I went out to feed the horses and donkeys in the morning before
leaving for work. Mocha had chased Sam away with uncharacteristic aggression the
night before, but I didn’t think too much of it. Mocha wasn’t hanging around the
barnyard waiting for breakfast this morning. Looking over into the “Birthing
Pen”, an all white foal was standing with Mocha. I don’t know if it was just the
ears, but my first impression was that he was huge. He was already dry and
fairly steady on his feet, and there wasn’t time for me to approach him before
work. Arriving home from work, I walked out into the barnyard to find that Mocha
had the baby in one of the box stalls for shade. It was easy to slip over and
slide the door shut. This allowed me to carry some oats and bran in for Mocha.
The new mama was interested enough in her food that I was able to touch, rub,
and hold the baby. The first year we started having births on The CyberRanch was
1999, and I’d hoped to name all those babies names starting with A. That didn’t
quite work out, but in 2000 the longhorn calves were Button, Bullseye, Bandita,
and Bingo. With 2001 being a ‘C’ year, Mocha’s baby obviously had to be
Cappuccino. That first day after work, I sure didn’t do
a full, formal Robert Miller DVM, type of imprinting, but I guess it was pretty
darn close. I pretty much touched and rubbed him everywhere, including inside
the mouth and ears. I worked equally on both sides with this desensitization, as
equines don’t easily transfer lessons from one side of their body to the other.
Equines evolved a protective tendency to push back toward pressure. Big cats
were the main predators of the evolving equines, and it’s easy to imagine that
if a cat sunk it’s teeth or claws into your belly, pulling away rapidly and
strongly would be the last thing one would want to happen. Much of the training
of equines consists of training them to trust you enough to willingly “give to
pressure.” Even in the body language of the herd, a dominant horse will
physically move or restrain another. As I worked with Cappi, that day and
afterwards, release of pressure was one of my main rewards. I lifted all four of
his feet that day, but at first set them back down as soon as he stopped
struggling against the lifting. If I were to accidentally loose grip when he was
struggling, that release of pressure would reward his struggling behavior;
obviously not the desired outcome. One last thing I did on that first day was to
pick the baby up in my arms. Fortunately, it didn’t take too many repetitions
until he was no longer struggling as I held him up. It’s hoped that this will
help the baby see me as a much larger and stronger force than him. Then I merely
need to show him that that force is protective and that I am not a predator
looking at him as prey.
