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The Panda Project
Guide Horses For The Blind
Report 5: The Transition to Working Guide
Written by Alexandra Kurland
Catching Up
The last Panda report ended in April at the Ohio Equine Affaire. It is now late Nov. 2002. I won't try to fill in all the missing months. It would take much too long both to write and to read.
I will say in brief that Panda's training through the late spring and summer went at a leisurely pace. My focus was on other things. In the spring I produced Lesson 4 in "The Click That Teaches" lesson series. And my summer project was getting photos for my next book project: "Clicking with Your Horse, A Step-By-Step Guide in Pictures". In addition, I was away several times a month giving clinics.
While I was traveling Panda stayed with her "Aunties", Dolores Arste and Julie Varley. Ann would have taken her, but Quarry was needing all her attention. His dog and cat distractions were creating problems in his guiding. Ann was focusing her energy on him which didn't leave her any extra time for "baby sitting" Panda on my weekends away.
So Panda's training progressed at a very low-key, leisurely pace. She got to hang out with us for two weeks at "summer camp" while we filmed the big horses for the "Step-By-Step" book. At home she grazed in the back yard or dozed by my side while I worked on the computer. Her training felt very informal and unstructured, but that's how summers should feel.
School is Back in Session: Walking Blind
In September I put her back into "school". At this point Panda seemed to be guiding. She kept to the edge of the road, she stopped at curbs and landmarks, she kept a steady even pace. She went around obstacles in her path. These were all good things. But was she really guiding, or was she still just taking her direction from me? Was I giving her subtle clues to the right choice because I could see what was ahead?
To find out I shut my eyes, and not just for a few steps either which is what I had done up to this point. I went back to my neighborhood, a route we were both familiar with, but now as we headed out the driveway I shut my eyes.
That alone was quite the learning experience. I found myself flinching as we passed from sun into shadow. Was I about to bump into something? It was hard not to peek. I had to keep telling myself to trust her.
Distance was another surprise. Without visual markers I found myself overestimating how far we had walked. I would get confused and disoriented because I was sure we were further along than we were. Why hadn't Panda stopped at her next landmark? Had she overshot it. Again I had to keep telling myself to trust her, though I have to admit, those first couple days, I did "cheat". I peeked a few times, I was so convinced we were way off course. Usually we had gone only about a third of the distance I thought we had, and my confusion was throwing Panda off course. Again I had to keep telling myself to trust her.
I appreciated more and more the importance of a stable working relationship with a guide. Trust is everythisng. Each time I said trust her, and Panda guided me safely our partnership grew. I ekp thinking about what that will mean to a blind handler, knowing that they can develop this rapport and understanding will their guide, and they won't loose it to old age after just a few years.
Cars were the third major hurdle I had to deal with. I had no one walking with me. No one to tell me if we were straying too far out into the middle of the road. I decided to play it safe. At the sound of a car I would ask Panda to stop and step lateral to the side. When my foot felt the edge of the road we would stop and wait for the car to pass. This meant we walked at a snail's pace. My road gets a lot of traffic, but I preferred this over-cautious safe approach. It meant I could truly walk with my eyes closed. I didn't have to do safety checks, and since Ann has much better orientation skills, if Panda could guide me, she ought to be able to guide Ann, as well. The major difference would be that Ann would need far less information, and might at first be impatient with Panda's frequent shoreline checks, but I knew this would smooth out over time, just as everything else she'd learned so far had.
So we headed out on that first day at a granny's pace. I took nothing for granted. Every few strides we were stopping, checking for the edge. Panda did great, tolerating this change in our routine. She found her first major landmark, a storm drain that's opposite the first turn down a side street.
Panda has been consistently reinforced with peppermints at this spot, so it was not a surprise that she would stop for her treat. We crossed the street with ease, and headed along the easiest stretch of our walk, a quarter mile of sidewalk.
Detours!
Panda was doing so well. As we came back up my street, a long section without any sidewalks, I stretched out the number of strides between shoreline checks. I was feeling confident, enjoying the novelty of walking with my eyes closed, when all of a sudden I barked my shins up against something solid and crashed forward onto my knees.
My eyes popped open. Panda had walked me across the street, gone up a neighbor's driveway, and front walkway. I had barked my shins against their front stoop. You could have knocked me down with a feather when I saw where I was. I had no sense that I had ever deviated one inch away from the edge of the road. I felt completely disoriented. How could we have gone so far off course without my knowing it? And why had Panda taken me here of all places?
I scurried us back across the street and resumed our walk, eyes once again closed. I was feeling less confident, so we went back to our frequent shoreline checks. Each time I checked we were several feet out. Not horrendous, but certainly not good enough. It seemed as though she was consistently deviating off to the right, into the middle of the road. I was feeling discouraged. Had a year's worth of training produced only this?
We went another hundred yards or so at this "granny-slow" pace, when Panda abruptly stopped. My eyes popped open. Good thing. Panda had walked me right into a wooden stake someone had placed by the edge of the road to keep cars off the grass. Another inch and I'd have walked smack into it.
Now I was really puzzled. Why had Panda made that mistake? Why hadn't she just walked me around it? She had actually gone off course to collide us into the stake.
The mystery grew even deeper a few houses on when I got a face full of forsythia bush! My puzzlement turned to true concern at the next driveway. Panda veered up it. When I felt grass underfoot, I opened my eyes just in time to stop her from taking me over the edge of a sharp drop-off!
The "Clever Hans" Effect
By the time I got home I was puzzled, concerned, discouraged. This was hardly the result I was hoping for, but as I pondered our walk, a simple explanation emerged. I had indeed been giving Panda subtle signals. I couldn't help but use the visual information I had. I could see the edge of the road. I was tracking it, just as much as she was. But with my eyes closed, I was loosing my orientation. I was veering off course. Panda didn't know she wasn't supposed to follow me. she hadn't yet understood that tracking the shoreline took precedence over my body language. It wasn't reasonable to expect her to know this since I had been filling this piece in for her in the most subtle of ways. I apparently tended to drift right, and Panda was following me because that's what was normal for her.
"You can't ask for and expect to get something on a consistent basis unless you have gone through a teaching process to teach it to your horse."
That's been my most fundamental principle throughout Panda's training, and it applied here just as much as it did to the rest of her training. I had changed a major element in our relationship. I had to go through a dual teaching process. She had to learn that the environmental cues took precedence over my drift. And I had to learn how to keep my orientation, so that I was not making her job harder than it needed to be.
On our next walk I was more cautious and took less for granted. I counted steps. Every five to thirty steps I checked the shoreline. When my foot felt the edge, click, Panda got a treat. On that walk we seemed to stay within a step or two of the edge. By the following day, all I had to do was turn my foot to feel the edge. The drift out into the street seemed to be gone. Now we were consistently going thirty plus paces between shoreline checks and I was finding always Panda had us right where we should be.
Panda was processing this new stage in her training. She was somehow getting the idea that it was her job to keep us on the edge. And furthermore the edge meant just that. If we were passing a driveway when I checked for the shoreline, Panda would step over only as far as the edge of the driveway, then she would stop, and firm herself up. She's small enough. I could have pushed through her, but she was telling me that we were at the edge of the road. We shouldn't go any further. I could usually feel the change in the pavement to confirm her choice. And I was impressed that she had correctly generalized the edge to mean blacktop as well as grass. Smart horse.
On this second walk she impressed me even further when she came to a halt halfway down the sidewalk and veered sharply off to the right. My eyes popped open. I couldn't help it: the change in course was so unexpected. A line of construction tape was blocking the sidewalk. Panda could easily have walked underneath it, but it would caught me about chest height.
I've seen both of Ann's shepherds walk her directly into overheads like this. Even once they've been shown the obstacle, they've tried to go under it. Panda had no question. This tape was something you walked around. I closed my eyes again, eager to see how she would negotiate the complexity of this obstacle. Panda marched me to the right, out into the street, took us out around two parked cars and then brought us back one driveway down to the sidewalk. Perfect. Click and jackpot.
As Panda became more consistent about staying to the edge, I tested her. I would at times deliberately drift off too much to the right. Panda's response was to follow for about one stride, then she would veer sharply back and bring us to a halt at the edge. As an added emphasis she often pawed the ground as if to point out where we were. This and her response to driveways indicated to me that she was generalizing edges as a concept.
Landmarks
Landmarks were something else Panda seemed to be understanding. Landmarks are navigational tools. Not all of our turns come at street crossing that are marked by curbs. It's useful to have Panda stop at some distinctive feature in the environment to confirm my location. The storm drain at our first crossing is one such landmark.
The sidewalk on the cross street is not lined up not quite in a straight line with the storm drain. That's something I discovered on this second walk. I gave Panda her go forward cue, and we headed across the street. I thought we were right on course, but half way across I felt Panda toss her head. I've seen her do this before when knows the "right" answer, but for some reason can't respond correctly. She'll do this, for example, when I've asked her to relieve when she doesn't need to go. She understands the cue, but just can't oblige. Her head toss is a characteristic response in this situation.
When I felt her toss her head now, I read that as a sign that we were off course. I was so sure I knew where we were going I wasn't really following her. I made a change of direction towards her and let her truly take me. "Trust her," I said to myself. "Trust her." A few steps further on I felt the gentle slope of the sidewalk. Click and treat! Smart horse. She knew where we were supposed to be heading, even if I didn't!
At another crossing I use a man hole cover as the landmark. Panda not only stops very accurately on the cover, she even points it out to me with a tap tap of her foot. "Here we are," she announces. The manhole cover is usually good for a peppermint so she wants to be certain I know where we are!
Over that first week of eyes-closed walks Panda made the transition from polite walking companion to working guide. I could do our entire route with my eyes closed. I was still checking the shoreline more frequently than Ann does with her guide dog, but we'd gone from every five or six steps, creeping along at a cautious pace, to walking forty or fifty steps without stopping. And yes, I was counting at this stage. Since I didn't have anyone accompanying me to let me know if I was off-course, I didn't want to go more than a few steps without knowing where the edge was. But Panda was now keeping us so close I hear in the muffling of her footfalls that she was staying right on the soft change in the pavement from road to grass.
My rule was I never looked ahead to see what I would be dealing with on our walk, but at the end I could look back to see what she had taken us around. She handled barking dogs, trash cans, parked cars, leaf piles, even one day a construction crew fixing a storm drain. We were out on trash day when the garbage trucks were blocking the street. She had to take me past the town trucks collecting leaves with their huge shredders sucking up the piles of raked leaves around the neighborhood.
And I learned to loathe leaf blowers because of the white out they created in background noise. I had to truly depend upon Panda because I could not hear the approaching cars. Each time she tucked us in tight to the shoreline I felt a felt such a deep appreciation for the intelligence this little horse.
Questions Answered - Questions Raised
After that first eyes-closed day, Panda never ran me into anything, or took me off course. She seemed to be understanding that her job was to pay attention to the course and take us around obstacles. It was not to follow me. If I asked her to shoreline and there was an obstacle keeping her out from the edge, she would firm up in her body. That was my signal to check. This "firming up" answered a question I had. Would a blind handler push her into hazards they weren't aware of. The answer was no, not if they were listening to her.
These walks raised many questions. I've seen horses spook at all the things Panda routinely ignored. And I've seen horses become pushy and take over when their handlers yielded space to them. Why was Panda so rock solid? And why did she remain so polite and focused even when her job involved pushing me aside?
Are minis somehow inherently different from their larger counterparts? Panda is the only mini I have worked with. With a sample size of one, I can't answer this question, though I would say as an individual she is one of the most solid, easy-to-train, non-reactive horses I have ever met. If this represents minis in general, then they are the most unsung, under-utilized of equine resources.
Another way of looking at this would be say that, yes, Panda's basic good nature is a definite plus, but the real difference is not the breed but the training method. Again this isn't something that can be answered based on Panda alone, but the use of clicker training in every aspect of her training does raise interesting questions. The emphasis these days in much of the horse community is on manipulating herd dynamics. "Who moves whom" is the concern. To the horse the one who yields space first is showing submission. When you side step out of your horse's space you are sending messages to him you may not intend about your place in his dominance hierarchy.
I am certainly aware of this concept in my training when I incorporate pressure and release of pressure with the clicker. But how does this concept fit in with Panda. It is her job to block her handler's path, to refuse at times to move forward even when commanded to do so. It is her job to step sideways, but only to the edge, even if that edge is a change only in pavement texture. At that point it is her job to firm up her body and resist her handler. The result is not a disrespectful, pushy, ill-mannered horse. Panda is a focused little worker bee who seems to thrive on the challenges guide work creates.
This seems to suggest that while clicker training may borrow some of the mechanical skills and exercises of other types of horse training, it is fundamentally different. It is going beyond manipulating instinct to engage the horse's intelligence.
What exactly does that mean? That's a good question for some graduate student in search of a thesis to explore. The answers, I am sure, will expand our understanding of both horses and training.
The "Nature" in Guide Work
Guide work certainly makes use of Panda's equine nature, and we are finding many ways horses are much better suited for guide work than dogs. Think of a dog's natural tendency. A dog wants to traverse back and forth, looking for prey. Walking straight lines, following a set track, is not his nature. Watching out for and being mindful of changes of footing also is not a major concern. Dogs delight in scrambling through hedgerows and over rough footing. That's where rabbits and other small prey live.
Communication: A Two-Way Street Leading to Trust
Panda also was developing a complex system of telling me about the environment and the different types of obstacles she was encountering. If she stopped just to stop, she would happily go on again when asked. But if she stopped at something she thought was important, she would firm up, refuse to move, and then orient more towards whatever it was she wanted me to notice. If it was a change in footing, she would paw the ground, or tap the curb I wasn't acknowledging. If it was an obstacle in front of me, she would press up against me blocking me from running into it. And if the object was off to our left, she would swerve so that I would touch it as I reached out my hand. She did this to point out landmarks, such as mailboxes, and also to let me know about trappy situations where there was no clear, good choice.
I marveled at the richness of the communication we already had and thought about the depth of the relationship Panda will be developing with Ann as they grow together as a team. And the great strength of this partnership is that it potentially may last for decades. I thought of this on every walk as my trust in Panda grew. We would get to some tricky section where I would say to myself trust her, trust her, and Panda would get me through.
My trust and confidence in Panda grew with every walk. This was in stark contrast to the experience Ann was having with her new guide dog. Instead of settling into his work, Quarry was becoming increasingly distracted by cats and other dogs. Trust was not something Ann could give him, but it is a key element in a successful guide relationship. You have to trust that your animal is taking you around an obstacle and is staying focused on his job. You can't be second guessing: is he pulling to avoid a hazard or to get to another dog? Ann's first dog, Bailey had been a wonderful worker. Like Panda, other animals were not a distraction for him, but Quarry could not over-ride his basic nature and stay focused on his job. Ann was facing the very difficult decision to return him to the school that trained him.
Panda as a Working Guide
That's where we were at the end of October. Panda was becoming increasingly steady and confident in her walks with me. It was time to test her further by pairing her up with Ann. Our first training walk was in Ann's neighborhood, a route Panda and I had walked only once, but Ann knew well. Panda did a good job. She kept to the shoreline, waited for Ann to tell her when to cross streets, stopped correctly at up curbs. With a little help from Ann she found the button for audible traffic light at the corner to the high school. She's been to the high school enough times now that she knew the route through the parking lot and up to the front door.
All in all it was a very successful walk, though I think she was probably overly "grandmotherly" for Ann's taste. She kept a slow pace because she was busy showing things to Ann. I reminded Ann that Panda was used to guiding me and I wasn't as experienced at being blind as she was. I needed lots of landmarks to stay oriented. Panda would learn to weed out the extra information over time, but for now I would rather see her giving too much information, rather than like Quarry, too little.
At one point Panda turned in and very deliberately showed Ann a bush growing at the corner of a neighbor's driveway. "I never knew that was there," Ann remarked. Ann was viewing her neighborhood from a horse's point of view instead of a dog's or a human's. Panda felt that particular bush was important to show to her, as were the cracks in the pavement, the manhole covers, the storm drains, and the mailboxes. These were all things she stopped at and made a special point of indicating to Ann before she would walk on.
Our second walk was in my neighborhood, a route Ann does not know at all, so she had to trust Panda and follow her. That for me was especially interesting because it gave me a chance to see how much of the route Panda could do on her own and which landmarks she would point out. She nailed them all, even the mailbox at the corner which I had add in just two days before.
Our third route was at the Equine Affaire where Panda did an outstanding job taking Ann through the congestion and confusion of the crowded parking lots. I returned from those walks beaming like a proud mother who has just watched her child in the starring role of the school play. That's my kid! That's my smart Panda!
And the best part for me was watching Ann work her, seeing how relaxed she was, seeing her smiling and telling Panda how good she was. At the end of one of the walks, she commented to me that walking with Panda was like riding her Icelandic. Now that's great praise indeed!
Panda is a long way from being ready to put into full work. Neither Ann nor I feel that she is yet ready to face the rigors of working on a daily basis in the high school where Ann teaches. But she is demonstrating to both of us that the basic job of guiding is well within her scope.
What Is It Like to Use Panda as a Guide? Ann's Perspective
Let me close this report by sharing what Ann has written in several recent emails to the Guide Dog Users List describing what it is like to use Panda as a guide.
"Recently I have had several opportunities to go for walks using Panda as my guide, and I have been delighted with her work and attitude. Although she is still a baby, not yet two years old, she is ready to work at the drop of a harness, without the need for blowing off excess energy first or doing obedience exercises to get her mind focused on her job. She comes out eager and businesslike, relaxed and confident. She picks up a nice comfortable pace, and guides without pulling.
When she encounters obstacles, she points them out by touching them with her foot if they are on the ground, like a curb or step, or with her nose, if they are at waistlevel, like a traffic barrier. She plans ahead to find the clearest path of travel, and she has a great memory for both routes and landmarks. I showed here the pedestrian crossing button at a particular corner in my neighborhood once, and the next time we came to that corner, she walked right up to the pole and touched the button with her little nose. She accepts my requests to deviate from a known route with willingness and grace, (something that was a problem for Quarry).
She chooses the footing carefully, and is great at noticing overhead obstacles, such as big truck mirrors, and avoiding them. I have worked her now in both areas that were familiar to her and unfamiliar to her, and in areas that were familiar to me and unfamiliar to me, and in all cases, she has made me smile with the sheer pleasure of walking beside her. We have even walked along a loading dock, where she clearly recognized the danger and responded perfectly to keep us both safe.
She gives me a lovely feel in the harness, and stops and waits patiently when I drop the harness handle. She heels politely when I use a sighted guide. And she never behaves aggressively toward or gets distracted by dogs, cats, or other animals, not even other horses.
Of course, there are some disadvantages to using a guide horse. One is that Panda is such a novelty that she inevitably draws people's attention. No harness sign is strong enough to fend off the crowds of admirers who want to pet her and engage in long conversations with me about her. Certainly, I enjoy educating the public about the techniques that I as a blind person use to carry on the everyday activities of living, but sometimes I just want to get to where I am going!"
Nov. 19 2002
"It is a really cool feeling to walk with Panda as my guide. She is more patient than the dogs I have known; she doesn't pull, and she's not in such a hurry. Of course, if I ask her to speed up on the straightaways, she picks up a lively trot. One of the wonderful things about working Panda is the sound of her little hooves. It makes you smile! And the sound is helpful in a mobility sense also; just like the tapping of the cane tip, it helps in the location of buildings and other landmarks, and it gives information about the walking surface ahead.
I'm not saying that guide horses are for everyone. I'm not sure it's even the way I will go finally. I do still love dogs, and I would have a dog right now if either of my dogs had worked out. Using a guide horse is complicated by the fact that the handler will have to fight the battle for acceptance in society and to be taken seriously by skeptical blind people and others. But when I walk with Panda as my guide, I feel so free and relaxed that I think it might just be worth the inevitable battles. 11/23/02
"Last Saturday, I again had the opportunity to take a training walk with Panda as my guide. Alex, Panda's trainer, followed along, but Panda did the complete guiding job. We walked from my home to the high school where I work. It's only a couple of blocks to the school, through a residential area without sidewalks; the route includes several street crossings, left and right turns, and lots of country shorelining, including a stretch where we walk on the right side of a driveway.
Panda got practice working around obstacles such as leaf piles and storm drains and coming promptly back to the edge of the road. She demonstrated that she really has "got" the idea of shorelining. At one point, she began to come off the shoreline to go around a pile of leaves, but then noticed an approaching car, and snugged right oer to the curb, stopped and waited until the car passed, and then took me out and around the leaf pile and back to the curb, just as neat as a pin! I was impressed!
We walked out to the main road, where Panda found the pedestrian signal button, and we crossed smartly. As we approached the school, I was thinking that the school would be a nice quiet place on this weekend day to practice indoor turns and finding doors and other landmarks. I was surprised by the number of people and vehicles that were coming and going from the parking lot. Then I remembered that this was the day of the annual Boy Scout winter sports equipment sale.
That meant that the place would be crowded with tables of skiing equipment, skates, boots, hockey sticks, snow shoes, etc., and lots of families with kids of all ages and very little awareness of proper protocol with respect to guide animals. In short it would be a very challenging environment, both physically and socially, in which to work a guide in training. Since Panda is always eager to explore new and interesting places, and she seems to thrive on challenges, we decided to go on in and see how she would deal with the situation.
Almost on cue, the first thing that happened when we walked through the door was that a toddler with parent in tow came running straight up to Panda's face and attempted to "pat the nice horsie". When Panda found her way blocked, she stopped and pressed herself up against my left leg while I explained to the parent that Panda was a working guide and that they could not pet her right now.
As we started to go forward into the wide foyer of the school, a man came toward us moving very fast and erratically in a way that might be alarming to a guide animal. Panda just made a quick little semi circle around him and continued on her chosen path.
The foyer had two lines of tables set up down its length. People were behind the tables doing the selling, and the center of the foyer was crowded with the prospective buyers, examining the equipment.
Panda sized up the situation, and confidently chose a path along the right wall of the foyer that took us behind the tables. She rightly judged that that was the least congested route. But it was not the route that either Alex or I would have chosen, being well-socialized humans and knowing the conventions of flea markets and fairs.. We would have worked our way through the crowds in the center of the space. It wouldn't have occurred to us to take the peripheral route. This is just one instance among many that provides evidence that Panda is making the guiding decisions, rather than depending upon subtle cues from either her handler or trainer.
We made our way through the foyer and into the narrower main hallway of the school. Panda deftly guided me around tables and through narrow passageways, made all the narrower by an assortment of children's bicycles for sale. When the path became too narrow for us to pass, she would stop, sometimes touching her nose to the corner of a protruding table to let me know that it was there. Then I could drop the harness handles and heel her through the constriction. At one of the tables we met one of our local horse vets who was there not as a vet, but as a Boy Scout mom. She had met Panda before at the barn where my riding horses live, but it was nice to be able to show her Panda in working mode.
Once we got beyond the congested front portion of the building, I had the opportunity to work with Panda on finding several classrooms and other landmarks that I frequent in my work. I also got her to "hup up" (trot)on the long straightaways and enjoy the feeling of freedom and the sound of her lively little trotting hooves.
On the way down the main hall I had Panda turn right at an intersection and go down the hall to a certain classroom. On the return trip back up the main hallway later, I was curious to see what she would do when she came to that intersection, whether she would assume that I would want to go down the side hallway again, or whether she would be so intent on getting back to the front door that she wouldn't even pause at that intersection at all. Instead of either of these, when she came to the intersection, she calmly halted, as if to say, "Here is the intersection. What would you like to do?" Wen I gave her the the "forward signal", she proceeded without any hint of having an opinion in the matter.
In short we had a lovely and very enjoyable training session, and a chance to do quite a bit of educating of the general public, as well. Without a doubt, my beautiful and confident little guide horse and the positive methods by which she is trained are two of the most wonderful things I have to be thankful for this Thanksgiving Day."
Ann Edie
Wed. Nov. 27, 2002
Where We Go From Here
The evolution of a guide is a fascinating process. The first phase of this process was teaching Panda a set of skills: lead at a steady pace, keep a set orientation to your handler, stop at changes in elevation, walk a straight path without pulling to the side. That's all just basic horse training. The interesting part has been turning over to her the opportunity to make choices. You can observe her sizing up the situation and well in advance of an obstacle selecting her course. So the first phase was the "puppy raising stage" where she learned the underlying skills of her future job. (Panda Project Report 1)
The second phase was giving her opportunities to make choices and use those skills. That process began last November at the Equine Affaire in the second month of her training. (Panda Project Report 2)
Each of those phases has continued into the present, but we have definitely entered a third and now a fourth phase of her training. The third phase is the eyes-closed walks which transfers more of the responsibility for keeping us both safe and on course to Panda. The fourth phase is the pairing her up with Ann. This will be a gradual process leading eventually to Panda living and working full time with Ann.
To Read More About Panda Please Read the Reports in this Series
written by Ann Edie.
To learn more about Panda and her training read the following reports:
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”.
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