Articles

Four Legged Therapists

The Certification Conundrum

Integrating Natural Horsemanship into Equine Facilitated Counselling

The Healing Power of Animals

Horse Power: From Mythology and Intuition to Effective Therapy

The Links Between Animal Abuse and Violence Towards People

What is Equine Facilitated Mental Health ("EFMH")

EFMH Ethics: Interests of the Four Legged Counsellor

New Featured Article: Dancing with Skye

Working with a horse at liberty (i.e. without a halter or rope on the horse) is very much like dancing a delicate and intricate dance. In many ways it feels like there is an invisible string connecting you and the horse, a string that can at one moment feel like it is made of the strongest twine and the next moment disintegrates into thin air. You are constantly needing to feel the level and nature of the power that moves along that invisible string, to know when it is safe to hold on to it and ask the horse to move in a certain way, and when you need to slow your dance down and work on strengthening that connection.

The smallest nuances can make the biggest differences: reading his body language to gage the strength of your connection and the direction you need to go to stay in step – with you in the lead; monitoring and adjusting your own moves to see where you are at risk of weakening your connection. A step forward or back, looking up or down, at his head or at his tail, the horse is always paying close attention and when you are working with him at liberty then so should you.

I am reminded of this every time I work with Skye. Some days it feels like a nice smooth waltz with us moving gently in time, in sync with each other, through a smooth and steady connection that never wavers. On those days he turns when I ask, moves calmly away in a circle in the direction I ask him to go, comes smoothly in when I beckon. His eyes are soft, his ears tune in my direction, and his head lowers as he approaches me. We move sideways, forwards and back in perfect unison, in tune with each other; and I feel in tune with the world. Other days I get it all wrong and I completely miss his cues. He asks for more connection and I don’t see his request, I send him away when he needed to come closer, I take a hold on the string and ask for more before I realize that it is already gone. Those are the days that see Skye galloping off to the gate with me standing in his dust, wondering what went wrong this time, not feeling in tune with anything.

On reflection I always see that right before Skye took off I asked for more than I should have. I misread the strength of that invisible string and pulled on something that wasn’t there. I acted outside of the level of power my current connection to Skye afforded me. Perhaps I asked him to trot a circle when I should have kept him in walk or simply have kept him much closer to me. Perhaps I asked him to turn his hind quarters when I didn’t have a strong enough connection to keep his front end with me. Most of my errors come out of asking him to move away from me when he is not secure enough in that moment to want to come back, so he chooses to leave altogether. Sometime, if I realize my misjudgment quickly enough, I can “get him back”; a quick dance step and I’m back in the lead dance position again; by asking for the right turn in the right way I can engage his attention and bring him in close before I lose the connection completely and he heads for the hills (or at least for the gate).

Luckily Skye is forgiving. He usually comes back, or at least agrees to me bringing him back, and is ready to try again. This time I will know that I need to focus on the strength of our connection, on re-building that invisible string; and to keep my requests and directions within the level of power it provides me with.

Others see me working with my horses and suggest ways I could increase my ‘influence’ to get a better behaved horse. Perhaps some horse treats to let him know when he is getting it right, or a whip to remind him who is boss, and to correct him when he makes a wrong step. Thing is, while those ‘techniques’ may work OK when you have a rope on your horse every time I’ve tried them at liberty the end result has been to sever that invisible string. The treats bring his attention away from me and onto the treat. No longer are we reading each other’s cues and dancing in tune; now he is so focused on what might be in my pocket that he is no longer interested in where I may be looking or what I have to say. One step forward, one step back and he is still going for the x –ray vision through my jacket pocket. This result will last for many days, with him checking my pockets regularly for a week after the last treat, until I can finally bring his attention back to me.

The whip I will use to gently rub his back with when I can’t reach, but if it is used or threatened in reprimand it rarely goes well. The first time I use it he may respond with alarm and, if the invisible string survives intact, will react immediately and often in the way I was aiming for. But I will see the fear in his careful eyes, in his high head carriage and uneasy stance. I will know that the string has been frayed and that next time I pull it may break. And that time he may not be so willing to come back to try again. This is not natural power; it is coercion and force and he can smell it a mile away (along with those treats!)

So I stick with my natural power, and aim to find ways to dance within the realms of what it offers to me in each moment. I know I won’t always get it right but I know that provided I focus primarily on the invisible string then Skye will keep accepting my dance invites, and all of the rest will come in time.

Working with a horse at liberty is very much like dancing a delicate and intricate dance; it is very much like parenting a child.

Copyright Sue McIntosh, 2009

Featured Article: A Valuable Lesson from Star:

It’s minus 25 and blowing a gale when I take hay out to my cold furry herd one February morning. Most of my horses accept a hug and a pat from me as they get down to the serious business of breakfast. But as I near Star she flattens her ears back against her head and turns around to aim a kick, before running away. Getting used to (and a little tired of) this morning routine I keep out of kicking range, all the while fighting down the frustrated voice in my head which keeps telling me she needs to be given an ‘attitude adjustment’ and shown who’s the boss around here. Why won’t she appreciate that I’ve sacrificed my warm cosy bed to come out in this cold to feed her! Instead, taking a deep breath and listening to my heart, I move around the edges talking to her reassuringly in a quiet voice, telling her I am here for her, when she is ready to be with me. I know the words make no sense to her but trust that she hears my love in the tone of my voice. By the end of feeding time I go to her and she lowers her head to me; scratching her gently behind her ears I wonder how I could have wanted to give this gentle hurting soul an ‘attitude adjustment’ just a few short moments ago.

Star found her way to Healing Hooves late last year. She was introduced to us as an aggressive horse with a bad attitude and behavioural problems. We were warned repeatedly not to walk behind her. The trainer I consulted with told me she needed a ‘real firm hand’. He advised that Star be shown who was boss; if she tried to kick me when I was feeding her then I simply shouldn’t feed her that time. He recommended I keep her in a small pen so that I could catch her, and to carry a whip with me whenever I went in the pen. He assured me that this approach had worked well with horses far worse than Star. I listened, but in my heart it just didn’t feel right.

A month after Star arrived, I met Annie, a 13 year old who had also been told that she had a bad attitude and behavioural problems. Annie refused to talk to the last three counselors her parents sent her to; she called the psychologist, who diagnosed her with Oppositional Defiant Disorder, “Dr. Poopyhead;” and she hit the family’s in home support worker (who is focusing on behaviour modification) again last week. She awols regularly and her parents no longer know any of the friends she hangs out with. Her parents tell me they have tried every consequence out there, but now they have nothing left to take away. Whatever they do Annie just doesn’t seem to care anymore, and she used to be such a loving sensitive little girl. The only positive they can tell me about Annie now is her devotion to Domino, her 12 year old lab cross, who her parents describe as “the only member of the family Annie has a civil word for nowadays”.

Annie is drawn to Star and asks why she moves away when we approach. We talk a while about Star’s past including the many trainers at her last home who tried to ‘fix’ her behaviour. Annie asks what the trainers had done. I explain what the last one had recommended I do. A look of horror crosses Annie’s face as she asks me if I’d done this, and relief as I said definitely not. I ask “What do you think may have happened if I had done what the trainer said?” “She’d want to kick you even worse. Maybe in a tiny pen she might have done what you said, but only cos she had to. As soon as she got her freedom back she’d kick your head in and be long gone. And I wouldn’t blame her!”

“She can’t help what she does, she doesn’t mean to hurt you” Annie later tells me as she gently scratches Star behind her ears, “she’s just so scared.” “So what do you think needs to happen next?” I ask. “She needs to know she can trust you, that you are going to stick by her even when she kicks. You need to be patient because the more you push her, the more attitude you’re going to get – she just can’t help it.”

To Annie it is all so obvious; to her parents, watching over the fence, the parallels and full implications are just starting to sink in. Star has just taught them where my words alone had previously failed.

Over the next couple of months I help Annie show Star the love and acceptance she needs. In time Star’s aggression simply melts away and we discover a gentle intuitive horse who loves hugs – especially from Annie. At the same time I watch Annie’s parents change their approach with their daughter and she too starts to melt, then flourish. They simply see her in a different way and that has changed everything.