happier bunny. Win-win.

But, these flocks have lived separately for a couple of years. Even when free-ranging at the same time, they keep to themselves.

 

I want them to meet and mingle. Twice now, I’ve let them out and tossed corn on the lawn.

 

Scratch corn is a rare treat, and hard to resist. Veronica is the last to brave going near the other hens to get it.

 

The hens are wary of each other. Except for Agatha, who doesn’t seem to notice that there are chickens about that she doesn’t dorm with. She eats right next to Owly and Beulah.

 

I was not at all surprised that the Black Star, Beulah, was the first to take offense at a strange chicken nearby. She’s on the top of the pecking order. I was also not surprised that the hen that Beulah gave the stink-eye to was Jasper. They glared.

 

They chest bumped. Notice who is looking on. Agatha.

 

There was drama.

 

There wasn’t any blood. No one was going in for the kill. In fact, they were taking a lot of care to avoid each other.

 

But I never like to see one hen pin another down, and when that happened I quietly stepped between them and called Jasper away.

 

Everyone had had enough for now, so I called the Gems back to their coop. Agatha was last. Of course.

The weather should be beautiful all week, so I’ll continue to let the hens out onto the lawn, entice them to mingle, and monitor what happens. There will be tussles and scuffles, but hopefully it’ll settle enough that I’ll be able to merge the flocks before the first snowfall.

I’m a writer. I believe that the words that I choose to use – and not use – matter. As someone who has had her manuscripts marked up with red ink by editors, I know that the words that I have in my head, when put down on paper, aren’t always as clear as I intended. Words convey emotions as well as facts. I once tussled with a copy editor who wanted to make my recipes sound more authoritative with words like must and have to. I was able to keep my friendlier tone. I’ve also had an editor immensely improve my writing by changing one word in an opening sentence. I respect the craft of writing and work hard at it.

Now that I’m writing about animals, training and relationships, the meanings of words are even more fraught by interpretation because of the intense emotional connection that we have to our animals. All of us who ride horses want to believe that we’re doing right by them. But built into working with these large and potentially dangerous creatures is the potential for abuse. We use bits and saddles, ropes and halters.

Horses are kept in stables, taken places away from their herd, and asked (hopefully asked and not coerced) to do things that they wouldn’t normally do as a grazing animal of the plains. We can form a bond, communicate clearly, and train so that the activities we do are mutually rewarding. Or we can punish and force our way to our goals.

Traditional training has been all about dominance. Whips and spurs.

Restraint and fear. It’s still going on. There are thousands of YouTube videos (and clinicians who have wide audiences and pack arenas) who use these techniques. Turn off the volume and you see horses been chased into submission. Turn on the sound and you hear words making excuses for the training. Words like leadership, respect, talking like a horse and hooking up. At the end of these videos you see pliant horses doing amazing things – jumping through rings of fire without a bridle! Trotting with a head in a perfect arc with the rider seemingly doing nothing! Watch the training, not the end results, and see if you can write the script in a positive way. I can’t.

Words are used to make harsh techniques palatable. If I asked any of the people that I know “Would you beat your horse to make it do what you want?” the answer would be a resounding no. What about, “Would you reinforce your aids to have the horse do what you ask?” the answer would be yes.

The word reinforce sounds so positive. A bridge is reinforced to make it stronger. Troops are sent in to reinforce an army’s position. When a rider tries to get her horse to move forward with the squeeze of her legs, and nothing happens, the instructor says “reinforce that with the whip.”

In a recent issue of the United States Dressage Federation’s magazine, an article about using the leg states, “If the horse is not responsive to the leg aids, you can use the whip and the spur to reinforce the leg. These artificial aids must be used correctly and conscientiously so as to encourage the horse forward rather than punishing him for being unresponsive.” (Oct. 2015, page 31)

There are many positive words in this advice. Correct. Conscientious. Encourage. It explicitly states that you’re not punishing.

But what is the author really telling you to do? Look at it from a behavioral science point of view. You are cueing the horse to go forward with a squeeze of your calves. If the horse doesn’t respond to that cue, you put the sharp tip of your spurs against his sides and tap with the whip. If he still doesn’t move forward, you press and hit harder. Behavioral science tells us that actions can do one of two things: stop a behavior or make it more likely to occur again. A behavior is stopped using punishment. Spurs and whips are not rewarding anything, rather they punish the laggard movement. Let’s say that you hit the horse because she didn’t move forward from your leg pressure. The whip made her unenergetic stride stop – but that doesn’t mean that you taught the horse to move with energy. Sometimes whipped horses stand still, or buck, or rear. If the horse does move forward, then the spurring and hitting ceases. This relief from the rider’s actions is rewarding, but it’s essential to recognize that to reward in this way, one had to initially apply an aversive. By saying that a whip encourages the horse ignores that fundamental first step of punishment.

Scientists try to eliminate the many interpretations of words by codifying terminology with clear definitions. Unfortunately, for trainers who want to use science to underpin what we do, the words behavioral scientists use carry far too much emotional content. For example, there is “positive punishment” and “negative punishment.” In these two terms, positive and negative are simply words from math – you add something (positive) or you take it away (negative.) However, even if you know you’re not supposed to think that positive punishment is a warm and fuzzy way to punish your animal, you can’t help but see the word “positive” as something good.

Riding is not black and white. Good or bad. I liken it to ballroom dancing. When I dance, my partner has his hand at the small of my back. A slight firmer touch directs where I go, even such nuances as angle and lift can be cued by a minute change in the position of that hand. Dancing with a compatible partner is magical. Dancing with someone who shoves me around and isn’t in tune to my body language is a miserable experience. When I ride my horse, my position, my weight, how and where I press with my legs, and how I hold the reins, all can communicate as subtly as a dance partner’s hand. In riding, like dancing, body language can quickly change to pressure that the horse wants to avoid, and to outright punishment if it hurts. Add whips and spurs, draw reins and harsh bits, and the potential for serious abuse is compounded. Most riding disciplines are based on the premise that you use some sort of pressure to get the horse to do what you want, and that you reward that behavior by alleviating the pressure. I want to understand what I’m doing as honestly as possible. Words can hinder and excuse what is actually happening, but they can also clarify. Is a moment of riding pressure and release, pressure and relief, pressure and reward, punishment and reward, or as a behaviorist might say, positive punishment or negative reinforcement?

I don’t think that, when on the back of a horse, one can (or should) eliminate all potentially aversive actions, but the vast majority of the time, I want it to be positive for both of us – in the lay person’s understanding of those words. Positive: optimism, agreement, affirmation, confidence. Reinforce: strengthen, support. Reward: fair return, recognition, gift, appreciation.

I’m firmly behind what behavioral scientists have brought to the understanding of animal behavior and I am committed to using this science as an underpinning for how I work with my animals (and in fact, relate to the world.) However, I want to use words that are clearer and more effective in communicating the message than what these scientists are restricted to because of the protocols of their field. So, as I continue to discuss these topics, understand that I am not using the terms as defined by scientists, but that I am using principles that they’ve worked so hard to discover.

This all brings us to the question: When you want the horse to go forward, how do you do that without using that whip (or a kick and spurs)? I’ve been working on this in my lessons with Kim Litwinczak. She’s a Grand Prix dressage rider, steeped in traditional methods – and very successful. (This week Kim is showing at the USDF Finals in Kentucky.) I’m so fortunate that she’s willing to try out my ideas. We’re using a clicker and food rewards to teach Tonka to do dressage. I’m still using traditional aids – done right they convey information between both parties in a way that is immediate, subtle, and complex. Kim not only helps me learn how to execute those aids, but on the ground she’s able to watch for the perfect stride and is marking that with the clicker at the exact moment that it happens. This knowledge and precision is essential when doing dressage. Tonka appreciates the immediate feedback and clarity – and the cookies that he gets for those marked behaviors. We started by training a square halt and we are now clicking for an energetic working trot. Both Tonka and Kim are engaged and happy with this method. It’s very exciting, and I’ll be sharing what we’re doing in future posts.

 

But for now, here is a video of how we taught Tonka to do a square halt. What I love about this is that once he understands what the behavior that I’m asking for is, he takes ownership of it, and I no longer have to micromanage where he puts his feet. (Please note that for this video I didn’t have a treat bag and the cookies were stuck in the small pocket of my breeches. I’ve since purchased a

that doesn’t bang when I trot and treat delivery is much quicker!) Do notice the relaxed attitude and the seemingly conflict-free training.