Lessons from a yearling

Meet Squish, the yearling giving Tamsin Doar a masterclass in patience, groundwork and prosecco-powered perseverance – one leg at a time

While The Sass Queen loves to hog the limelight, she has, surprisingly readily, accepted that she has a young pretender who has to share the attention. Squirrel, a sport horse yearling – ‘Squish’ to her friends – joined our herd in April. While I by no means claim to be a professional, after many years – more than I care to admit – riding and working with horses, I thought of myself as a relatively experienced horsewoman … but I was quickly reminded there is nothing more humbling than dealing with an equine toddler.
With horse prices still sky-high, many equestrians are turning to youngsters. They’re wonderful and rewarding – but also hard work.
Squish was still very much a baby, relatively unhandled when I bought her. I kept her in a postage-stamp corner of the field to start building a bond – and, frankly, to work out how to catch her. She quickly made it clear that she disapproved of this decision. She escaped on day two, joining The Sass Queen and my friend’s gelding – now dubbed the ‘grumpy uncle’ for tolerating babysitting duties. She regularly escaped over the first few weeks which caused me to question my sanity – what on earth had I done buying a yearling?

The no-touching zone
Squish quickly reminded me, however, how rewarding teaching the basics can be. Initially I could barely get a headcollar on her, but over the next few weeks I’d spend a bit of time just being in the field with them; grooming The Sass Queen, giving her attention and pottering around. Eventually Squish’s curiosity got the better of her and she started wanting to spend more time near me to see what was going on. I bought her for her kind face and the inquisitive look in her eye – something I hope will make her a confident horse who thinks for herself (though, hopefully, she’ll not be quite as opinionated as The Sass Queen).
Once we’d established the basics of being caught, we began working on Squish accepting me touching her all over. I strongly believe that youngsters should have time to be babies, but I also believe in the importance of them understanding the basics (being caught, being touched and having their feet picked up), in case of emergency situations where they might need a vet or a farrier. It makes it safer and less emotionally taxing for everyone.
Squish was happy for her neck and shoulders to be touched, but not her mane, ears, legs … basically anywhere else. If she could see me in her peripheral field of vision that was fine, but anywhere else was out of bounds. I quickly realised how much we take for granted with our horses –and how much they trust us. For a flight animal, it’s a wonder they will happily stand while we poke, prod, groom and lift their legs up is a wonder.
We’d start off with where Squish was happiest being touched, and just gently move around her body. The second she relaxed she’d get a scratch in her favourite spot (on her neck) and I’d turn her back out. Little and often was the key. Now, six months on, she’ll happily let me groom her all over and will stand there half-asleep with the droopiest bottom lip I’ve ever seen.

Doing the leg work
Next on the list of ‘basic education 101’ was allowing me to pick her legs up. Surprisingly, once she’d understood what I was asking, she readily accepted me picking up her front feet. Again, rewarding the good behaviour was key – not only would I pick them up but I was able to gently move her legs in different directions, much as my farrier would do.
Her back legs, however, were a different story: she’d kick out or try to run through whoever was holding her. This made me re-assess: I needed to be able to pick up all of her feet without drama, but I didn’t want to lose the trust we’d started to build. I also needed to keep myself safe!
I tried using a lead rope around her hoof – she would let me run my hand down her leg and pick it up using the rope, and if she kicked out I was already out of harm’s way. Once again, immediate rewards, and as soon as she relaxed, she was turned back out to process what I’d asked.

We continued to work on this until she was happy for me to pick up her feet just as I would any other horse. The key was always to go at her pace, and not to rush through. Learning and understanding what the humans are asking is mentally taxing for a young horse, so allowing them time to process everything is so important. Being flexible and adaptable is crucial: what works for one horse won’t necessarily work for another. Finally, my biggest help has been having a good support system. An experienced extra pair of hands makes it safer and calmer for both horse and human.
There’s no doubt in my mind that Squish would not have learned everything as well as she has without my friend (Grumpy Uncle’s owner) holding and re-assuring her.
But it’s not just Squish who benefitted – my friend has also helped me pick up the pieces when things didn’t go to plan and I felt like we’d taken one step forward and two steps back.
She formulated alternative methods with me … and provided equal amounts of prosecco and shoulder-to-cry-on when I questioned my sanity.

Next month: Squish graduates from the field to the big wide world – with a little help from The Sass Queen.