The stuff that a horse wears so that a rider can securely sit on his back is called tack. Putting it on is called tacking up. I enjoy a style of riding called dressage, and for that and the frequent trail riding that I do, Tonka wears a saddle and bridle that look like this:

There are as many styles of tack as there are styles of riding, and within each discipline, there are all sorts of doodads and pieces of equipment that one can buy. I like to keep my gear simple. What Tonka has on is fairly basic. But it’s not simplistic! A horse can’t go happily with a rider on his back unless what he wears fits and is kept clean and supple.

A saddle is strapped onto the horse with a band called a girth. The girth sits behind the horse’s elbows. All parts of a horse are sensitive, but this belly area is especially so. Saddles and girths need to fit the individual horse. A bad fit is comparable to you walking around in stiff shoes of the wrong size. Pretty soon you wouldn’t want to move. Also, some horses are fussier than others. Just like some people can’t stand tags inside of their collars (one of my sons could feel a label of a snowsuit through a shirt and sweater) some horses can’t bear to have a girth of a certain material or shape. After some trial and error, I found the one

that Tonka likes. (When he didn’t like a girth, he wouldn’t let me get on!) He also wears a sheepskin saddle that is custom fit for his unusually high and sloping withers.

Even with the tack carefully adjusted, some horses have issues when being girthed up. How you put the saddle on the horse is as important to their comfort as how well it fits. I met Lucky at my clinic in Connecticut. He’s a sensible and calm horse, however, he experienced years of someone slapping a heavy western saddle on his back and roughly pulling the cinch up tight. By the time Laura, his current owner got him, he’d had it.

Here is Lucky telling us as loudly as he could that he is afraid of the pain that inevitably happens when the girth is tightened:

Pinned ears. Wrinkled nose. Grinding teeth. Whites of the eyes showing. Head up and tense. Although his current saddle has been fit properly by a professional, Lucky has a long history of pain. It’s not enough that his tack no longer hurts. Now he has to trust that things are truly different.

Lucky is lucky. Laura is as kind as they come. But, by the time she got him, Lucky didn’t just threaten with those pinned ears, he bit. She had welts and bruises to prove it. Laura is a loving but novice horsewoman. She’d been told to not let Lucky get away with that behavior, and to back him off with a whip to protect herself. So, the pattern became: Lucky threatened her, then she threatened back. He bit, then she hit. This sort of dynamic always escalates. It never stops a horse from biting, nor does it make the owner feel safe. It did make Laura feel terrible. She loves this horse but didn’t see a way to put the whip down. She’d also been advised that when tacking up, she should wait for Lucky to look calm, then tighten up the girth. That sounds nice, but behavior science tells us that consequences drive future behavior. Lucky learned that if he relaxed, that the dreaded girth was going to be pulled up. In effect, Laura was punishing the very behavior that she wanted.

I changed this dynamic with careful observation and a few cookies. Although Lucky wasn’t about to let his guard down, he couldn’t keep the tension going without a break. After Laura set the saddle on Lucky’s back, I watched for those micro-moments of relaxation. A flick of an ear to the front and I murmured good boy and gave Lucky a cookie. When his nostrils went from three creases to two, good boy and a cookie. I didn’t pat him, because I noticed that the action of my hand going to his neck was perceived by this horse as a threat. (Always reward for what the horse likes, not what you think they should like!) Soon, Lucky’s head lowered and his eyes softened. That brought him a good boy! and a big chunk of carrot. In this way I was able to tell him that relaxing would not bring pain. Once Lucky understood that, I needed to show him that the girth no longer hurt. While I stood at his head, murmuring sweet nothings to him, I had the owner tighten the girth up one hole. Lucky’s head raised up, but one ear flicked forward. Cookies. We repeated this. Took a break. Brought the girth up one more hole. Soon, Lucky was tacked up and calm. Laura was so relieved that she could put the whip down, that she was near tears. To make girthing up an even better experience for Lucky, I advised purchasing a longer and softer girth, which Laura has ordered. (In the below photo notice how the buckles are right at the bulge of his elbow. A longer girth will alleviate that pressure.)

How generous is this horse that after years of the fear of pain, that he is still willing to believe that there is good in the people around him?

Lucky showed no tension when his owner got in the saddle. That indicated that the tack fit and that we could proceed with the riding portion of the lesson. But it became immediately clear that Lucky had learned that going forward was also all about threats and pain. He moved with reluctance. Instead of walking on when Laura squeezed with her legs, Lucky braced and worried about what was next. Because he didn’t move, Laura did what she’d been taught – she kicked – and when that didn’t get Lucky to move, she used the whip. What Lucky had been anticipating and bracing against came true. Both horse and rider were frustrated. We changed that dynamic, too. Like with the girthing up, we stopped punishing and started rewarding. By the end of the lesson, a gentle press by Laura’s calves became a cue to move on, not a threat of being stung by the whip. (How I did this took timing and skill, and I’ll have to cover that in another post.) Soon Lucky was walking on and happily cooperating with what Laura was asking of him.

Doesn’t it look like he’s saying, What’s next? Let’s do it!

You can’t change years of history in a morning, but you can change the approach. Now Laura better understands what Lucky is telling her and respects his fears. He’s no longer afraid to relax, and under saddle he’s rewarded for going forward, not punished for being slow. One week later, Laura reports:

We are making great strides (pun intended!). I’ve noticed a big difference beginning with blanket removal, and girthing is much better too. The entire process takes a lot longer, but I feel that without the time investment we will not progress. I can’ t believe how much that one clinic has helped!

I’m eagerly looking forward to my next visit with this good horse and kind owner.

We’ve all taken selfies. Getting a decent photo of yourself is difficult enough; adding a second to the shot complicates things. Why are selfies so popular anyway? There’s no way to get a flattering view when posing shoulder-to-shoulder with a friend while holding the camera at arm’s length – I always struggle to not just get a view up our noses. (Yes, I know that’s why a selfie stick was invented. I refuse to own one.)

Try taking a selfie with a horse.

Horses show affection by leaning their heads on their friends’ shoulders.

 

Isn’t it infuriating when you want to look attractive, but your friend makes faces?

 

Some friends hog the camera. (Maybe Tonka was showing off the scrape that Maggie gave him. She is serious about her personal space.)

 

Sometimes your friend can’t stay still for the photo session.

 

Oh well.

I think I’ll skip the selfies with horse and make it all about just Tonka. I’m more successful at those.

 

Twiggy has finally taken a break from laying. It’s been ten days since she’s laid an egg.

Although there have not been visible signs of her molting – no piles of white feathers on the ground – somehow, her tail is back to looking good. Remarkable.

Actually, everyone is taking a break. I’m not surprised. The hens are older. It’s winter. Laying usually starts up again in February, and I’ll be curious if Twiggy leads the group into the nesting boxes or if she remains on an extended vacation.

There’s nothing interesting under the snow in Tonka’s paddock. It’s packed dirt.

 

A horse’s digestive system is designed to have a constant influx of small amounts of forage, and ideally that would be consumed while walking – about fourteen miles daily! Obviously, this isn’t possible for our horses. With animal care there are always compromises. A horse Tonka’s size eats about five flakes of hay a day. Where Tonka is boarded, that’s divided into four feedings, and the hay is put into special nets that slows consumption. That helps, but there are stretches of time when the hay is finished and there’s nothing to do. Even eating the hay probably gets boring. Horses don’t eat only grass. They also like bits of leaves from bushes and trees, and weeds like dandelions. There aren’t any of those interesting things to find and taste in the paddock.

The winter can be boring in other ways, too. Under that snow there is ice. Tonka has small cleats on his shoes to keep him from slipping, but it’s still too dangerous to ride outside.

 

Horses have to move (if they don’t their joint, circulatory and gut health are all aversely impacted) and so we move in the indoor. I ride daily, and I even keep track of how far we go with an app on my iPhone so as to make sure that he gets enough exercise. Most days we go around this small indoor up to 4 miles. I also take lessons weekly, so we’re doing interesting work, not simply going around in circles. When it’s too cold to ride (my tolerance for getting in the saddle stops at 18º F) I hand walk and lunge my horse.

 

Part of the reason that I have such a willing and happy horse is that we spend companionable time together. In the summer I hand-graze Tonka for at least a half-hour daily. We hang out while he contentedly bites and chews, and bites and chews. We both find this very peaceful. I ride daily in the summer, too, but we go on long trail rides at least weekly, have a choice of outside or indoor rings for schooling work, and always end the session with a stroll in the woods back of the barn.

So, Tonka and I are going a bit stir-crazy. That’s why I’ve been taking him on browsing walks.

The snow isn’t very deep this year, and back in the woods there are tufts of long grasses.

 

A few bites and Tonk looks up to see what else he can find. He meanders over.

 

Pine needles on a young sapling are delicious.

 

The snow has melted just enough that dormant grass is at the edges of the barnyard. We spend some time there.

 

As with so many things in life, it’s not the quantity of what you consume, but rather it’s the experience, that matters.