So solid Max

Some days are remarkable because they are unremarkable.

Today, Max and I had a remarkably unremarkable day.

Lots of time during my morning yard shift to stop for a chat and a play with the boy. Also leisurely enough to spend some time fussing the others, particularly a fairly new mare who is not keen on sharing her space and is a little shy about sudden movements. I had just put her hay down and she snapped at me.

"Oi, Madam! Manners!" I declared, and pointed at her nose.

Poor girl. Although I had done nothing threatening, nor had I touched her, her eyes told me she was afraid.

"Hey you," I said softly. "Nobody will hurt you here. No need for that."

I started scratching along her neck, and she stuck her head way up, stretched very tall, and wibbled her lip at me. So on we went, big long scratch on both sides of her neck, and at the end of it, the mare who likes nobody in her space was very happy for me to forage for droppings and pick them out with my fork while she munched happily at her hay.

Love the little breakthroughs and honestly, it doesn't take much to show a horse you mean no harm. She'll remember, and I will, and we shall build from there.

Had a convenient break at eleven o'clock when I surprised Max by entering his domain with his grooming box, saddle and bridle.

"Eh? We went out already. We don't do Wednesdays."

"Today we do Wednesdays, beautiful boy, and I promise, short and sweet, no drama."

That was a big promise to make, but I was determined to have an uneventful, easy hack and blow me down, didn't we just go and do exactly that!

Up the lane he went willingly. Tried a sneaky turn around for home when we had to detour into a lay-by to let a car pass us. Well, it should have passed us, but eager driver, obviously horsey, and looking disarmingly like she descended rightfully from the House of Windsor, rolled down her window for a chat.

"He's gorgeous! Is he a Highland?"

"He looks it, doesn't he? Fjord/Arab, believe it or not."

"How extraordinary!" the driver declared, smiling. "He's very handsome. What an interesting mix. I see it now, the Fjord, anyway."

"Slightly more slender legs, I think!" I offered.

"Yes, yes, I see!" she agreed. "He's quite young?"

"Seven, but very low mileage."

"Ah. Young enough, then. Very beautiful. What a kind eye!"

Flattery will get you everywhere when it comes to Max, but that was honest flattery. He does have a kind eye and a kind nature to go with it.

We waved a cheery goodbye, and Max made a little attempt to scarper for home, but I was having none of it.

"Max, we've been out for two minutes! Didn't I say this is going to be short and sweet? Forward."

Snort reply, but forward, too.

Off we went again, up the lane, past the pigs and the new gate which makes Max have a huff and a nod, then past our usual two left or right bridleway turn-offs, up past the farmhouse, more pigs, and then left to do "the triangle".

"You've been here before, love, but not recently. Easy path. Home in no time! Nice to be off the road, isn't it?"

"Comfy soft, yes."

And there we have it. We continued on, Max snorting happily (such a lovely sound)feeling completely relaxed through his belly and neck. One hesitation at a big wadge of mud and bark in the middle of the lane which looked a teensy bit menacing for a couple of seconds, so we had to have a stop and stare. Then a determined stride forward to figure out what nature of beast this mass was.

'Twas nothing, and Max got a few pony nuts for being so brave and stomping right through the menace.

Rather than turn left back onto the path home, we deaked into the field on the other side of the path, and had a lovely, relaxed canter up the hill until we could join our path again and find our way home. I listened to his sturdy unshod hooves thumping the ground, looked at the beautiful blue sky, felt the relaxed belly of Max swinging along with every step, and was content.

I've started taking Max back into the yard through the back way. A tip I learned from my friend, the Baker. Go round the front way, and you hop down onto the cement of the yard; go the back way, and you land on soft earth and grass. Also ideal for a "head down" command to Max so he can snatch a bit of grass while I loosen off his girth and run the stirrups up.

Funny boy,though! We've only done this for a few weeks now, but he's learned this is a very good ending to his adventure and after climbing the slightly flinty slope, he sets off at an eager trot to the gate where I dismount and he gets the juicy grass.

A laugh from me, a pat on the neck and a pony nut for Max, and appreciation from both of us for days that are unremarkable.

Spook rebuke

Clocks have gone back and I've had to re-think my Max time. Lots of overtime at the office, which has meant not having enough time to do much with Max over the lunch hour between my office shift and my yard shift. Over the summer, there was always the possibility of doing a little something at half four (although admittedly I was usually too knackered) but with the nights getting ready to close in, that's not an option.

There's always the indoor school, of course, but with a queue of nine to fivers with the same idea, and my dislike of leading my pony out to his field in the dark, let alone giving him time to cool down properly first so he won't get a chill, that doesn't really work for me.

I considered going to the yard very early and working with him before the office, but that throws up questions of whether he should have his breakfast feed before or after we work. Not fair to have his routine upset with no breakfast waiting for him when he gets in, and not a great idea to ask much of him for at least an hour after he's had his hard feed. Added to that, after his breakfast he likes to have a comfy snooze, so it's not the best time to be asking him to be attentive and working.

So instead, I went to the office very early and packed my yard gear and a bit of lunch in the car, so I could ensure I'd be free to drive straight to the yard and be out with Max in plenty of time to be back and sorted for yard duties.

The best laid schemes of mice and men... Arrived at the yard and got chatting with YO, then got chatting with farrier (anybody who arrives on the yard and sees me there assumes I'm working, even when I'm not) and then hustled to saddle up and get Max out for a hack. We had a good hour and a quarter before we had to be back, and I knew it wasn't the end of the world if we were a little late.

A fine day, and we were off at a plod, but Max was relaxed and we went forward with no commotion. For a good half hour, that's how we went, and then we had "gang aft agley" again.

We had gone past the alpacas, no problem. We trotted up an open lane, past a clearing, and we heard voices. Not in our heads, proper voices. All I could see ahead was a runner coming towards us, and he wasn't talking.

I moved Max to one side to let the runner past, and then spied a man further up, in the hedgerow. I let Max have a look and then urged him on.

Then another man popped up out of nowhere, near the first. Max had a stop and stare, and I returned a wave the two men gave me. The wave made Max want to turn for home, but I turned him back.

They waved again, Max turned again.

I urged Max forward, and as I got closer the second man said "We're waiting to start a chainsaw when you get past."

"Oh... OK..." I said, as Max turned back for home again. And again.

I weighed it up in my head, and decided best course was to get off and lead him past, as he was not loving two figures in the brambles, and I didn't want to hold them up.

We walked past, smiled, pleasantries, explained that Max was a bit inexperienced about hacking alone and we'd soon be out of their way.

I eased him into trot and then blow me down, didn't two other figures suddenly appear out of the brambles to our right!

Max lost his cool.

"Aieeeee! Demons descend upon us from the ditch! Retreat! Run for your life!"

He spun quickly and lurched away, me holding his reins.

"Help! I can't hold him..." and as the words left my lips, Max broke free.

"Look out, dad!" said one of the men, as Max barrelled towards him.

Dad was OK, he was nimble, and so was Max and they gracefully sidestepped each other.

I watched helplessly as Max ran away, giving a little sideways buck as he got clear, which raised my suspicions about how scared he was, because that sideways buck, I know well. That's the Max equivalent of a two finger salute with a "You can't make me do what you say!"

"Is he mad?" asked the Dad as I trudged past.

"No, just a fraidy cat."

I was cursing myself for dismounting because I'd have had better control if I'd stayed on board, but I hadn't wanted to hold them up from their work, and now I had a loose Max heading for an open field which led to a busy road.

"Max!" I commanded. "Stand."

"Max," the man echoed, "Listen to your mum you daft pony!"

I made it to the clearing and saw Max standing in the field not far from me. I forced my body language and my voice to be calm.

He jumped as I appeared.

"Max, really now!" I chided.

Bless him, he trotted to me.

"Bad place this! Shall we go?"

I gathered his reins.

"You've made us look like a right pair of pillocks, young sir."

"Who cares? You're kinda weedy really, aren't you? I'm way stronger than you!"

"Quite. You could definitely beat me at tug of war."

But who cares indeed? I was just happy to have him back in hand and safe, bugger anything else.

I led him back to the path, and called out to the men that I'd take him back the way we came, thanks for being understanding. La,la la...

In hand we went, Max very prancey, until we found a quiet spot for me to launch myself back up into the saddle.

"Home now?"

"You're having a laugh! Forward, not home."

"D'oh!"

We retraced our steps back to the lane, and then crossed over and continued our hack in the opposite direction, and we were fine. Max was frisky and forward, I was calm and stern (but not forceful) and our adventure ended happily with a sponge down and carrot stretches.

Tomorrow, we try again. There will always be Some Thing to overcome and we just need to practice and get more solid in our trust of each other. I can't beat Max on strength either, and he knows it, but today he showed me that in fright and mischief,he'd still rather be with me than without. I'm his lead mare!

I'm sure today if we'd had another sturdy and wise horse with us we'd have got past our obstacle without commotion, and if I hadn't felt under pressure to get Max past the men waiting to start their chainsaw, I could have handled it better for both of us.

C'est la guerre. Take the lesson onn the chin and go forward.

The long line back to Life

Absence. Silence.

I have been finding it difficult to find the heart to write here, in the aftermath of Sammie leaving us. I have been hit so hard by the loss, and it has made me feel distant from loved ones, including Max.

I have learned, and have lived, as an island. A rock. I am self sufficient, I am self contained, and I trust me, I rely on me. That's it. Or so I thought.

With Sammie going, I have realised that my life long dream, my inexplicable drive to have my own horse could be my undoing. For all my collected air, my Max has the power to shatter my heart into uncollectable bits and leave me... shattered.

It could happen so easily. A hoon in the field, a misstep on a path, an accident, colic, anything... Me with an empty headcollar and a world torn apart.

Max is dangerous. All the pretty horses are so dangerous because they can and will break my heart.

But Max isn't having any of that.

"I am here. I am now. We are."

So yes, through tears and a lump in the throat, I have been long-lining him. Back in his Dr Cook's bitless, with the noseband further up so it doesn't sit on his cyst from the wasp sting that made him snuffle.

He's been grand. He's been beautiful. He's been a poem and I have stood back in awe.

"Look at you! Handsome boy, look what you can do!"

He can break my heart, that boy, and he will. But in the meantime, he makes me laugh, and he makes me want to try harder to be better and make a better world, and he teaches me patience, and timing, and empathy, and how to live.

All the pretty horses! They can all do that.

But Max is mine, and I am his. Through grief, through storms, through the dark and the light, we will go on. We will face whatever we have to face together, and until then, we will live and learn to dance.

There is no better testament to Sammie than learning to dance with Max, and taking good care of all the pretty horses who find their way to me.

Grace

Today, the world is one fine horse less. The loss is significant and overwhelming to those of us who knew him.

Yesterday, Sammie lost his last battle. He fought to stay, calmly and with courage, and when the time came to declare surrender, he tried to prepare those of us who loved him. He knew before we did.

Today, the world is smaller and less beautiful.

We'll never forget you, Sammie, and all you taught us. God bless, orange monkey.