Jake has been easygoing and rather unflappable since his first day on our farm, and he's remained that way since his first day of real work.
So it was a big surprise when he suddenly bucked and kicked while pulling in a log about three weeks ago. Jake is a four and a half year old Suffolk Punch gelding, who I've raised and trained since he came to our farm at nine months old. He's always had enormous self confidence and is extremely intelligent.
My biggest challenge in training Jake has been to cultivate his calm, self-assured personality while also stimulating his desire to learn and work. He's friendly and funny and big-hearted, but sometimes he can be like a cranky, sullen teenager, barely tolerating any requests to "do something." He's outgrown much of this by now and has proven to be an exceptional working partner, though he's only been working just over a year. He has always accepted new challenges, new tasks, new situations with quiet good humor and intelligence and a willing attitude. So I was pretty shocked when he suddenly bucked and kicked that day on the woods road.
I was driving Jake, walking just to the side of his left hip. Without any warning he slightly reared up and then kicked out behind him. This was a really dangerous situation, and my instant response was to stop him and take a look around. Was he spooked by something? Our dog, Rosy, had indeed just run up behind us, but Jake has gotten plenty used to her doing that over the year we've been working together. Rosy always joins us in our work, running off in different directions following her dog bliss and frequently checking in with Jake and me, often suddenly appearing out of nowhere. I've generally been glad of this unplanned spooky training with Jake and he long ago learned to take her bursts of movement in stride. He didn't seem to be bothered by Rosy this time either, so I dismissed that possibility.
He didn't show any sign of fear or wanting to bolt, so it didn't appear that he was spooked by something else. I checked his harness and there didn't appear to be anything out of place or rubbing him in any unusual or bothersome way. Was this an extreme expression of his crankiness -- was he saying he was sick of pulling this heavy log and acting out?
Though he sometimes will pause and look at me when pulling a heavier load, as if to say, "do I really have to do this—can I stop now?", Jake has never shown anything like this kind of extreme frustration or disrespect before. I thought that unlikely too. We continued on our way and the rest of the day was uneventful.
I was bothered and puzzled by Jake's behavior, but I hoped that maybe it was just a one-time acting out, part of his growing up and settling into the work. This still wasn't a good explanation, though, and I felt a little nervous the next time we went out to work. And sure enough, he did the same thing again, twice, this time very early in the work session and pulling a light load, though in a completely different location. The second time I felt his hoof graze my hand and knew this was potentially a deadly new habit. Again, my instant reaction was to stop and quickly check out the situation. This time my dog Rosy wasn't anywhere in sight. My thought now was that this was extreme disrespect, and I decided to try to work through this new bad habit. He seemed to be a little nervous about the new place we were working in, and I spent about 15-20 minutes alternately making him move in all different directions and stopping and standing in the area where he'd bucked and kicked.
After he seemed to be settled down and no longer bothered by the new surroundings, we hitched up to the log again. Again we alternated between working with the log, moving different directions, stopping and standing, and sometimes unhitching and working without the log. We pulled in another couple logs and called it a day.
By now, I was really baffled by Jake's bucking and kicking, and no longer felt comfortable walking anywhere near his back feet. The dynamic had changed so much between us, and I couldn’t stop thinking there was something wrong, something I was missing that was causing this completely uncharacteristic behavior.
I began to think there might be something about the harness that was bothering Jake, something that was making him uncomfortable or even causing him pain that he was reacting against. I'd been noticing over the last few weeks that the collar he was wearing seemed to be getting quite tight against the sides of his neck and had been considering changing to a bigger collar. Fortunately, I had the next size collar on hand. The collar was much too big without a pad, but I also had a full size pad on hand for the collar. The fit of the new collar appeared much better. Jake has grown to his full adult size this winter and clearly needed a bigger collar. I spent careful time adjusting the harness to the new collar, making sure the brichen was loosened and the straps along the side of his body were properly adjusted so as not to rub him and create a sore. And we set out to pull in some firewood.
What a difference! Jake was his old self—as I said to Rosy while we were working, "this is the Jake we all know and love." He no longer showed any inclination to kick and we worked together in the quiet, companionable way I've so dearly enjoyed with Jake. A couple weeks have passed since I fitted Jake to his larger collar and adjusted his harness, and there's been no recurrence of the problem. My hope is that this truly is the right solution. This was an important lesson for me.
I've always tried to be careful about paying attention to the harness and making adjustments as needed, and this was a clear indication of just how critical the proper fit is in the comfort of the horse, as well as the teamster's safety.
I would welcome any comments, suggestions, or stories readers might wish to share about this article or any of my articles for Farm & Garden.