 |
 |
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
The Panda Project This second report is a detailed account of Panda's second month of training. My goal here is not to teach you to be guide horse trainers, but to chronicle the development of one horse's foundation training. While Panda's future job will require some specialized training not generally expected of other horses, the basics of good ground control are the same. The difference at this stage in her training is more where Panda works, not what I am asking her to do. Her training illustrates beautifully how little pieces accumulate to create a well-trained, emotionally flexible and stable working individual. That really is my goal with this report, to show you how I am building the steps in her training, and how Panda is processing those steps with some truly amazing and awesome results. Hopefully, you will get some ideas from this report that will help you with your own horses. The first Panda Report chronicled Panda's first month of training. Panda astounded me with her emotional maturity and the speed with which she learned. Within days of her arrival she was house broken, and traveling around in the back seat of my car. She traveled with me to the barn, on shopping trips, and to clinics. Three weeks into her training she accompanied me to Boston where I was one of the presenters at the Tufts Animal Expo. She spent two days with me in the Prudential Center, traveling in elevators, walking over marble floors, greeting people, and being in every way a wonderful ambassador both for clicker training and miniature guide horses. My first report to this list covered her training from her arrival on Sept.. 19, 2001 through her Boston trip. Month Two: Training Basics After the Tufts Animal Expo in Boston Panda had a quiet week at home. We went back to our more normal schedule. Most mornings included a training walk around my suburban neighborhood. After our trip to Boston I used these walks to look for signs of stress. If Panda had started to spook at things that had not bothered her before, that would have told me that I was asking too much of her. But on our walks she continued to be her unflappable, happy self. Panda's confidence let me concentrate my attention on basic leading skills. When I first got Panda she led well on the left, but not at all on the right. As a working guide, her handler will be on the right, so this was an issue that had to be addressed. Initially, Panda was very crooked on the right and leaned into me with her shoulder. She also had a tendency to rear. I had seen this response on the first sales video we were sent of her. On that tape she was just learning about halters and restraint. When she hit the end of the lead and felt pressure on her head, she popped up into the air. On most weanlings this would be cause for alarm, but when the horse is less than 26 inches tall it's more amusing than anything. When she did the same thing out on our early walks, I just laughed at her and called her my little airs-above-ground horse. Rearing "Aggression comes from a place of fear." The more I work with Panda, the more I come to appreciate the truth of this statement. Our guardedness, and, by extension, our training choices are shaped so much by our worry: worry for ourselves, worry for our horses. When Panda reared, I could laugh at her antics. I could smile and stay soft with her. With a larger horse it would have been a struggle to remain so calm. I'd be worrying about my own safety and that of the horse's. My training choices would inevitably be colored by my fear. With Panda I could remain consistent, quiet, effective. The contrast made me appreciate just how much of an impact this unspoken concern has on our training. Panda's antics were certainly entertaining, but they were also unacceptable. As the "move, counter-move" balance to her rearing, I began teaching her lateral flexions, the same exercise I teach to the big horses. This did a number of good things for her. First, it stopped the rearing by redirecting her energy. Prior to introducing this exercise, she was like a car crashing head-on into a wall. She'd hit the end of the lead, and pop up into the air. I changed this by redirecting her energy. Now when she scooted forward, the leverage from the lead redirected her into a lateral flexion. She had an alternative avenue for her excess energy and emotion. Instead of popping up, she softened politely into a lateral flexion. I never made her wrong for rearing. Instead I gave her an opportunity to earn a click and a treat by offering an alternative behavior. Pulling The flexions did something else that's very important. They gave me control of leg speed. Most of the working canine guides I have seen pull. The dogs lean into their harness and basically drag their owners forward. This pull is beyond anything that is needed for guide work. It is the same water-skiing pull on the lead that you see in horses who are ridden on steady contact. Pulling back does not stop the pull in either horses or dogs. It just makes the animal pull harder. When Panda first started with me, she followed behind me. I was literally leading her. For guide work she would need to walk slightly ahead of my position. From day one, I'd been reinforcing her for moving more briskly forward and for positioning herself so her hip was even with my leg. She adapted to this new style of leading very quickly. When she was in perfect position relative to me, and also straight along the edge of the road and keeping a steady, even pace out in front of me, I would click and reinforce her. At that point she had a light feel on the lead, something I definitely wanted to preserve. As she gained confidence in this new position, she also gained leg speed. I didn't want to be tricked into taking a firmer and firmer hold to check her back. That's a slippery slope that's all too easy to head down. That little extra hold on the lead is barely noticeable at first. The horse feels just slightly stronger in the hand, but it's such a small change, it doesn't send up red flags of alarm in your brain. You and the horse get used to the feel which means that you have to start holding a little firmer and a little firmer after that to check the forward rush. After a while, you're both water skiing against each other. You can't let go even if you want to. Now instead of a pleasant, light connection, you feel as though you need to lift weights before you can go for a walk. That was a path I didn't want to go down with Panda. As I felt that first extra ounce of pressure, I checked myself. Lightness is my responsibility. It's something I have to create, not by being soft and permissive, but by being clear and consistent. Pulling is normal. The alternative to pulling is something I have to teach. So every time Panda surged forward, instead of pulling directly back to check her speed, I turned the lead into a "t'ai chi" wall and redirected her energy into a lateral bend. I won't describe here the mechanics for doing this. For that I'll refer you to my book, "Clicker Training For Your Horse" and to the video lesson series, "The Click That Teaches". In particular, the "duct tape" lesson I show on "Lesson 2: Ground Manners" and the "t'ai chi wall" described in" Lesson 3: Head Lowering" explain what I was doing with Panda. What I will describe is what it created. At first, each time she softened laterally and gave at the poll, click!, she'd get a treat. We'd go a few steps, she'd start to rush, I'd ask for a lateral bend, she'd continue to pull for a stride or two, then give softly. Click and treat! Over our next couple of walks the lateral flexion became something she offered automatically. I didn't have to ask her to give. She was already. Her pace became more consistent. If I did need to make a balance correction, she understood what was wanted and softened to me easily. I could start to build duration, asking not just for one or two lateral steps, but a whole series. Heel Position The lateral work eliminated the rearing. This wasn't something I worked on directly. It was just a result, a side benefit. Another side benefit was I now had a way to ask Panda to stand still. Up to this point when we stopped to chat with curious neighbors, Panda would fidget by my side. It was just like having a toddler in tow. She wanted to move, not stand here while the "grown-ups" gabbed. Up to this point if Panda walked off, I simply redirected her feet to keep her close to me. I didn't fuss at her to make her stand still. Now this is an important point. One of the most important principles of training states that: "I cannot ask for something and expect to get it on a consistent basis unless I have gone through a teaching process to teach it to my horse." This is a principle that I take very much to heart. I could have MADE Panda stand still. She was after all only a hundred pounds. I could have forced her to stand, but I had no way of ASKING her to stand. There is a huge difference. The lateral work gave me a way of explaining to her that I would like her to stand still, and not only that, I would like her to stand in a particular position. This in turn opened up a couple more areas that I could begin to work on. Not standing well had meant that Panda was also fussy about being handled. She tolerated grooming, but I needed to restrain her with the lead to keep her from ducking out from under my hands. She loved being scratched. Scratch her withers, and her neck would arch, and her little nose would start to wiggle in delight. Scratching was good, but not grooming, and certainly not hugging. If I put my arms around her or asked her to stand still for currying, she'd start wiggling and squirming like a little kid who is being smothered by an unwanted embrace. Again, I adhered to my principle. I hadn't taught her to accept such contact, so I didn't force it on her. I simply waited until I had the training steps in place to deal with it in a clear and consistent manner. Normally, I would have tackled this gap in her handling early on in her training, but with Panda other things were a higher priority. House breaking, car travel, stair climbing, and foot care were much more urgently needed. But now with the skills the lateral work put in place, when she squirmed forward, I could redirect her back to my side. As she came into "heel" position, click she got a treat. On our walks I practiced having her wait patiently by my side as I chatted with neighbors and answered all their questions about training a mini to be a guide. As we played the "grown-ups are talking, please don't interrupt game", I added a new criterion. It wasn't enough that Panda caught on to this aspect of the game fast. She learned to line herself up right beside me, and then shift her body into a counter bend so her ribs pressed against my leg. I loved the "bear-hug" feel of this maneuver. And I also appreciated the security it gave to both of us. I didn't have to look down at her to know where she was. As I was chatting, I could monitor by feel exactly what she was doing. I wouldn't teach a full size horse to press into me like this. I'd be teaching the exact opposite, but for a working guide this behavior will be wonderfully useful. Liberty Training "Heel position" laid the foundation for the next stage in Panda's education. (I was about to say training, but somehow education seems much more accurate.) Up to this point when I brought Panda into the house, I had kept her on a lead. Now as I worked at my desk, I turned her loose. At first, when Panda wandered off, I would call her back. As soon as she heard her name, she'd come right back to my side and line herself up in heel position. I loved the boomerang effect the recall had on her. And I loved the way she so deliberately and without any prompting from me would swing her hips into position so she could press her ribs up against my chair. Click and treat! After a couple of days of this, I experimented with some pure shaping. When she wandered off, I did nothing. I just kept working. Panda wandered into the front hall, then turned and came back on her own. She lined herself up into perfect heel position. Click and treat. Panda took her one pellet of grain politely from my hand and wandered off again. This boomerang game went on for ten minutes or so. I'm sure at this point many people would have been worrying about her leaving as soon as she got her treat. They'd be thinking they weren't ever going to get their horse to just stand still. So many of us don't stay with an exercise long enough to see what it can give us. We start fixing it before it is broken. With Panda I just kept reinforcing the behavior I wanted which was heel position. I kept my rate of reinforcement high. Each time she offered the behavior, click, I reinforced her. I made no attempt to make her stay next to me. She was free to go after every click. After about ten minutes, Panda hesitated after getting her treat. I captured that hesitation with a click. She held her ground again, maintaining a tight heel position by my side. Click and treat. Before she had a chance to leave, I was capturing the behavior I wanted. Panda was discovering that all that leaving and coming back was a lot of work. Staying not only was easier, it yielded more goodies. Without changing anything I was doing, I had a horse who was glued to my side. Once I had that, I could begin ever so gradually to stretch out the time between clicks. One of the great things about training with positives is each lesson opens the door to so many more other good things. I had begun just a few short weeks before with the simple intent of teaching Panda to yield softly to pressure. (See The Panda Project, Report 1). I had needed her to stay by my side while I attended a clinic, so I had basically molded her into position by pressing gently on her hips. When she shifted over closer to me, click, she got a treat. In that lesson she learned many good things. She learned to step away from instead of in to pressure. She learned that I would not force her, or trap her to get something done. She learned that there is always an answer even if it does not at first seem obvious. She learned to trust the training, and to trust me. And she learned that gluing herself to my side was a highly desirable, highly reinforced behavior. With the basic framework of the behavior fleshed out through molding and pressure, I could now free-shape more exactly what I wanted. That in turn opened the doors to even more lessons and to a refinement of the behavior beyond that which I had originally envisioned. The press of her body against my leg created a wonderfully solid connection that I could now use to to teach off leash heeling. I had been turning her loose in a small fenced-in garden to play. Now that she was sticking to me like glue, I could give her a larger space as her playground. I turned her loose in my back yard and stood back to watch the fun. She zoomed around, leaping over the flower beds, doing quick 180 degree turns past the bird feeder, then hunkering down for the race past the pine trees. Panda loves speed. Give her space, and she turns into a determined little race horse! She did lap after lap, then came galloping straight up to me, slammed on the brakes and presented herself in perfect heel position. Click and treat! I started walking, and she stuck to me like glue. I stopped, she stopped. I turned, she turned. I backed, she backed right by my side. Wherever I went, she went. This wasn't something I was forcing on her. She was free to leave, free to put her head down and eat grass, free to do whatever she liked. What she liked was playing the heel game and sticking to me like a pea in a pod. I know there are many people who have expressed concern over using horses as guides. With Panda they worry about training such a young horse. She is only ten months old, and they are concerned that she is not out in a herd, free to be just a horse. For me one of the main reason to train any horse is it allows for greater freedom, not less. I could turn Panda loose in my house, and now out here in an unfenced yard because of the connections training created. The more we worked together, the more bonded to me she was becoming, and the more privileges I could give her. Training let me take her to the barn every night. It let me trust her to be safe around the bigger horses. It gave her the security to work independently of a herd and to handle new and often distracting environments. Whether you are a horse, a dog, or a human, training does not mean a loss of freedom. Rather it creates it. Horses can become all too easily restricted by their "horsiness". Stories abound about herd-bound horses, and the problems their owners have with them. For these horses their instincts interfere with the bond their owners would like to have with them. Yes, they may be out in a herd, but their lives are restricted in so many other ways. They have no safety net under them. When their owners become frustrated, or just too scared to work with them any more, these are the horses that get passed from hand to hand. By working with Panda now I hope to develop a secure, confident individual who can enjoy the freedom that emotional stability creates. It was certainly creating a horse who was eager to head out on any adventure I might suggest for us, including our next one, a trip to Virginia for a clinic. The Virginia Clinic The lessons Panda was learning let me take her more and more places. Two weeks after the Tufts Animal Expo in Boston, we were on the road again, this time to Virginia where I was giving a clinic. I had originally planned on taking three horses to the clinic: Crackers, Sindri, and my young horse, Robin. In fact I was looking forward to giving Robin a much needed training run, but I had to bump him from the trip to make room for Panda. Sindri and Crackers rode in the back of the trailer in straight stalls. For the trip Panda got the luxury suite, a seven by eight box stall, as her private home away from home. Each time I checked on Panda during our rest stops she seemed perfectly at ease. In fact when I went in to visit with her, she insisted on playing the "heeling" game with me, sticking to my side like a barnacle. I was pleased to see that she was every bit as enthusiastic as she was at home. Traveling did not seem to bother her at all. Panda has an amazing ability to generalize behaviors to different environments. Some animals are place dependent. They will retrieve a cone, but only in the arena in which they first learned the behavior. Change the criterion by changing the environment, and the behavior falls apart. Panda showed none of this, which I took as an indication both of her ability to generalize, and of her emotional stability. In our first month together when ever we traveled, I had taken extra care with her. I wanted her feel secure, so she would acclimate well to change. I was pleased to see she could now travel without stress. Panda was an enchantress at the clinic. We started with an evening lecture Friday night. Panda came into the house with me and showed off her good manners. While I talked about training, she glued herself to my side. It was a unique clinic for everyone, especially for our hostess, who I am sure never imagined she'd have a horse in her living room! For the evening session I turned Panda loose and free-shaped heel position, just as I had at home. The distraction of a new setting and a roomful of ladies all eager to cuddle with her, meant nothing to her. She plastered herself up against my chair and earned a pocket full of reinforcements for an evening of attentive behavior. As I observed her behavior throughout the weekend, several points stood out for me. I was very impressed by the solidity of her heeling skills and her house manners. But what particularly pleased me was the progress we had made in her leading. Two weeks into her training I had attended a John Lyons clinic. Panda stood next to me through the entire day while I watched Lyons work horses. At the end of the day we had to walk across a football field to get back to the trailer. The open space was irresistible. Panda couldn't contain herself. Finally, it was time for recess! She leaped and reared, cavorting happily at the end of her lead. On a big horse this behavior would have been alarming, dangerous, and totally unacceptable. With Panda, it just made us all laugh, especially since Ann's guide dog joined in and started frolicking, as well. We had two guide animals in harness, both leaping around having themselves a grand time. What a sight! At her diminutive height, Panda was easy to control. Her "airs above ground" were enchanting instead of threatening, but the behavior was still unacceptable. That's why I had added the lateral flexions to her training. In Virginia we had to cross an equally large field to get from the barn to the house. Throughout the entire weekend she led perfectly. The rearing, leaping, dancing about was simply gone. Round Pen Training
That didn't mean that Panda didn't feel like playing, quite the contrary. Saturday morning we started the clinic off by turning her loose in a round pen. Panda put on quite the show for everybody, digging in deep like a little barrel horse as she zoomed around the pen. She wasn't running in fear the way many horses do when they are turned out. This was clearly play. After a couple of laps, I called her into me. She galloped up to me, and just as she did at home, slammed on the brakes, and then maneuvered herself into perfect heel position. We spent the next few minutes showing off her beautiful "off-leash heeling" and lateral work. What struck everybody, myself included was how much self-control she had. Just minutes before she had been in the house dozing in heel position by my side, and all the while she had had this much energy inside her needing to come out! Extraordinary! So Panda played, and learned, and had fun in the round pen. At no time did the training look or feel to her like a "serious" lesson. She was having a grand time, playing with me and earning reinforcement through some very familiar games. That was one view of the session. The other was that I had a ten month old foal executing some perfectly beautiful shoulder-in completely at liberty. Extraordinary! Of course, it really wasn't extraordinary. I was simply making use of Panda's herd instincts. I was reinforcing her natural desire to be part of a group. Nothing I am doing runs counter to Panda's own inclinations. In the round pen I never made an issue of her staying locked on to me. At the point where she needed to zoom around and be a foal, I stepped back and let her. I used her own games to call her in to me. As she zoomed around the pen enjoying the opportunity to run, I looked for my own opportunities to bring her to me. It was easy to wait for her to line up with my position and then use my own energy and body position to draw her to me. Click and treat!
Everytime she checked in with me, she got a click and a treat. If she needed to leave, I let her go. This was the same exercise we had played at home in my dining room. It didn't take her long before she was locked on to me. I was never a threat, never a source of pressure. Everything I did was an invitation to come to me, never a demand to stay. The result is a horse who would rather stick by my side than eat grass. There are many reasons for incorporating liberty work into your training, not the least of which is it's just plain fun. It shows you how much the horse understands on his own the behaviors you are asking for. In Panda's case having good liberty skills, particularly a solid recall, will provide an added layer of security for her blind handler. So, while this lesson may have seemed like play to Panda, it did have a serious intent behind it. Step Stools and Patience While we were still in the round pen, Panda showed me another advance she had made in her training. In the center of the round pen there was a plastic step stool which was used as a mounting block. I free shaped Panda to orient to it, clicking her for showing interest in it. At first she sniffed it. Click and treat. Then she pawed it. Click and treat. She lost interest for a moment or two, and I began to think that maybe I had gotten all I was going to in that session, but then she put her front foot up on the first step. Click and treat. A couple of clicks later and she had both front feet balanced up on the top step. What a clever little horse!
What I particularly liked about Panda was that even when the step stool tipped, it didn't frighten her. She was perfectly willing to try again. Once Panda figured out what was wanted, there was no stopping her. Panda loves these "mountain goat" games. At home in my backyard, Panda knows a sure way to get me to reinforce her is to climb up on the back steps of my house. This is a game I encourage because it gives her lots of practice going up and down stairs on her own. She's looks like a little mountain goat, climbing up the two steps and posing proudly at the top. Maybe she enjoys the extra height she gains, or maybe she just likes getting clicked, but she acts just like a toddler in her enthusiasm for this game. She always wears me out before she shows any signs of getting bored with it! So here she was in the round pen with a foot stool to climb. Horse-heaven! She put her front feet up on the top step and posed for everybody. Click and treat! "Oh, you didn't get a good shot, well let me do it again, and again, and again!" That was clearly her attitude. But I wanted her to move away from the step-stool and do something else. And this is where she showed me just how much she has progressed in what is still a very short period of time. "Stupid Humans" and Learning How To Learn Just ten days earlier at the Tufts' convention, I had free-shaped her to stand on a mat. That was easy. Getting her to leave the mat was the hard part. She wanted to keep playing. When I tried to direct her away from the mat, she pinned her ears and snaked her nose out in a threat display. Panda was still at the stage where she was learning the "game". She knew that standing on the mat earned reinforcement. She had me figured out. All she had to do was stand on the mat and I would turn into a "vending machine". Life was good, except that all of a sudden I was standing in her way, blocking her access to the mat. "What a stupid human!" At least that's how I'm sure it seemed from her perspective. If I would only get out of her way, she could give me what I wanted! It was so frustrating. So Panda pinned her ears, and made faces at me. That's perfectly normal behavior at this stage in her training. She didn't yet have enough experience with the clicker to understand that there are many behaviors that earn reinforcement. Think of it this way: the first thing you teach a horse is easy. Touch a target, get reinforced. It's a simple game. The horse is successful. In fact, he's delighted to discover how easy it is to control your behavior. But then the game changes. Now touching the target isn't the key to success. Some other behavior is the trigger that unlocks the "vending machine". With each new behavior you add comes another layer in the learning. At Tufts Panda was getting solid on individual behaviors, but she hadn't yet strung them together, or fully understood the significance of cues. Cues tell the horse which behavior now has a "green light" in front of it. They have to pay attention to the handler to see what will earn reinforcement. But first they need to understand that there is more than one behavior that will work. If standing on the mat is no longer an available option, that's all right. There are many other ways to earn a click and a treat. That's the stage where Panda was early in October. She was less than three weeks into her training, and she simply didn't yet have enough shaping history behind her to have made all these leaps in her understanding of the game. So at Tufts she pinned her ears and made faces when I asked her to shift to another behavior. Someone in the audience expressed concern over this, and saw it as a flaw in Panda's personality. Certainly, unregulated, Panda's temperament could become a stumbling block to a successful partnership, but that's true of any animal. Timid or bold, dominate or passive, low energy or high energy; it is up to us and the training methods we choose to help all these different personality types adapt to our needs. When you are watching any animal it is important to understand it's shaping history. Where is it in the training process? Has it "learned how to learn"? This is true no matter the training method. What is a reasonable expectation for that animal at that moment? Where is it in the learning process, and what is normal for that stage? Not long ago I was just teaching a young, unbroke horse to step up to a mounting block. The horse didn't understand what was being asked of it. It's initial response to the tap of the whip, was to move into the whip away from the mounting block. That's a perfectly normal response, but the people watching wanted to help out with all kinds of suggestions. They didn't realize how "normal" his response was. There was nothing "wrong" with what he was doing. There was nothing that needed "fixing". I knew the behavior would change if I just just remained consistent and let him explore his options. "An operant behavior is determined by it's consequences". The horse very quickly put "two and two together" and discovered that stepping away from the whip earned reinforcements. It's too easy to become reactive and to focus on things that will sort themselves out by virtue of the process. At Tufts Panda felt frustrated when I asked her to leave a highly reinforced activity. In Virginia, Panda left an even more highly reinforced game without even so much as a flicker of an ear. She had gained enough experience with the clicker, to know that leaving one game didn't mean that all the games were over. When you understand where an animal is in its training, it's easy to stay focused and not let distracting behavior distract you. I've watched enough people playing the training game to know how normal it is to feel frustrated when one strategy that was working before suddenly shuts down or becomes off limits. A certain amount of frustration will occur in training. The right answer that unlocks the "vending machine" is not going to be immediately obvious all the time, nor should it be. Yes, I want the horse to be successful, but an animal that is spoon fed all the answers and never allowed to make a mistake will never develop any emotional flexibility. At Tufts Panda got mad when the strategy for getting reinforced no longer worked. She expressed her frustration by pinning her ears. She tried to step on the mat another time or two, then shifted gears and moved off with me into a leading game. Perfect. I would have been much more concerned if she had gotten frustrated and quit, or if she had deteriorated into a full-blown temper tantrum. "Go to people for opinions and horses for answers." That's another one of my organizing principles. When Panda moved off the step stool at the Virginia clinic, she was telling me I had chosen the right response to her ugly faces. Ignore them, focus on what you want, and the horse will sort through the puzzle and come up with the right reaction. Does that mean I always ignore ugly faces? No, but in this type of situation where the horse is just learning the "game", it is usually the best approach. If the horse you are working with does more than just make ugly faces, you need to start with out with the horse in a stall or a small paddock. Any time I think a horse might bite, I begin with the protective contact of a wall between us. With the barrier ensuring my safety, I then shape what I want using positives so the horse untangles the frustration that is at the root of his violent outbursts. People Manners All this glowing praise of Panda progress doesn't mean that she was perfect at Virginia. She continued to show me a major hole in her training, and that's her aversion to being handled. Grooming was still an issue for her. That doesn't mean I couldn't groom her, but she tolerated rather than enjoyed the process. Again I was reminded that there is a huge difference between being able to ask for a behavior and forcing it on the horse. I could make Panda stand still, but it was clearly a forced behavior. She didn't like being groomed, and she particularly didn't like being hugged. She did love to be scratched. That sent her little nose wiggling in ecstasies of delight. But anything beyond that was likely to get her squirming in aversion. She reminded me so much of a little kid who is being engulfed by some great Aunt at a family reunion and whose only thought is one of escape. Unfortunately for Panda she is so incredibly cute that everybody wants to hug her. She is also incredibly sweet, but when people rush up on her, her pattern has been to pull back and pin her ears. While people are petting her, I've been careful to monitor her reactions to keep things well within her comfort zone. Any time she started to look as though she had had enough, I would shift her out from under the person's hands. If Panda were going to be a pet, this might be sufficient, but for a blind handler, Panda's discomfort is a problem. She has to be absolutely solid. No matter how intrusive or inappropriate the handling is, Panda has to be at the very least non-reactive to it. What I would really like would be for her to enjoy the physical contact. ---- I used the Virginia clinic to work on a stepping stone to that goal. I limited all direct contact with Panda. Now it was the humans turn to be frustrated! If ever there was an animal that looked as though she belonged on the toy shelf of FAO Swartz, it was Panda. I had a room full of ladies who wanted to hug her, and I was saying she was off limits. I let Panda get increasingly solid in her heel position, then one at a time I allowed people to come up to her shoulder and pet her. Panda could press up against my leg, a now very familiar and highly reinforced position while they scratched her on the shoulder, her favorite spot. All the while she was accepting their contact I was clicking and reinforcing her. When people came at her head on, Panda tended to draw back. I reinforced this as part of the leave-it game. We were beginning to develop a consistent pattern. If people wanted to pet her, they could approach from the side which became a cue for Panda to lock in closer to me. That meant there was no inappropriate swinging of her hindquarters into somebody's space. If someone approached from the front and put their hand out to her, Panda was starting to draw back. What was developing was a way for her to signal to her handler that somebody was trying to pet her. This behavior would alert her blind handler to the situation and allow her to control access to Panda. And at the same time, it removed Panda from the temptation of licking somebody's outstretched fingers. I never corrected Panda for grumping at people. I simply controlled access to her and worked on making all contact a pleasant experience. My assessment at the end of the clinic was we still had a long way to go. In the barn Panda was beginning to accept people coming up on her, but not in the tight quarters of the house. She was still expressing her displeasure with a display of pinned ears and a grumpy face. So that's where we were at the end of the clinic. I was seeing progress on many fronts. Her liberty training, leading, and in-house manners had all taken another huge step forward. Her biggest hurdle was clearly going to be her acceptance of people.
Signs of Progress On Monday we drove home to New York, and then for the next couple of days she had a light training schedule. I was running a marathon against time to get ready for the Equine Affaire. I did manage to take Panda with me on a couple of short trips, one to the post office and another to the local pharmacy. The pharmacy was an interesting test. The aisles were narrow and crowded with people. Panda showed no tension whatsoever around them. Several people asked to pet her. I set her up in heel position and let them scratch her shoulder. Panda accepted their contact without even a flicker of an ear. Progress! On the following Wednesday, I packed up my trailer, and Panda and I headed over to Springfield MA for the Equine Affaire. The Equine Affaire provided a goldmine of training opportunities. We were confronted with a huge variety of training obstacles and distractions: Traffic, people, horses, and barriers of every possible configuration. It was a training paradise, a playground of puzzles and training opportunities. My first training test was a set of steps in front of the fairgrounds. There were two tiers of wide steps leading up to a circle of flag poles. I couldn't resist letting Panda play "mountain goat" on them, though I did wonder if the flags would worry her. Panda ignored the flags and headed straight up the steps. I wish we had had a camera handy. It would have made a great shot, tiny Panda standing at the top of all these steps with the flags flapping overhead. Distractions My major concern with Panda coming into the Equine Affaire was that she would be overwhelmed by all the activity, especially that of the other horses. While others were moving in, Panda and I wandered up and down the aisles taking in the sites. There were bags of shaving, tack trunks, wheel barrows, pots of flowers, carriages, all manner of obstacles clogging the aisles. I set up a little game with Panda. As we headed down each row, I would pick a line that would run me into the most obstacles. I then let Panda guide us down the aisle. Throughout the weekend, I never bumped into anything. Panda steered us around every obstruction. She slowed down and avoided people. She was sensible around the other horses. She made room for me around all the obstacles. If I had been impressed with her level-headedness during our trip to Boston, I was even more astounded by it now.
Overhead Obstacles But the barn was just the beginning. On Thurs. Panda was my teaching partner during a one hour clicker-training demonstration. We had a small space to work in, roughly a thirty foot square arena surrounded by white temporary fencing, and no gate. I turned Panda loose and spent a fun hour shaping behavior. Panda showed off her heel position, her off-leash heeling skills, her lateral work, and her obstacle avoidance. At one point I had two people hold a lead rope up about waist height. I put the lead on her and gave her the cue to go forward. She walked straight under the rope. I, of course, ran smack into it, said whoops! and backed her out. On our second approach I said forward, and she took a step forward, stopped and targeted the rope with her nose. Click and treat. On our third approach I said forward. She hesitated, looked at the rope, and then turned and took me around it to the left. Click and jackpot! What a smart horse! Outside behind the stabling area there was a wide lawn that was fenced off by chains to protect it from the horses. Friday morning we went out early for a walk. I walked Panda up to the chains, and told her forward. The grass was infront of her. She could easily have gone under the chain to get to it. Instead she stopped, and just as she had the day before with the rope, she targeted the chain with her nose. When I again asked her to go forward, she turned to the side and took me around the barrier. This was only her third exposure to overhead obstacles. The first had been over a month ago in Boston, and then the rope during my presentation the day before, and now this. Each obstacle had been different, but already she was generalizing and avoiding things I could not go under. Traffic barriers The metal traffic barriers blocking off sections of the parking lot provided another great training opportunity. At home most of her experiences with obstacles involved walking around a parked car or a trash can. She passed between me and the barrier. Providing enough clearance for me had never been an issue. With the traffic barriers it was. Some extra barriers had been left just outside the stabling area. They were set up in a maze of turns, and narrow gaps. The gaps were wide enough for Panda to pass through, but not for both of us. Perfect! As Panda reached the first barrier, she followed along beside it, just as she would any edge. At the first gap, she turned and walked through while I banged into the adjacent barrier. Whoops! I backed Panda up and we tried again. This time she stopped at the gap. Click and treat. I said "forward" again. She hesitated, and then continued straight on past past the gap to an opening that was wide enough for both of us. Smart horse!
People Everywhere we went Panda attracted a crowd. We couldn't take two steps out of her stall without being surrounded by people wanting to pet her. Whenever I took her out she was always wearing her harness identifying her as a guide horse in training. When a guide is working, especially when it is with its blind handler, it's important to leave it alone. You don't want to distract the animal from its job. That gave me a polite and understandable way to restrict the amount of handling Panda had to deal with. When I did let people come up to her, I put her first in heel position and asked them to approach her from the side. Panda responded to the attention with a pleasant expression, and sometimes even a wiggling of her nose as they found her itchy spots. That was a huge shift from her earlier outings where she had been warning people off. I was also pleased to see that Panda was responding to people who crouched down infront of her by drawing back. Now this can sound awful. It sounds as though I was teaching her to be afraid of people, when in reality I was just turning them into a cue. Draw back when a hand is outstretched to you, and click!, you get a treat! This was a game Panda was understanding, and it kept her from nibbling on people's outstretched fingers. Hugs Panda had yet another breakthrough Friday evening. I was settling her in for the night, giving her her late evening snack. Like everything else I treat meal times as training sessions. Panda has learned that fussing at her door, demanding food, makes both me and the food disappear. To get me to bring her food into the stall she has to hold herself still. Once I'm in the stall she has to line herself up next to me in heel position. Click! At that point I'll put her dish down. While she's eating, I usually spend some time leaning over her, rubbing on her, just to habituate her to more contact. Panda generally didn't mind this, so long as I didn't reach under her belly. At home that would make her wiggle and squirm away like a little kid being smothered by a bear hug. Friday when I put my arms around her, I didn't feel the usual drawing into herself. I gave her a squeeze, remembering what I've heard about autistic children finding comfort in a full body squeeze and the speculation that animals have the same response. I pressed my arms around Panda and felt her whole body relax. Click, she got a treat. At the same instant, I released her from the bear hug, so two things marked her acceptance of the hug: the click, and the release of pressure. I squeezed her again, and again she responded back. Instead of drawing into herself, she relaxed and melted into my arms. Finally! I wasn't the predator grabbing her around the neck and pulling her down. I was a trusted friend embracing her with an affection she could return. This opened the door to another important lesson. I could now sack her out. As I leaned over her, I reached up and tousled her forelock. No problem. Click and treat, plus the immediate withdrawal of my hands. I repeated this, rubbing her all over, playing with her ears, her muzzle, doing all the things she normally found annoying, but now accepted with good grace. I hope I'm clear here about what was happening, and why I had not done this sooner. When I say that Panda up to this point had not been comfortable being touched, I don't want you to picture a horse who was quivering in fear or throwing herself on the ground every time a human came near her. I could certainly handle her, groom her, pick out her feet, etc. but her initial reaction was always to draw back from any approach. This is totally understandable, especially given her size. It is all too easy to "make" a horse behave, especially one that weighs less than 100 pounds. It's so natural to force compliance instead of teaching the animal cooperation. Panda's early handling was clearly very kind, but in any breeding program that produces over forty foals a year, there's bound to be a certain amount of "just get the job done" handling. Panda liked people. She was incredibly sweet, loved being scratched and fussed over. She just didn't feel comfortable with grabby behavior. I could have sacked her out in the early stages of her training, but the principles of training made me postpone that lesson. "You can not ask for something you have not taught your horse." I had not taught Panda to stand still. Until that layer was in place, the sacking out needed to wait. If I had done it earlier, yes, I could have habituated her to my hand, but I would have been forcing a lesson on her that she was not ready for. I would have seen the life go out of her eyes. I don't want to teach her that she's "just a horse" and she has to put up with anything I choose to do with her. That's not the kind of relationship I'm interested in developing. I'm not a production trainer. I don't have a set time in which I have to have Panda trained and ready to work. I have the luxury of being able to take my time, and wait for each lesson to emerge. Think of training like peeling an onion. To get to the layers underneath, you have to remove the outer layers. You can do so in big clumps, but with most horses it's so much more effective if you peel back one thin layer at a time. You can see the layers underneath. You know where you're headed, you just have to be patient and peel back the training one step at a time. That's why it is so important to focus on the principles of training, and to understand the emotional component of the learning process. That's what keeps you from being distracted and focusing prematurely on issues that over time are going to melt away on their own. At Tufts Panda was pinning her ears at people. At the Equine Affaire, that behavior was gone. Focus on what you want, not the unwanted behavior. Find one small thing you can ask for and get on a consistent basis as your starting point. Train in small steps so your horse continues to be successful. And most of all enjoy the process. Panda was reinforcing for me the importance of all these fundamental training principles. In case you haven't figured it out by now, this is why I am sharing in such detail her training. It is not to teach you how to be a guide horse trainer. No pun intended, but that would be the blind leading the blind. But I know many of you reading this are new to training. You're struggling to understand your horse, and you're probably surrounded by people all giving advice, much of it conflicting. Who do you listen to? When your horse acts out, offering behavior you don't like, do you clobber him, or feed him carrots? For me the answer is always "go to people for opinions and horses for answers." The horses tell us so clearly what their issues are. And they also tell us when they are ready to work on them. If you just keep saying to yourself "I can't ask my horse to do something I haven't taught him to do", you'll come out right. That applies to every component of behavior. So for Panda I could not work on the handling issues until she was comfortable with all the components of standing still. This may seem like a slow way to train, but consider all the things she had learned in less than two months of training. Think of all the extra goodies I had accumulated by working in this slow, systematic fashion. And remember also, Panda is just ten months old, so we have all the time in the world to get things done. Head Lowering On Saturday Panda had another opportunity to show off her training. I gave another presentation. This time we were joined by one of my clients, Bob Viviano and his horse, Crackers. My original plan was to start with Panda, spend just a few minutes with her and then let Bob show off his horse. That was the plan, but if there's one thing you learn fast at these big expos is you have to be prepared for anything. I had just started my presentation. Panda was with me in the ring, and Bob was waiting with Crackers. All was well, or would have been except for an over-eager volunteer who lowered the big overhead door a little too soon. It came down smack on Crackers' rear end. He could cope with all kinds of things, crowds of people, other horses, the lights and sounds of the arena, but he couldn't cope with the sky falling on top of him! Out of the corner of my eye I saw Crackers fussing. Bob was doing his best to calm him down, but he was forgetting his tool box. One of the huge advantages to teaching and working with a variety of horses is it keeps your tool box fresh in your mind. Bob was used to Crackers being a calm, stable horse. Crackers hadn't always been that way. It used to be he couldn't walk down the driveway at home without finding something to worry about. Bob had done such a good job training his horse, he'd forgotten how he had created this calm, level-headed attitude. With Crackers fretting over the door and what all of a sudden felt like very close quarters in the demo ring, he needed to go back and enforce the head-down cue. Under the pressure of the performance, Bob was forgetting how. So I tossed Panda's lead to another client, Dolores Arste, and took Crackers from Bob. I wish I had had a stall where I could have put Crackers for a few minutes while I explained to people what I was going to do. That's one of the frustrations of these small demo rings. Crackers needed my full attention. He couldn't just stand quietly while I talked for ten minutes about head lowering and how you teach it. If he'd been able to do that, he wouldn't have needed the lesson. I had to work him, and hope people could sort of, maybe, follow what I was doing. It was a frustrating position to be in because while he was the perfect demo horse for this lesson, but we weren't in the perfect demo space. I got Crackers settled enough to take the edge off his panic, and then made the decision to send him back to his stall. I felt badly for Bob in that he wasn't able to show off all the fun things he had taught his horse. On the other hand, it clearly showed how clicker training can be paired with pressure-and-release-of-pressure exercises to help horses out of their emotional meltdown moments. "Trailer Loading" While all this was going on, Panda had gone through an interesting meltdown of her own. She wasn't used to being left. For the past two months she had been my shadow, following me everywhere I went, and now without any warning I had tossed her off to someone else. Dolores told me later that she fretted, fussed, and even tried rearing. Dolores stayed very focused and reinforced her for heel position. At first Panda ignored her, and then all of a sudden the light bulb went on. She locked into this secure position and became just as focused on Dolores as she is with me. And that, of course, is exactly the kind of emotional stability you want these base behaviors to create. That's why I put them on such a high rate of reinforcement. Robin has his "pose". Panda has "heel position". Both behaviors become emotional anchors for the horse and the foundation for all their performance work. After Crackers left, I took Panda back. We had a couple of new things to add to the behaviors we'd demonstrated on Thurs.. One was the sacking out, and the other was free-shaping Panda to go into an over-sized dog crate. We set the crate up in the middle of the arena, then turned Panda loose to investigate it. Panda looked inside. Click and treat! Three clicks later, and she was in the crate! I wish all "trailer loading" could be this easy. Panda is Guiding! As we left the building after the presentation, I picked up Panda's harness and told her "forward". We were pointed across the parking lot, headed for the opposite side and the long walk back to the stables. Panda navigated me in a straight line across the street and stopped at the edge of the road. Click and treat. I gave her a right turn signal, picked up the handle of the harness, and waited to see what she would do. Panda turned to the right and guided me back to the stables. Now it's not at all surprising that she would know where the stabling area was, or that she would head in that direction given the chance. Any self-respecting horse would do that. But what stunned me was the path she chose. In our walks at home I always stayed on the edge of the road. We never wandered off the "shoreline" as it is called, except to go around obstacles, and then we always returned to the edge as soon as possible. Panda showed me that she has generalized this to you find an edge and follow it. Instead of cutting diagonally across the parking lot on the direct route back to the barn, she hugged the line of the buildings. I followed behind her, offering as few navigational signals as possible. I was fascinated by the accuracy of her course. At each obstacle we came to she made exactly the right choice. What really amazed me was that at many places I would not have followed the path she chose. That's what told me she was truly guiding, and not just reading my subtle signals. For example, as we wrapped around the first building, we entered the front entranceway. I would have cut straight across. Panda went into the alcove and followed the line of the building exactly.
When we got to a line of traffic barriers, Panda avoided a narrow gap, wide enough for her, but not for me, and instead took a much longer route around. Once she got around the barriers, instead of cutting across the parking lot, she followed them back to the "shoreline" edge. I was astounded. Sunday morning I took her out again and let her guide me around the perimeter of the parking lot. It was early, so there wasn't much traffic. She had a much easier "shoreline" to follow without all the people and parked cars to contend with. Once again, Panda picked a course and made all the right choices. As a sighted person, I would have cut corners. Panda stuck to her edge. Fascinating! I wanted to document this huge leap she had made in her training, so later that afternoon I took her out again, this time with a friend video taping our progress. The environment had completely changed from that morning. Now there were horses out being ridden. There were people strolling by, and lots of traffic. But the biggest change were the parked cars. In the morning Panda had had an unobstructed shoreline to follow. That edge was now lined with cars. We headed out and the first major obstacle we came to was a draft horse being bathed by the edge of the barn. Just beyond that was a gooseneck trailer, and under the goose neck was a jumble of traffic barriers. One was set up on edge, in a direct line with Panda. She could easily have walked under it, but that would have crashed me into it.
Panda took us past the draft horse, alerted me to the puddle of water streaming across the parking lot by slowing her pace slightly, then navigated us both safely around the parking barriers. Our course then took a left hand turn as she followed the shoreline route between the stabling area and the coliseum next to it. A chain link fence separated pedestrians from the warm-up arena. In the corner was a golf cart and three bags of trash that had not been there that morning. Panda could have stuck to her edge, but not without tripping me up in the trash. She took us around them.
In the main parking lot area we followed a retaining wall along the length of the coliseum until we got to two parked cars. Panda turned correctly and walked up past the first car. A gap separated the two cars. It would have been a tight squeeze for both of us.
Panda didn't even hesitate. She walked us past the gap between cars, around the second car and back to the shoreline. That brought us up to the metal traffic barriers. We were stopped by a cluster of people who wanted to visit with Panda. One little boy positioned himself directly infront of Panda. She did what she was supposed to, she drew back and alerted me to his presence. Click and treat! When they gave us room to go on, Panda successfully took me around the barriers, then waited patiently beside me until the traffic cleared and we could cross a roadway to our next shoreline. I think the segment that most fascinated and astounded me was a strip of roadway on the far side of the parking lot. It came up right after the metal traffic barriers as we were heading back to the barn. In the morning there had been no cars parked there. Instead the edge was marked by posts with a metal chain hanging between them to keep people off the grass. Panda had come back to the edge, stopped and targeted on the chain. This was clearly a behavior she had a lot of confidence in. Chains and ropes hung like this were something you touched. Easy. That was in the morning. In the afternoon the environment had changed. As she came around the barrier, she was confronted instead with a line of cars parked head in to the fence. This was a new configuration for her. Panda showed no hesitation or confusion. She turned and took us along the back of the first car. The next parking space was empty. She paused, looked in at the chain fence. It was clear she was considering what to do. She liked touching the chain. It was a known reinforcer, but it was also a deadend. I waited, fascinated to see what she would do. I gave her no signals, no cues to move. Panda hesitated, then turned her head straight and kept walking. Exactly right!
As we approached the barn we were confronted by a congestion of traffic. Several huge horse vans were pulling up to the back of the barn. They dwarfed little Panda, but she didn't care. She waited by my side until I signaled her to go forward, then she navigated us safely back to the barn. To say that I was astounded by her would have been an understatement. Somehow in the richness of this environment she had made a giant leap forward in her training. She had generalized going around individual obstacles to going around obstacles in general. She had shifted from being directed to directing.
Panda's performance raised so many questions. How did this leap happen? And what is guiding? Panda was clearly making decisions. She had to choose between options, and often the correct choice was not the most obvious path. How had she understood that these decisions were now hers to make? This is truly a fascinating experience, and one that is only just beginning. Panda is by no means ready to hand over to her owner. She isn't even ready for her first blindfold test, but her performance at the Equine Affaire indicated that the job of guiding is one she can handle. From her steadiness and unflappability in a highly stimulating and distracting environment to an ability to follow a shoreline and avoid obstacles Panda is showing all the attributes of a good working guide. The questions we began this project with are still there. The main one is still how practical is it to use a horse as a guide? What are the day to day accommodations that must be made to live in such a close association with a horse? But the other questions that center around the basic training Panda is answering at an astounding rate. Of course, in a real sense I am not surprised at all by the abilities she is showing, but only at the maturity I'm seeing in a ten month old horse. The qualities of a good guide are things we take for granted in our working horses. A jumper finds the right spot at a fence. A good trail horse picks his way over rough terrain. His rider tells him where he wants to go, but not how to get there. In arena work we dictate much more every move our horse makes. It's easy to forget that riding is supposed to be a partnership. As riding shifts from the complex demands of rough terrain and a task to perform, to the stylized riding that's geared for the show ring, we forget the abilities our horses have to offer. Perhaps Panda and other minis like her will remind us how intelligent and adaptable all of our horses are. As we learn more about guides, we will become more deliberate in the training of this function, to the benefit of all our horses. At the Equine Affaire this year our theme was one of possibilities. "With clicker training there are no limits. If you can dream it, you can train it" Panda is showing us the truth of that statement. Alexandra Kurland To read more about Panda please read the reports in this series written by Ann Edie. Panda Project Mission Statement by Ann Edie A Panda Picture Gallery: Photos by Neil Soderstrom Panda is featured in “The Click That Teaches” video lesson series. She is in “Lesson 4: Stimulus Control: Putting Behavior on Cue” and “An Introduction to Clicker Training”. |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
