|
A Greater Understanding Of "Crazy" D
Dakota came into my life, shortly after my parents' divorce. This unfortunate circumstance led me to finally full fill my
childhood dream of becoming a Western rider. Growing up, I always wanted to be a cowgirl, but looking back, I never thought
being a rodeo junkie meant re-training an abused horse holding a carrot and little plastic box, when originally I pictured
spurs and ropes.
My father bought Dakota for me from a local Reining farm, after taking a few lessons from Bob, in the spring of '05. Before
me, Dakota had been through two owners, and a handful of different trainers.
At about three years old, Dakota was sold by the original owner to Rebecca. After Dakota bucked her off, leaving her with
a very serious back injury, Rebecca moved on to a different horse. A few weeks later Bob then insured my family that Dakota
was the right horse for me. Unaware of the previous accident, I fell in love with the sorrel and white Appaloosa's temper
and attitude, long before any complications arose.
My first year with Dakota was filled with anxiety, helplessness, and neglect for both my horse and I. Not only did I feel
uncomfterable jerking hard on his bridle while backing him into walls, or jabbing my spurs deep into his flesh only to hear
him hover over the ground in confusion, but I saw no progress in his actions. My trainers were pollite to me, but provided
no structure, guidance, or criticism, which left me pretty lost most of the time. In addition I did not like how they never
asked, but told the animal what to do. I am convinced that this was all supressing Dakota's natural playfulness and curiosity.
After owning D'Kota for a year, I noticed minimal progress in his training and still had no idea what on earth I was doing
on saddle. I then decided to leave that barn and board at a closer, more humane facility. I found a place in Poolesville,
where horses were turned out every day, got to eat hay and grass, and most of all, I found a place where people loved their
horses and treated them with respect. Dakota had never been socialized to share with other horses, nor had he ever been in
a pasture at the previous barn. The first few weeks were spent getting Dakota used to his stall, acquainted to his turn-out
mates, and accustomed to all the people, willing to pet and praise him.
Things were going well, and I even got to park my trailer, which I received as a high school graduation gift from my father,
at the farm. This enabled me to take Dakota on an outing to my father's in the blue ridge the summer of '06. The farm was
more then what I dreamed of with rolling hills and hundreds of acres of field, ponds, and woods. Not to mention that all the
people were nice, welcoming, and more than helpful.
Things went well, until a late fall day in '06 when I was riding Dakota on a trail with a friend, and he spooked at a
deer jumping from a bush. A few weeks later he bucked my sister off, who was riding him with me (although he previously tolerated
my boyfriend and I riding him together). Then in the winter, he spooked in the indoor arena and threw me off - that was the
last time I got on Dakota. With fear I asked Rebecca for her oppinion on his temperament. She then spent countless hours telling
me that he was not the right horse for a beginner rider and advised me to sell him. She was very supportive and sent me countless
articles on how to buy and chose a horse, yet I was hesitant to consider selling.
After a while a highly experienced horse trainer was recommended to me to help me learn how to ride and train Dakota;
he was happy to come check me and Dakota out at my barn. Sadly, after two hours of pushing, hitting, and whipping, the trainer
explained that my horse was not suited for me. It still kills me to look back and see how he kept trying to lunge Dakota by
whipping him. Most of all I blame myself for letting him treat my horse this way, but at the time I felt like this was my
last resort. The trainer offered to help me if I purchased a more suitable horse, but suggested I send Dakota to the butcher
to be processed as dog food, because he is "crazy". .
I gave Dakota a few weeks to recover from this horrible encounter and decided to do a little homework on humane horse
handling. Although other trainers were recommended to me, I refused to acknowledge any one. I then attended a dog training
seminar held by animal trainer Kathy Sdao, and met people who not only clicker trained dogs, but exotic animals too! I spoke
to a bunch of people who shared the same passion of humane animal education as I did! I not only went home with a few more,
and completely supportive freinds, but I found the strength to attempt, what people in the horse world barely have - clicker
training.
I searched the web and Karen Pryors website to receive as much infromation on clicker training horses as possible. I also
stumbled upon Alex Kurland's website, which was dedicated to training horses using clickers. I was amazed at the information
I was reading from Alex, a positive horse trainer, and read that even mustangs can be trained using clicker training techniques.
Well DUH! If I can get a Doberman to play instead of aggress, and teach a 6 year old stray basic obedience, then why on earth
would I not be able to clicker train a horse?
Well, it took me a while, but I am now spending my summer playing with Dakota and filming my training sessions and inteactions
with him. I want to be able to view, forward, and rewind his progress and document my experiences. I am by no means a horse
trainer, but using what I know from dog training and applying it my horse.
Dakota now is terrified of whips, does not lunge well, and has not been saddled in nearly 6 months. I realize that I should
have spent more time with him in the past, but am now glad I can form a relationship, not dictatorship with my horse. It will
be a lot of work, but I now realize that is was not crazyness or evil that caused the incidents to happen, but poor desensitization
and miscommunication. Also, a friend mentioned that barn mice wwere scurrying where Dakota had spooked in the arena. Who knows
if that triggered his last set back.
|
