Thundering blundering hooves

Hacking out is a bit of a mixed bag at the moment. The sunshine and fine weather is a blessing, as is riding in short sleeves under a bright blue, cloudless sky. The views are spectacular, over the rolling fields that not long ago were stubble fields that we could canter through with abandon. Now they are filled with growing crops of wheat, and beautiful blue grey expanses of flax.

The downside is the bloomin' horseflies, that no amount of fly spray seems to deter for long. Horse and rider are there to be feasted upon, and they're fearsome little creatures with a nasty sting!

Off we went anyway, Max and his friend The Cob, me and my friend, The Gardener. She and I waving our sticks about trying to clear the air, whilst Max and The Cob stomped, kicked out with back legs and shook their heads in frustration. Lots of points to stop and consider, shall we go back, or will we go forward seeking shade, breeze and less flies?

We were taking a route which we hoped would evade a nearby battle re-enactment put on for local school children every year, which involves cannon fire, gunshots and lots of charging, yelling and general rambunctious behaviour of the kind not appreciated by our equine friends.

We found some shade, decided to go along the gallops for a bit of a slow canter, as the ground is still very hard, and let our boys blow off some steam. Max was in the lead at first, and went into a perfectly comfy and acceptable canter. Then The Cob took the lead and Max put his racing hat on. He launched from his hinds with a tremendous surge of power, and he was off like greased lightning!

This should be exhilarating, but as he leapt forward with intent, he also veered over to the side, to the edge of the field, the rabbit holes, the uneven ground, the low hanging tree branches.

"Max! No! Not safe! Not safe!"

I'm like that annoying robot from long ago, flailing arms and repeating with alarm "Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!"

Yes, I heard my father's advice in my ear: "Maybe you should just let him go. He wants to take you for a proper ride and show you what he's made of! 'Look what I can do!'"

Tempting as that is, I cannot let him go off like a rocket when I know the ground is unsafe, and I'm the only one really looking out for pitfalls.

Luckily, Max is easily contained, and even when he really wants to GO, GO, GO! if I ask him not to, he obliges and comes back to me. He's a sensible boy, he's well behaved, and he defers to my judgment when asked.

His lurch forward lurched my back though, and I nursed it as we contained ourselves to a boisterous, snorting walk, and found our way to the little path next to the galloping field.

Up to the end we went, then turned back along the edge of a field and crossed back onto the path running next to The Gallops, but heading for home this time.

This is where The Cob had a difference of opinion with The Gardener. Max and I strode forward, Cob said "No!" and decided he'd quite like to go in the opposite direction to the woods, thanks very much.

The woods led to the battle ground so not a good idea, and The Gardener tried to make him see sense with firm but gentle guidance.

Max and I stood and waited for the outcome, not wanting to interfere.

"Why are we waiting? Hey! Come on, this way. What you doing?"

Max was watching, slightly perplexed and then Cobby had a fit of pique and surged off, out of view.

"What the... Where he go? FEAR FIRE FOE!" and my Catherine Wheel pony launched himself again, running full pelt to find his friend.

"Not good, not good! Max!" muffled from me as I ducked under whipping branches and desperately looked for dips and rabbit holes.

"Oh, there he is!" Max slowed when he got his friend back in sight, and we came to a stop a little way off.

"All right?" I asked The Gardener.

"Yep, you?"

"Aye. How can we help?"

She managed to turn The Cob to face us, and said, "Just walk on away from us so we can follow."

"Okey doke!" and off we went, with The Cob finally getting the idea and trotting up behind to give Max a nudge up the bum.

That would have been the end of it. Should have been the end of it really, and we headed for home exalting about the view and talking about ducks, flax, phlox and lavender along the ridge and then turned right to go downhill to the lane, Max in the lead.

I saw Max's ears prick suddenly and felt him tense up. I saw nothing ahead of us, but knew something was there. I had time to spy, as my world span round and I felt Max launch from his hinds again, a cyclist racing up the path towards us, quick and silent. The Gardener saw nothing at all but Max and I lurching towards them at speed, and then The Cob turned on his heels and joined us!

We gathered, we contained, and the very polite cyclist got off his bike, put it to one side, and called out to us, "Are you all right?"

I apologised for turning the air blue with my language, The Gardener explained that our steeds were a couple of great girls' blouses, and we thanked him for standing aside and letting us pass.

Max eyed up the abandoned cycle like it was a great timorous beastie, but got past it, and The Cob followed.

So who needs an army charge for rambunctious behaviour? We provided our own. An adventure with thrills and spills on a sunny June afternoon.

"Same time next week?" asked The Gardener, as we dismounted back at the yard.

"You bet!"

Bring it on, I say. We're up for it!

Stepping outside the comfort zone

The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley.

Very true, and also the best laid schemes of woman and horse.

Yesterday the Ent was going for a long countryside run, and the plan was that he would finish his run at the yard, and accompany Max and I, longlining, off the beaten track and back home to our garden, where Max would feast on our grass, and then I'd ride him home again.

But the Ent arrived at the yard covered in welts from running in the long grass, and in need of antihistamine. He could not tolerate a leisurely walk through more long grass to see us back to our home.

So I slathered him up with arnica and witch hazel gel from Max's first aid kit, and sent him on his way.

Hmm... Plan B?

I knew longlining was out, but decided to take Max back home anyway, just we two, on foot.

Max was out of his comfort zone because we were treading unfamiliar paths, and I was, because it was just Max and me, no back up. Max is strong, opinionated, and when out of his routine, he can be a bit wild eyed and ready for trouble.

He can be a handful, but I decided to go ahead anyway. No point in giving up before we started because there might be trouble, so I set my mind on believing there wouldn't be trouble instead. And if there was, we could always turn back and do something else.

So we set off, and we went pretty well. We had to go down one very large hill.

"Trot now?"

"Um... no."

Then at the bottom of the hill, we had to get over a fairly busy road with a poor outlook for when it was safe to cross, but we got along just fine.

We walked along the farm lane that leads to my house, and though Max was agog at new scenery, he was well behaved, upright and eager, until we reached the final bend in the road towards our house. A big cheer came up from the nearby cricket field, and Max bellowed one long neigh that spoke of his anxiety at being in wholly unfamiliar territory with only a puny human to protect him.

At the end of his forlorn call out to any horse that might reassure him that he was not about to be carried off by winged demons, he gave my shoulder a nudge.

"We're OK, right?"

"Course we are! Just a little further, and you can have a very lush munch."

We got home, Max had a wander in the garden, picked a few flowers, stared through the windows with great interest, ate, gratefully received a little bucket of water, started with alarm at a herd of passing cyclists, and then the Ent, showered and full of antihistamines, escorted us back along the lane, over the crossroads, and to the foot of the big hill.

Ent could go no further, as path was overgrown, so Max and I bid him goodbye and carried on our way, with me eventually hopping on board and riding him the last leg home.

We cursed the flies on our hot journey home, my dressage whip was handy for flicking tenacious horse flies off Max's belly and legs, and we arrived safely back at the yard, with a sigh of relief from grateful Max, fully back in his comfort zone.

Max stood still for a hose bath, and seemed to enjoy the cool water for a change, as long as I stayed away from his back legs and belly. I lathered him up with shampoo to get the grease off, dried him off, and took him back to his box for a feast of cinnamon apple bites.

We will retrace our steps many times until it's not outside the comfort zone any more.

I have a spare head collar and lead rope at home now, so Max can enjoy his time in our garden, munching without his bit, and eventually, hopefully by the end of the summer, I'll be able to ride him home and ride him back to the yard without either of us being on high alert.

This is the way we broaden our horizons, and my low mileage pony learns to get to grips with the big wide world, with my steadying hand always there to help and ease away worry.

I'm very pleased he had enough faith in me to follow where I led, even without the steadying presence of the Ent on the ground. There's a lot to be said for slow and steady progress. It pays big dividends in the end.

Another year wiser

Max turned seven yesterday and enjoyed the attentions of his fans on the yard. He had a birthday card sent all the way from Canada which was posted on his door, declaring "7" in big silver style!

I kept him in for my yard shift in the afternoon so I could give him a bit of a pampering session before turning him out. He was tied up under shelter because it was raining, and I went about my business, replenishing the hay stock out of sight.

I had just been in search of scissors to cut baling twine when I glanced over to see Max standing very still, and looking troubled. My view was obscured by a wall, so I couldn't see all of him.

"Max? What's up?"

"Spot of bother lady! Halp!"

I walked towards him then. His expression seemed confused and vulnerable and as he came into full view, I breathed in deeply to steady rising alarm.

Max must have been pawing the ground, or having a scratch, but he'd managed to get his left foreleg caught over the rope of his head collar, and he was stuck there, on a rudimentary pulley system of his own making. If he raised his head, his leg came up; if he tried to put his leg back down on the ground, his head was forced down, too.

I approached at a leisurely pace and teasing him in a sing song voice, "Oh, Max. What are you like?" He kept eye contact with me and remained still, which was what I wanted. He was in a predicament all right, and ripe for injury if he lost his marbles and panicked.

"Stuck."

"Yes, very, stuck," I agreed as I reached him, putting one hand under his raised knee to support it, then slackening off the lead rope so I could unclip it.

"There! That's better, isn't it?"

Max nodded a sweet little nod, and I reclipped his lead rope, retied it much shorter, and gave him a pat on his neck.

Clever boy to stay so calm. I guess he's all grown up!

Driven to distraction

It was difficult to decide what to do today; weather a bit iffy, village a bit busy.

After a long grooming session and some playtime in his box, I took another look at the gloomy sky and decided we'd line in the indoor school to save ourselves from getting soaked. Max had already had one soaking overnight, and I'd had to trudge to the field to retrieve his sodden fly mask from the mud.

We lasted about ten minutes in the school before the dust overcame us and I decided we'd risk the rain and trying the paddock. Ideally I would have preferred the long field near the school because it's clear of obstacles and has a great slope, but as the farm next door was having an open day and the field attached to our long field was being used as a public carpark, decided the further away the better.

Well, we gave it a go, but the jumps had been rearranged into a most inconvenient pattern in the paddock. I'm sure it made a great jumping course, but it was a bit too unwieldy for directing Max around them, keep him moving and away from the really long grass that he can still snatch at even with the grass reins on.

He was getting fairly determined to drag me over to it, cleverly using the jumps as evasions to tangle me up so I couldn't stop him, and even from the paddock, there was enough of a view of the farm and its open day to stop Max in his tracks with a look of curiosity at the unfamiliar movement and noise.

I gave it up and sorted out the lines to just lead him back home. Some days it just isn't worth the struggle. Well, actually, if it's a struggle at all, it's not worth it, in my mind. Making it into a battle means you've already lost! Sometimes creative thinking will get you round it, and sometimes it's best to just call it a day and try again tomorrow.

I was a little rueful, as the paddock is overlooked by several houses, and thought anyone who happened to be watching us out of their window would be having a right laugh at me as the lamest horsewoman going. Though they would have heard me laughing, so at least I was lame and amused.

Then I forgot about that and stood with Max watching the sun reflecting off the windscreens of the parked cars in the field, people coming and going, cows where cows normally aren't, squeals of laughter and tractors taking folk for rides. Max was watching it all, ears pricked, eyes bright.

I stood by his side, and scratched his neck. Max rested his muzzle on my shoulder in relaxed companionship and so we stood for some time, just watching the world go by from the paddock.

Maybe not so lame after all, then.

Too hot, not playing!

Max and I had a rather forceful difference of opinion today, and I narrowly avoided rope burn as a result.

After my very hot and sticky shift at the yard this morning, I finished with enough time to do a little something with Max. Because it wasn't much time, I decided on lungeing him in the long field in his Dually, just because that kind of exercise takes the least prep time to get him ready, and is also fairly quick for dusting down and settling in when we're done, so less need to rush while we're about it. Rushing with horses is pretty much a non-starter.

"What? Why so fast? Is there danger? Why you so stressy? Shall I be stressed too? Oh, did I knock you over, puny biped?"

It's a big field, has a nice slope for engaging those hinds, and my version of lungeing means I walk quite a long way along with him, so he's on a very big circle.

Max was brilliant for the first ten minutes on the left rein, albeit a bit grumpy and required a bit of chasing to get him moving forward, but it was very hot, so we'll forgive him for that.

Got onto the right rein, where he's always a bit stronger and after a couple of turns he decided, "Sod this for a game of soldiers! I'm off!" and he headed with determination for the beckoning, open gate.

Really pulled the rope through my hands and I felt the sting, but luckily I had enough to play with and my grip hadn't been that tight anyway, so I saved my hands from a nasty burn.

One sharp "How Dare You, Sir! What do you think you're playing at?" was enough to bring Max back to me (OK, with a small buck of protest) and settle him in again.

"For goodness sake, Max! Get on!"

"Too hot. Back to box now!"

He did not get grazing on the way back to his box, but he did get click treats for good work while we were working, and a cooling sponge bath, fresh water, fresh hay, and after a couple of carrot stretches, his manger was filled with cinnamon apple bites to soothe his grump, so he was a happy boy.

Hot work though! He was in a sweat at the end of it and so was I. We hadn't worked that hard, but it really didn't take that much under the midday Hampshire sun.

No grass taking = other mischief making

We certainly don't have to worry about Max going forward.

Out on a sweltering hot hack with our four hacking buddies (two human, two equine). Our first group hack with Max in his grass reins. He was a monkey boy, but in a good way.

With his head cleared of thoughts of grazing, his next thought was causing a commotion, snatching at bottoms, snatching the lead then blocking attempts to overtake by swinging his bottom out to leave no room to pass. A swift check behind to either side to ensure that his friends could not get past, then a snort, a head nod, and off at trot, then canter, then unwillingly back to trot (rutted hard ground and concerned me looking for rabbit holes we could fall down as the ground sped past under Max's flying hooves).

The other two spooked a few times, while Max sighed at any delays.

"What gives, you pair of GIRLS! Let's go, go, go!"

He provided many comedy moments for the others, "Look at his face, the cheeky devil!" and a few hairy moments for me "My word, Max, slow down and contain yourself, sir!" but he was having fun.

He pranced and showed off, and we all remarked at how strong he has become now that he's muscled up and fit. Also, with a bit of maturity and feeling secure in himself, he displays a few dominant traits as he tries to find his place in the pecking order.

He's not terribly well mannered in company yet, simply because he's not accustomed to it, but he is getting better each time we go out, and I'm relaxing more each time too, as it's brought home to me that Max may be full of energy and strength, but at the heart of it he's still immensely sensible and there's no fear that he'll tank off with me, or throw a hissy fit.

We were out for about an hour and a half, going along some familiar tracks and some not known to us, seeking shade and softer ground.

We all came home in a lather, and at dismount I removed his grass reins and finally let him have a bit of the good stuff.

Finished with a hose bath and lavender wash to removed the grease and sweat, which included a shower for me when Max wrestled the hose away and blasted me with it.

Finally a resigned sigh from me as I turned my clean, dust and grease free boy out in his field and watched slowly walk away before his treat, then quite slowly and deliberately, lower himself to the ground to roll in the dirt, over and over. He arose covered in dust and mud where he was still damp.

A snort at me, "So there!" and then nose poked out for a kiss and the piece of liquorice he knew I had in my hand.

I tutted, but could not resist.

"That's naughty, Max."

"Heh, heh, heh. Gimme!"

Who could deny such a singular and brilliant creature his heart's desire? Not me.