Long lining al fresco

A bit of a scorcher of a day for England-land. Bright sunshine, blue sky and the World and his wife out and about on the bridleways. I choose not to hack out on the weekends this time of year; there's just too much commotion on the ground with runners, cyclists, loose dogs and ramblers with shiny sticks (Max really hates the shiny sticks!). Then in the air there are hot air balloons, gliders, biplanes and all sorts of airy buzzers to put a pony off his stride.

So we stick to the paddock if the weather is fine and avoid the hoopla of mad dogs and Englishmen going out in the midday sun. Although that means we're out in the midday sun too, so I guess that makes us either mad or English...

Today we tried long lining in the long field by the indoor school, with the help of grass reins. I had to use Max's saddle rather than the roller, and I also chose to use his Dually halter rather than his bridle, but it still worked a treat. Fly fringe fitted to keep his face clear of pesky biters, fly spray on to keep the rest of him irritation free, and the grass reins to keep his sweet head up and on the job.

Max got down to business quickly and we had a very pleasing session with lots of bending, a bit of reining back, trotting in straight lines up and down hill, then trotting a circle around me, with a bit of canter thrown in.

One of our downhill trots got a little bit out of control as Max spotted the hedgerow and was clever enough to realise the grass reins would not bar his eating there, and he started to drag me down hill at speed. I had to drop one line, but managed to hold on to the other and turn him away from the hedge, more by luck than judgment.

There was, shortly after this, one fit of pique when Max chucked all his toys out of the pram in a proper strop. We had a couple of little bucks and some head shaking.

"Grass EVERYWHERE and I can't have any. Not fair!"

We soon soothed the strop away though and carried on to the finish our session with no more pouting. Then, much to Max's delight, girth loosened, lines removed, lead rope clipped on and grass reins unclipped so he could have a nosh on his way back to his box.

It's easy when you know how

"Who me?" Looks like butter wouldn't melt, doesn't it?

Max and I took his grass reins out for a test drive late in the afternoon.

It had been a miserable day, relentless rain, wind and very cold for almost June. I had finished yard duties in time to do a little something with Max then, but decided I was too wet and cranky for horse handling, and the indoor school was our only option. I hoped that by coming back later, we might catch some finer weather.

It was still overcast, but mild and the wind had died down. A little misting of rain, but nothing to keep us back, so Max was tacked up and made ready, and off we went on our own.

The change was fairly amazing. Max, unable to eat, kept his head up and moved forward well. His step was springy and his pace much quicker than the usual plod we have when we first leave the yard.

The difference for me was also remarkable. Without having to constantly hold his head back from the salad bar, I could keep my contact with his mouth loose. No pulling, no straining, no holding him up with my hands. Not only was that much easier on my shoulders and elbows (trying to stay elastic when fighting with that strong neck is no easy task!) but not having that battle meant I could look to my own balance and position, which in turn softened Max further because I was easier to carry, which made it easier for me again and so on.

The ground was fairly slippery from all the rain so we took it easy, and we did have a bit of napping on the lane as we bounced past a new polythene dragon with tyres for scales. Even that was easier though, because we were a more communicative team.

I had worried that we would spend the whole time with Max fighting the constraints, but he didn't at all.

Back home to carrots and a bit of hay to munch while I prepared him for the field, so he didn't go without. Even better, no sulking!

Grass reins shock horror!

Max had a tantrum tonight. Just a small one, and sadly ineffective, but a tantrum nonetheless.

Today, he was introduced to grass reins. He does not like them. They allow complete freedom of his head movement so he's not forced into a pre-determined head carriage, but they do restrict him from getting his head down to grazing level. It took him a few tries to realise, with great disbelief, that he was well and truly thwarted.

We had another go at lungeing in the paddock and this is when the tantrum happened. Long grass that he could not reach irked Max no end, and we had some truculent prancing, some sulky head shaking and an air of righteous indignation.

"Not fair!"

"Sssh, sweet pea, trot on."

"This is shocking. Alert the media!"

"Poor Max. Trotting on."

"Snort!"

We settled down to some very nice work, and Max was rewarded with pony nuts and carrots, so didn't go without, and my shoulders were spared.

Soft hearted Max, Guardian of the Small

I didn't do anything meaningful with Max today, and felt a bit guilty about it. We had an hour long grooming session outside of his stable - I was going to give him a shampoo wash, but it was a bit cool for that, so hopefully I'll do that tomorrow. He gets so flippin' dusty! But hurrah, he kept his fly mask on last night, and his eyes are less gunky today. I'm also hoping it will help protect his poor ears so the midges can't get in there.

i just wasn't up for spending an hour fighting with him while he tried to graze and I tried to ride or long-line. I really don't blame him for trying his luck because his field is so sparse, but he's so strong he just about rips my shoulders out of their sockets as he goes on his quest. It's really frustrating and not fun for either of us to get into a battle over grass.

I was grooming and thinking about it and really not wanting to get into that fight with him and then I thought, "Why are you putting pressure on yourself? Max doesn't care! He's fine. Play with him, enjoy him and put him out in his field. You don't always have to be 'doing' something with him."

So I let him go, with a carrot and a hug, and I know he doesn't give a fig about not going for a hack or longlining. He doesn't really give a fig about the hug, either, but he does like the carrot.

Very funny though when I first got to the yard, a friend was there preparing her boy for a show tomorrow, and she had her young son with her. He was sleeping in the car, but he woke up kinda grumpy and sad that he'd missed his Grandma, who had been there helping.

At the time there were a lot or horses tied up around the yard while yard bird was mucking out, so I was doing Max's hoofters in his box.

The little boy started to cry for his granny, and there I was with Max's left front in my hands. He hopped away from me to his stable door, and looked out at the yard, all concerned about the noise. He looked out and spotted the little boy, and his face was a picture. Yard bird looked at Max and exclaimed, "Oh look how worried Max is!" and owner was looking over, too.

She came over with her crying boy in her arms, "Now look how worried Max is about you. He's so upset to see you sad!" She came up to Max with him, and I was a little concerned about Max and his wayward mouth - he's tried to take a bite out of my car after all. He's very good with other people and children, doesn't use teeth, but he does like to have a feel with his lips, and I was afraid he'd scare the boy.

Not a bit of it. He stuck his nose out to crying lad, big concerned eyes, and then softly nudged his head, so gentle, ruffling his hair.

"What's the worry, young one? Why so sad?"

Boy started laughing, "That tickles, Max!"

Aww... Was really surprised by his reaction to little boy tears. He seemed so concerned about it!

We then delighted small one when Max was out and tied up near his box. His box was being cleaned and his water buckets were discarded by the hosepipe for scrubbing and refilling. Max obviously recognised that they were his buckets, and made it fairly clear that he wanted a drink.

I refilled his smaller blue bucket and took it to him, but his rope was tied a bit too tight for him to reach, so I held it up at waist level so he could have a drink, which he did, and then nodded his head vigorously and gave us all a shower.

No more crying child. Laughing child! Max continued to dip his nose in the water and spray again as long as the boy enjoyed it.

Horses are just for riding, eh? Not a bit of it. Sometimes horses are for comfort, for comedy, for wiping away tears and sharing a laugh.

Not so hot to trot, actually...

Max is a slave to his belly, and these are trying times for a pony that wants to gorge himself on grass, but lives in a restricted grazing field for the good of his health.

I will not get on my soapbox here about horses grazing lush fields of rye grass... Oh it looks idyllic all right, horses out in the sun knee deep in brilliant green fields, but it's far from idyllic. Rye grass is perfect for fattening up cattle and sheep; it is not great for horses. So to keep Max from getting dangerously fat and risking laminitis, he's kept out in a field of limited grazing, and he has to work hard for what he gets.

That's the best management for his health and well being I can muster whilst not being directly in control of what he eats on my own land. It's better than having to wear a grazing muzzle, which rubs and frustrates.

The downside is at this time of year, when the grass is particularly succulent, Max is like a kid in a candy shop.

"Yes, I'll have some of those aniseed balls, and oh yes, some toffee, oooh, and chocolate! Lots of chocolate!"

We've learned to be pretty polite about all that when out hacking, longlining or in hand. I say "head down" and that means he's allowed to have a break for a graze, but "head up, sir!" means it's time to stop and move on. That works perfectly well from September to April, but the gloves are off otherwise.

Today, I thought I'd have a try at lungeing him in the outdoor paddock. We have an indoor school, but it is so hot and dusty this time of year, it's much more pleasant to be out in the sun. I hoped we could make it work.

He was good on the way to the paddock, he was good when we first got in, but once I stepped away and clucked him on around me, the "green mist" descended (a term coined by a friend of mine, and it is very apt). Max could see nothing, know nothing but the long grass around him.

"Must eat... too tempting...!"

I got him into a trot all right, but then that noble head was down, and Max was nothing more than a trotting lawn mower.

"Head up, sir!"

"Nom, nom, nom... sorry, what? Can't hear you..."

"Max!"

"Eh?"

"For heaven's sake, Max, head up!"

"No. Won't. Head down. Down! Down, I say!"

Gathered him up and gave up. It was worth a shot, but not really fair to ask him to concentrate when he was surrounded by a bountiful feast.

So into the school we went.

"Pah. Bare here. No eats. Grr."

"Trot on, please."

"Grr."

"Grr right back atcha, punk."

"Why I oughta..."

"Attention, please!"

We grumbled at each other for a fair bit of time, but in the end I managed to convince him to strut his stuff for me, and he preened a bit under my enthusiastic praise.

We left the school after 40 minutes of fairly good work, and then had a little bit of "head up/head down" practice with clicks and treats for good behaviour.

I know it's a losing battle for now, and am considering either grass reins for ridden work to save my shoulders being yanked out of their sockets at speed in Max's desperation to get a mouthful of the good stuff, or perhaps a whistle to get his attention (though not brilliant for hacks in company unless my intention is to create a riot).

He went out into his field today wearing his new fly mask with ear covers. The ear covers are to protect him from the midges, and the fly mask itself it to protect his eyes from irritating flies.

This fly mask has a hole between the ears that I can pull his forelock through to the outside, and I'm hoping that he won't trash it like the last two. I figured maybe he didn't like the other fly masks because his massive forelock was tucked inside of them and it must have been quite itchy and uncomfy. With any luck he'll keep this one on.

I'm not betting on it, and don't expect him to be wearing it tomorrow morning, but if I can at least find it intact to live another day, I'll be happy. I don't care if he wears it for his whole night out, but if it can stay on while the sun is out when the flies and midges are at their worst, I'll be satisfied.

He does look quite silly wearing it, but looking silly isn't something Max or I are concerned about. Part of the reason we're such a good match, I expect.

His field mate is also wearing a fly mask, and as they went out into the field you could just about imagine the conversation...

"Surrender, Jedi!"

"Never!"

"I am your father, Luke!"

"Who's Luke? I'm Max!"

"Sorry, wrong Jedi..."

Let's hope Max doesn't go over to the Darth side.

Boy racer

We had us some fun today, and a couple of hairy pony moments, as well.

Hacked out with two good friends, one on a retired hunter and the other on trusty but low mileage cob. Blustery day, but clear and sunny. Wore far too many clothes. Had been cold when we set off, but once the sun came out, I wondered why I'd opted for a fleece over a denim jacket, over a sweater, over a vest...

Max was full of the joys of spring. A slight change in routine too, because I'd arrived at the yard late (for reasons explained later). Usually I give Max some hay to munch while I get him ready. He has his lunch time hay at 11.00 am, so for me to rock up at half one and not feed him a snack when he's absolutely STARVING is not on in his book.

The other two were all ready to go, so hoofters picked, a very cursory brush to make sure his girth, saddle and bridle area were clean and wouldn't cause rubs, and we were off, straw in tail, unkempt mane and forelock and a few muddy stains on his haunches as well. Me in my rolled up jeans and Muck boots as well, so we were two scruffs together. My friend commented, "You look like a little kid and her hairy ponio!"

"Off we go rejoicing!" I said, and three happy steeds strutted forth.

Fairly uneventful in the beginning. A bit of a trot up a hill which Max turned into a canter because his wee legs couldn't keep up with the big boys, and he was up for a bit of "Whee!" anyway. Reached the summit of the hill with much snorting and head tossing and a little prancing thrown in. There was no doubt that Max was having fun.

He overtook, he tucked his head and showed off, he snatched at grass and he was quite strong, wanting to go, go, go! as I coaxed with curled fingers and firm seat for slower, slower, steady...

We opted to turn up "the gallops", a long stretch of wide field just perfect for blowing off steam. The horses all get excited when we turn onto this bit of land because they know the handbrakes are about to come off. Max was dancing sideways, my friends were checking that we were OK to go, I gave the nod and we set into an easy and steady canter.

I was just relaxing into it when my monkey boy found his turbo switch and decided to remind me that yes, his mother was a sturdy Fjord, but his daddy, well, he was an Arab racer.

"Oh!" was all that escaped my lips as Max gathered himself and then took off full pelt, tail held high (I was advised by those left behind).

Fast! Really fast. It was a bit scary, but in an exhilarating kind of way. You don't have to worry with Max that he's going to tank off or do anything foolish, but he definitely had his own ideas about the pace to be set.

The other two caught up to help me contain him and we settled down, and then decided to try again with Max in the lead so he didn't feel he had to race anybody. That was a little more successful and we had a more balanced and sedate canter for a stretch.

Never really got Max settled again after that. He remained fiery Arab stallion for the rest of the hack, although a whispered "Good lad!" from me would stop him as he turned his head to see if this meant a pony nut was forthcoming.

Back to the yard for a brush and a sponge down, and then out to his field triumphant, to graze and roll.

A brilliant hack out, reminding us of the joy of seeing the world from the back of a horse. We paused to take in the view of the rolling countryside and the wind ruffling the crops whilst the sun shone on the fields of rape, blinding yellow against fluorescent green billowing before us like silk fabric playing on the wind.

That joy was made all the more poignant by the reason for my lateness today. We lost one of our lovelies on the yard this afternoon. A young, beautiful mare who should have had her life before her, but instead, was beyond saving from a diseased liver. I had said my goodbyes to her already as I knew the end was imminent, and I chose not to be on the yard when it happened. It is sometimes heartbreaking stuff, sharing our lives with these incredible creatures.

Rest in peace, lovely mare. You will be missed by so many.

Shake, rattle and roll

My brilliant boy!

Max and I had two mini sessions today and I could not be more pleased.

I took him into the indoor school after the morning at the office, but before my yard shift, for about half an hour of working on the lunge. Mostly trot, a bit of canter, downward transitions and then up again. He was poetry in motion and I told him so. Often! Just moving freely, relaxed and natural. Max at ease is a beautiful thing to behold.

Then rather than letting him out into the field for the afternoon, I kept him back in his box munching hay until after I'd finished all the mucking out. I'm working, but it's nice to have him there where I can see him and stop for a chat. Lovely too, to look up and see him watching me, then a little whuffle when he sees me looking at him.

"Hey there! Done yet? Hay here?"

We then went for a short but courageous session of long-lining around the yard, then down the lane and back in his Dually halter, with me packing my trusty bottle of pebbles to shake if he attempted grazing.

Just Max and I, nobody leading but Max, no back up Ent to support us. We manoeuvred round passing motorists and a couple of motorcycles (where does the traffic suddenly come from?!) and some scary children bouncing up and down, up and down on a trampoline in their garden.

"What the devil... They fly? Flying small people? What a world!"

Max watched, his head nodding with each bounce, his eyes attesting to him being confounded and dumbfounded.

But on we went, with a rattle of the bottle and and shake of the lines.

Max was absolutely superb!

We got to the farmhouse and then turned and Max trotted for home on request like he was a proper driving pony, high stepping and single minded.

The one unfortunate thing about that trot, with me running behind, was that the plastic bottle rattled as I ran, which caused Max to break into a few steps of canter. Difficult for me to keep up with him, dragged along behind imploring "Max! MAX! Steady! Whoa!"

I managed to transfer both lines to one hand, hold the bottle steady in the other hand so it didn't rattle, and then we got back to a more sedate pace.

We were only at it for about 15 minutes or so, but considering the confidence and bravery he needed for this little expedition, he did extremely well and earned his liquorice treat when we got back to the yard.

We will work on this slowly, going a little further when Max is ready, then further again when he is ready for more. I'm not going to overthink this or push Max too far out of his comfort zone; no point in that, and no need for it either.

We're in no hurry and have nothing to prove to anybody, including each other.

If it's Tuesday, we must be hacking in company...

Max and I have now established a general date for hacking out fun in company.

My Tuesday afternoons have freed up since my yard shift was switched from Tuesday afternoons to Thursday instead, and as a result, I have a few yard friends who are also generally available to go out and play. Not always, so there's a standing invitation, be at the yard at one o'clock, and whoever is willing and able shall saunter forth on trusty steeds.

It's a nice break for Max and I, a chance for him to be in the company of Other Horses, and a chance for me to enjoy Maxo Relaxo and catch up with some mates for a natter.

Today it was just two of us and we had a grand time, talking of gardening and politics. Our only issue at the moment is manners. Max has a propensity, when relaxed, to get his imp on, and he's a bugger for biting bottoms. No teeth, just lips, but he really has no idea about personal space, and I want to teach him before one of his iron shod companions gives him a lesson that will knock some of his teeth out.

It hasn't come to that yet, and luckily his companions are fairly good natured about it all, but still. I remember well living in co-ed accommodation at university and there were a few male students of the Engineering variety who thought bottom biting was good fun; just a harmless lark. I didn't see it that way, so I sympathise with the admittedly fine and ample bitable bottoms of cob and hunter trail mates.

A fine day we had, and stunning views over the fields of rape seed coming up in bright yellow, the grazing dairy herds and chalky fields in the distance. Overcast, windy but pleasant. Not a bad way to spend an hour or so, atop a willing and mischievous pony.

Such a good time of year this, not only for the view of the fields coming into life, but the mild weather with few flies to pester us.

We didn't do much schooling, because I like hacks to be "just for fun", but I do take these opportunities, with Max feeling at ease in company, to work on my position and balance, and bringing on contact with my hands properly, sensitively, letting my elbows and wrists flex and absorb the movement so it's all elastic and comfy for Max and his sensitive mouth.

We had a good longlining session out in the wild yesterday as well. May Day bank holiday for us yesterday, so after my yard shift, the Ent came over and took control of the lines whilst I was at Max's head with a loose lead rope (Ent was in control of speed and steering) and a plastic bottle with a few pebbles in to shake when discouraging grazing (better than hauling on his head to get his attention).

Max is still in a restricted grazing paddock to keep the spring grass flush at bay, so when he's out in the world, it's like a kid walking through a candy shop, with all the cow parsley and sticky grass on display in easy reach of his eager, mobile lips.

He is allowed to have it, but only after he's done the work and we're almost home.

The longlining, I hope will build his confidence. He still has people on the ground with him to give him confidence, but he's also on his own and leading. We had a few moments of angst when the dreaded big leafed plants were in his path. He grew tall and alert, blowing forcefully through his nostrils with alarm, with slack lead on the front from me, and encouragement forward from behind from the Ent.

Interesting to be on the ground with him in these instances. That he's genuinely unsure is obvious, but his bravery is also apparent, as he makes clear his unrest, yet takes those steps forward anyway. They may be tentative, he may hesitate, but he goes forward nonetheless and I admire him for it. It's not just a sign of courage, it's a sign of trust in his human herd assuring him there is no real danger.

It really makes my heart swell, what these horses will do for us when we ask. They'll walk past the scary things, they'll open their mouths willingly for the bit, and blink and sigh as we adjust straps around their faces and bellies. No protest, just acceptance and willingness.

Such a gift they give us, offering themselves up in the hopes that we will meet their graceful acceptance with kindness and respect in turn.

It's a lot to live up to, being worthy of that open invitation and not taking advantage of it, or abusing it through force of will.

I was thinking about that today as I let Max loose in his field, after a sponging down and carrot stretches. Along with my usual parting words, "God bless, my beautiful boy. Take care, enjoy, see you in the morning and love you heaps!" I added "Thank you for carrying me today. I'll keep trying to be the rider you deserve. Promise!"

It's a tall order, but Max deserves it. All the horses do. I'm not that best rider for Max yet, but I will keep striving to live up to that willing back he offers up so generously.

I will also take his generous spirit and apply it elsewhere in my life. We have so much to learn from horses. I have so much to learn from Max.