Behaviour modification... for the trainer!

In less than 48 hours, I will be facing one of my biggest fears:  Chicken camp. 

Yes, "chicken camp".  Sounds funny, right?  But most trainers know exactly what I'm talking about.  Trainers who work with positive reinforcement are familiar with the practice of honing their clicker training skills using chickens as subjects.  At chicken camp, teams of trainers get together to train chickens!  Simple enough concept, and probably doesn't seem the least bit frightening to you.

Unless you're like me, and you have a bird phobia.

It may come as a big surprise to some of you to learn that many animal trainers I know actually have a fear of at least one kind of animal.  Size or species doesn't matter.  A fear is a fear. It may be founded by a negative past experience or it may be a phobia, which is an irrational fear that can't be explained.

That's what's going on with me:  I have a phobia.  I can easily be around birds that are immobile or just walking around on the ground, but the sound and sight of fluttering wings sends my mind and body into panic mode.  My heart races, my vision narrows, I may hyperventilate, and I immediately focus on getting as far away as possible, as quickly as possible.

This type of fear can't be rationalized.  It doesn't matter if you tell me, "It's okay.  It's just a chicken.  It can't hurt you."  I am fully aware of this, on a rational level.  But there is nothing rational about an anxiety attack.  The wiring is a bit messed up; something misfires in my brain.  I see or hear flapping wings, and uh-oh... hear comes the adrenaline.  My mind believes I am in immediate danger and prepares my body for the "fight or flight" response. 

I have been preparing myself for this weekend's chicken camp by using meditation to envision myself safe and happy in the presence of a (basically) flightless bird.  I have been watching and admiring the many birds that visit my neighbour's bird feeder, familiarizing myself with their movements.

At camp, I will be in the company of fellow trainers who are also good friends and they are all aware of my phobia.  I will work at my own pace, will set myself up for success by only doing what I know I can comfortably handle, and by building on these successes, I will overcome my fear for good.

I will be engaging in activity that I already enjoy and am skilled at.  This will help to keep me focused more on the task, and less on the feathers.  (I'm not afraid of being pecked... it's the wing movement that sets off the fear).

Working on overcoming my phobia will hopefully help me be a better trainer when it comes to helping dogs deal with their own fears. 

Although "flooding" is a bona fide therapy (flooding involves saturating a subject with a situation that instills fear in them, in an attempt to force the subject to face their fears until it subsides), I am not a fan of its use.  I prefer systematic desensitization: gradually dealing with a fear in small increments while always remaining below threshold and therefore never actually triggering a strong fear response.  Building on small successes, and always letting the subject determine the pace.

I will not be thrown into a barn full of chickens running rampant, with the door firmly locked behind me.  I will be in a controlled environment, I will get to decide how close I come to the chickens, and I will have the support of friends who are well-versed in the psychology of desensitization. 

Also, I will treat myself to whatever the hell I want at the end of the day!

Remember this, the next time your dog cowers because of thunder.  Or he barks and backs away from strangers.  Or he salivates as you walk him to your car and refuses to jump in.  Or he shakes at the sight of the nail clipper.  All fears are valid, simply because they exist.  If you want to help your dog work through a fear, avoid the use of flooding techniques, and instead find a qualified trainer or behaviour consultant who is knowledgeable and skilled at counter-conditioning and systematic densensitization. 

How saying goodbye to a friend changed me

My best friend Woody passed away on August 18th.  Woody was the inspiration for this blog.  Well, he was the inspiration behind just about everything I did, professionally and personally.  Above is a wonderful video tribute put together by a close friend.  I watch it every day, and letting go of this lovely spirit of a dog becomes a bit easier each time, as I am reminded of how much fun he created during his short lifetime.

So now it's down to just Chili in our house.  Chili, the Dog of Many Issues that we adopted from the shelter a little over a year ago.  Chili, who has stolen our hearts, and who these days is constantly showered with love and attention.

Although still very recent, Woody's passing has already changed a lot about how I feel about training.  For starters, I have greatly reduced the number of behaviours I used to think were important to train, condition, modify, address, worry about, be embarrassed about, focus-an-awful-lot-of-time-and-energy-on.

I've written here in the past about the work I've done with Chili to reduce her stress during walks in the neighbourhood.  How we've worked diligently at reducing her reactivity during car rides.  How I've religiously toiled at reducing her barking as a result of sound reactivity.  Pulling on leash; freaking out at the sight of another dog; thunder phobia; etc. etc.

Poor Chili.  She's always in school!  Imagine that?  Sure, I make training as fun as possible for her, but it's still.... training.

As of this week, I've changed my approach entirely.  I'm focusing more on management.  Residential streets are not Chili's cup of tea, so from now on, walks are for exploring the nearest forest or field (I have that luxury around here).  When I do walk her in the neighbourhood, I do so after 10:30pm, when the chances of encountering another dog are very, very slim.  When we return home, she's that "good" kind of tired. 

Riding in the car no longer involves constant counter-conditioning exercises.  This week, riding in the car meant a stuffed Kong in the back seat.  Chili lies down and gets right to work without bothering to look outside.  She's calm, I'm calm, we arrive at our destination and her pupils are not as big as saucers, and she's not excessively panting or shedding.

I'm no longer obsessed with controlling her barking, either.  Chili barks.  That's her thing.  She's a barky dog.  The neighbours three houses down recently adopted a very, very barky little dog.  (He sets Chili off all the time.)  The neighbours two houses down have two very young children who scream at the top of their lungs while playing outside.  I mean scream, as in horror-movie screaming.  My other neighbour on the other side has a son who blares bad music from his car every other day.  It makes my walls vibrate.  So why on earth would I worry about curbing Chili's barking so that I don't disturb the neighbours?? 

Nah... From now on, I'm all about ensuring Chili has the time of her life, every single day.  A dog's life is just so, so short.  Whatever we decide to teach them, we'd better be very certain that it's entirely in their best interest, and that it will without a doubt improve their lives.  As long as more training does not equal more restraints, then I'm all for it.  But I honestly think that for a dog like Chili, more freedom is exactly the way to go.

If I can help Chili become half as happy as Woody was, then she will be a very happy dog indeed.

So long, Woody.  Sir Bibbles Von Bibbly-Boo.  Snuggle-Pony.  Wiggly-Pup.  There will never be another one like you.  You taught me well, and I miss you so much it hurts.  Until we meet again....