I'm outta here!

Double shift at the yard today, with local shooting to boot, so had to warn hackers before they went out.

Nothing untoward, other than picking up a dead rat with my hands because I thought it was harmless horse poo. Sad to say, but I screamed like a girl. Not even a proper, robust scream, but a weedy little “Augh!” as I flung ratty back down.

I was brave enough to pick it back up again, though, and Ratty eventually made it to the muck heap.

Between the morning and afternoon shifts, the Ent and I took Max for a walk in his new, high viz bridle attachments. I don’t think he noticed.

As for the shooting, well, Max has never had a problem with it before, so why should today be any different, especially with his two favourite people walking with him?Of course he’d be brave. In fact, I expected no reaction from him at all.

D’oh!

We were fine on the way out, and as we passed the farm, we saw people gathering, and in conversation were told that the pheasant hunt was done, and now they were going to do clay pigeon shooting, right there by the road.

We walked on, and the shooting started. Max flinched, but nothing more, as we told him it was fine, and walked on.

Then he spied some Other Horses. Audrey galloping across a far field, and Turbo, at a distance, coming towards us at a smart trot. Max watched, fascinated.

We eventually met up with Turbo and carried on together for a bit, back towards the yard. The shooting was more frequent, but neither horse was bothered by it.

Not until Turbo bid us goodbye and carried on back to the yard, leaving Max with the humans, and the shooting.

Now what’s a young horse to do? The shooting is louder, closer and suddenly seems a bit scary, despite the reassurances of the humans. The Other Horse appears to be high-tailing it for home.

Stick with the spindly stick people, or run after the Smart Other Horse?

Today is the day that the Ent learned just how strong cuddly ponies can be. We were both trying to hold him back as Max decided the Other Horse had obviously made the right decision.

I had time to say, “We’re in trouble” and the Ent tutted. “No we’re not.”

“I can’t hold on” I said, as Max pushed me up a verge and clunked me with his head.

“Then let go, I’ll hold him.”

I then watched my pony drag my husband up the lane, husband (a runner, luckily) struggling to keep up, repeating, in higher and higher octaves, “Max, walk! Max! Steady! Walk Max. STAND! WHOA!”

A little canter and then Ent, very wisely, called out to Turbo, who kindly stopped, turned, and waited for Max to catch up. I ran along behind and caught them up, too.

We made our way home together, Max still unable to keep himself at a walk.

Once back at the yard, he was fine, and I explained to the Ent that it wasn’t naughtiness, it was adrenaline and instinct, pure and simple.

“But the shooting wasn’t even close!” the Ent exclaimed.

“It was very close.” I corrected.

“It must have been 200 yards from where we were! That’s not close.”

“It is to a horse.”

“Well, he’d be no good in the cavalry!”

Nothing like a bit of clay pigeon shooting to bring a proud Arab trot out of my boy, head proud, tail like a flag, legs collected beautifully, eyes out on stalks, mouth agape in silent scream of abject terror…

I don’t know what would have happened if Max and I had been on our own. I don’t think I could have held him, and that scares me.

Then again, I wouldn’t have taken him out in the first place. And who’s to say what would have happened if we hadn’t bumped into Turbo? If Max hadn’t seen The Other Horse running for home (as he perceived it), he might have been happier to stick with his human herd for safety.

Who knows? A reminder, should we really need it, that anything can happen. It pays to remember how strong the horses are, how feeble we are in comparison. Hard hat, high viz, mobile phone, fold up hoof pick, baling twine, a handful of pony nuts (or whatever) and some common sense. Don’t leave the yard without ‘em.

At least the sun was shining, though, and we all got home in one piece.