Making progress

Dee and I have made even more progress. This evening I started out on a hack alone to see how far we could get with our new counting technique. Many things were in our favour. Being Friday evening, there was no noise from the roadworks on the motorway as work had already stopped. Several people had headed out on rides before us, including Jane on Red, although they were well out of sight by the time we got going. Dee was in a calm, relaxed mood.

I counted her footfalls out loud as we progressed down the lane - 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4 - until we arrived at the point on the track, close to the gateway into her field, where usually she will not go any further. As expected, she stopped. I ceased counting, waited a few seconds, and then recommenced, simultaneously gently tapping her with my legs. Eventually she started walking on again, at which I immediately stopped the tapping and praised her. I repeated this again every time she stopped. At first she would only take a few steps before stopping again, but eventually Dee picked up an even walk and made it all the way to the end of the track. This is only the second time we have ever achieved this on our own.

Having made our way through the gate, she stopped again, so I recommenced the procedure. She walked on a few steps and stopped again. I was now aware that her demeanour had changed. On the track she had not wanted to move forward, but was pretty relaxed. Now however she was quite tense, and I felt it would be inappropriate to urge her so much as before, so I did not start tapping with my legs again this time. I counted and kept asking her to 'Walk on', and also encouraged her, telling her that she could do it, that it would be fine, that she'd walked up here many times before. It was extraordinary how different this experience of Dee not going forward was to our previous times. She did start stepping backwards a little, but it did not have the feeling of wishing to force me to back down. It actually felt as though she really did want to go forward for me, but just couldn't make herself do it.

We did eventually make it half way up the road to the entrance to the horse trail in Coed y Wenallt. We have never made it this far before on our own. At this point another horse from Wyndham Livery joined us, so I tagged along and let Dee follow this horse up onto the trail. We carried on for a little way and then I turned Dee and rode her home on her own. She was absolutely fine going home - as I had thought she would be. I am so thrilled and so proud of her. I really believe that this is progress that we can build on. I am confident that in time we shall make it up to the horse trail on our own. I'm sure some of the change is in me as well as in Dee. Simple, subtle changes in my relationship with Dee over the last few weeks have made this progress possible. If we have time on Sunday we are going to take her out again, with 'ö-Dzin on foot, and hopefully make it all the way to the horse trail.

The arena

This evening I rode Dee in the arena. This has always been a frightening place for her. There seems to be something scary on all sides as far as Dee is concerned. On one side there is a clear view of the motorway with all sorts of vehicles whizzing by, and currently long-term roadworks. On the second side it is bordered by the roofs of a row of stables, as the arena is set a little above their level, and Dee sometimes jumps at the sound of a horse moving about or a broom knocking against a wall. On the third side there is a drop down beyond the fence with more stables, and further down a bank above the level of the fence with bushes. Occasionally a cat or a rabbit emerges from these bushes, and sometimes there are horses being frisky in the field beyond. The bottom of the arena is the scariest of all, and many of the horses do not like this end. There is a row of young trees behind which is a track to a field and also a number of items of machinery are kept there. The trees are gradually growing bigger and thicker, but at the moment the machinery - painted orange and red - can still be glimpsed. Today this end was even more worrying than usual because there was a man working on the machinery. He was not making any noise in his work, but he was just there - not seen clearly but still known by Dee to be there - and this was most unsettling for her.

The sky was dark and lowering and rain expected at any moment. I took Dee in - head high, steps short and tense - and we started slowly walking round at the top end, the less scary end. I counted her walking paces as I had on our last ride, and worked with this counting every time she stopped. I rode figures of eight and clover leaf patterns at the top end of the arena, counting out loud to her and praising her when she was brave enough to walk on after napping, or go past a part she had refused on the last round. Gradually her stride lengthened and she started to stretch her neck down sometimes and make chewing movements with her mouth. We walked in this way for about 20 minutes and then I took her back to her stable for her feed.

Perhaps some might think that this was very little to achieve - we did not trot, canter, or take any jumps; we did not manage to bend at the corners or do any real schooling at all. But Dee came out of the arena a much more relaxed horse that the one who entered. She had listened to me and kept moving forward. She had stopped when asked to stop and stood quietly when asked to stand, facing each direction. It would have been unwise and unsafe to have asked more of her, and I am most content.

Finding confidence

I had a lovely ride yesterday evening with my friend on her mare, Ash (shown in the picture). Dee and Ash lived together at Ridgeway so they are good friends.

In fact the ride was quite magical, and I came home feeling elated. My friend now keeps Ash at a small livery yard just down the road from Wyndham, so when we ride together we meet at the end of Wyndham's track. If you are a regular reader you will know that my mare, Dee, will not hack out alone, and we always reach a 'point of no advance' when I try to take her out. Tonight, sure enough, we reached this point on the track.

Now I have been reading the Horsey Therapist blog and was intrigued by her June 26th post 'visualizing'. In this she describes counting her horse's hoof falls to aid transitions. As we approached the 'point of no advance' on the track, I started to count Dee's hoof beats out loud: "1, 2, 3, 4; 1, 2, 3, 4; 1, 2, 3, 4". When she stopped, I stopped counting. I let her stand for a few moments, and then started counting again at the same pace and in the same rhythm as her walk had been, gently tapping her sides with my heels on each count of '1', and moving my body a little as if we were walking forward again. After another few moments - which were noticeably more relaxed that usual at the point she naps - she walked forward a few paces. I immediately stopped tapping her sides, praised her and patted her, and then continued counting in time to her walk. She stopped again and I stopped counting. It was at this moment that my friend arrived, so I do not know whether I could have got Dee to walk on again, but she followed my friend's mare willingly.

We carried on with our ride in Coed y Wenallt with Dee following Ash. It was a beautiful evening with sunlight creating dappled patterns of brightness in the undergrowth. Apart from a few walkers and excitable dogs with pink tongues lolling out the sides of their mouths, the wood was quiet and full of the scent of wild garlic. We had a bit of trotting and cantering, and then I took the lead for a while, with Dee going ahead quite happily. This is not unusual - she has always been willing to take the lead during a ride, once we are actually out on the trail. We arrived at a point on the trail where there was a stile into a field in front of us and the horse track went off to the right at 90°. Dee stopped. Her ears were pricked, she was tense and snorting. She tried to turn back. We had hit another 'point of no advance'.

My friend is very understanding and willing to give me the time to try and help Dee through her napping. Usually she eventually has to take over the lead at such times, as Dee will walk on to follow Ash, but we decided to give Dee a bit more time last night and try the counting. I started to count. "1, 2, 3, 4; 1, 2, 3, 4 . . ." gently tapping with my legs. Dee dropped her head and started to walk forward, and then stopped tensely again. She took another couple of steps and stopped. All her attention was still strained in the direction of the stile and field. I gently pulled her head round to the right a little, leaned over and pointed up the track, saying "We're going up there Dee. That is the direction of the trail." I then recommenced the counting. Dee looked up the track and started walking again, this time without stopping, and with her stride gradually becoming more definite and confident.

This is a major breakthrough for us - for Dee to find the confidence, trust, relaxation, or whatever it was, to walk on, in the lead, from a place she had found so scary, where she has stopped rigidly, rooted to the spot. I have never succeeded in doing this before. She led for the whole of the rest of the ride and walked in a much more relaxed fashion than usual - even trying to grab a mouthful of fern here and there. I am so proud of her and so pleased. I don't know whether the counting made me more relaxed and she could feel this, whether it simply distracted her from her anxiety, or whether it gave her as means to find release from pressure. Whatever it was, I'm hoping that I can build on this little by little and eventually give her the confidence to hack out alone. Our relationship seems to have developed such a lot over the last couple of weeks - it is remarkable, and wonderful.