Well, That was Different!

Taking my Fell Pony foals with their dams to the river has become a fall ritual since I moved to South Dakota. In Colorado, there was a river in their summer pasture, so the foals got used to crossing water by following the herd to graze. Here, we don’t have live water in their pasture, so it’s a 30-minute trailer ride to the Cheyenne River. I time it in the fall so the water is low for a safe crossing and the road is dry, since we have a mile or so of dirt access. Catching the fall foliage is a bonus! It has become such a fun ritual that my friend Jackie likes to accompany us regularly, which is a blessing because she takes great photographs!

Rory followed us for a bit but then headed off the other direction. Photos by Jackie Gericke

So far, the trips to the river have followed a consistent pattern. I’ve already accustomed the foals to riding in the trailer with their mothers, so they have loaded into the trailer without much issue. Then they unload at the river and follow them to the river’s edge, then after some contemplation, they follow them into the water. We go back and forth across the river several times until they seem relaxed about it, then we reverse the process, walking to the trailer, loading, and returning home. Foal #5, though, was a different experience!

Willowtrail Rory loaded up with his mother Bowthorne Matty without any indication of the strangeness ahead of us. He unloaded fine, too, and followed her for a short bit towards the place where we cross the river. But then he turned around as if he’d passed some choice morsel he just had to go back to eat. I walked Matty toward him to encourage him to join us, but he calmly just walked further away. So we went back to the river and stood in the center. Usually a foal will get worried and come to the river’s edge to be close to their mom, but not Rory. He walked even further away, seeming to explore the new environment that he found himself in. He would occasionally get concerned and call out to us, but he was uninterested in joining us or even coming close.

Matty and I in the river waiting for Rory to join us. Photo by Jackie Gericke

After fifteen or more minutes, it became clear that having Rory cross the river that day was not meant to be. So the next step in the outing was to get back in the trailer and go home. Rory, though, had other thoughts about this, too. We spent another twenty or more minutes with me leading Matty toward him to get him to follow her back to the trailer. Then Jackie took Matty and stood near the trailer, and I tried herding Rory toward the trailer (his leading skills weren’t good enough for this situation yet). He still was uninterested in following his mother into the trailer. Then Jackie had the great idea of moving the trailer near a pile of brush that could act as a corral panel. I felt like we were in the Old West as I placed more brush strategically to create a chute of sorts. On the second try, Rory decided that getting in the trailer with his mom was an acceptable alternative to wandering around with me following him. We closed the trailer door with a heavy sigh.

I was so thankful for Jackie’s peacefulness with this time-consuming and unusual outing. It was clear Matty was quite content in Jackie’s company while we waited for Rory to be cooperative. Right before we got in the truck to come home, Jackie said, “It’s in trying times that one’s true horsemanship is revealed and you find out if you want to work with that person or not.” Very true, I thought. She then continued, “And I want to work with you, Jenifer.” It was such a blessing to hear that then.

On the drive back, I pondered what had happened with Rory at the river. I concluded that some genetics were at work. His paternal half-sister took a long time to cross the river with her mother last year. And his maternal half-brother had a similar but more stressful experience back in Colorado. In that case, Matty went across the river and her son didn’t follow. He was stressed out, and she was enjoying green grass. I watched for ten minutes, and neither of them appeared able to modify their behavior, so I reunited them and put them in a pasture without the river. The next day Matty and her son crossed the river together.

Rory back at the barn. Photo by Jackie Gericke

I doubt we’ll have an opportunity for a do-over at the river for Rory this fall. The weather is about to change dramatically which will likely end our river outings until next year. Rory will soon be well halter-broke so he can be introduced to water crossings at the side of a human partner rather than his mother. He’s a sensible young man, so I’m sure it will go fine. And next time Matty has a foal, I will allow for multiple trips to the river if necessary!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2022

From White-Eyed to Willing

Pearl loading easily by the fourth day

Pearl loading easily by the fourth day

It’s so good for me to have an older Fell Pony here to work with because it reminds me to not take for granted all the work I do with my youngstock.  Recently I’ve been working with three-year-old Pearl on trailer loading.  It was gratifying to see her progress from white-eyed to willing.

Pearl of course has loaded into trailers before; she had to to get here!  And she didn’t offer any resistance to being loaded when I met her breeder half-way after I bought her.  Nonetheless, when I knew I needed to take Pearl on a ride in the trailer, I decided to be sure she was willing and able since it had been six months since I’d last asked her to take a ride and we’d only had that one experience together.

On our first day, when we approached the trailer, she started getting concerned.  Her head came up, she started moving away from the trailer as far as the lead rope would allow, and she started showing the whites of her eyes.  I let her stand about six feet away while I went ahead of her into the trailer.  I put a little pressure on the lead rope, asking her to come towards me, and when she shifted her weight the slightest bit, I released the lead rope.  Having established that communication pattern, I got her to approach the trailer a footstep at a time and then sniff it warily.  After several minutes, she stepped up and in.  Clearly she was able to load, but she was not confident about it.

We took a short ride, during which she pawed a lot and spread lots of manure all over the trailer floor.  When it came time to unload, she again was very unconfident, hesitating at the edge of the trailer floor, lowering her head and sniffing and looking at the ground before jumping out of the trailer rather than stepping out and down.  All in all, though, that she loaded and unloaded with as little effort as she did was great news.  The next goal was to get her more confident about it so when we’re in an unfamiliar place, she will hopefully not have second thoughts about trailering.

Pearl unloading more confidently than she did the first day though still with a jump.

Pearl unloading more confidently than she did the first day though still with a jump.

The next day we repeated everything just as the day before, and she loaded more quickly with less white showing in her eyes.  The next day the same, except there was less manure in the trailer and no white showing in her eyes.  I took both as a sign that she was a little less concerned about the ride.  The next day she stepped right in after me.  She was still a little hesitant about unloading but much less so.

Since she’d loaded so well, the next day I asked for something a little different.  Instead of me going first, which has some safety disadvantages, I led her to the trailer opening and then asked her to go ahead of me.  I was pleased when she did so without concern.  Then she unloaded the calmest she had yet. And there was a single pile of manure in the trailer, undisturbed. Great feedback!

We’ve now taken a few days off, so I will repeat our little exercise again to see if and how much she regresses so I know how much more work we have to do.  My goal is for her to be not just able to load but to load and unload calmly and without hesitation so that in different circumstances we can trust each other.  So far, so good!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2020

There are more stories like this one in my book What an Honor, available internationally by clicking here or on the book cover.