Training - First Halter

To put things in a nutshell, Meera Thompson owned Chasa. Meera Thompson also owned a huge working ranch that happened to be open to the public eight months of the year. This means that, in addition to all the hands, animals and machinery that came and went, ranch traffic included groups of tourists - utter, complete strangers who were nothing more than curious passerby willing to follow the rules and swallow a bit of dust in return for a glimpse at a world their citified selves had probably never seen outside a theatre. Now, there's nothing too remarkable about this; a lot of places follow the same model, and it suits them just fine. But as I mentioned before, Meera Thompson also owned Chasa.

And Chasa. Does not. Like people. Even when she was housed as far away from the main complex as possible, the mare could smell the crowds, hear the noises, and became stressed.

I'd paid my first visit during a lull in the season, when traffic had dropped to a comparative crawl and the crowds were at their lowest. Thus, Chasa had begun to relax, and I'd been able to get as close as I had. As we got to know each other better over successive visits though, Meera began to share her worries that the mare's progress was being hindered by the constant barrage of stimulation. At first I was skeptical. Everything seemed A-O.K. to me, the uninitiated and the unaware! Indeed, I was dropping by every few week to spend time with my new friends, and as far as I was concerned, the ranch was as busy as it was going to get. Chasa seemed perfectly happy! I had no clue what peak season would be like - that hectic time when both the ranch and its public would begin to demand Meera's attention in equal and unrelenting measure. However, as the temporary lull subsided and things began to pick up once more, I started to see how perfectly grounded Meera's concerns actually were. During the day, when the ranch was in full operation, poor Chasa became twitchy and flighty, even with her beloved Pupadou there to comfort her. It was only in the evenings, when the crowds departed and the machines stilled, that the mare would dare relax.

Finally, after several months of discussion, we came to the joint decision that Chasa could come to live with ME. Meera would still own her, of course, and was welcome to come visit any time she liked (I even gave her the code to my gate in case she stopped by while I was out in the pasture or something), but my friend's livelihood was simply not conducive to the mare's continued happiness. She'd come a long way since the beginning, but to truly heal, she needed reliable, calm, regular, space... and I could give that to her. Meera's sprawling, bustling ranch was a far cry from my relaxed little patch of totally private land.

The final hurdle would simply be Meera's insistence that I load Chasa into the trailer myself.

While we'd deepened our bond during the time I'd spent on the ranch, I still wasn't entirely sure I'd be able to do this. I'd never put a halter on her before, much less led her anywhere! I hadn't even properly petted her yet! Every time we'd associated, she'd either been free in the arena, able to come and go as she liked, or she'd been out in the pasture with me safely on the opposite side of a fence. Yet Meera insisted. She said that if I was able to get Chasa to trust me enough to load her up, she'd feel much better about trusting me too. And how was I going to argue with that? I could see how much Meera cared for Chasa just by watching them together. And I knew good and well how I'd feel if I had to let one of my beloved Nera go and live with someone else - even if it was for said Nera's own good. Thus I dropped the matter entirely and resolved to play it Meera's way. If I had to load Chasa into the trailer myself to put her owner's mind at ease, I was darn well going to do it!

But first, we had quite a bit of work ahead of us.

In order to acclimate the nervous mare to my presence outside the arena, I began accompanying Meera on some of her rounds about the ranch. I was there when Chasa was fed, there when Chasa was groomed, there when Chasa was turned out into the paddock. At first the mare was extremely unsure about this, and shied away from even Meera's touch unless I stayed several yards away. Over the course of a week though, I was able to creep gradually closer. Inch by inch, step by step; I tested Chasa's boundaries. Each time she let me know I'd come too close too soon, I backed off. Each time she ignored me and gave her full attention to Meera, I closed the distance. By the end of the second week, I was nearly within arm's reach.

Meera now gave me a huge raw herring and told me to offer it to the mare. Thus, while Chasa was given her daily groom, I stood there feeling like quite the idiot, clutching a dead fish and trying not to breathe too deeply. Naturally, the mare took note. How could she not? The thing smelled so much that people on the next farm over probably knew I had it! But she didn't quite dare to take it from me. Not yet. No - it would be another few days before she'd do that. And even then, she took it so tentatively that she ended up dropping it in the dust and startling herself.

From that day onward, I took over Chasa's feeding schedule. I was also was waiting by her stall with a fresh, fishy present each and every time Meera took her out.

Next, I began edging myself into the grooming process. After feeding Chasa the catch of the day, I'd move over and stand by Meera's side. Meera would them proceed to groom the mare as usual. Once she'd relaxed and fallen into the rhythm, Meera would stop mid-brush, I'd pull an identical brush from my pocket, then take over until Chasa noticed and began to grow uneasy. At which point I'd slip my brush back from whence it came and allow Meera to take over again. At least until the mare relaxed. Then it was my turn once more! We were careful not to stress Chasa too much though. Meera always kept a close eye on her and let me know when it was time to back off.

By the time I was feeding and grooming the mare on my own, she was pretty well used to me. I was also beginning to gain confidence. Meera still put the halter on and brought her out of the stall, but I could lead her around the ranch on my own and turn her out into the pasture. I'm not going to say we were best buddies. Yet neither were we strangers. The mare liked me enough to tolerate my presence, and considering all she'd been through, this was a pretty big deal for all of us. Thus, when Meera decided I was ready for the next leap and tasked me with putting Chasa's halter on by myself, I was both excited and nervous - excited because I was going to be that much closer to bringing her home with me; nervous because if anything went wrong, I could undo all our hard work and end up back at square one.

The first time I tried to edge into Chasa's stall, the mare let me know in no uncertain terms that I was not welcome. She threw back her head and brayed loudly, pinning her ears to her skull. I was disappointed, sure - but not at all surprised. So I quickly backed off. Meera assured me not to worry about it too much, and after a quick bull-session, we resolved to try again tomorrow.

The second time I tried to edge into Chasa's stall, I took Meera's advice and led with a fish. This definitely seemed to make a difference, as the mare pinned her ears back and danced into the far corner of the stall, but didn't directly challenge my presence as she had before. Satisfied that progress was being made, I deposited my gift on the floor of the stall and departed. The second the stall door had closed and latched behind me, she crept over and tore into the fish. I watched her devour it with a smile. Many of my doubts were beginning to melt away! It wasn't that she'd taken a sudden dislike to me. No, Meera had been right and I'd been a fool! The mare just didn't like me trespassing in her stall - it was a safe little nook where she felt the ills of the world couldn't reach her. My going in there was upsetting her for the same reason teenagers don't like their parents going into their rooms! If I was able to gain access to this sanctum sanctorum though, this final bastion of her resistance, I was home free.

Things progressed in this manner until, on the eleventh day of my intrusion, I was finally able to coax Chasa over to me. As she munched the fish I took a chance and reached out to stroke her shoulder. The mare flinched away slightly at first, but when I persisted, she allowed the contact. Not wanting to push her too much, I then retreated.

After three long weeks of patient work and understanding persistence, Meera and I began to feel that the mare was finally getting used to me being in her stall. So I began taking a halter with me, in addition to the fish. Once Chasa finished her munching and raised her head, I'd give her plenty of pats and skritches, then make as if I were going to take her out of the stall. If she shied away, I'd give up for the day, tell her she was a good girl, pat her some more, then duck out. If she didn't shy, then I'd see just how far I could get until she did. Keep in mind though - it wasn't like I was working with a Nera who'd never worn a halter before! No - she'd been haltered, saddled, and ridden plenty of times! She was just shy. It wasn't the halter she objected to, it was me.

The day I was finally able to get that halter on Chasa was one of the happiest days of my life. It may sound silly to you - but after all I'd been through with Chasa and Meera, the buckling of that last buckle was something special. I knew I had finally been accepted as more than someone who was another face in the crowd, someone who was just to be tolerated. Instead, I was a person to be trusted. A person with whom Chasa could feel safe and relaxed. Which, to be perfectly honest, was something awesome.