Max the Mighty Warrior

Back in the day, Fjord ponies were used as war horses by the Vikings... so I'm led to believe. Today, Max claimed his ancestral heritage with a stamp and a snort!

Between yard duties and office duties, we had time for a hackette out on our ownio. It really was a brief foray out into the wide world, probably only 40 minutes of gentle riding through the sleechy mud of the bridleways. No time to work him in the school first, not time even to prepare him for what we were about to do. A quick grooming session to make sure his girth area was clear, his feet were picked out and there were no annoying clumps of mud in his tail to bang against his hind legs in an irritating way, and then saddle up, mount up and we were off!

He was brilliant, very alert and attentive and we strode along, me first singing Kookaburra, and then whistling it, guiding Max through the sloppy path and around the rabbit holes. We had a few pheasants fly up in our faces, and followed a hoppity bunny for a while, Max with ears pricked "What is it? Why it boing, so?"

All was well, Max had a crafty munch of some long grass that was just too tempting, and we turned for home.

This is when we met the dreaded foe. A discarded plastic shopping bag, stuck in a hedge, fluttering in the wind and making crackly plastic noises. Max stopped, neck arched.

"I spy the enemy!"

He readied himself for a swift turn and retreat and I prepared myself for the sudden lurch and change of direction. Then Max changed his mind and advanced cautiously.

The bag fluttered more vigorously, crackling in a taunting way.

"Yikes! It's armed!"

Max did an exit, stage left, and headed up the lane a few paces.

"But Max, you're heading away from home," I pointed out reasonably. "How are you going to get your bowl of parsnip bites if you don't go home?"

At this he turned again, faced the bag and advanced, all snaky necked and snorty!

"Back to the devil, I say!" he commanded. "I fear you not! I FEAR YOU NOT!"

Right up to the blasted thing in the hedge, gave it a shove with his nose, and then trotted past, yes, a little hysterically, but we'll let that slide.

"Brave boy!" I exclaimed. "You sure showed that bag!"

"That bag, all bags, I fear them not!" Max snorted.

We were home safe and Max got his parsnip. What courageous warrior doesn't deserve a parsnip to celebrate victory over a dangerous enemy?