Only in a laboratory does training happen in a sterile box. The real world is complex and changing. It’s impossible to keep the environment the same from training session to session. The list of potential distractions is long – it’s windy, a fly bites, a car backfires, a horse whinnies, someone walks by eating an apple. A good trainer has no problem noticing and then taking these one-time distractions into account. Often, though, it’s not the novel interruptions that impact how successful we are as trainers, rather it’s the patterns that are there that we don’t see that trip us up.
I have the perfect example.
My goats get a yearly vaccine to protect against rabies, tetanus and other diseases. For the last six years, Dr. Sarah has done this for us, but she recently retired from large animal practice. I asked Tonka’s vet, Dr. Steph, if she would come. At first she said no, that her practice is limited to horses. But I told her tales of my well-behaved, clicker-trained goats who, on cue, jump up on stumps. She couldn’t resist a visit and came last week to give the Goat Boys their injections.
My goats have been stationing on these stumps for years, and I’d bragged about them to Dr. Steph, but when she arrived, and I gave the Up! Up! cue, the Goaties didn’t behave according to plan. This is what I expected:
This is what I got:
They kept popping off and circling around. I quickly assessed the situation and realized that their view of Dr. Steph’s visit was different than mine. What was unimportant to me was glaringly obvious and serious to the Goaties.
Although I’d taught the goats to hop up on their tree trunks, I’d not taught that behavior with people standing on the far side, but that’s exactly where Dr. Steph and her assistant Kari were. That was cause for skittishness.
I asked our guests to stand in front of the stumps. Pip and Caper immediately relaxed.
Because of arthritis, Caper can no longer stand on his stump (the high one in the middle) instead, he now puts two hooves on the smallest stump. In my human worldview, this wasn’t a big deal. A stump is a stump. Not to a goat! Pip saw his opportunity to claim the highest stump and was quite chuffed about it. He stood perfectly for the first of his two shots, but Pip hadn’t been trained to stay still on that stump, only the one to the left. Animals do see the world with that much specificity. Pip jumped down and joined his brother.
The Goat Boys do not stand politely next to each other. The above photo captured the calm before the behavior devolved into head butting shenanigans. So the next round of shots were done on the ground. I hadn’t trained specifically for this, but I had enough forethought to have a lot of carrots, which the goats will stay put for (if they’re fed rapidly enough.)
In the end, my “perfectly trained goats” did do what was needed, but on their own terms. Dr. Steph’s visit was a tad chaotic (typical of a life with goats) but it had nothing to do with the animals misbehaving, or being stubborn, or whatever other label one might use. Rather, Pip and Caper reminded me that the world that we navigate through is complex and that context matters.
What contextual element have you ignored during training, but that your animal let you know was very important?
The goats have long conversations with me about the true nature of the universe. They have lots to say. No talking necessary.