Will this wind be so mighty...?

Well, it’s a pretty mighty wind a-blowin’, as it happens, but perhaps not so mighty as to lay low the mountains of the earth.

Enough to ruffle up the mane of a young horse though, and make him forget he’s 50% Fjord and decide he’s ALL Arab.

Had planned a hack with Turbo today, but was having misgivings as I eyed the weather forecast. Downgraded from heavy to light rain, but those 30 mph winds gave me pause for thought.

The ground is still sodden, for my shoeless joe with the collapsible hinds, and now, he’s got a cut and a bit of swelling on his near foreleg. We suspect it’s a kick, but not a nasty one; probably just caught with a toe and cushioned by his rug. No lameness, just a little heat and a bit of swelling. Purple spray to the rescue, and I’ll keep an eye on it.

I didn’t want to hold Turbo back while I did want to be cautious about Max, so we decided we’d set out together for a bit, then go our separate ways. A good exercise for Max anyway to go home on his own, leaving his security blanket on another bridleway.

Fairly uneventful, as it turned out. Lots of head tossing and snorting, a bit of looking for things to be scared of, a few trots, a teeny canter, and then the parting of the ways. I kept Max going straight, and Turbo turned off to the left. It took a little for Max to realise he was on his own, but he carried on bravely.

I could feel the tension in him, which always makes me a bit edgy. Me being edgy wasn’t good, so I took a deep breath, and then began to sing our calm song, “Kookaburra.”

When in doubt, sing!

I think Kookaburra partly works for Max because it’s our sleepy time song, when he’s lying down in his stable and I’m crooning away to him. I think partly it’s straightforward physical. If I’m singing, I’m not holding my breath, I’m not giving off tension vibes, and Max takes his cue from that.

We made it home in one piece, though I admit I did get off and walk him for a spell. We were approaching the farm where all the shooting hullabaloo happened yesterday, and Max stopped dead and gave me all his signals that he was unprepared to go forward, and not just acting like a big jessie, but genuinely feeling unsure.

Yes, I could have tried to force him on, but why? Why make a difficult situation more difficult, especially at the point where we were leaving a field and coming on to a lane and the wind was howling?

Rather than fight, I just slid off, kept singing, and led. Max followed happily, still tense, but reassured. As soon as we were past the scary bit and he gave a snort and relaxed his neck, I hopped back on, and we had a lovely, fairly controlled trot the rest of the way home.

I know dismounting is a bit controversial “Be positive! Ride through it! You’re only teaching him he can get away with it!”

I hear all those voices, and I dismount anyway. I don’t think I’m teaching Max anything. Horses are too much “in the moment” to calculate like that. “Ah, this is the place where I can hypnotise her into getting off!” I don’t believe horses are duplicitous or scheming.

If I’m teaching him anything at all, it’s that I’m paying attention to how he feels, and giving him comfort when he needs it. He’s still young and quite inexperienced. Maybe one day, when we’ve been together longer, and he trusts me as much in the saddle as he does on the ground, I won’t have to get off him. It’s immaterial to me. I’m perfectly happy walking beside him, and we don’t need to prove anything to anybody, except each other.

So yeah. I’m a big girl’s blouse, too. My horse’s security and our collective safety is more important to me than whether I win some imaginary battle by staying on board and forcing my will upon him when he’s spooked, and has every right to be spooked. Might be a slightly different story when he’s just playing silly buggers, and yes, I can tell the difference.

I suppose it will enhance my reputation as an overly cautious hacking partner, or perhaps even that I’m frightened of my horse.

I’m not frightened of Max, but I am sometimes frightened for him. He’s not a baby anymore, rising six, but he still is inexperienced and not the most sure-footed beast that ever trod the earth.