In the photo above, Rook follows her target with her nose.

I’m using a clicker to train this behavior.

Anyone who has seen me train dogs knows that I never use clickers. In fact, I’m not a fan of them at all.

So why here?

In dogs I use a multiple marker system. "Yes" means the reward is coming your way, "Get it" means chase it, etc. I also believe that dogs are actively trying to understand us. They’re good at language and they pick up markers quickly.

I think horses are not as good at language. I think for horses (and many other non-dog species) clickers or similar markers create more clarity.

In Rook’s case she caught on in a matter of minutes.

Not liking a clicker to train dogs is a personal choice. I work in a building. Box clickers are loud and, frankly, awful sounding. Some dogs are terrified of them. They’re hard to handle along with a leash and treats.

Research shows that clickers, marker words, and good timing of rewards are all equally understood by dogs. This makes sense to me. Dogs are so keyed into us.

Horses are vastly different, especially this wild mare. The human voice has little to no meaning, or perhaps even a slightly negative meaning, to her. The click is a novel sound, and there is no emotion attached to it one way or the other.

So I had to dig up a clicker so I could clicker train my mustang.

And so far, so good.

I had no idea what starting a mustang would look like. At one point during our second week together I thought, If I lived in a world where there was no candy, and someone said here, try chocolate, I would think this is the best thing ever! Then if they said here’s a Milk Dud, I’d say, no! This is the best thing ever! That’s what last week started off like.

Rook is so smart and so quick to catch on!

We started the week with her allowing my hand to be in the proximity of her feed pan while she ate treats.

Then, in an insane series of steps, she touched my hand, I touched her nose, I touched her neck on both sides, and she took treats directly from my hand.

Things moved so fast I could hardly believe it!

Then I asked a bit too much.

I got focused on removing her neck rope/number tag. This requires two hands, a bit of fiddling, and time. She said, no, and I said, yes, and she said no.

And so I stopped.

And went back a few steps.

No more touching. She'll allow it, but is far from happy about it, so no more.

Instead, I began teaching targeting to my stock stick. I'll use it to teach stretches and movement.

I'll use it to rebuild some of the trust I damaged when I got a bit stupid about the string.

So, we started clicker training today. In one session she learned that the clicker means food, booping the stock stick means food, and following the stick earns food.

All in one session!

When I think about Rook, I think about a future built on mutual trust and the journey that will get us there. I also have very concrete goals that I think are worth mentioning. 

 Rook was born wild. And ran free for the first year of her life. Then she was rounded up and lived in pens and corrals for four years. She was adopted a few months ago, and has since that time also stood in small paddocks - including mine. 

Even my arena is too small. Too small to canter, certainly far too small to gallop. 

No uneven ground. No ground poles, slopes, ravines, running water, none of the things that teach bodies how to move in space.

 My first desire is to give those things back to her. For that she needs to accept a halter and lead rope. I need to be able to lunge her and give her the freedom to move on a longer line.

 Yes, I'm researching new, kinder bitless set-ups and wondering who I lent my Wintek to many years ago. Yes I'm doing all those wonderfully selfish human things.

 But first I have to give her back the thing that standing in pens for four years has taken from her. 

 As I have watched videos and read - I see all the milestones mustang owners talk about: cutting off their number (oh! I cannot wait!), putting on a halter, untangling their manes and tails, lifting feet. And of course I want these things too.

 But for me, right now my biggest milestone will be the ability to let her use her body in a complex three-dimensional world. I want her to taste grass, and pull mesquite pods off the trees. I want her to sort through the complexity of granite, whather to jump or walk a small gully.

 I want her to know herself fully and be aware of herself.

 After that, then we talk about the rides and which tack will fit.

When we unloaded Rook from the trailer, all scrambling hooves and snorts, through our makeshift panels and into her corral, all I could see was her right now. No future, no history, just right now. She is sleek and near black. She has a lovely head for a mustang. What I saw when I met her though, the thing that told me that this was the horse I wanted was the curiosity.

I began working with that curiosity right away. I set up a feed pan next to the edge inside her corral. From outside I could deliver food and retreat. 

And that's what I did. 

And she would check out the pan, and lip at the treats and walk away. I would try different food, and she would do the same.

In between I would retreat to the nearest shade and simply watch her.

The third day she decided that the horse treats and sweetfeed were pretty yummy after all.

I'd walk to the pan, and she'd retreat. Her corral is decent sized and she never felt the need to retreat entierly to its furthest corner. I'd drop the treats and retreat; first about forty feet, then 20, then 10.

I had no real time line in mind, but I felt progress was going exceptionally well.

On day four I climbed into her corral. Snort and retreat, but head up, watching and appraising. That curiosity again.

The pan became our shared communication. She would go to it and stare at me. I would approach and she would retreat as far as she felt safe. I'd drop in food and I'd retreat.

I played with my retreats. Facing away, facing towards, facing sideways. Only when she was really close did she feel better if I didn't face her.

On the evening of the forth day, as I sat against an inside fence simply hanging out she took a chance and sniffed my shoes.

I watched her. Horses when startled can make dangerous choices. The dogs, integrated slightly faster than I anticipated spooked her with their antics and she started with an explosion of air, her head up high, several springy trot steps. A blow, a stare, a head shake, and then recovery.

I loved this about her. It meant I could feel fairly safe with her.

Every day we made prgress. I honestly couldn't believe how fast it was. I wasn't pushing. I wasn't asking much simply walking a bit less after refilling the pan.

In geeky trainer talk this is non-contingent rewards based training. I didn't care if she walked away from me, It didn't matter what she did - I always refilled the pan.

I was asking her to trust me and the process. 

Little by little, I asked more. Can she face me and ask for the food. Her answers were always yes.

By the end of week one we shifted 40 feet distance to 5. 

She agreed my treats were worth some effort.

She sniffed my outstretched shoe.

Most of us who are horsey have dreamed at one time or another of owning a mustang. My childhood was steeped in the magic of Marguerite Henry's Mustang - Wild Spirit of the West. Of course most of us grow up and come to our senses.

My last horse left the property twenty plus years ago. I never sold my tack. I still have old brushes and burgandy leg wraps and matching saddle pads. Someday, I said, I'd have horses again.

That someday happened last week when I brought home a five year old, unhandled mustang mare home.

This blog is her story.

Its the story of a former horse person, current dog trainer, exploring a new relationship with a formerly wild horse.

As I tell my students time and again, its as much about the journey as it is about the result. I want to spend time in this journey. So this blog is as much for me as it is for you. 

For today, one week and one day into this journey, she has a name - Rook