Relaxing with Nick Sanders, and my body is recovering most of its normal functions. My brain is also returning to something approaching normal, which allows to me to learn from what I have gone through. For those of you who are wondering what became of Winston, he is chilling out with Adele back in Devon. When I left him he had come on loads, pretty trustworthy in the heaviest traffic, starting to accept the Saddlechariot, in fact a pretty reasonable animal with a fear of strangers. Still really sharp, but a great character, and definite potential, but a massive challenge for a novice to take to London.
The alternative was to turn the novice loose with a prototype threewheeler, already overloaded, to which I had just attached the standard Mark 10 saddlechariot on a peculiar tow hitch giving an articulated five wheeler. So we swapped horses, or mules in mid stream and got Tiki in as a substitute. Tiki is almost in the saddlechariot but has persuaded me to make one thing absolutely clear.
Before putting an animal in the Saddlechariot, it must accept the vehicle and be prepared to stand without restraint in the vehicle. This means standing still, at most groundhitched while the shafts are brought up to the driving position. Then repeat with the harness on, and only then, if all is calm do you think about connecting the animal.
And when you connect said animal, remember, the unique feature of the Saddlechariot is the instant release, and it is there for a reason, so you can instantly release the animal. The Saddlechariot doesn't feature a fart catcher because I don't consider catching farts is important, therefore the existence of the instant release, suggests the idea that I think it is IMORTANT.
On that basis, when you finally hitch everything up, clutch the rip cord like your life depends on it, and at the first sign that the animal is even mildly worried, LET IT GO.
Then it will learn that it IS NOT TRAPPED.
The reverse, when you teach it that it is trapped takes a lot to unlearn.
How you get the animal to relax to accept the saddlechariot when it is not being held is up to you. One hint, whips won't help.
Once you put it in, you are applying pressure, the rip cord means you can release the pressure. Pressure release is the buzzword of most natural horsemen. The saddlechariot provides the release. Please, please use it.
But I digress, and back on the subject of Winston the Mule, who we left with Adele as a sharp, and tricky animal with potential. When I returned to pick up my gear, eat a superb meal, and sleep on a real bed, I ambled out to talk to Winston and hardly recognised him. Same shape, ears to big, (sorry Jenny), but he was calm. The sharp tricky little monster I had left, was a relaxed, chilled out adult.
Adele works to a different agenda, and wasn't exposing Winston to a weird array of new experiences, and all the areas where I was making no progress, are sorted. Sure we will find new problems, new difficulties, and i think Winston may sharpen up if I get him out on the roads again, but I know he can be calmed down.
The answer is not for me to try and learn Adele's methods, or copy them, but for me to let Adele share the training. I am good, modest, but good, and I can get animals working in traffic, and can handle seriously thuggish behaviour, and can put saddlechariots on without concentrating, but I tend to hype them up a bit, and there is a fairly constant argy bargy between me and the animals I work, because that is the way I like to work them.
But as herd animals they can cope with a wide variety of inputs, from all the herd members, all with different characters, and it doesn't bug them at all. So by sharing the training, I believe all animal, and especially horse trainers can massively increase their effectiveness, if they can find someone else to work with.
Adele Lee and I can really make something of Winston. Nick is going to have a go with Tiki tomorrow. Nick uses different methods, not as good as mine, but whose are, but it is definitely possible that I have gone as far as I can with my methods, and tiki is massively improved in the saddlechariot, but a fresh approach, may sort it all out much faster, and with the added benefit that I don't want to teach Tiki to let me put on a saddlechariot, I want him to learn to let anyone put on a saddlechariot.
But paired training could be a major step forward, for animals, for people, for trainers. I think my way is brilliant, and if I didn't I would use someone elses way, but however arrogant I am, I know lots of ways work. By letting the animal experience two teachers, I believe we more than double the learning process.
Obviously I will work with trainers and people I like, but Nick, Adele and I, all have different methods, and attitudes, and possibly most important, different aims. Lets let the animals choose who they learn what from. And with that lovely example of elegant grammar, good night.
To see some of my marginally more organised rants, try these links. If all else fails, try hitting them with whips. It works with horses, doesn't it? http://sites.google.com/site/wehithorsesdontwe/ http://saddlechariot.comlu.com/index.php
Tuesday, 31 August 2010
Monday, 30 August 2010
Godmother training
Training, means getting ponies ready for trains. Actually that isn't what training means at all, except in this one case. I am now going to be unbearably smug. My training system, the God Mother concept,(background) (blurb)really works. In many ways I would rather not have the proof the system works, because the proof scared Obama, and me, badly. I would NEVER deliberately test my system under these conditions.
But Obama and I survived unhurt and with no lasting problems from a scenario that was deeply unfunny. We were trying to get the Bannedwaggon over the top of the Bruce Tunnel, the high point of the Kennet and Avon canal. The track is narrow, stepped, steep and runs through a 40 foot long 6 foot by 6 foot tunnel under the main London to Exeter line.
I was bringing Obama past the Bannedwaggon which I then jammed across the tunnel behind us, ready to take Obama on up the steps to the top. As Obama emerged from the tunnel, I heard the express roaring down. I couldn't move back because of the Bannedwaggon, and couldn't move forwards because that meant pushing Obama towards the onrushing train, not a direction he wished to go. So I stood there, telling Obama everything was fine as he got steadily more distressed.
His nostrils were huge, the whites of his eyes blinding, his posture just screamed "get me out of here!", but he didn't move, he didn't pull, he didn't try to crash through me to safety, he just stood there because being with me seemed safer to him than the alternatives. The reasons are in the GodMother concept, but the reality is that Obama and I are both undamaged.
If anything was needed to convince me that whips and violence are outmoded and unneccessary, that tunnel did it for me.
I have included a video I shot almost immediately after of a nice slow goods train on the same line. Obama was just exiting the tunnel as the train arrived.
A training system that can cope with this sort of event, clearly works.
I am smug, but I have something to be smug about.
To see some of my marginally more organised rants, try these links. If all else fails, try hitting them with whips. It works with horses, doesn't it? http://sites.google.com/site/wehithorsesdontwe/ http://saddlechariot.comlu.com/index.php
But Obama and I survived unhurt and with no lasting problems from a scenario that was deeply unfunny. We were trying to get the Bannedwaggon over the top of the Bruce Tunnel, the high point of the Kennet and Avon canal. The track is narrow, stepped, steep and runs through a 40 foot long 6 foot by 6 foot tunnel under the main London to Exeter line.
I was bringing Obama past the Bannedwaggon which I then jammed across the tunnel behind us, ready to take Obama on up the steps to the top. As Obama emerged from the tunnel, I heard the express roaring down. I couldn't move back because of the Bannedwaggon, and couldn't move forwards because that meant pushing Obama towards the onrushing train, not a direction he wished to go. So I stood there, telling Obama everything was fine as he got steadily more distressed.
His nostrils were huge, the whites of his eyes blinding, his posture just screamed "get me out of here!", but he didn't move, he didn't pull, he didn't try to crash through me to safety, he just stood there because being with me seemed safer to him than the alternatives. The reasons are in the GodMother concept, but the reality is that Obama and I are both undamaged.
If anything was needed to convince me that whips and violence are outmoded and unneccessary, that tunnel did it for me.
I have included a video I shot almost immediately after of a nice slow goods train on the same line. Obama was just exiting the tunnel as the train arrived.
A training system that can cope with this sort of event, clearly works.
I am smug, but I have something to be smug about.
To see some of my marginally more organised rants, try these links. If all else fails, try hitting them with whips. It works with horses, doesn't it? http://sites.google.com/site/wehithorsesdontwe/ http://saddlechariot.comlu.com/index.php
Bannedwaggon reaches Base Camp.
We have reached base camp for the final assault on the Big City. Well while technically true, we have reached base camp and promptly sugared off into the distance. Lee is back in Exeter, and I did a quick loop by train back to Exeter, picked up the van and trailer, picked up the stuff I left at Adele's at the end of day one, steamed over to Thatcham where Obama was guzzling at Esther and Pete's place. Loaded the Bannedwaggon into the van, Obama into the trailer and head for Mark and Lorraine's where Tiki and the Mark 10 Saddlechariot were waiting, just outside Wooton Basset. Jammed that lot in and headed for Nick Sanders in Brecon.
This may seem mildly eccentric since I am going to restart from Thatcham in about seven days time, but I needed to see Nick about some stuff, Tiki needs to get back to Tim and Dot etc, I needed somewhere to finish putting Tiki in the Saddlechariot, and Nick's place is perfect, I want to drive thru Birmingham in the Bannedwaggon on Friday to show it to Beau and the crew at Balsall Heath City Farm, and then get out to a serious biker's bash with Ryan's Ryde on Saturday. Then it's easy to zip down to Thatcham, hook Obama to Bannedwaggon and drive into Hyde Park, drive a wheelchair enabled vehicle solo down Rotten Row, then work out how to get back to pick up van and trailer, pick up all my gear and Obama to get him back to West Town Farm, Ide, Exeter for their open day on the 12th, and then on to Lee and Sam's barbecue later the same day.
But the reason for the stop was equipment failure. My left hand was ballooning, right arm following suit, neither foot is a pretty sight and I had been driving the Bannedwaggon into things for the last day at least, and Obama wasn't enjoying it. I could have coped with the hands and feet, but it was clear that 11 straight days of high stress travel, had stuffed my brain. I know this is hard to believe because it requires accepting I had a functioning brain when I started, but if we can accept that the brain was working when I started. it wasn't by Hungerford.
Today I am re sorting my stuff, redesigning the Bannedwaggon ( a couple of minor niggles, the vehicle is so brilliant it surprises even me), sorting out Tiki's fears, letting Obama chill out, and trying to catch up with this blog. Left hand is beginning to shrink back to hand shape and allows one finger typing. Since my typing has always been on a random finger basis this isn't as much of a limitation as you would expect. So this is to say I am back blogging.
Who can tell what the next installment will reveal, I haven't a clue.
To see some of my marginally more organised rants, try these links. If all else fails, try hitting them with whips. It works with horses, doesn't it? http://sites.google.com/site/wehithorsesdontwe/ http://saddlechariot.comlu.com/index.php
This may seem mildly eccentric since I am going to restart from Thatcham in about seven days time, but I needed to see Nick about some stuff, Tiki needs to get back to Tim and Dot etc, I needed somewhere to finish putting Tiki in the Saddlechariot, and Nick's place is perfect, I want to drive thru Birmingham in the Bannedwaggon on Friday to show it to Beau and the crew at Balsall Heath City Farm, and then get out to a serious biker's bash with Ryan's Ryde on Saturday. Then it's easy to zip down to Thatcham, hook Obama to Bannedwaggon and drive into Hyde Park, drive a wheelchair enabled vehicle solo down Rotten Row, then work out how to get back to pick up van and trailer, pick up all my gear and Obama to get him back to West Town Farm, Ide, Exeter for their open day on the 12th, and then on to Lee and Sam's barbecue later the same day.
But the reason for the stop was equipment failure. My left hand was ballooning, right arm following suit, neither foot is a pretty sight and I had been driving the Bannedwaggon into things for the last day at least, and Obama wasn't enjoying it. I could have coped with the hands and feet, but it was clear that 11 straight days of high stress travel, had stuffed my brain. I know this is hard to believe because it requires accepting I had a functioning brain when I started, but if we can accept that the brain was working when I started. it wasn't by Hungerford.
Today I am re sorting my stuff, redesigning the Bannedwaggon ( a couple of minor niggles, the vehicle is so brilliant it surprises even me), sorting out Tiki's fears, letting Obama chill out, and trying to catch up with this blog. Left hand is beginning to shrink back to hand shape and allows one finger typing. Since my typing has always been on a random finger basis this isn't as much of a limitation as you would expect. So this is to say I am back blogging.
Who can tell what the next installment will reveal, I haven't a clue.
To see some of my marginally more organised rants, try these links. If all else fails, try hitting them with whips. It works with horses, doesn't it? http://sites.google.com/site/wehithorsesdontwe/ http://saddlechariot.comlu.com/index.php
Monday, 23 August 2010
bannedwaggon trip 3
We have come a long way, learned loads, met some great people, and some not so great. The prize winner in the latter category is the guy who decided that because Obama can't finish crossing a bridge before the lights change, that Obama should go back and drove straight at him to make his point clear. I have always made it clear that if you want to hit my pony, you damn well drive through me first, but the guy bottled out after hitting me in the leg. It wasn't very hard, and didn't hurt much, but I must say, it isn't much fun having people think they have to right to drive vehicles into you.
The roads suck. The road into Glastonbury, the A361 from Taunton does clear up one religious controversy, how Joseph of Arimithea got to Glastonbury. I can assure you, if he had a donkey, he didn't come from the Taunton, because you can't. It is the most lethal road, and for an alternative city, Glastonbury really needs a road that allows alternative transport to the internal combustion engine.
But for every murderous motorist, we met kind and civilised people, but back to the drivers, Boy racers, bikers, bus drivers, Jewson's delivery drivers, white van man, almost all nice, charming and considerate. Modern saloon cars, watch out. The sort of person who hands out Asbos to delinquents, can't be trusted behind the wheel. Queen Mary apparently had Calais engraved on her heart when she died. I will have an 09 or 10 plate branded on my backside by the motorist who finally gets me.
We have climbed hills, and I know what Obama feels as he now doesn't climb unless I am pulling. I still haven't worked out quite how I fell for this particular ploy, but we plod along, Old Mac hoofboots and pink Crocs, Obama biting Tiki on the bum and looking daggers at me, while I swear monotonously at him and the road, with occasional variety as I curse motorists who won't give Obama an inch.
But we met Jashoda, Louis and Gemma as we were leaving Glastonbury, who offered us grazing right up on the top of Glastonbury, overlooking Wells The camp site was perfect once we fenced Obama and Tiki out, so Tiki came and crashed out next to Lee and then spent the night chasing each other around. That's when you curse all the hills you have hauled away to help Obama, and he then spends the night thundering around at high speed, while you are desperate for enough sleep to get the limbs in something resembling working order.
Lee and I were going to do some serious traveller's cooking, but we have come to the conclusion that an interest in fine food is a sign that you haven't enough to do in your life. Nice ham, yes, nice bread yes, Stick one in other. Eat. That's it. And Obama and Tiki are showing less interest in wayside plants. They graze happily when we stop for a break, and we saw both Obama and Tiki eating loads of Damsons, OK but a bit sour, and carefully spitting out the pits. They will strip the seeds of maize heads with the same care, so why we have to feed carrots cut lengthways to stop them choking, beggars belief. Watch the way the eat, the way they go for blackberries, or smear the spines on thistles with ahoof before eating the heart out of the rosette.
These animals are no fools, and I have never met a pony or horse as vicious as the respectable motorists who cruise the road system looking for their prey, the common horseman. And even God isn't on our side. We came into Wells just as a wedding carriage was leaving. Obama and Tiki hadn't seen another horsedrawn vehicle in months, and the clatter of the shod pair, and the driver's shouts, upset Obama and Tiki a little so we stopped in St Cuthberts churchyard to let them chill out. Within a couple of minutes a churchwarden arrived to put a bollard in place to seal us into the churchyard.
When I pointed this out she said we would have to get out immediately,we had only been able to get in because the wedding carriage needed access, and we should leave as the Church didn't want people like us.
Now Lee and I aren't the most sartorially elegant pair, but Obama and Tiki are dead smart. But then the Church likes horsemen with whips and bits and blinkers and force. Why would the church want to have anything to do with kindness, or gentle treatment of animals, or indeed people. So knowing we would be welcome, we went to Wells Cathedral. Have a look at the pics.
To see some of my marginally more organised rants, try these links. If all else fails, try hitting them with whips. It works with horses, doesn't it? http://sites.google.com/site/wehithorsesdontwe/ http://saddlechariot.comlu.com/index.php
The roads suck. The road into Glastonbury, the A361 from Taunton does clear up one religious controversy, how Joseph of Arimithea got to Glastonbury. I can assure you, if he had a donkey, he didn't come from the Taunton, because you can't. It is the most lethal road, and for an alternative city, Glastonbury really needs a road that allows alternative transport to the internal combustion engine.
But for every murderous motorist, we met kind and civilised people, but back to the drivers, Boy racers, bikers, bus drivers, Jewson's delivery drivers, white van man, almost all nice, charming and considerate. Modern saloon cars, watch out. The sort of person who hands out Asbos to delinquents, can't be trusted behind the wheel. Queen Mary apparently had Calais engraved on her heart when she died. I will have an 09 or 10 plate branded on my backside by the motorist who finally gets me.
We have climbed hills, and I know what Obama feels as he now doesn't climb unless I am pulling. I still haven't worked out quite how I fell for this particular ploy, but we plod along, Old Mac hoofboots and pink Crocs, Obama biting Tiki on the bum and looking daggers at me, while I swear monotonously at him and the road, with occasional variety as I curse motorists who won't give Obama an inch.
But we met Jashoda, Louis and Gemma as we were leaving Glastonbury, who offered us grazing right up on the top of Glastonbury, overlooking Wells The camp site was perfect once we fenced Obama and Tiki out, so Tiki came and crashed out next to Lee and then spent the night chasing each other around. That's when you curse all the hills you have hauled away to help Obama, and he then spends the night thundering around at high speed, while you are desperate for enough sleep to get the limbs in something resembling working order.
Lee and I were going to do some serious traveller's cooking, but we have come to the conclusion that an interest in fine food is a sign that you haven't enough to do in your life. Nice ham, yes, nice bread yes, Stick one in other. Eat. That's it. And Obama and Tiki are showing less interest in wayside plants. They graze happily when we stop for a break, and we saw both Obama and Tiki eating loads of Damsons, OK but a bit sour, and carefully spitting out the pits. They will strip the seeds of maize heads with the same care, so why we have to feed carrots cut lengthways to stop them choking, beggars belief. Watch the way the eat, the way they go for blackberries, or smear the spines on thistles with ahoof before eating the heart out of the rosette.
These animals are no fools, and I have never met a pony or horse as vicious as the respectable motorists who cruise the road system looking for their prey, the common horseman. And even God isn't on our side. We came into Wells just as a wedding carriage was leaving. Obama and Tiki hadn't seen another horsedrawn vehicle in months, and the clatter of the shod pair, and the driver's shouts, upset Obama and Tiki a little so we stopped in St Cuthberts churchyard to let them chill out. Within a couple of minutes a churchwarden arrived to put a bollard in place to seal us into the churchyard.
When I pointed this out she said we would have to get out immediately,we had only been able to get in because the wedding carriage needed access, and we should leave as the Church didn't want people like us.
Now Lee and I aren't the most sartorially elegant pair, but Obama and Tiki are dead smart. But then the Church likes horsemen with whips and bits and blinkers and force. Why would the church want to have anything to do with kindness, or gentle treatment of animals, or indeed people. So knowing we would be welcome, we went to Wells Cathedral. Have a look at the pics.
To see some of my marginally more organised rants, try these links. If all else fails, try hitting them with whips. It works with horses, doesn't it? http://sites.google.com/site/wehithorsesdontwe/ http://saddlechariot.comlu.com/index.php
Sunday, 22 August 2010
We have come a long way, learned loads, met some great people, and some not so great. The prize winner in the latter category is the guy who decided that because Obama can't finish crossing a bridge before the lights change, that Obama should go back and drove straight at him to make his point clear. I have always made it clear that if you want to hit my pony, you damn well drive through me first, but the guy bottled out after hitting me in the leg. It wasn't very hard, and didn't hurt much, but I must say, it isn't much fun having people think they have to right to drive vehicles into you.
The roads suck. The road into Glastonbury, the A361 from Taunton does clear up one religious controversy, how Joseph of Arimithea got to Glastonbury. I can assure you, if he had a donkey, he didn't come from the Taunton, because you can't. It is the most lethal road, and for an alternative city, Glastonbury really needs a road that allows alternative transport to the internal combustion engine.
But for every murderous motorist, we met kind and civilised people, but back to the drivers, Boy racers, bikers, bus drivers, Jewson's delivery drivers, white van man, almost all nice, charming and considerate. Modern saloon cars, watch out. The sort of person who hands out Asbos to delinquents, can't be trusted behind the wheel. Queen Mary apparently had Calais engraved on her heart when she died. I will have an 09 or 10 plate branded on my backside by the motorist who finally gets me.
We have climbed hills, and I know what Obama feels as he now doesn't climb unless I am pulling. I still haven't worked out quite how I fell for this particular ploy, but we plod along, Old Mac hoofboots and pink Crocs, Obama biting Tiki on the bum and looking daggers at me, while I swear monotonously at him and the road, with occasional variety as I curse motorists who won't give Obama an inch.
But we met Jashoda, Louis and Gemma as we were leaving Glastonbury, who offered us grazing right up on the top of Glastonbury, overlooking Wells The camp site was perfect once we fenced Obama and Tiki out, so Tiki came and crashed out next to Lee and then spent the night chasing each other around. That's when you curse all the hills you have hauled away to help Obama, and he then spends the night thundering around at high speed, while you are desperate for enough sleep to get the limbs in something resembling working order.
Lee and I were going to do some serious traveller's cooking, but we have come to the conclusion that an interest in fine food is a sign that you haven't enough to do in your life. Nice ham, yes, nice bread yes, Stick one in other. Eat. That's it. And Obama and Tiki are showing less interest in wayside plants. They graze happily when we stop for a break, and we saw both Obama and Tiki eating loads of Damsons, OK but a bit sour, and carefully spitting out the pits. They will strip the seeds of maize heads with the same care, so why we have to feed carrots cut lengthways to stop them choking, beggars belief. Watch the way the eat, the way they go for blackberries, or smear the spines on thistles with ahoof before eating the heart out of the rosette.
These animals are no fools, and I have never met a pony or horse as vicious as the respectable motorists who cruise the road system looking for their prey, the common horseman. And even God isn't on our side. We came into Wells just as a wedding carriage was leaving. Obama and Tiki hadn't seen another horsedrawn vehicle in months, and the clatter of the shod pair, and the driver's shouts, upset Obama and Tiki a little so we stopped in St Cuthberts churchyard to let them chill out. Within a couple of minutes a churchwarden arrived to put a bollard in place to seal us into the churchyard.
When I pointed this out she said we would have to get out immediately,we had only been able to get in because the wedding carriage needed access, and we should leave as the Church didn't want people like us.
Now Lee and I aren't the most sartorially elegant pair, but Obama and Tiki are dead smart. But then the Church likes horsemen with whips and bits and blinkers and force. Why would the church want to have anything to do with kindness, or gentle treatment of animals, or indeed people. So knowing we would be welcome, we went to Wells Cathedral. Have a look at the pics.
http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/saddlechariots/Bannedwaggontoglastonbury02?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGDipOJuJq1Rg#
http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/saddlechariots/Leebannedwaggontorode#
To see some of my marginally more organised rants, try these links. If all else fails, try hitting them with whips. It works with horses, doesn't it? http://sites.google.com/site/wehithorsesdontwe/ http://saddlechariot.comlu.com/index.php
The roads suck. The road into Glastonbury, the A361 from Taunton does clear up one religious controversy, how Joseph of Arimithea got to Glastonbury. I can assure you, if he had a donkey, he didn't come from the Taunton, because you can't. It is the most lethal road, and for an alternative city, Glastonbury really needs a road that allows alternative transport to the internal combustion engine.
But for every murderous motorist, we met kind and civilised people, but back to the drivers, Boy racers, bikers, bus drivers, Jewson's delivery drivers, white van man, almost all nice, charming and considerate. Modern saloon cars, watch out. The sort of person who hands out Asbos to delinquents, can't be trusted behind the wheel. Queen Mary apparently had Calais engraved on her heart when she died. I will have an 09 or 10 plate branded on my backside by the motorist who finally gets me.
We have climbed hills, and I know what Obama feels as he now doesn't climb unless I am pulling. I still haven't worked out quite how I fell for this particular ploy, but we plod along, Old Mac hoofboots and pink Crocs, Obama biting Tiki on the bum and looking daggers at me, while I swear monotonously at him and the road, with occasional variety as I curse motorists who won't give Obama an inch.
But we met Jashoda, Louis and Gemma as we were leaving Glastonbury, who offered us grazing right up on the top of Glastonbury, overlooking Wells The camp site was perfect once we fenced Obama and Tiki out, so Tiki came and crashed out next to Lee and then spent the night chasing each other around. That's when you curse all the hills you have hauled away to help Obama, and he then spends the night thundering around at high speed, while you are desperate for enough sleep to get the limbs in something resembling working order.
Lee and I were going to do some serious traveller's cooking, but we have come to the conclusion that an interest in fine food is a sign that you haven't enough to do in your life. Nice ham, yes, nice bread yes, Stick one in other. Eat. That's it. And Obama and Tiki are showing less interest in wayside plants. They graze happily when we stop for a break, and we saw both Obama and Tiki eating loads of Damsons, OK but a bit sour, and carefully spitting out the pits. They will strip the seeds of maize heads with the same care, so why we have to feed carrots cut lengthways to stop them choking, beggars belief. Watch the way the eat, the way they go for blackberries, or smear the spines on thistles with ahoof before eating the heart out of the rosette.
These animals are no fools, and I have never met a pony or horse as vicious as the respectable motorists who cruise the road system looking for their prey, the common horseman. And even God isn't on our side. We came into Wells just as a wedding carriage was leaving. Obama and Tiki hadn't seen another horsedrawn vehicle in months, and the clatter of the shod pair, and the driver's shouts, upset Obama and Tiki a little so we stopped in St Cuthberts churchyard to let them chill out. Within a couple of minutes a churchwarden arrived to put a bollard in place to seal us into the churchyard.
When I pointed this out she said we would have to get out immediately,we had only been able to get in because the wedding carriage needed access, and we should leave as the Church didn't want people like us.
Now Lee and I aren't the most sartorially elegant pair, but Obama and Tiki are dead smart. But then the Church likes horsemen with whips and bits and blinkers and force. Why would the church want to have anything to do with kindness, or gentle treatment of animals, or indeed people. So knowing we would be welcome, we went to Wells Cathedral. Have a look at the pics.
http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/saddlechariots/Bannedwaggontoglastonbury02?authkey=Gv1sRgCJGDipOJuJq1Rg#
http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/saddlechariots/Leebannedwaggontorode#
To see some of my marginally more organised rants, try these links. If all else fails, try hitting them with whips. It works with horses, doesn't it? http://sites.google.com/site/wehithorsesdontwe/ http://saddlechariot.comlu.com/index.php
Thursday, 19 August 2010
We are on the road, first night Uplowman, brilliant, bed, bath, civilisation, next night Wellington, next to muck heap, but Nick Sanders popped in for a cuppa the next morning, as Brecon based lunatics do. Tonight made it through Taunton and along canal to really friendly farm. Knackered, stiff, soggy. But Lee, Obama and Tiki handling it brilliantly. I am contemplating a straightjacket. But whether it is for me, or the rest of civilisation is a moot point.
The bannedwaggon works. Driving round in a wheelchair is easy after hauling all the camping gear and a spare vehicle through the sort of route we have taken. Driving down Rotten Row, solo, in a wheelchair is what this trip is about, the bits that aren't about raising awareness of Bookcycle.
Badly need to crash but look at the pics.
http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/saddlechariots/Bannedwaggontrip#
To see some of my marginally more organised rants, try these links. If all else fails, try hitting them with whips. It works with horses, doesn't it? http://sites.google.com/site/wehithorsesdontwe/ http://saddlechariot.comlu.com/index.php
Sunday, 15 August 2010
Banned waggon trip three
Some things got done, some didn't. Drove over to see Sarah Piercey in the Bannedwaggon and got her on it in her wheelchair for a quick spin. Discovered that some of the bits I had meant to finish, had better get finished, and that leaving out the only bolt that holds it together, is just possibly, not such a good idea.
But I really need to drive to London to stop me going on and on about how brilliant the bannedwaggon is. It even looks pretty cool because Lee did a quick spray job which transforms everything.
I suppose I had better get over the arrogant bit now. I build vehicles because I think I build better vehicles than anybody else. If I didn't I would buy someone else's vehicle, or copy it if I couldn't afford to buy it. But I don't know of any other vehicle you can drive through a city, on your own, from a wheelchair. So this blog is about how bloody clever I am. And you are just going to have to put up with it.
Ditto training. If I didn't think my way was the best, I wouldn't bloody use it. So modest comments like, it's pretty good, or it's OK would be lies. I use my system because it is the best.
Inventors don't go and create a brand new middle of the road, pretty average idea. If we didn't think we were God's gift to humanity, we wouldn't be inventors.
So the bannedwaggon is the dog's dangly bits.
My whip free, carrot/carrot approach ditto.
OK my dress sense is weird, I have the social graces of a mosquito and the money earning capacity of a mole, but so what. I produce horsedrawn vehicles that do things nothing else does. And Lee and I are off tomorrow to be photographed by Country Smallholder, whose Sheep correspondent, Tim Tyne has lent us Tikki.
On Tuesday we all set off for the smoke, by a route that I haven't really planned in any great detail. Go North past the hilly bits, aim for Glastonbury and keep heading North East till you hit the Kennet, then East to London. Start off after you wake up, stop and sleep when tired. Repeat till you hit London.
We are spending Tuesday night at Adele's, a really good friend, who is looking after Winston till we return and revert to doing silly things with mules. I miss the little sod, he is a real character, just mildly strenuous with strangers. But we'll sort that out when I get back, probably doing something stupid like driving across Dartmoor.
When I get back, with Lee, Obama and Tikki I hope to have a great big, we've done it party, to celebrate all those whose support and enthusiasm has made this possible. Everyone at West Town Farm at Ide, all the nutters at Bookcycle, Sakeenah and Ant, Ari Rox, Adele, Sarah Piercey, Derek and Diane, Sam, all the Middle Tree crowd, and of course Nick Sanders. If I wasn't such a brilliant trainer of ponies, I would probably have to go to Nick for advice on training, but I am brilliant, so I don't have to.
And so another arrogant pillock sets off into the sunset. Will he survive, does anyone care?
To see some of my marginally more organised rants, try these links. If all else fails, try hitting them with whips. It works with horses, doesn't it? http://sites.google.com/site/wehithorsesdontwe/ http://saddlechariot.comlu.com/index.php
But I really need to drive to London to stop me going on and on about how brilliant the bannedwaggon is. It even looks pretty cool because Lee did a quick spray job which transforms everything.
I suppose I had better get over the arrogant bit now. I build vehicles because I think I build better vehicles than anybody else. If I didn't I would buy someone else's vehicle, or copy it if I couldn't afford to buy it. But I don't know of any other vehicle you can drive through a city, on your own, from a wheelchair. So this blog is about how bloody clever I am. And you are just going to have to put up with it.
Ditto training. If I didn't think my way was the best, I wouldn't bloody use it. So modest comments like, it's pretty good, or it's OK would be lies. I use my system because it is the best.
Inventors don't go and create a brand new middle of the road, pretty average idea. If we didn't think we were God's gift to humanity, we wouldn't be inventors.
So the bannedwaggon is the dog's dangly bits.
My whip free, carrot/carrot approach ditto.
OK my dress sense is weird, I have the social graces of a mosquito and the money earning capacity of a mole, but so what. I produce horsedrawn vehicles that do things nothing else does. And Lee and I are off tomorrow to be photographed by Country Smallholder, whose Sheep correspondent, Tim Tyne has lent us Tikki.
On Tuesday we all set off for the smoke, by a route that I haven't really planned in any great detail. Go North past the hilly bits, aim for Glastonbury and keep heading North East till you hit the Kennet, then East to London. Start off after you wake up, stop and sleep when tired. Repeat till you hit London.
We are spending Tuesday night at Adele's, a really good friend, who is looking after Winston till we return and revert to doing silly things with mules. I miss the little sod, he is a real character, just mildly strenuous with strangers. But we'll sort that out when I get back, probably doing something stupid like driving across Dartmoor.
When I get back, with Lee, Obama and Tikki I hope to have a great big, we've done it party, to celebrate all those whose support and enthusiasm has made this possible. Everyone at West Town Farm at Ide, all the nutters at Bookcycle, Sakeenah and Ant, Ari Rox, Adele, Sarah Piercey, Derek and Diane, Sam, all the Middle Tree crowd, and of course Nick Sanders. If I wasn't such a brilliant trainer of ponies, I would probably have to go to Nick for advice on training, but I am brilliant, so I don't have to.
And so another arrogant pillock sets off into the sunset. Will he survive, does anyone care?
To see some of my marginally more organised rants, try these links. If all else fails, try hitting them with whips. It works with horses, doesn't it? http://sites.google.com/site/wehithorsesdontwe/ http://saddlechariot.comlu.com/index.php
Bannedwaggon trip 2
I'm getting bitten to hell and back, not midges, not mosquitoes, Obama. He is insanely jealous of all the attention firstly Winston the Mule got, and now Tikki the pony. I am sad not to take Winston, but to take a non driving animal that is scared of people on a journey this length, and then expect a novice to either handle said scared and scary mule, or to handle Obama towing two vehicles, is a bit much.
Winston is chilling out with Adele, and when we return I think he will be ready for the final stage of training, ie learning that people won't hit him. It's a pretty simple lesson to learn as long as keep him away form horsey people.. Ask non horsey people when you should hit a horse, and the answer is "Never!". Ask them why you should carry a whip, and the answer is "You shouldn't!" Ask them when you should USE a whip, and they think you are a fruitcake.
So I will keep Winston with people who don't include hitting horses, ponies or mules in their skill set. Then he is really easy and will become a useful member of the community.
Tikkki's only problem is that he isn scared of going in vehicles. Because it seems so obvious to me, and is so central to what I do, I may never have explained Rule 1 of putting animals in Saddlechariots. They must stand, freely, untied, in an open space, without blinkers, while you put the vehicle on, ON YOUR OWN.
How you do it is up to you. You can click, clack, shake it all about. Use bribery, offer obscene performance bonuses (apparently it works for bankers), or dfo whatever you like that does not involve force, threats or weapons.
And then having finally got the damn animal in the vehicle, if it shows even the vaguest desire to get out, LET IT OUT.
The Saddlechariot has an instant release system because I think letting the animal out of the vehicle is the answer to all problems. Use it. It hasn't got a whip holder because I think whips are stupid, vicious, pointless, cruel etc etc. So don't use whips. Don't use force. The pony wants out ........ LET IT OUT.
Put it in again and if it wants out, guess what. LET IT OUT.
Carry on until the poor bloody animal says, "Come on let's take this bloody thing for a drive. I AM BORED WITLESS!"
Boredom is a training tool, and a vital one. So the vehicle going on, and being attached is just BORING. then we go out somewhere, and guess what, there is grass to eat, blackberries, thistle heads, new sights, sounds.
The Saddlechariot going on is the sign we are going somewhere fun.So it has to be voluntary. They must stand still for the vehicle to be put on.
Rule 2, the minute they want out. Let them out. It mustn't be seen as a trap.
Rule 3, go somewhere interesting. Schools are boring. Education, from the Latin, ex ducere, to lead out.
And RULE 4, DON'T DRIVE, LEAD.
When they are learning the vehicle, you need to be at their head, holding the rip cord in your sweaty little hand, reassuring the pony and ready to release it the INSTANT it looks MILDLY WORRIED. The lesson it learns is that the Saddlechariot is something it can walk out of if things get stressful. And that is the WHOLE POINT of the SADDLECHARIOT.
If you would rather dominate them, and fight their fear, there are other blogs, there are other vehicles. Saddlechariots are for nice cowards and their ponies.
So Tikki is learning to stand while the saddlechariot comes up behind him, I can drive a wheelchair onto the bannedwaggon on my own, Lee looks pretty confident with Obama and Tikki, I have thought about starting to get my stuff together and we are off Monday/Tuesday.
Oh and I am going to drive the Bannedwaggon across Exeter in the wheelchair today. A nice relaxed program. That's after I fininsh the final welding, make a proper floor, spray the damn thing, put Tikki in the Saddlechariot ...........
To see some of my marginally more organised rants, try these links. If all else fails, try hitting them with whips. It works with horses, doesn't it? http://sites.google.com/site/wehithorsesdontwe/ http://saddlechariot.comlu.com/index.php
Winston is chilling out with Adele, and when we return I think he will be ready for the final stage of training, ie learning that people won't hit him. It's a pretty simple lesson to learn as long as keep him away form horsey people.. Ask non horsey people when you should hit a horse, and the answer is "Never!". Ask them why you should carry a whip, and the answer is "You shouldn't!" Ask them when you should USE a whip, and they think you are a fruitcake.
So I will keep Winston with people who don't include hitting horses, ponies or mules in their skill set. Then he is really easy and will become a useful member of the community.
Tikkki's only problem is that he isn scared of going in vehicles. Because it seems so obvious to me, and is so central to what I do, I may never have explained Rule 1 of putting animals in Saddlechariots. They must stand, freely, untied, in an open space, without blinkers, while you put the vehicle on, ON YOUR OWN.
How you do it is up to you. You can click, clack, shake it all about. Use bribery, offer obscene performance bonuses (apparently it works for bankers), or dfo whatever you like that does not involve force, threats or weapons.
And then having finally got the damn animal in the vehicle, if it shows even the vaguest desire to get out, LET IT OUT.
The Saddlechariot has an instant release system because I think letting the animal out of the vehicle is the answer to all problems. Use it. It hasn't got a whip holder because I think whips are stupid, vicious, pointless, cruel etc etc. So don't use whips. Don't use force. The pony wants out ........ LET IT OUT.
Put it in again and if it wants out, guess what. LET IT OUT.
Carry on until the poor bloody animal says, "Come on let's take this bloody thing for a drive. I AM BORED WITLESS!"
Boredom is a training tool, and a vital one. So the vehicle going on, and being attached is just BORING. then we go out somewhere, and guess what, there is grass to eat, blackberries, thistle heads, new sights, sounds.
The Saddlechariot going on is the sign we are going somewhere fun.So it has to be voluntary. They must stand still for the vehicle to be put on.
Rule 2, the minute they want out. Let them out. It mustn't be seen as a trap.
Rule 3, go somewhere interesting. Schools are boring. Education, from the Latin, ex ducere, to lead out.
And RULE 4, DON'T DRIVE, LEAD.
When they are learning the vehicle, you need to be at their head, holding the rip cord in your sweaty little hand, reassuring the pony and ready to release it the INSTANT it looks MILDLY WORRIED. The lesson it learns is that the Saddlechariot is something it can walk out of if things get stressful. And that is the WHOLE POINT of the SADDLECHARIOT.
If you would rather dominate them, and fight their fear, there are other blogs, there are other vehicles. Saddlechariots are for nice cowards and their ponies.
So Tikki is learning to stand while the saddlechariot comes up behind him, I can drive a wheelchair onto the bannedwaggon on my own, Lee looks pretty confident with Obama and Tikki, I have thought about starting to get my stuff together and we are off Monday/Tuesday.
Oh and I am going to drive the Bannedwaggon across Exeter in the wheelchair today. A nice relaxed program. That's after I fininsh the final welding, make a proper floor, spray the damn thing, put Tikki in the Saddlechariot ...........
To see some of my marginally more organised rants, try these links. If all else fails, try hitting them with whips. It works with horses, doesn't it? http://sites.google.com/site/wehithorsesdontwe/ http://saddlechariot.comlu.com/index.php
Saturday, 14 August 2010
Bannedwaggon trip
Obama and I travel to prove a point. We enjoy it, but we tend to have what I consider a good reason to set off, an idea to try, and a vehicle to test. Our first trip was from Brecon to Birmingham, to prove that I can train ponies, and that the Saddlechariot Mark 10 could cope with whatever I might throw at it. The vehicle test was the easy bit. The Mark 10 Saddlechariot towed a trailer with all my eccentric camping gear through everything.
Birmingham was the target because I wanted to show the guys at the Balsall Heath City Farm, that the Saddlechariot worked, which they pretty much knew as they had seen it a couple of times on Henry, the original saddlechariot pony. But I wanted to show them Obama, trained with a training system I invented to work in City Farms.
The system started really simple. No weapons. I am a useless teacher and the thought of thrying to teach kids how to use weapons gently, appalled me, so I decided to train Obama without weapons. No whips, no spurs, no bits. If it could hurt him, I didn't want it.
But weapons are about more than equipment. Instilled fear is a weapon. If I hit you once with a knuckle duster, you will concentrate when I just slide my hand into my pocket. So I decided that deliberately frightening the pony was also out. Anyone can make a mistake. My Croc slipped off when I was training, Winston, a fairly lunatic mule, so I picked it up. His look of abject terror is with me still.
I trained Winston to cope with double decker buses, express trains, JCBs and artics with air brakes easily in a couple of weeks. Joggers, shoppers, office workers sloping out for a crafty fag, still terrify him. But then he hasn't been hit by lorries, buses trains or diggers. Just by people holding things.
So the Brecon Birmingham trip tested a vehicle and a training system. Exeter to London is just more of the same. The Bannedwaggon has been on the stocks for ages, but it was when working on the agricultural row crop variation of the saddlechariot that I realised how to build the Bannedwaggon, a wheelchair enabled, one person, safe, pony drawn vehicle.
To add to the fun I am taking along a non horseman, and a non driving pony. The team is Lee, a non horseman till early July, me, Simon Mulholland, darling of the equestrian set, Obama, who has taught me how to work with ponies, and Tikki, Tim Tyne's pony who doesn't like going in vehicles, who arrived with me on Tuesday, so we can set out on Sunday. And the standard Mark 10 saddlechariot and the Bannedwaggon.
This is Saturday morning, and I haven't finished building it yet, the rain is tipping down and I hate welding in the rain. But it is a stunning vehicle. The last prototype was pure magic to drive, but just a bit cramped for a wheelchair. So after a rebuild I have more space for the wheelchair, a stronger frame, and less overall weight. It just keeps getting better.
Lee, Tikki, Obama and I will drive to London, without whips or weapons, with a wheelchair enabled vehicle so I can drive solo, down Rotten Row, whipless, bitless, in a wheelchair, safely. It's known as product testing.
To see some of my marginally more organised rants, try these links. If all else fails, try hitting them with whips. It works with horses, doesn't it? http://sites.google.com/site/wehithorsesdontwe/ http://saddlechariot.comlu.com/index.php
Birmingham was the target because I wanted to show the guys at the Balsall Heath City Farm, that the Saddlechariot worked, which they pretty much knew as they had seen it a couple of times on Henry, the original saddlechariot pony. But I wanted to show them Obama, trained with a training system I invented to work in City Farms.
The system started really simple. No weapons. I am a useless teacher and the thought of thrying to teach kids how to use weapons gently, appalled me, so I decided to train Obama without weapons. No whips, no spurs, no bits. If it could hurt him, I didn't want it.
But weapons are about more than equipment. Instilled fear is a weapon. If I hit you once with a knuckle duster, you will concentrate when I just slide my hand into my pocket. So I decided that deliberately frightening the pony was also out. Anyone can make a mistake. My Croc slipped off when I was training, Winston, a fairly lunatic mule, so I picked it up. His look of abject terror is with me still.
I trained Winston to cope with double decker buses, express trains, JCBs and artics with air brakes easily in a couple of weeks. Joggers, shoppers, office workers sloping out for a crafty fag, still terrify him. But then he hasn't been hit by lorries, buses trains or diggers. Just by people holding things.
So the Brecon Birmingham trip tested a vehicle and a training system. Exeter to London is just more of the same. The Bannedwaggon has been on the stocks for ages, but it was when working on the agricultural row crop variation of the saddlechariot that I realised how to build the Bannedwaggon, a wheelchair enabled, one person, safe, pony drawn vehicle.
To add to the fun I am taking along a non horseman, and a non driving pony. The team is Lee, a non horseman till early July, me, Simon Mulholland, darling of the equestrian set, Obama, who has taught me how to work with ponies, and Tikki, Tim Tyne's pony who doesn't like going in vehicles, who arrived with me on Tuesday, so we can set out on Sunday. And the standard Mark 10 saddlechariot and the Bannedwaggon.
This is Saturday morning, and I haven't finished building it yet, the rain is tipping down and I hate welding in the rain. But it is a stunning vehicle. The last prototype was pure magic to drive, but just a bit cramped for a wheelchair. So after a rebuild I have more space for the wheelchair, a stronger frame, and less overall weight. It just keeps getting better.
Lee, Tikki, Obama and I will drive to London, without whips or weapons, with a wheelchair enabled vehicle so I can drive solo, down Rotten Row, whipless, bitless, in a wheelchair, safely. It's known as product testing.
To see some of my marginally more organised rants, try these links. If all else fails, try hitting them with whips. It works with horses, doesn't it? http://sites.google.com/site/wehithorsesdontwe/ http://saddlechariot.comlu.com/index.php
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