Hi Everyone,
Yellow leaves, yellow school buses. Fall reminds me of my years as an English teacher, a thirty-five-year career which I loved. I cherished my time with my students and colleagues, and I loved seizing the opportunity to learn in our collective exploration of literature and writing.
Being in touch with my inner nerd, I have to admit–I also loved a good assignment. Developing meaningful tasks, sending students home or to the library with a stimulating and creative to-do list, meant having the privilege of watching them grow as learners.
In my post-teaching life, this old teacher has become a student again, and it’s suiting me well. I won’t tell you about the excruciating noise I make as I learn to play the violin, but I will tell you about my newest assignment at the barn.
You may have seen one of our artful social media posts about Snookie, the young male mule who is craving human attention but hasn’t yet gotten over his fears. Danielle Garbarino—the photographer, writer, and all-around amazing human being who brings you those posts—highlighted Snookie’s good looks and charm. But his fears, if not addressed, have the potential to stand in the way of adoption.
Snookie is one of my new assignments.
Before I tell you about this, I want to be clear: I am not a trainer. While I have a fair amount of experience around horses, I am much more a student than a teacher. When Angela asked me to spend time with Snookie, I was immediately filled with the hope that this assignment would result in learning for Snookie and for me.
In the few times I’ve visited with Snookie, I haven’t made much progress. He still stands wide-eyed and ready to bolt. But I did learn that he is treat-motivated—enough to participate in a fun little exchange involving a shallow bucket.
The first time I met Snookie, Angela encouraged me to extend my hand in a fist, which I did. If he mustered up the courage to touch it with his nose, I would make a clicking sound and give him a treat. This is Positive Reinforcement 101, and based on how quickly he picked up this routine, I guessed that he’d done this before.
This worked really well at first. Then I noticed that Snookie was increasingly “grabby,” a tendency that nervous horses can have as they try to snatch food and move away quickly. In subsequent visits, a shallow bucket proved really useful. Instead of hand-feeding him a treat after he touched my fist, I tossed it into the bucket, which made it easy for him to find and enjoy.
This is when something happened that was so intriguing to me.
To get my attention and, I’m assuming, to ask for another treat, Snookie picked up the bucket with his teeth, placed it back down, and waited. To reward his engagement with me and his clear communication, I clicked the behavior and tossed in another treat. He repeated the behavior several times in that visit, and then several more times in other visits. He remembered.
I know this isn’t sophisticated trick-training. I know lots of horses pick up their empty buckets and place them where their people can see them as a clear message: “More, please.”
But the fact that Snookie initiated the exchange, even while exhibiting such tension and anxiety, made me hopeful that he was beginning to learn that I was not a threat. In fact, I hoped he would begin to see me as a treat machine–harmless and even a little fun.
Snookie and I have a long, long way to go, and I feel eager to figure out what it will take to earn his trust.
Right now, I really like this assignment.
Karen