Water feature

Miserable, dreary day here today, so Max and I didn't get up to much, other than a quick groom and a bit of play in his stable.

I'm trying to teach him to shake his head as well as nodding it. I don't have to blow raspberries any more; I can either nod my own head and he'll copy, or I can ask him a question like: "Are you happy to see me?" and he'll nod emphatically.

My mistake today, was asking him a question as he had finished having a drink from his bucket. He nodded with enthusiasm, and I got drenched as my pony became a powerful water fountain.

He and his fieldmate not keen on the field this afternoon. They both hung around the gate like a couple of bad smells.

"Hey! You there! Back in now, please. No good out here. Brr! Aw, c'mon! Be nice to the horses!"

Just a bit?

Long lining my bumptious boy today and on a whim, I decided to try it in his head collar rather than bridle. Why? Can't say. It's not a secret; it was just a spur of the moment decision.

Partly, I wanted to see how well he'd get on with just voice commands, and partly I'm still wondering about whether he'd be happier bitless. He's still going well in his Pee Wee, better than he has in any other bit I've tried (and I have tried a multitude!) but I have lingering thoughts about whether or not I'd be comfy with a bit in my mouth, and I think no, I probably wouldn't, so why would Max?

I brought his bridle and bit in as a back up in case we got nowhere with the headcollar , but as it turns out, I didn't need back up. Max went extremely well, and seemed to hold himself better with his mouth free of hardware.

He went really well for me, changed direction beautifully when asked, transitions up and down were superb and it's making me think I should invest in a Dually to go a bit further with this.

There are downsides to bitless too, I know, and I'm aware of them. Gentle hands are the key, whichever way you go, and relying much more on balance and seat bones than pressure from hands.

We had a few breaks for play time in between, and in the end I took everything off for a bit of loose work and then set Max free for his roll to deal with the itchiness. He's shedding so much right now, and I think that's the culprit with his grumpiness at being touched.

After our schooling session, I tied him up for a bit of grooming. This was also an experiment, because I wanted to see if his objection to grooming would disappear if he'd already worked and understood that the grooming wasn't leading to anything.

No go. He was still stroppy, swishing his tail and lifting his hind legs at me. Until I dropped the brush and dug in with my fingernails, giving him a good scratch along his back and belly. He tried to be irritated but then... no, actually quite nice, and I got the lower lip quiver instead. Great handfuls of hair dislodged themselves and blew about the yard faster than I could chase them down with the broom.

He still needed rugging because it does get quite cold and damp at night, and the sky threatens rain. He could probably cope with nothing if it was dry. Actually, he could probably cope with nothing anyway, but I've got the whole "mum being cold" thing going on. I remember it well myself, my mum telling me I had to wear a cardigan and tights when I didn't want to, because she was cold. Could never understand the logic of it back then, but I get it now.

Soon, very soon, the rug can be cleaned and stored away. The daffs are poking their heads up, my Camillia has buds about to flower, and it's almost March, so although we can definitely expect rain, I think Spring will be sprung very soon. Unless there's a cold snap.

Funny thing about the changing seasons. Although I welcome the warmer weather, and will be happy to have Max all fat and nekkid, I'm already turning my eye to the green flush of Spring grass, and thinking about the winged biters that will descend upon us. I'll stop looking for mud fever, and start looking for sweet itch and laminitis, bot flies, dry hooves and fungal plaque in ears from biting midges.

For every downside though, there is a counterpoint, and the biggest counterpoint of all is that no matter what the season or what's being thrown at us, Max is Max and therein lies my delight.

And a small postscript. I sat in the office this morning, after running to the yard to give Max his toast and marmite, take his rug off, and tell him I love him and I'd be back soon. Refilled his water bucket, got splashed and dribbled on, got my hair mussed and narrowly avoided one of the yard dogs jumping up on my work clothes with muddy paws.

Then there I was, after that happy start, sitting at my desk, working through the work that pays for it all, and I noticed a hair on the sleeve of my cardigan. Not a Max hair, but an Arizona hair. One perfect, complete, well preserved hair from the cat who has left me and left a gaping hole in my life and my heart.

I felt tears prick with the missing of him, while I felt a smile form at the memory of the having of him. One single hair that reminded me of a forgotten cuddle, when I had held that splendid cat in my arms and took as much comfort from him as I gave.

Don't stand too close, else you be hypnotised!

Ah, Max and the clicker training! We’re still having fun, of course, but we’re also at the stage where he’ll run through his repertoire trying for a pony nut, when I haven’t asked him to do anything at all.

I know I need to fine-tune. The point is to eventually phase out the treats for desired behaviour, and with new learned behaviour, to ignore it and stand back if you haven’t asked for a display.

But Max is so eager, and so loves his click/reward, that he’s still trying it on, especially with new stuff.

I’ve got to get more of a handle on this, but we’re working through it slowly, and he does pick up on things pretty quickly.

Today, before our in-hand work in the school, we did a little clicker work in his stable. This still seems to be the best place to try new things, when he is not distracted and is very focused on me.

But he was trying so hard to get me to dispense my wealth of pony nuts, just looking for the key to open that vending machine, and I was putting distance between us, hands behind my back, offering nothing because I’d asked for nothing.

I find trying to keep a straight face and stay focused is so difficult when he’s being such a comedy pony.

He respects my space, but I ended up at the back of his box, with Max standing in front of me, ears pricked, everything at attention, practically a-quiver and straining out of his skin with intent, and his eyes tuned on me like a laser, burning into me, willing me to offer it up to him.

Come all ye! See the Amazing Maxo-Relaxo and his magic act!

“Look into my eyes! Look directly into my eyes! Not around my eyes, IN my eyes… and… you’re under! Max is an excellent pony and he deserves a pony nut. He deserves ALL the pony nuts! One, two, three… and you’re back in the box. Gimme!”

I was thinking today, after I’d left the yard and was doing the grocery shopping, that in all my years of loving horses from afar, and yes, loving them up close and personal in riding schools, working various yards, all that, I don’t think I’ve ever laughed with a horse the way I laugh with Max.

There is something so different about being in tune and belonging to one singular horse, my own beautiful boy, that has made me learn to appreciate the equine sense of humour. And because of Max, I now see it in so many of the others. They’re a pack of jokers, all right, with an amazing sense of fun all bound up with that grace and nobility.

But what if he comes at me with a pointed stick?

Bareback buddies again today, in the school. I am so intrigued by the bareback sessions and they really make me think. Reactions from Max to tiny little shifts in my posture, and then I have to think about what I did to get the reaction and try to recreate it. Everything is amplified, and I enjoy how it gets us working together in a different way.

I had one success, I think. I found when starting off from a standstill, I was really lurching to one side, out of balance, and could see the immediate reaction in Max. A couple of times I was such baggage on his back that he stopped dead, ears trained back, with an air of, “Sort yourself out, woman. I won’t move until you do!”

So we did lots of practicing, with me really concentrating on how I was holding myself and on my balance, moving with Max rather than against him. I can’t describe exactly what I did, but it had to do with lifting myself more upright, and holding myself together so that I could move with more fluidity and move with Max’s movements rather than being confounded by them. Took a few goes, but I was definitely improving, and Max was cutting me some slack and walking on rather than stopping and demanding adjustments.

Today’s comedy moment is brought to you by Max’s schooling whip (again).

We left the school, and I was leading him, and trying to open the gate back to the yard. Hands full, I held the stick under my arm, held Max with one hand, and opened the gate with the other.

I felt a tug, and at the same time heard the YO call out “Don’t let him do that!”

Oh yes, Max had the stick in his teeth once more. I turned to look, rolled my eyes and turned back to YO with a smile as she continued:

“That’s dangerous! If they get hold of your stick, they can poke you in the eye with it! Not to be encouraged.”

I nodded. I agreed, in fact. Nothing but good advice there, but I pressed my lips together to swallow laughter and turned back to Max, chuckling quietly.

“Crunch, snap!” broken in a new place.

“Give it back Max! You’re showing me up!”

“Crunch, snap!” broken in two new places.

“Really Max! Drop it.”

“Heh, heh, heh! You got told off! Go on, lady, try and get it away from me. I dares ya!”

I pulled, he pulled back, and eventually gave in, dropping the stick, now bent awkwardly at odd angles. I picked it up and walked him on through the gate.

Back to his stable, still laughing.

“So what’s the list then, sir? You can stand on my feet and mash my toes, you can knock me on the noggin and make me see stars, you can push me into walls and squash me, you can trample over me, you can buck me off, you can kick me, you can bite me… And now, you can poke me in the eye with sharp sticks as well."

“I can also menace you with my tail, drag you through bushes, deposit you in puddles and give you nasty rope burn on your delicate wee hands.”

“I’m trading you in for a hamster, Max.”

“Of course you are, and I’m trading you in for a bag of carrots.”

I heart my brave pony!

Max and I were out on our own for about an hour and a half today. We did nothing fancy, we stopped a couple of times, we tried to turn for home a couple of times, but mostly, we strode ahead courageously with no objections, and no hullabaloo.

As we were on the final stretch back home, I told him “You’re my hero, Max!” It’s true. He is gaining confidence, but he’s still not sure of the wide world, and he’d rather not venture out on his own with nobody to follow, thank you very much. But he did it, even though it scared him, and he kept his cool, too. That’s heroic, in my book. I’ve got a lot of time for trying, and Max tries so hard when I ask him to.

I had considered walking him out in hand because he was still being so grumpy about being groomed, and I wondered if his back was sore. Still couldn’t get any real handle on where or why (it’s not his saddle, he has a Fhoenix).

In the end I decided to ride him in the school a little to see how he felt, and decide from there what to do next. He was fine as soon as I mounted up, so after about 10 minutes of walking, I took him out. Right down the lane with no hesitation, and along the bridleway with one leap forward (a twig snapped behind him) and one hard stare at four walkers, walking abreast, all with shiny sticks. He hates 'em, the shiny sticks!

As for my own stick (schooling whip) I considered leaving it behind today because we don’t really need it. The days of the sound and motion of it keeping Max going forward are behind us. The occasional tap of it against my boot will sometimes get him to stop larking about and pick up his feet, but mainly it’s just a thing I hold in my hand that neither of us pay much attention to.

I was about to put it back in the tack room when another thought popped into my head. No, I’d never touch Max with it, but I wouldn’t hesitate to protect him with it, so perhaps for that reason alone, I will continue to carry it with us when we’re out alone. Hate to think I’d ever have to use it that way, but would also hate to be without it if we needed it to get us out of a spot of bother.

He’s also learned another silly trick today, and one I’m sure will amuse only Max and I.

Over the past day or two, when he tries to steal a kiss when I haven’t asked for one, I’ve been blowing a raspberry at him instead. When I do that, he nods his head vigorously (think the "Bohemian Rhapsody" scene in "Wayne's World"). So today, I clicked the nod and gave him a pony nut. He got that intense look of concentration on his face.

“Wait now. I’m on to something here… Come on, lady. Clue.”

“Phht!”

“Argh! That sound again! Why, I’ll toss my head at you and tell you I don’t stand for that kind of disrespect! Where do you get off…”

Click.

“Eh?”

Pony nut offered.

“Oh I see! OK, got it! Do it again! Again! Again!”

Three repetitions, and then watching as Max nodded enthusiastically with no raspberry, then looked hopeful.

He is an optimist, my boy. A brave, big-hearted, goofy optimist. And my hero.

Branching out!

When I went to collect Max from the field this morning, his forelock and mane were in dreadlocks (full of burrs) and he was dragging behind him a fairly substantial tree branch that he'd somehow tangled in his tail.

Feral pony!

A fairly uneventful day, started out mild, but got colder as the day progressed. Got through the yardwork at a leisurely pace, and then went for a long walk out, me on Max, following the Ent on foot.

We made our way up to "the gallops" to see if we could encourage Max to have a canter, but the wind was high and Max was reluctant to go anywhere the Ent wasn't. Did try to get him to run after his friend and protector and then keep going, but as soon as Ent veered off to the side to let Max pass and carry on, Max instead sharply turned and followed that man, coming close to unceremoniously dumping me out the side door in the process.

We finally had our canter as Max the Brave took the lead on the bridleway home, and once we'd trotted a fair old distance away, we turned round and cantered back towards the Ent, eagerly, playfully, and apparently with Max "picking up his feet nicely".

Maybe the branch was Max's way of trying to become more tree-like, for Ent-to-Ent empathy?

Pain or feign?

Max was less than co-operative today for his grooming session, and was full of hind leg raises with menaces and tail swishing any time I touched his sides, his belly or his hind legs with brush or rubber grooming glove.

I would have stood back and laughed at him and his scowliness if there wasn’t part of me wondering if something was really wrong. So instead I took my life into my hands and had a feel of the trouble spots. Is that a lump? Er… no, a rib. Ear to belly, stomach sounds seemed fine, were his stifles hot? Swollen? Why can’t he just tell me if it hurts?

What Max didn’t know was that I’d decided to give him the afternoon off, so after a languorous and somewhat fretful grooming session, with breaks for play (when he was fine and all attitude dropped away), I finally got his rug and prepared him for his field.

Once the rug was on and Max clicked that there was to be no work today, I found I could touch him anywhere with no answering glower, fits of pique or "why I oughta" threats. Funny, that.

We walked up to his field, but we had to make one unexplained stop on the way. Max has been doing this stop every time I’ve taken him to his field lately, and today I finally figured out why.

Instead of trying to coax him on, I just stopped with him, and waited. Eventually he looked hopefully over at my car and I realised what he was thinking. He knows that my car sometimes harbours carrots and pony nuts because he’s often stood with me while I’ve retrieved them for him.

Nice try, Max. Would be more effective if you weren’t chewing the pear I'd just given you while wistfully looking for automotive treats.

Magic Moment

A rushed day today, with four hours yard work, then off to the office, no time for anything more than a lick and a promise for Max.

I was almost done, almost ready to go, and I noticed that Max was not eating his hay, preferring the straw in his bed, so I went into his box, swapped out the unacceptable hay, and brought him another batch, of which he approved.

While providing the taste test, I noticed he could do with skipping out, so I picked up a bucket and went to it. First put the hay down for impatient boy, then crouched in the straw to tidy up Max mess.

I didn’t even notice that I heard no chewing, and I usually listen out for it because it’s such a soothing sound. What I did hear was Max moving towards me.

He stopped and lowered his head next to mine, then gently laid his muzzle against my cheek and puffed warm little breaths into my ear. He asked for nothing.

Much as I wanted to stay in that moment, and I did stay as long as I could, reluctantly I had to get up and get moving. His head came up with mine, he gave me one big eyed blink, and then turned back to his hay and started eating.

You want truth and beauty? It’s there, frozen and shimmering in moments like that.

And... relax!

Crazy day for me at the office, and all the while conscious that I had to get back to the yard to work with Max. Heck, work with him. I just wanted to see him! I felt under pressure as I raced home, having left the office late, ran into the house, got changed, leaving my work clothes in an untidy heap, and back out the door to drive to the yard.

Arrived, feeling like I was full of adrenaline, walked quickly to Max’s box and saw his bum, his head turned away from me, nibbling at straw. Glanced down to see his water buckets filled with wet hay (why does he do that?) and no hay left to eat.

Max clocked I was there before I'd said anything, and turned to give me a welcoming nicker. The stress I’d been feeling just drained out of me. I felt the smile begin to form, I felt the warm feeling enter my heart, and I said, “Hello mate. How's it goin'?"

He came over and offered his nose for our old traditional greeting, not the kiss, but blowing gently into his nostrils.

Head collar on, out into the sun, and he grumped about having the usual fuss, but before he had time to get too bent out of shape about it, we were in the school, walking smartly, working on transitions, racing for carrots and basically having a bit of play time together. It is schooling of sorts, but I like at least one day a week to be mostly just trying stuff and being relaxed about it. He’s got the things he’s really good at, the things he’s not sure about yet, so we don’t push too hard, and the things he just likes to do with me for a laugh.

Cheeky boy though! We were in mid carrot race, having done two lengths of the school, and on the third, he gamely came after me and I looked back over my shoulder as he was snaking his head following me in a determined trot. I picked up speed and ran to the end of the school, and then turned sharply to see how far behind me he was.

Pretty far behind me, as it happens, and in mid roll! Little imp took his chance while I wasn’t looking.

“Yeah, right behind you. I’m giving you a head start, OK, just keep running. Go on… That's it... Ha! Psyche!”

He took his time, got up and had a shake and a snort, and then swaggered across the school to me, looking for his carrot.

“I don’t think so,” I grinned. “On your, mark… get set…”

“GO! Run, bi-ped! How you get anywhere on just two legs, eh?”

And we were off again. Added some twists and turns, tried to fake him out, and still, with the excitement of the chase, he was careful to stop a good distance from me, and then stretch his pretty head forward for his carrot bite.

He’s a good boy really, and an the best stress buster I could hope for.

Max can multi-task!

My clever pony has joined the ranks of the creatures upon this earth who have worked out how to walk and chew at the same time! It’s been a breakthrough.

My grumpy boy was quite stuck in both his stifles this afternoon when I got to him, and quite fierce about not wanting to be touched or fussed on his hinds. At. All.

I tried a bit of massage to get him a bit more spongy, but it really was irritating him so I stopped. Decided I’d still take him out for a jolly, wearing his saddle and all, but would decide once we had been walking a while whether I’d actually get on or not. It does seem that the best way to get him looser and more comfortable through his hinds is to get him out and walking.

So off we went, at a slow and gentle pace up the lane, and then turned off on a bridleway to the left. Surprisingly, Max didn’t perk up, and kept stopping for no apparent reason. There was no look an anxiety in him, just a look of expectation at me.

“No click treats, mate, unless you do something for them.” I offered.

He stretched his nose out for a kiss.

“Walk on,” I said hopefully, to distract him and give him something he could be clicked for.

He did, I clicked and he stopped.

Hmmm… Don’t really want to stop every time he gets a click now, do we? So I offered the treat, but away from him and walked backwards so that he had to move on to get it. He grabbed his pony nut and kept moving. This, to his delight, got a very enthusiastic response. So we built on it, and by the time we’d finished “the triangle” he had worked out that he could get a click, get the treat, and keep moving all at the same time.

Hurrah!

Then he grabbed the schooling whip out of my hand and broke it with his big teeth. Snapped it in half, with a very satisfying crunch. It’s still useable, and actually, I quite like it a bit floppier, so I guess he did me a favour. Still told him he was a vandal though.

We carried on down the lane, away from home, and I contemplated riding, because he was moving well and was feeling springy. Found a convenient gate, hopped on, and away we went.

Max tried to turn for home, and found himself turning in a complete circle back to where we’d started. Twice. Then he gave it up for a bad un and off we went at trot, around a stubble field.

Then, as we rounded a corner and started heading up hill, bless his heart, my little man gave me a very determined and delightful canter!

This may not seem like much, but it’s our very first canter out on a lone hack. Ever!
He turned back to look at me when we came to a stop at the top of the hill, and gave a satisfied snort. I made a fuss of him, and then we turned for home, our heads held high, past the kids jumping from hay bales, past the pigs and the goat, past the honking geese, and past a tiny person with a tiny tractor that had quite scary flashy bits on. Admittedly, we went past that last one a bit sideways, but whatever!

Feels like we took a big step today, and I’m so proud of my Max!

Let she who has a flawless horse cast the first shoe

One of the other liveries keeps commenting on Max's size, calling him a "fat pony", telling me that he just keeps getting "rounder", and today, she went right for his belly, like it’s some kind of funny joke.

Well, Max and I think it’s rude.

“Oh, Max! Just look at your FAT BELLY!”

“Oh, lady! Just look at the BIG HOOFPRINT ON YOUR ARSE!”

That’s what.

Photo is my fat pony and the Ent looking at alpacas on our walk this morning.

Pulling faces and carrot races

Tied Max up to get the sun on his bum whilst grooming and doing ablutions, and you’d think I’d hog tied him in a torture chamber! Every brush stroke got a snarl of disapproval. My hand laid innocently on his stifle received a foot stomp, head shake AND tail swish, and let’s just draw a veil over his undercarriage.

My pony who once loved the fuss of a long grooming session now just fidgets and grumps, “Get off me!”

Decided to long-line him in the school, which started off badly when I realised that someone had used my lines (don’t mind that) but had left them in a ridiculous tangle. Made worse because I didn’t realise how bad the tangle was until Max was already attached to the lines, and I was trying to get him to keep still while I worked out the mess.

Max, seeing me distracted, decided it was a good time to investigate the tack room by walking into it. He paused in the doorway at my equivalent to a foot stomp and tail swish, and thinking better of it, backed slowly out again.

We made our way to the school, dawdling and wandering aimlessly, me sighing with exasperation, “Max, you have done this before you know” and Max sighing back, “Is someone talkin’?”

Once in the school, it seems like the initial tangle of the lines was an omen of things to come. We spent our first 10 minutes messing about, forgetting how to stand, flagrantly ignoring aids, picking up the driving whip I’d discarded by the handle and walking away with it… We bickered back and forth like a surly customer and a disinterested shop girl.

"Do you have this in red?"

"You really think red's your colour? (snort)"

That kind of thing.

Eventually I gathered my wilful boy into a hug, shushed him, told him we’d forget what had gone on so far and just start over.

Beautiful! Trotting on a small circle like poetry in motion. Both reins. Even tried a little canter for me. I hadn’t asked for it, but I was delighted to see him give it a go, as he’s never done that on the lines before.

Cut it very short after getting good work from both of us and took the lines off for a bit of loose play.

We had a little trot and canter round the school together, and then Max decided he wanted to do freestyle.

He cantered away and then stopped dead and buckled his knees to go down for a roll.

“Max , NO!” I croaked (have a cold) thinking of the roller still strapped to his back.

He shot straight back up again, with surprise, and then aimed a sideways buck in my general direction, and took off again at canter. He was half a school away from me, so the buck was two fingers up rather than any real threat of aggravated assault.

I watched with amusement, enjoying his energy and loving the ease of movement in his body, the friskiness in his demeanour and the mischief in his eye.

When he stopped again, I stripped off the pad and roller and went to sit down, so he knew he could roll. He didn’t need any more encouragement than that. Down he went and over easily, one, two, three times.

I’d brought carrots in to do his stretches, but decided it might be a better idea to burn off a bit more energy and have some fun together, so we had 10 races up and down the centre of the school chasing carrot bites.

He caught on pretty quick, and by the end, was giving me a head start, facing in the opposite direction from me when I took off, letting me get about halfway down the school, and then thundering after me with a snaky neck.

I had a few misgivings. Knowing Max’s love for carrots, I wondered if he might just flatten me out to get his stash, but he was very careful to come to a controlled and abrupt stop at a safe distance from me, then stretch his neck forward and delicately retrieve his prize.

Max's Diet: Today, I have been mostly eating...

Organic Beetroot!

Met a friend for dinner last night, and as she is also a friend of Max, she kindly brought a bag of organic beetroot and carrots from a local farm shop (I think so, anyway, as they were in a farm shop bag).

Having worked with horses before, she often told me about taking beetroot to them, which the neds just went loopy for, and then watching with delight as they chomped and developed frothy purple lipstick.

Well, today Max tried too. No hesitation, no sniffing. All the new tasty stuff so far has been ace, so he’s quite prepared to try. Oh yes, he likey! But no purple frothy lipstick… who’d have thought Max is a delicate eater? My fingers are stained though. It washes off, right?

As for my friend, I’d love to tell her that the message from Max is, “Thanks so much for thinking of me and ta ever so for root veg. Much appreciated!” In fact the message was more like, “What? Finished? But I hardly even had any! No more? Really? Well how short-sighted! I’m a big horse! Pah.”

I’m still feeling a bit dragged down by the cold that will not leave, so took Max out in hand today for a very long walk.

True to form, he got all jazzy as soon as we got into the fields and away from the lane and only showed hesitation and confusion when he thought we were on the way home, and instead I turned him in another direction and kept going. He was game to keep it up though, and we were hill walking for about two hours. I rode the last little bit bareback, and as the air was quite chilly, it was lovely to suck the heat out of my boy and warm myself up!

I’ve often joked that Max is more like a big dog than a horse, the way he insists on sniffing the ground like a bloodhound as we go.

Today, we came upon a big lump of wood in the middle of the path. It almost looked like driftwood, although I know it can’t have been. Max put his head down and I assumed he was going to sniff it.

Nope, he picked it up in his teeth and carried it along for a little while. Didn’t try to eat it, just held it and shook it.

Fjord X Arab X Retreiver?

He eventually dropped it. Wonder if I should teach him to fetch? Maybe get him a Frisbee this summer?

I think I remember reading somewhere that it’s quite an Arab thing, to pick things up in the mouth and shake ‘em all about, so I suppose he comes by it naturally.

Stepping out with a lack of shenanigans

So far so good! Can’t say we’ve cracked the “dealing with scary stuff” on just our second day, but I had a decidedly laid-back Max as my companion today. Our only real incident was when he clonked me on the head by mistake, and when I yelped "Max! That hurt!" the little tinker went straight into offering a kiss mode!

We went out in hand again, but saddled up, as I intended to mount up when the time felt right.

We meandered at a fairly leisurely pace up the road; I just let him find his groove rather than trying to get him to step out smartly. As a result, he was very relaxed.

We turned up the bridleway to the right, which now has geese hidden behind the bordering hedge, with some orange plastic flappy fencing as well. Didn’t bat an eye, but the geese have never worried him.

Up a muddy hill, with a couple of stops but no real anxiety. Both times Max was quickly ready to move forward again with no urging from me (but praise when he did so on his own).

Down another hill, stopped to look at some alpacas, which had also attracted a walker with yappy, excited dogs. Max had a thoughtful look, and then figuratively shrugged and walked on again.

His whole demeanour was chilled. No tension in his body, his eye very relaxed, his mouth quiet. He walked with more bounce and speed after he’d warmed up, and at some points it was clear to see he was rather enjoying himself.

Then we met two Other Horses. They were coming down a hill that we were about to go up, and I wondered if the trouble was about to start. Max is a great one for wanting to follow Other Horses when we’re out on our own.

Nope. Watched them walk by, pleasantries exchanged with the riders (“Are you all right?” asked with some concern because I was walking beside my horse rather than riding him), and we were off again, on our intended path, no fuss, no hesitation.

Finally found a convenient stile to use as a mounting block, and we headed home. I was delighted that still, I could feel no tension in Max at all. He remained just as easy-going as he had been when I was on the ground.

He very handily picked his way down a muddy track, then we did a little trotting until we got home.

Piece of cake!

As we were walking I was thinking about the people who either asked directly, or looked askance at my leading a fully capable horse when I could be riding him.

I remember when I was only about six or seven years old, before I could ride a two wheeler, I used to delight in running around the block, wheeling my brother's bike with me. I used to pretend it was a horse! Not quite sure why it delighted me so much, but I had as much fun doing that as I ever did actually riding a bike, once I learned how.

One sunny afternoon, as I rounded the corner with my brother’s bike, I heard a few of his friends calling out to him, pointing out his idiot little sister in mocking tones. “She's got your bike again and she can’t even ride it!”

My heart sank. I figured my brother would be embarrassed by his peers, take the bike away from me and tell me to go home.

Not a bit of it. He turned on them and said, “So what? Is she hurting anybody? She’s having fun, so leave her alone!”

I hadn’t thought about that little vignette in years! A very pertinent memory, though. I’m still having fun and I’m not hurting anybody, so maybe it’s time for me to stop feeling I have to make excuses or try to explain that for me, Max isn’t just about the riding.

The pause that refreshes

Couldn’t help myself, had to go see Max first thing this morning. I don’t work the yard on Thursdays, but I was up anyway, sitting drinking my coffee, not required at the office until 10.00 am and so… brush through hair, jeans and fleece thrown on, and with toast & marmite in hand, drove over to the yard at 8.00 am to check on my boy.

I intended to take his rug off, but he was having a nice lie down, so no point in getting him up just to remove rug. He seemed comfy enough, and was drowsy, but awake.

He sweetly offered his nose up to me for a kiss, enjoyed his breakfast treat, and from what little I could see of him, all curled up, no lumps, bumps, abrasions or weirdness.

I’m glad I went. If I’d gone straight to work, I’d have spent my time wondering if he was OK.

I was back to him by 2.00 and he was up and ready to go. Gave him a handful of hay to tuck into while I checked him properly, rug off for full inspection.

He was really locked in his right stifle, which had a bearing on what we did for exercise.

A dull day, but not raining. I had already considered that we’d both had enough of being in the school trotting round and round, so decided to take him out for a walk. Had thought I’d saddle him up and mount up once we’d got going, but because of his back leg, decided I’d see how we went, leave the saddle behind, and if he was coping OK, I’d hop on bareback.

Took him to “the pond field” which is very hilly. Best thing to get those hinds working. Getting to the field meant the lane though, so I festooned him in high viz on his bridle and reins, reminded myself I need to get leg bands for Max and a proper high viz jacket for myself (despite the snickers on my yard “You’re looking very BRIGHT Max!” Too right he does. We want to be seen, not present a surprise to the unwary motorist or low flying helicopter!) and off we went.

Have tried a couple of new things today. I am just letting Max have his moments of high anxiety, allowing him to stop and stare and take it in. While he does that, rather than trying to coax him through it, I put my hand on his withers and sing quietly, I hope reassuringly, and wait for signs of him relaxing a little. When that happens, I ask him to walk on.

It seems to work! No struggling, no forcing. It does take patience, because for a while we were stopping every few feet. Sheep were the culprits.

“What are they? Why they so round and fuzzy? Ack! They speak! I was thinking they were chairs, but… BLIMEY! One of ‘em moved!”

Just kept exhaling audibly, singing, talking (explaining why I was letting him stop and have a look), and moving forward when ready until the next need for a hard stare.

My theory is that I’m trying to tell him it’s acceptable to be scared, it’s acceptable to stop and have a look, and I will not force him forward whilst he’s assessing the situation. It's not acceptable to spin, back up, Riverdance or be a giddy fool dragging people down the lane while shouting, "Ai! Ai! A Balrog has come!"

My hope is that by being still and calm, by waiting until he’s ready, I’m teaching him that he can trust my judgment when he’s not sure of what’s ahead. Letting him have time to consider what he sees or hears while showing no signs of anxiety myself will teach him to have confidence in me, and trust that I won’t force him to go against his misgivings. I hope!

Slow going until we got to the field, and even part of that was stop and start. Then we turned for the hilly bit, and suddenly everything about Max said he was comfortable. His swinging gait, his relaxed eye, his little nudges to my shoulder, and snorts (his snorts are always a good sign that he's relaxing and pretty happy with his place in the world).

His energy picked up and he looked like he was having fun! Max looking like he’s having fun always puts a silly grin on my face!

The other new thing I learned today was a new use for the schooling whip. Well, he hardly pays attention to the danged thing any more for urging him on, whether I'm on the ground or in the saddle. He knows it is no threat to him.

"Yeah, yeah. I hear ya. Blah, blah, blah..." That is his reaction to the schooling whip.

Today I noticed that the “whooshing” noise I attempt to get him to pick up speed has completely lost his attention.

“Why you whoosh that thing at me? Are you bored? Do you like the noise? Shall I just stop and grab it out of your hands with my teeth?”

The schooling whip has a new, and probably limited, lease on life as a nip deterrent.

Max has had a problem, as long as I’ve had him, of nipping at shoulders when being led out for walks. It’s exactly what he used to do to his mum in the field, as I observed on many occasions, and he’s always done it to me, too.

He doesn’t actually grab hold, but it just isn’t a good habit, he's doing it to The Ent, now, too, and I’d like him to concentrate on things other than whether shoulders are within reach of his gnashers.

So today, I watched him, and every time he made a move towards my shoulder, I sliced the air in front of us with the whip to make a “whoosh” noise. He’s accustomed to that noise behind him, but not in front, and it wound his neck back in a treat.

Today, anyway.

After the field, back to the lane and the scary pigs (he did his traditional “I’m scared of the pigs” poop), I hopped on bareback and we had a sedate trot home. Lovely trotting on him bareback, feeling all that was going on with him under me, and trying to dig into the rhythm of that myself. We did a pretty good job of it really, I was well pleased.

I remember in riding school days, dreading being put on a bareback horse because it was so uncomfortable and I felt so insecure, but on Max, today, anyway, it just felt like everything pulled together and we were in sync.

Got back to his box and did the carrot stretches, gave him his chopped fruit and pony nut feast (is very small, but he enjoys immensely!) and then rugged up and took him to his field.

His new thing, which is very sweet, is that he stands at the gate watching me until I get into my car. He has a clear view of it all from his field. Once he sees that I'm settled, he turns away and goes about his business.

My own little gentleman, seeing me safe to my door!

A change in routine

A shake up in Max’s world today as I left the yard at 9.00 after my work was done, with a promise to see him again soon.

He had been having a snooze, but roused himself for his marmite on toast before I left, and then watched, in seeming disbelief, as I walked away during what was our “scheduled” time together.

I tried to be reassuring, but the little rascal went and called to me while I was closing the gate on the driveway, preparing to leave. It wasn’t a loud demand, just a confused whuffle.

But as promised, I turned up again at 2.00 for our new regime. He was confused again, but seemed delighted. I noted that he had no hay, so I got him some to occupy him while I boiled water and got his grooming kit.

After snatching one mouthful from me at I entered his stable, he ignored the hay and watched me instead, as I walked to various parts of the yard collecting his gear, and then walked out of sight to the day room to boil the kettle.

When I returned, he was still watching out for me, and another whuffle as I rounded the corner.

“Hungry. I think I’m hungry.”

“I left you some hay.”

“Did you?”

“Yes, you saw me bring it in. It’s right there.”

“Oh, that hay. If you’ll come in and settle down now, maybe I could eat it.”

And so I did. Max ate while I groomed, fussed and checked to make sure everything was all right in his world. Didn’t rush, was lovely to have the time and the daylight. His stable is a little suntrap, and the sun was beaming in on us, so we were warm and content.

Another curious look as I left to collect his saddle and bridle, and then a mini-rebellion as I made clear that I intended not just to show him his tack, but ask him to wear it.

“But it’s afternoon.”

“I’m aware.”

“I go to my field in the afternoon.”

“You’re still going to your field, but first, we’re going into the school for a bit of exercise.”

“Oh! Do I hafta?”

“We both hafta.”

We spent about 45 minutes in there, I suppose. Lots of walking in first, which was very nicely done by the boy. He almost immediately got himself into a lovely, springy walk, head held proudly, good pace. I was really pleased with him.

We weren’t quite so lucky at trot. It wasn’t horrible, but we have some issues, definitely, and they are partly Max wanting to have a canter and decide on direction, and they are partly me sending him the wrong or mixed signals, so definitely have to work on that.

I’m going to refresh my memory with another read of Heather Moffett’s “Enlightened Equitation” until I can find myself the time, money, and venue for an instructor to help us.

Not viable at my yard, where guest instructors are not allowed, and I have not the time nor cash to move Max to another yard for a month or two for schooling. There is no point in sending just Max and not me. I don’t want somebody else to work with him, I want to be shown how to do it myself – not to mention improving my own riding so it helps rather than hinders or confuses him.

All good things in the fullness of time.

Left Max in his field at 4.00, after his carrot stretches and chopped fruit. He seemed reluctant to leave his box. For a pony that lived out 24/7 for the first four and a half years of his life, he certainly has learned to love the comforts of living in!

Can't jump, don't ask me!

Tried the left and right thing with Max again this morning. H told me that sometimes horses digest lessons over night, so it's a good idea to give them time to think and try again. Well, I can get him to look in the "correct" direction, but he's not taking steps. We only had a few goes, and that was enough. We'll just keep building on it.

Having a bit of sciatica trouble today, so didn't ride, just did loose. We're still working on me being a little distance away from him for this, and he's getting better at it. He can canter down the long side of the school now and stay in the track before getting over-excited and turning in, then stopping in a heap. Another thing we'll just keep working on, but it's coming along just fine. Little steps.

Did the trot poles work again too, which was pretty successful, then tried some loose jumping, which would more accurately be described as "loose knocking stuff down".

Just a tiny little jump, but he was better at going through it than over it. Tried to trot over it, really, rather than seeing it as something he could pop over.

It was fun though, and we both enjoyed it. Just a different thing to engage and amuse him. Really light, plastic pole, too, so no danger of knocking himself with it.

I did collect him into the middle of the school at one point when he was getting anxious eyes, and told him that he couldn't do anything "wrong". There is no "wrong", there's just experimenting and playing. Don't know if it got through, but I think the calmness did. I don't want him to feel under any pressure to perform, and I do think he tries so hard to please, and gets anxious when he's not sure he's doing what I've asked. Bless him.