Water Crossing

["Linda B. Merims" <lbm@naisp.net>]

When I bought my horse, he was a 14 year old with 10 years of
confirmed refusal to cross water.  I don't know how it got
started with his previous owner--in all other regards she
had taught him splendid manners--but it was a hard-core
reflex habit by the time I got him.  It had become "a thing"
with him.

I followed the various advice put forward on Ridecamp, and
though it is still by no means a guaranteed thing (the
thought of crossing Big South Fork, for instance, awes me),
he is better.

What worked best is:

 1.  Follow the other horse.  ("Slipstreaming" I call it.)
     It really helps if there are multiple water obstacles
     in quick series--you get panics at the first crossing, but
     by the third or fourth he's just tramping through it.

 2.  If you're alone, the "bore him to death" technique that
     somebody described here three or so years ago works best.
     You avoid the ingrained, reflex fight where all the horse
     is doing is concentrating on the fight.

 3.  All the things about pointing him toward home or toward
     food are true.

 4.  Don't be too proud to hold on to the mane while you
     plunge forward.  It beats falling off.  It may also prevent
     you from jabbing him in the mouth and thus giving him
     something else bad to associate with crossing water.
 
 5.  Oddly, the hackamore has helped.  The horse is now beginning
     to look *down* at trail obstacles and study them.  He never
     did that before.

What worked worst was:

 1.  Backing him in to it.  This is what his previous owner had
     tried.  As far as I can see, all it did was teach him to
     rear in protest.

 2.  Never let him get into the habit of skirting around obstacles.
     I did this for awhile and it got us into more dangerous
     situations than anything else on the trail.  It's through
     the middle or nothing!

 3.  Giving his reins to a rider on a lead horse.  Yeah, we got
     through, but it seemed to teach my horse to be *more*
     panicky about the whole situation.  It didn't help that
     the lead horse once kicked him.

 4.  I used to say "good boy, good boy" when he began to take his
     plunge into the water.  But I noticed that he seemed to
     interpret this as a validation of his *fear* and reluctance
     to go forward, and he'd stop again.  So, now I wait until
     we're coming out the other side before I praise his bravery.
     And I don't make a big deal about it--that's the whole
     point I'm trying to get across to him--this is no big deal.
     Water.  Yawn.

I dream about the day when a photographer catches us standing
placidly in the middle of a small stream.  An 8x10 of that photo
will go to his old family under the heading "Things You Thought
You'd Never See."

Linda B. Merims
lbm@naisp.net
Massachusetts, USA