With a rebel yell...

... he was gone, gone, gone!

OK, I've taken some liberty with the lyrics, but "gone" is more appropriate than "more". Max, as it happens, wanted less.

Oh, it all started out well enough. Decided to long line in the Long Field to try and get round Max's sudden onset of attitude.

It was wonderful! Around the field we went, changing direction, changing pace, trotting up hills and walking beautifully and energetically down. We did that for about half an hour and he didn't put one hoof wrong. Decided to finish off with some trot work on a large circle, which meant dealing with the slope of the field to engage those hinds and build the muscles to help his stifle lock.

"OK, Max, walk on sir."

A commotion, a head toss, and then a retreating bottom, dragging the lines behind him after I'd had to let them go. Off to the far corner of the field he went and got his head down for a munch.

I rolled my eyes at myself for not being alert enough to stop him, and walked slowly after him to collect and try again. I got just about close enough to grab a line and he was off again, just out of reach. He got a few good marks for keeping his head up when I barked at him for trying to eat, and on second attempt, he let me catch him.

Back we walked to try again. Same thing.

I walked more purposefully to the far end of the field to collect him, we had words, and then back we went again, with me deciding we'd try on one line instead of two.

"I don't think so," said Max, and with a buck and a fart in my general direction, off he went a third time. Only this time I was ready and a sharp pull and release on his Dually with a firm "Stand Max!" brought him to heel.

"Right, I think the indoor school, don't you?"

"No, no, no! Not the school! Anything but the school!"

His pleas fell on deaf ears, and we did a bit of in-hand training on our way to the school.

"Have you forgotten your manners, Max?"

"Snort."

So we lunged his sorry arse around for half an hour. It made me late for the beginning of my shift, but no matter. It was important to re-establish some boundaries, so we kept on until I was satisfied Max was listening and giving me some of the good stuff.

Back to the yard with Max puffing and looking a teensy bit contrite, it was time for a hose down and a shampoo and set with Lavender Wash. No nonsense with dancing round the hose either; he stood stock still because the slightest side step was met with a firm request for good behaviour.

Then he got a detention. No going out to his field to play with his mate and eat grass. No, back to his box to have a think about what he'd done instead.

If I could have given him 100 lines to write on his slate I would have:

"I will not cop attitude at my mum."

I talked to YO about it when she came on the yard because I'm still pretty surprised at this sudden display of rambunctious behaviour. Max has always been cheeky, but we had well mannered down pat. It's not just a quaint notion of having a polite horse, it's important for safety. You can't have a half ton of muscle and force barging about the place with no concept of where the line is drawn. You don't have to achieve the line with force or violence, but you do need to have that line of command writ large to keep safe. Especially on a hack, you have to be prepared for anything, and have enough control and trust established so that you can manoeuvre both yourself and your trusty steed out of tricky or dangerous situations, no matter what is going on around you.

Let alone on the yard, where running amok is to be discouraged at all costs.

YO was sympathetic and said that she thinks it's partly to do with the onset of maturity. He's stopped growing, he's strong and feeling fit, with the rain the grass is a bit richer, and yes, it's one of those stages where he's testing the boundaries because he's feeling his power.

Has he worked out that he's stronger than me and taking advantage? Has he risen to meet my new found firmness and vigour with some of his own? Hard to say, but I don't think the horse's mind works like that. They don't plot to overthrow, it's not in their nature. But if it's down to herd dynamics, well... is Max trying to be boss of me?

YO did tell me though that she's noticed a change this past couple of weeks when she fetches him in from the field in the mornings, too. He has always been easy, waiting to be brought in for his breakfast, polite and well behaved. But just lately, it's all bucks and hooning around the field, skidding to a stop for his head collar, then being a bit silly and joggy on the way in, nipping at his field mate and generally Up To No Good.

She assures me that it's a phase, but yes, important that I stay right on top of it and up my game to meet his new found confidence and opinions. Like with children, she offered, you think you've got it all sorted and all the basics are in place, then suddenly, there's this new back-chat and you have to deal with it and re-establish the ground rules of basic good behaviour and co-operation.

Oh, Max will always have opinions, and I don't mind that; I will listen to them. But he needs to listen to, and respect mine as well.

End of shift and Max still in his box watching me with the eager expression I know so well.

"Right, young man. Have you thought about what you did?"

Little head nod.

"Are you sorry for being a spanner?"

Vigorous head nod.

"OK, give us a kiss then!"

Nose poked forward, eyes soft and merry.

I planted one on his soft muzzle and put on his head collar.

Off we walked to the field on a loose lead rope, Max keeping step with me, turning with me to shut the gate, waiting for me to set off again, pausing when I paused before we crossed the lane, just like we've always done, and just like he should.

Then into his field for carrot stretches and release.

"Love ya heaps, Mr Max."

"Back atcha, lady."

Sigh. Tomorrow is another day, and perhaps another battle, who knows? But we'll win in the end, because Max is basically a very decent, kind hearted soul, and so am I, so we've got everything going for us!