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3.3 B Equine range of view is about 340 degrees, so the horse sees everything except the bird behind him.
Working with the Side View
One of the most common mistakes made with nervous horses is to thwart their side view. Humans can’t see it, so we forget it’s there. We lead horses through narrow passages forgetting that the walls completely block their primary lines of sight—then we wonder why the horse is skittish.
Because it’s best for our forward-facing eyes, humans assume that the frontal view is also best for the horse. Some equestrian websites even advise this position. Let’s return to Hawkeye, a lovely appendix hunter shown by an excellent equitation student who was new to me. We were working in the indoor arena when Hawkeye skirted the sliver of light that I told you about. At first, I just watched.
The rider was annoyed. In keeping with standard technique, she pushed Hawkeye straight toward the sliver of light on the sand that already scared the bejeebers out of her. She tried to make Hawkeye stand still and stare at the sliver head on, eyes bugged out like tennis balls. The horse danced back and forth, trying to turn to the side, and each time the rider cued her back to center. These demands—which good riders carry out every day—provide a perfect example of riding against the equine brain.
How so? Well, let’s think it through.
From the front, human eyes can see an object clearly, but a horse’s wide-set eyes cannot. All Hawkeye knows is that her rider is upset, forcing her forward to a place she considers a threat.
Without radically moving their heads, horses can’t see much below the level of their eyes, and they see nothing under their noses. So, as Hawkeye reluctantly approaches the light-snake, it vanishes from her line of sight. This makes it all the more frightening.
Standing still concentrates a horse’s fear rather than alleviating it. Frightened horses need to move; that’s what their brains are telling them to do.
Each time Hawkeye cocks her head and pivots to the side for a better view, her rider pulls on one rein and presses with the opposite leg, pushing her back to the frontal stance where equine vision is worst.
We might scoff at a big horse who is afraid of a sliver of sunlight or an evil paper cup—but fear is in the eye of the beholder. When was the last time you felt good about a big hairy tarantula running through your hair?
Hawkeye refused to obey the frontal commands, and by now the rider was very frustrated. At such moments, it’s tempting to dismount and drive to the nearest ice cream store for solace. But that only teaches a horse that shying buys her a nice safe stall for some couch time. Because the horse was afraid but not terrified of the light-snake, I asked the rider to remain mounted and distract the horse with a task that moved her away from the threat. Yes, this sounds like “letting her get away with it,” but work with me for a minute here.
The best technique is to ride to any distance the horse considers safe, with the object in view (fig. 3.4). Trot back and forth in a series of loops that place the object most frequently at the horse’s side. Focus on pace, relaxation, and inward bend; ignore whatever’s scary—don’t even glance at it. When the horse settles at that distance, gradually enlarge the loops, maintaining the distance that keeps him tranquil. Ride a foot or so closer to the object each time you go by. When the horse passes it calmly, even from a distance, stroke his neck and speak kindly but keep moving. We want the horse to believe that the task is to form loops with an inward bend—period. If he skirts the fright-sight at some point, decrease the loop to make the task easier. Move closer when the horse is ready, not when you are ready.
3.4 When the horse is frightened of something, like a sliver of light on arena sand, avoid a frontal approach. Instead, work gradually back and forth from the sides with a distracting task until the horse settles. This method accommodates equine vision instead of expecting the horse to adopt human frontal vision.
A simple lesson like this might take 1 minute or 100, two days or two months. Don’t push or punish fear. If the horse needs a 50-foot berth to negotiate an object calmly, give it to him. The priority is mental composure, not physical distance. Tomorrow you can set the goal for composure at 45 feet. If you’re rushed (“I’ve got an appointment!”) or you’re annoyed (“You’ve seen that thing a million times!”), start the lesson another day. Forcing horses is a good way to destroy their trust in you, frighten them all the more, and wake up with Nurse Ratched beside your bed.
Within 10 minutes of this exercise, Hawkeye was walking, trotting, and cantering past the light sliver without looking at or bending away from it. She was relaxed and calm, with no struggle between horse and rider. But it’s not always that easy.
My Horse Is Still Scared
Suppose you try this exercise, but your little knucklehead is still freaking out. Here you revert to groundwork. Ride to a spot he considers relatively safe. Dismount and immediately put him to work. If necessary, longe him to get his mind off the problem. Test his progress by gradually moving the longeing circle so that the fright-sight is closer to the horse’s side.
Now slow to a walk, remove the longe line, and try leading the horse in the same loops you used before, at the closest distance he considers safe. Give him a chance to discover that the patch does not bite. If necessary, use some vicarious learning: Let him watch a familiar human friend walk to the object, stand next to it, and speak calmly. Stroke his neck and encourage him to approach from the side. A step or two more than the horse wants equals success. Offer praise and stop for today.
If the horse is so deep into his fraidy-hole that this technique fails, have your friend bring a known, preferably dominant horse to the object the next day. (Verify ahead of time that this horse is unafraid.) Speak slowly and stroke your horse’s neck while he watches his buddy survive the terror. If this also fails, move out of sight of the object and put your horse to work on a completely unrelated task. Tomorrow, start building his trust using objects that he considers less frightening. Eventually, he will be calm enough to return to the original fright-sight and try again.
When your horse is finally relaxed enough to advance face-first, let him stretch down and forward for a good sniff. He’ll probably startle a couple of times—that’s okay, you’d jump too if you had to sniff a tarantula in your blind spot. Touch the hazard so your hand makes a soft noise against it; this will allow the horse to learn more through his ears. Gently roll or push the object around as the horse becomes accustomed. It’s important to wait for this frontal approach until the horse is completely relaxed while approaching from the side and standing next to the object.
Peripheral Motion
The back of an eye—horse or human—contains 55 different types of cells specialized for vision. But relax, we only need to discuss two: rods and cones. Stop reading for a minute and look at a scene. Anything: your living room, a view out the window, your hand, whatever. Every pixel of light or dark that you see in that scene is transmitted through your rods and cones. Each cell corresponds to a tiny part of the visual scene, and if that part of the scene is bright, its rod or cone sends a signal to your brain. If another minute piece of the scene is dark, the rod or cone corresponding to it stays mum. Every part of the visual scene is coded by 210 million rods and cones in the human eye, until your brain contains a neural pattern of light and dark that represents the entire view. Every time you move your eyes, your rods and cones transmit a new set of signals. Pretty cool, huh?
Rods are especially good at picking up off-center
