Sparky's Dream

This is Kirby.

At the time of writing this, Kirby is 6 months old, and as the photo suggests he is not an especially shy kid.

Kirby's name was going to be Corduroy, after my favourite Pearl Jam song, and in reference to the first foal I got to care for. But when he was born, Corduroy just didn't suit him. So for a couple of weeks he was just 'Sticky's foal'.

Driving through Malmsbury, on my way to pick up Ambrose from my friend's farm, listening to my big driving playlist as usual, I thought to myself 'I need to come up with a name for Sticky's foal'.

At that moment I distinctly heard a voice say 'Call him Kirby'.

I had a very dear friend in high school whose last name was Kirby. She died when we were in our 30s, and to this day I still dream about her and think about her a lot. She was smart and talented and funny and athletic. She didn't indulge my BS.

At year 8 horse camp my little group of friends fell in with a couple of young male staff, known to us as Nigel and Beaver. Over dinner one night Nigel and Beaver decided to give us all nicknames. I don't remember them all - I don't even remember mine - but I do remember that Miss Kirby was for the rest of that camp referred to as Sparky.

The song 'Sparky's Dream', by Scottish band Teenage Fanclub, came out in 1995, and I instantly linked it to my friend. And on that sunny afternoon last December, as I was towing my float somewhere between Malmsbury and Greenhill, the very next song that played on my 600-song playlist was Sparky's Dream, by Teenage Fanclub.

And that is how 'Sticky's foal' came to be named Kirby, to be registered as Elcarim Sparky's Dream.

While originally my plan was to sell him as a 2yo, having Ambrose come to stay has meant that my younger mare Ava can continue being a broodmare rather than becoming a saddle pony. And if Ambrose remains rideable for five years, he'll be ready to retire just in time for Kirby to be ready to start work.

The thing about Kirby is that, much like his mother, he is just smart enough to stay out of trouble, but plenty sensitive enough to create his own problems. He's going to be a little more challenging than the agreeable yes-man geldings I've had in the past.

He's what Ryan Rose would call a right-brained extrovert, and what Kerry Thomas would call an IHD (individual herd dynamic) horse. His main area of focus is in front of him, he has a bit of trouble processing his tension and he seeks comfort in movement. He likes to be close to you, but he doesn't like being confined or restrained.

Happy Kirby is the first to come up to you in the paddock, content to get his headcollar on, and will respond to very light pressure and lead wherever you take him. Unhappy Kirby will do whatever it takes to escape and can't relax until he has given in to his flight response.

In the wrong hands, this is a pony who would either shut down completely or smash himself to pieces in an effort to protect himself from rough handling. In the right hands he has the makings of a top-class performance pony who will do anything for you once he trusts you.

Let me tell you about how I messed things up with him originally.

His early handling went very well, and by the time he was a few months old I could lead him around the roundyard. He never pulled back or panicked. All he knew was light pressure. His first hoof trim was straightforward and uneventful, standing beside his mother with my helper holding his lead.

By the time I needed to trim his feet again I could catch him in the paddock and lead him to the gate. Tying up was uneventful at first, but he would not stand still while I held his foot. He would tense up, lose his balance, and pull his foot away. I tried to hang onto his foot, but he just fought harder. He would pull his foot away and then lick and chew... I was teaching him to pull away from me. Then he started pulling back on the lead rope and leaping forward.

Things were getting scary, and I had to change the subject. I untied him, led him over to the shed for some treats, and then put him back out in the paddock. I expected him to run away as soon as I undid the headcollar, but he stepped toward me first as if to check in with me, and then galloped off while calling out to his mother.

Around this time I was considering the idea that horses can't be forced into things that upset them by us puny humans, so we have to convince them that what we want from them is a good idea. We get best results if we create a situation that the horse wants to join in on with us. Force isn't going to get us where we need to go, and it may just get us hurt.

I decided to really listen to what Kirby was trying to tell me an honor it no matter what. I thought at first that the best place for this was the small roundyard where he could move away from me if he needed to. Unfortunately, just being in the roundyard, with two solid barriers between him and his mother and sisters, was enough to upset him.

Also, it became obvious pretty quickly that he preferred me at the end of a lead rope to me just floating in space around him. I was not expecting that. He was really struggling and conflicted, pawing at the ground, and I could tell he was desperate to jump up and down and run away. I managed to get him to calm down a little by stroking his face and talking to him, and as soon as I felt him de-escalate a bit and saw him take a breath, I let him back out into the paddock.

Again he checked in with me before leaving my space, and he had barely got two metres away before he started leaping and twisting and kicking out. There was all that tension finally being released. He took off at a gallop across the paddock, snorted loudly and ran to his mother's side.

In the paddock he would still come up to see me, putting his chin on my shoulder and snuffling me on the neck. I decided to try one more thing.

In the middle of a 12 acre paddock, with his mother grazing nearby and his sister Violet doing her best to join in the fun, I haltered Kirby and went to lift his front foot. He stepped away from me - that was a 'no' from him. I asked him to step toward me and he did. I approached his foot again, and he stepped away again. Once again, I accepted his 'no' and asked him to bring that foot towards me. We did this a few more times until he allowed me to pick up the hoof - just for a second. As soon as he pulled it away I stood up and stepped back.

Now I know what you're thinking. Jodie, you idiot, why are you teaching this foal how to NOT have his foot lifted?

Horses need their feet, especially their front feet, in order to survive. I've had a few ponies who were very protective of their front feet while being pretty casual about their hinds. It makes sense for them to be protective of such a vital part of their body. And what Kirby needed to know was that if he had to take his foot back from me, I would give it to him. Whether he was losing his balance standing on three long foal legs or something in the environment made him feel threatened, he needed to be sure that I wasn't going to deny him full use of his body.

It took very little time from here. After a few minutes he was placing his foot in front of me - 'here it is, you can lift it'. At first I held it for half a second before putting it back down, standing up and stepping back. If he wanted his foot back, he got it, no questions asked.

The real test was a few days later when I decided to see what would happen if I didn't give Kirby his foot back in response to the slightest resistance. After all, it will take a long time to trim a hoof if you have to put it down and step away every few seconds. Horses need to learn to balance and help you out a little while you are performing this important task.

Out in the paddock once again, I made sure he was standing in an optimal posture before lifting his foot. After a couple of seconds he went to pull his foot away, and I held the hoof lightly while giving him space to correct his balance. He relaxed again and left his foot in my hand. I put his foot back down, stood up straight and told him how clever he was. We did this a few more times before I let him go.

From a foal losing his mind on the end of a lead rope, to a foal standing quietly while I picked out his hooves took three sessions of less than ten minutes. I watched him yawn and shake his head before walking off toward his mother. Tension released, the process completed.

I don't imagine that this will be the last time I have to think outside the box and challenge traditional training paradigms with this pony. He's not going to be easy, but I am definitely going to learn a lot from him.