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!
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!
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