Janet L Jones, PhD

Many regular readers of this blog will recall that I train my horses to come to me, rather than expecting me to approach them for catching. The philosophy behind this and the techniques to implement it are explained in True Training Posts 2, 3, and 5. The question is how well a horse can learn this. And my answer, after last month, is pretty darn well.

You might question that conclusion given my next sentence. A few weeks ago, True evaded me for the first time ever. Occasionally, he does not come when I call—this happens when the mares are nearby, the weather is beautiful, and the grass is deep. I don’t mind much—those equine  temptations are easy to understand, and he always waits in one place while I walk up to him. It was never my intent to teach him to come to me every single time, as if on some kind of guarantee.

However, I did not wish to be evaded when I approach him. So a few weeks ago, standing in irrigation in the pasture, I called True to me. He came right over, like he always does, and I stroked his neck. Because the ground was soggy, I couldn’t take hold of the halter easily or move my feet well. Normally he waits. But this time, he turned away. I stepped out to reach for him, floundered in the water, and he turned away again… faster.

Next followed two hours of attempted catching. When I called, he came. When I reached for the halter on my shoulder, or for its strap in my hand, he left. Six times I had both arms around his neck. But when a 1500-pound, 17.1 hand, super fit horse decides to turn away and leave, well OK. True’s pastured with about a dozen other geldings who made the process even worse. They were all over me, getting in the way. We were all splashing in mucky irrigation water, tripping over invisible grass roots, and sometimes flailing in the cattails. The deer flies were thick and biting hard. Yep, much fun was had by all.

After two hours, having tried a score of catching options and failed, I walked away. True spent the night out, and the next morning I tried again. As usual, he came to me on the first call and stood quietly while I slipped the halter on, as if the previous day’s events had never occurred.  And he has done so daily ever since.

I count my catch training as a success despite this error. Why? Because almost daily for six years, True has come to my call religiously, from pastures that range between 5 and 35 acres in size. And he has only evaded me once in all that time. Let’s see, roughly 300 days a year for 6 years—that’s 1800 catches compared to 1 evasion. Yeah, he’s a good boy.