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!