|
|
|
<
Back
Nikos: SENSE as a Training Tool
When I first met Nikos, the 18-year-old bay thoroughbred who would become my equine companion, he was so quiet and gentle, he would follow his rider out of the ring like a puppy dog. But under saddle, he carried his head high and bent to the left, his back hollow, rushing, rushing, his rigid body twisted into a crescent in a clear attempt to avoid pain.
When Nikos became mine, I had just begun my SENSE training with Mary Debono, and so I shared SENSE with him every chance I got. It took time, but he began moving more freely, more comfortably. With time, he no longer rolled his eyes back in his head under saddle. His sternum and ribs softened, and he could lift his strong back; his long, beautiful neck softened, straightened; he was able to bend, to thrust his hind legs deeply under him, to swap leads without tossing his head. A horse who had been so of balance that he could barely canter right in an arena, who would rush off at top speed, tilting into corners like a speeding motorcycle, had slowed down, was now comfortable in the canter in either direction. What had been a cacophony of sound was now a symphony.
Nikos and I have been together five years now, and he is comfortable enough in his body that we generally do SENSE together about every three months. He continues to surprise me from time to time: About six months ago he demonstrated an extended trot I had no idea he had. He is 24 now, relaxed, more balanced than he's ever been, fluid in his movement.
Several months ago, a natural horsemanship trainer friend of mine was giving Nikos and me a lesson. She is a wonderful, soft trainer, and although Nikos already has excellent ground manners and is very soft under saddle, I thought it would be fun to take a few lessons with her. In this lesson, she was showing me how to use a soft rope to teach a horse to give to pressure. She placed the rope around one of Nikos' legs at a time, gently pulled, and Nikos lifted his foot. Then she draped the rope around his hind end, gently pulled to one side, and Nikos stepped over with his hind legs. It took very little pressure. As I said, Nikos is very light.
Then the trainer placed the rope around Nikos' barrel and gently pulled to one side. She wanted him to move laterally, but he didn't. She applied more pressure. Still Nikos stood, clearly thinking, beginning to look perplexed.
Knowing my horse, I said that I was sure Nikos knew what she was asking him to do, but that for some reason he was unable to do it. I continued watching him. She applied more pressure to the rope. Nikos clumsily stepped over with his hind legs. She released and tried again. He stepped over with his front legs, just as clumsily. Aha! Now I understood. I told my friend again that Nikos was unable to do what she was asking. She told me, very kindly, that he had to learn.
"But," I said, "You aren't teaching him. You are asking and asking, but you aren't teaching him how to do what you are asking."
From watching Nikos, it had become apparent that he, for whatever reason, was feeling a disconnection between his front and his hind. He could move the front, he could move the hind, but he simply could not perform the simple lateral move she was asking for (a movement that he ordinarily has no problem with). "Let me show you something," I said and asked her to remove the rope.
Standing behind Nikos, I placed one hand on the left side of his tailbone and gently pushed toward his head. When I released, just as gently, I watched for the tiny head bob that would indicate the movement had traveled along his spine all the way from hind end to front. There. I then stepped over and placed my hand on the right side of his tailbone. Again, I gently pushed, gently released. Again his head gently dipped and raised.
I stepped away. "Now try again," I said. My trainer friend placed the soft rope around Nikos' barrel and applied gentle pressure, asking him to step to the right. He gracefully stepped over, crossing his left feet in front of his right. The trainer's eyes widened. She moved to the other side, placed the rope around Nikos' barrel, applied gentle pressure. He gracefully stepped to the left.
"See," I said, "you had to teach him how to do it. I don't know why, but he was disconnected today." Perhaps the rope itself, draped as it was around his middle, had disconnected his front end from his hind. (In much the same way that a girth does over time.) My pushing through his tailbone, sending a gentle force up along his spine, had reminded Nikos of the connection between front and back, and in less than a minute he had been able to gracefully and willingly comply with the trainer's request.
Pam Sourelis
PO Box 1681
Woodstock, IL 60098
|
Phone:
815.351.8155
Email Pam
|
|
|
|
