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.
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.
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