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.