Can feel the biting cold in the air today, but was prepared and resolved to take Max out on a hackette before the ground freezes up again. Alas, it wasn't to be, as the rain came.
I don't do riding in the rain. My saddle is suede for one thing, but mostly, I just don't like it and neither does Max, so we don't do it.
Back into the school to play jumpies!
The four jumps are still set up across the centre of the school, so lining and even lunge work is tricky. They were set really high today too, from a jump lesson yesterday (we're not allowed to remove them), so I set him up a two jump course, dismantling the high bars and making them into an alleyway approach for him, with a small jump at either end.
But Max didn't want to play jumpies with me today.
He wanted to play "demolition pone" instead!
He went all wayward, and used the alleyway as trot poles, and picked the far jump as the one he liked to pop over, but the near one as the one he liked to dismantle and stomp on with great determination and purpose. He'd knock it down, and then roll it around with his front hooves, occasionally casting me an eager look to see if the display of disrespect and vandalism was worth a pony nut.
But we got round it, used one of the jumps for a bit of lateral work, and used the alleyway for backing up and moving quarters over, and it was fine, and fun, and whatever.
When we were done, I tucked him up in his rug again, and prepared to leave the school. And then, we did what we always do when we leave the school:
We spent ages just staring out the open door, looking out on the dairy farm next door, and the rolling fields up to the wooods, with the road winding through the middle of it.
This is a thing that Max really likes to do. Once upon a time I was intent on getting him out, turning him without him straining for grass, so I could close the school door, and then off and on our way.
But Max insists upon this pause to gaze on our exit, so I now factor it in and just stop and gaze with him.
I don't rush this moment of his, no matter what else I've got in my head as a list of things to do next.
This is partly because I enjoy watching his nose twitch as he takes in the smells, and partly because I like the far away look in his eyes as he watches the world. Then, when he gets all upright and tall because he's spotted something interesting, I strain to follow his gaze and see what it is that's captured his attention.
I suppose I've routinely thought of it as a thing I do to humour Max, and nothing more.
I realised today, as I was standing next to Max just watching, his muzzle resting on my shoulder, that this routine thing I do to humour him has become a favourite thing, a moment to savour in my day; a thing anticipated with a smile and eagerness.
I find myself looking forward to the moment when the school door opens and we step out and stare together. It is so peaceful, just standing together looking out on our world.
Today I said, "Isn't it beautiful, Max?"
It was beautiful, that view, even with leaden skies and drizzle. The green of the fields, the wooden farmhouse with smoke coming out of the chimney, the woods, the road. All of it, all in a moment.
A moment that makes me stop and appreciate the beauty I see in front of me, even though it's a daily view, is a very good thing indeed.
Bless my pony for making me stop and look with him, as he rests his muzzle on my shoulder in such an endearing way. It makes me feel quite honoured, that he sees me as his comfortable companion in this world, with a comfy shoulder for his nose to rest upon, while he makes me stop for a moment, to admire the view with him.
Tuesday 14 December 2010
Tuesday 12 October 2010
Max in the hands of another
My friend the Baker borrowed Max to hack out with her daughter because her own boy is wearing a poultice and can't be ridden. Very handy for a Saturday, as I can't do anything with Max myself. He's carrying a little more weight than I would like right now due to the recent flush of new grass, so I was very pleased to offer him up; to be honest, it was doing me a favour.
So it was that Max went out on a big adventure without me, all over the countryside.
He was so confused through the tacking up, and when the Baker tried to lead him out he just stuck his big head into me. I told him it would be OK, and he knows auntie well as she works on the yard too. Then blow me down, once we got stirrup lengths settled, he was off all sprightly following the Baker's daughter and her trusty steed (a former field mate of Max's too, so they know each other well).
He didn't put a foot wrong.
Both riders were full of smiles when they got back and gushing about how enthusiastic Max is about everything. This is very true. He's like that character off The Fast Show that thinks everything is BRILLIANT!
But I really only get that from him when he has another horse with him. He relaxes and enjoys, then, has a good look around with a sense of wonder and an equal sense of fun. He's better on his own now than he used to be, but rarely just lets go and enjoys, and some days is actively prepared to be spooked and never really settle.
What the Baker said afterwards was gratifying too: "Blimey, he's SO strong. I haven't ridden a horse this strong in years!" She figured she'd be aching the next day from it, and she's not a hard handy rider. Yeah, tell me about it. Holding Max together and back is no easy task. He looks like a ploddy pony, but there is nothing ploddy about him. Nor much pony about him either - he feels like a horse when you ride him.
The Baker complimented his sitting trot ("You could just sit that for hours, it's so comfy"), said his canter was lovely and smooth(this I already know) and that when you're riding him, you can definitely feel he's half Arab because he's got some fizz to him. Tell me about it!
I'm so glad they had a good time and he behaved. Would love it if I could occasionally get out with someone else, but it just doesn't work with my schedule.
He came back in a total sweat and needed to be hosed down. Unsurprising because he's so furry in his winter coat and the weather is still so mild.
So a good experience for Max to have a different rider, a fortunate replacement for the Baker, and a wonderful help to me, to have Max exercised for free, by a friend who's riding I trust, and who's care for Max is second only to my own.
So it was that Max went out on a big adventure without me, all over the countryside.
He was so confused through the tacking up, and when the Baker tried to lead him out he just stuck his big head into me. I told him it would be OK, and he knows auntie well as she works on the yard too. Then blow me down, once we got stirrup lengths settled, he was off all sprightly following the Baker's daughter and her trusty steed (a former field mate of Max's too, so they know each other well).
He didn't put a foot wrong.
Both riders were full of smiles when they got back and gushing about how enthusiastic Max is about everything. This is very true. He's like that character off The Fast Show that thinks everything is BRILLIANT!
But I really only get that from him when he has another horse with him. He relaxes and enjoys, then, has a good look around with a sense of wonder and an equal sense of fun. He's better on his own now than he used to be, but rarely just lets go and enjoys, and some days is actively prepared to be spooked and never really settle.
What the Baker said afterwards was gratifying too: "Blimey, he's SO strong. I haven't ridden a horse this strong in years!" She figured she'd be aching the next day from it, and she's not a hard handy rider. Yeah, tell me about it. Holding Max together and back is no easy task. He looks like a ploddy pony, but there is nothing ploddy about him. Nor much pony about him either - he feels like a horse when you ride him.
The Baker complimented his sitting trot ("You could just sit that for hours, it's so comfy"), said his canter was lovely and smooth(this I already know) and that when you're riding him, you can definitely feel he's half Arab because he's got some fizz to him. Tell me about it!
I'm so glad they had a good time and he behaved. Would love it if I could occasionally get out with someone else, but it just doesn't work with my schedule.
He came back in a total sweat and needed to be hosed down. Unsurprising because he's so furry in his winter coat and the weather is still so mild.
So a good experience for Max to have a different rider, a fortunate replacement for the Baker, and a wonderful help to me, to have Max exercised for free, by a friend who's riding I trust, and who's care for Max is second only to my own.
Testing the electric fence
Stupid day today. I had plans all right, but they came to not much.
Got to the office early thinking I'd be out again early with lots of time for Max... But no! A reminder of a meeting put paid to all that, and even the free sandwiches did not brighten my day, nor shorten the proceedings.
So it was that all the things I had planned for today got pushed back, and at half one I was at the local tack shop buying hay and fly spray, having just run out of my home made concoction, and also having stopped off at a health food shop for citronella to make more. But there was no citronella to be found, and despite it being October Max is being eaten alive by midges, so I forked out crazy money for a fly spray that I hope will keep well until next spring when the blasted things wake up again.
Then on to town for a supermarket sweep and a visit to the chemist, all the while knowing I'd put Max down on the whiteboard at the yard to be kept in, but he would have been shoved out of his box and tied up with nowt, waiting for me.
Big bellow of "hello! help!" when I arrived, and I appeased him with a windfalll apple from my friend at the office, picked up special for Max.
Gave him a groom, a cuddle, some fly spray, and then out he went.
YO asked if Max's little grey field mate had gone out wearing his fly mask yesterday. Yes, I confirmed, he definitely had.
Well, it was very windy last night, and the Boss (the other field mate) lost his fly mask, and it was found in a far away field. Perhaps little grey's had blown away, too.
I said I would have another look around when I took Max to the field, and as I had a pocketful of black liquorice, the three amigos followed and helped me in my search.
Was I dressed for it? No! I was a picture in a turquoise linen skirt, turquoise fitted sweater and linen scarf (old, back from the days when I made real money) and Crocs.
I strode out the fence line, ponies following gamely, and I thought I spied something in the field next door.
Ah! Could that be the missing fly mask?
I leaned over to get a closer look...
ZZZT!
"Hello! I'm awake now!"
Our electric fence definitely works.
I did call out a... well... girly yelp of surprise and stupidity, and my Max was all over it, trotting forth, ears pricked, to find out what was wrong with me, and then consoling me against his massive neck.
"You are a tool, my human, but I loves ya! There, there. Bad fence."
Then the Boss and little grey approached as well, offered commiserations and it was liquorice all round.
"Is she special, your human, Max?"
"No, she's just busy. She's usually pretty clued up."
"Dude, she totally got zapped!"
"I know. I'll talk to her."
Got to the office early thinking I'd be out again early with lots of time for Max... But no! A reminder of a meeting put paid to all that, and even the free sandwiches did not brighten my day, nor shorten the proceedings.
So it was that all the things I had planned for today got pushed back, and at half one I was at the local tack shop buying hay and fly spray, having just run out of my home made concoction, and also having stopped off at a health food shop for citronella to make more. But there was no citronella to be found, and despite it being October Max is being eaten alive by midges, so I forked out crazy money for a fly spray that I hope will keep well until next spring when the blasted things wake up again.
Then on to town for a supermarket sweep and a visit to the chemist, all the while knowing I'd put Max down on the whiteboard at the yard to be kept in, but he would have been shoved out of his box and tied up with nowt, waiting for me.
Big bellow of "hello! help!" when I arrived, and I appeased him with a windfalll apple from my friend at the office, picked up special for Max.
Gave him a groom, a cuddle, some fly spray, and then out he went.
YO asked if Max's little grey field mate had gone out wearing his fly mask yesterday. Yes, I confirmed, he definitely had.
Well, it was very windy last night, and the Boss (the other field mate) lost his fly mask, and it was found in a far away field. Perhaps little grey's had blown away, too.
I said I would have another look around when I took Max to the field, and as I had a pocketful of black liquorice, the three amigos followed and helped me in my search.
Was I dressed for it? No! I was a picture in a turquoise linen skirt, turquoise fitted sweater and linen scarf (old, back from the days when I made real money) and Crocs.
I strode out the fence line, ponies following gamely, and I thought I spied something in the field next door.
Ah! Could that be the missing fly mask?
I leaned over to get a closer look...
ZZZT!
"Hello! I'm awake now!"
Our electric fence definitely works.
I did call out a... well... girly yelp of surprise and stupidity, and my Max was all over it, trotting forth, ears pricked, to find out what was wrong with me, and then consoling me against his massive neck.
"You are a tool, my human, but I loves ya! There, there. Bad fence."
Then the Boss and little grey approached as well, offered commiserations and it was liquorice all round.
"Is she special, your human, Max?"
"No, she's just busy. She's usually pretty clued up."
"Dude, she totally got zapped!"
"I know. I'll talk to her."
Tuesday 5 October 2010
In remembrance
A year ago today, an extraordinary, incredible horse left this world and it was a proper cheat.
My dear friend and her spectacular boy deserved so much more time together, a happy retirement, but it wasn't to be.
The first anniversary is the hardest. I want to make a statement to mark this day because I haven't forgotten how much he taught me about damaged horses, and how to help them find their way back to trust and confidence.
So this is just for Sammie Soldier, an appreciation of what he was and what he left with us. I carry what he taught with me every day.
And for all the horses and ponies we have now in our care and love so truly, may we be good, strong guardians worthy of the trust they give us.
And for the ones we have lost and miss so much, whether our own horses, or the long ago riding school ponies who taught us to rise to the trot, strike off on the correct lead, make that first leap of faith over a jump, and gave us bruised lessons about hubris, may we never forget what we learned so it may help us be respectful, patient and kind.
And to the horses that are yet to come, may we be open to what they have to share and to new and thoughtful ways forward.
And to all of us, too, that recognise what horses are and care enough to live up to their grace.
For all of them and all of that, a pause to be grateful, remember and celebrate all the horses who cross our paths, deserve our respect, care and our open hearts.
My dear friend and her spectacular boy deserved so much more time together, a happy retirement, but it wasn't to be.
The first anniversary is the hardest. I want to make a statement to mark this day because I haven't forgotten how much he taught me about damaged horses, and how to help them find their way back to trust and confidence.
So this is just for Sammie Soldier, an appreciation of what he was and what he left with us. I carry what he taught with me every day.
And for all the horses and ponies we have now in our care and love so truly, may we be good, strong guardians worthy of the trust they give us.
And for the ones we have lost and miss so much, whether our own horses, or the long ago riding school ponies who taught us to rise to the trot, strike off on the correct lead, make that first leap of faith over a jump, and gave us bruised lessons about hubris, may we never forget what we learned so it may help us be respectful, patient and kind.
And to the horses that are yet to come, may we be open to what they have to share and to new and thoughtful ways forward.
And to all of us, too, that recognise what horses are and care enough to live up to their grace.
For all of them and all of that, a pause to be grateful, remember and celebrate all the horses who cross our paths, deserve our respect, care and our open hearts.
Saturday 2 October 2010
The Jerk
After such a long spell of being a very splendid and co-operative fellow, it was just a matter of time until Max balked and showed his stubborn streak.
I could feel it coming a couple of days ago, when he was no longer keen to do the free school stuff, and since he was so lacklustre, we went back to basics and I set him up an L shaped obstacle course to back through hands free, and then we did some lateral work, moving sideways back and forth along a pole planted between his front and back legs.
We hadn't done that for a while, and it's a click/treat thing. He got really zealous about it and we had to have a pause to breathe deep and dial it down a notch because he was so focused and up for it.
"Ask me again! Ask me! I want that pony nut. Do it. COME ON! Bring it. I swear to God, I'll... what? What you want? Ask me! ASK, ASK, ASK!"
But that was a couple of days ago. Then there was a day off - too much yard work and then office work, so it was just a grooming day.
Then yesterday. Beautiful day full of promise and good weather, but the Hunt was gathering for cubbing across our neighbouring fields, setting off from the farm next door, just a stone's throw away, so opted not to ride out because of the potential; crazies - horses and hounds everywhere, not to mention horse boxes clogging up our single track road.
So back into the indoor school we went.
Max was an absolute sod. Did his "I know nuffink" routine and looked completely befuddled at everything we attempted, and I changed what we were doing a lot to see if I could engage him in different things. Any little thing.
He was not having it.
We started off all set up for long lining with roller on.
"No, no, NO! I have never done this before and I don't like it. Cease and desist!"
Hmm.
OK, so will we try one line and use the whole school for a bit of lunge work.
"NO! This bit vexes me and I'm going to eat it completely and then cross my jaw so I can't feel it. Who are you? Have we met? Why should I listen to you? What could you possibly have to say of interest to me? I will show you my very firmly halted and steadfast arse. What do you make of that, stranger?"
OK, so liberty work, shall we have a run together? I'll take all this bumf off and we'll have a play. You like that, don't you, and you and get all full of yourself and have a nice cavort. Shall we start at trot?
"No. Sod off."
Right, so yesterday we did some lovely obstacle course stuff and then we did the walking sideways over a pole, and you really enjoyed that.
Off I went to heave poles around.
Shall we try again?
"Sorry, did you say something? Sideways? No, I don't go sideways I go back and I go forward. That is all."
OK, so back up, then, at least.
"Did I say back? No, I just do forward. Bite me. Ha! You can't make me, can you, puny biped! Go on, push harder! Nope, not feelin' it, not doin' it."
OK, so come forward then, you big stubborn arse.
"Que? Quoi? Pardon? No speak your language. What you want? Chips on the side? Eh, wot?"
In the end I could feel myself getting frustrated, so I gave him a pat on the neck and walked away to sit down and find my neutral space. Did not want to handle him when I could feel the frustration rising.
Time Out.
Bless him, he knew something was up. He usually follows me when I walk away, but he just stood still at a distance and looked at me, head hung a little low.
I wasn't mad at him - maybe mad at myself and my expectations - but the sitting down and looking at him quietly while he looked back at me took the frustration away.
Picked up his head collar and said "Come on Monkey Chops, we're done. Let's get out of here."
Over he came then, offered his head for the head collar, and out we went. He was absolutely perfect at turning for the school door to close, made no attempt to snatch at grass and followed me like a lamb back to the yard.
Yes, of course YO was there watching.
"How was he? Was he good?"
"No, he was a jerk!" I replied grimly, waiting for the lecture about how I'm not firm enough, and Max doesn't work hard enough, and I have to push him through it.
But she smiled.
"That's what keeps us thinking! It would be boring if they were good all the time."
Disarmed, I carried on to the lower yard and got ready for Max to to go out to his field.
"Are you my best boy, Max?"
Head nod, and then whiskered muzzle thrust forward for a kiss.
"Sometimes I just don't wanna. Sorry. Couldn't be arsed."
Yeah, I do get that. No need to apologise, you great furry bit of magnificence on four hooves.
It was nothing really. Some days I get the "don't wanna/cant' be arsed" feeling too, so fair enough that Max does. That's perfectly OK.
I was away from the yard by half three which was just about when the hunt was set to kick off for their cubbing. A lot of the night horses were kept back in their boxes until it was done, but Max and his pony mates were allowed out because they are sensible.
I was told this morning by those who were around to watch, that the hunt spent quite a bit of time in the field right next to Max's paddock, and he put on a rather spectacular show, doing a floaty extended trot, tail raised like a flag, all along the fence line back and forth, leaving his field mates well behind as they couldn't keep up with the ground he covered, so they scrambled after him.
It is a sight to see, I know, Max properly strutting his stuff and getting down with his bad self. I've watched it myself enough times, but very nice to hear folk going on about what a beautiful movement he has (on his own, of course) and at least I know he had a good work out last night even if he didn't offer it up to me this time.
He was still all lit up this morning when I brought him in, very vocal and continually leaving his breakfast to call me over, with excited eyes, straining to get back out of his box again.
Was lovely this morning too, when I drove up, because as I got out of my car to open the gate, I looked back across to his field and could only see one field mate grazing. When I got out of my parked up car, Max was doing the lovely extended trot down the field to the gate, calling for me. Aw!
I think he wanted to tell me about his exciting night! "Ooh! The things I've seen! Busy, busy, busy!"
We cancelled "do nothing Friday" today. The weather is vile, he's had enough of the indoor school, and I thought it best to just give him a day off, so plonked his rain sheet on - thought about the hood and decided against because it's not that cold, and the rain will stop about midnight -so out he went with his mates and a mouth full of pear froth.
Max doesn't always go to plan, but he's never boring.
I could feel it coming a couple of days ago, when he was no longer keen to do the free school stuff, and since he was so lacklustre, we went back to basics and I set him up an L shaped obstacle course to back through hands free, and then we did some lateral work, moving sideways back and forth along a pole planted between his front and back legs.
We hadn't done that for a while, and it's a click/treat thing. He got really zealous about it and we had to have a pause to breathe deep and dial it down a notch because he was so focused and up for it.
"Ask me again! Ask me! I want that pony nut. Do it. COME ON! Bring it. I swear to God, I'll... what? What you want? Ask me! ASK, ASK, ASK!"
But that was a couple of days ago. Then there was a day off - too much yard work and then office work, so it was just a grooming day.
Then yesterday. Beautiful day full of promise and good weather, but the Hunt was gathering for cubbing across our neighbouring fields, setting off from the farm next door, just a stone's throw away, so opted not to ride out because of the potential; crazies - horses and hounds everywhere, not to mention horse boxes clogging up our single track road.
So back into the indoor school we went.
Max was an absolute sod. Did his "I know nuffink" routine and looked completely befuddled at everything we attempted, and I changed what we were doing a lot to see if I could engage him in different things. Any little thing.
He was not having it.
We started off all set up for long lining with roller on.
"No, no, NO! I have never done this before and I don't like it. Cease and desist!"
Hmm.
OK, so will we try one line and use the whole school for a bit of lunge work.
"NO! This bit vexes me and I'm going to eat it completely and then cross my jaw so I can't feel it. Who are you? Have we met? Why should I listen to you? What could you possibly have to say of interest to me? I will show you my very firmly halted and steadfast arse. What do you make of that, stranger?"
OK, so liberty work, shall we have a run together? I'll take all this bumf off and we'll have a play. You like that, don't you, and you and get all full of yourself and have a nice cavort. Shall we start at trot?
"No. Sod off."
Right, so yesterday we did some lovely obstacle course stuff and then we did the walking sideways over a pole, and you really enjoyed that.
Off I went to heave poles around.
Shall we try again?
"Sorry, did you say something? Sideways? No, I don't go sideways I go back and I go forward. That is all."
OK, so back up, then, at least.
"Did I say back? No, I just do forward. Bite me. Ha! You can't make me, can you, puny biped! Go on, push harder! Nope, not feelin' it, not doin' it."
OK, so come forward then, you big stubborn arse.
"Que? Quoi? Pardon? No speak your language. What you want? Chips on the side? Eh, wot?"
In the end I could feel myself getting frustrated, so I gave him a pat on the neck and walked away to sit down and find my neutral space. Did not want to handle him when I could feel the frustration rising.
Time Out.
Bless him, he knew something was up. He usually follows me when I walk away, but he just stood still at a distance and looked at me, head hung a little low.
I wasn't mad at him - maybe mad at myself and my expectations - but the sitting down and looking at him quietly while he looked back at me took the frustration away.
Picked up his head collar and said "Come on Monkey Chops, we're done. Let's get out of here."
Over he came then, offered his head for the head collar, and out we went. He was absolutely perfect at turning for the school door to close, made no attempt to snatch at grass and followed me like a lamb back to the yard.
Yes, of course YO was there watching.
"How was he? Was he good?"
"No, he was a jerk!" I replied grimly, waiting for the lecture about how I'm not firm enough, and Max doesn't work hard enough, and I have to push him through it.
But she smiled.
"That's what keeps us thinking! It would be boring if they were good all the time."
Disarmed, I carried on to the lower yard and got ready for Max to to go out to his field.
"Are you my best boy, Max?"
Head nod, and then whiskered muzzle thrust forward for a kiss.
"Sometimes I just don't wanna. Sorry. Couldn't be arsed."
Yeah, I do get that. No need to apologise, you great furry bit of magnificence on four hooves.
It was nothing really. Some days I get the "don't wanna/cant' be arsed" feeling too, so fair enough that Max does. That's perfectly OK.
I was away from the yard by half three which was just about when the hunt was set to kick off for their cubbing. A lot of the night horses were kept back in their boxes until it was done, but Max and his pony mates were allowed out because they are sensible.
I was told this morning by those who were around to watch, that the hunt spent quite a bit of time in the field right next to Max's paddock, and he put on a rather spectacular show, doing a floaty extended trot, tail raised like a flag, all along the fence line back and forth, leaving his field mates well behind as they couldn't keep up with the ground he covered, so they scrambled after him.
It is a sight to see, I know, Max properly strutting his stuff and getting down with his bad self. I've watched it myself enough times, but very nice to hear folk going on about what a beautiful movement he has (on his own, of course) and at least I know he had a good work out last night even if he didn't offer it up to me this time.
He was still all lit up this morning when I brought him in, very vocal and continually leaving his breakfast to call me over, with excited eyes, straining to get back out of his box again.
Was lovely this morning too, when I drove up, because as I got out of my car to open the gate, I looked back across to his field and could only see one field mate grazing. When I got out of my parked up car, Max was doing the lovely extended trot down the field to the gate, calling for me. Aw!
I think he wanted to tell me about his exciting night! "Ooh! The things I've seen! Busy, busy, busy!"
We cancelled "do nothing Friday" today. The weather is vile, he's had enough of the indoor school, and I thought it best to just give him a day off, so plonked his rain sheet on - thought about the hood and decided against because it's not that cold, and the rain will stop about midnight -so out he went with his mates and a mouth full of pear froth.
Max doesn't always go to plan, but he's never boring.
Monday 20 September 2010
The Word
I sometimes wonder if Max gets any inkling of what a happy position he has in life, what a lucky turn of fate it was for him that I rocked up and fell in love with him.
But at the same time, I don't want him to feel lucky, because the life he has is just what it should be; it shouldn't be down to luck. And for those of us who care to acknowledge it, we get a heck of a lot more from the horses than they get from us.
Had a really good and encouraging day with Max yesterday. The Ent and I had planned to take him for a walk in hand for our Sunday afternoon bit of time together, but before Ent showed up on his bike, I went on ahead and took Max into the school for a lunge, but a good lunge because the jumps were all down so we had the whole school to work with.
He balked a bit, tried a few of his fancy moves, but I got round them pretty easily and was thinking that since we've started our "do nothing Fridays", things have really changed between Max and me, and we have taken another step forward in our journey together.
I barely have to hold the lunge line - it's firm enough in my hand for contact, but there's a slack I have to keep from dragging on the floor (think that would feel a bit tickly vibration in his mouth if I let it drag) and little finger tweaks are enough. I can see his ears registering change of pressure and I can get him to extend his trot by changing my body language.
I'm way better at positioning myself now, I think (still working on it) so it was a pretty fret free session, even with the whip in my hand. Have done a lot of work on re-introducing the whip as an aid that doesn't scare Max, but helps us with tempo and momentum.
After we'd done ten minutes of good trot work on each rein, I took everything off and started doing some free style. Historically we have been pretty useless at this - Max knows how to get away from me and put himself out of reach and out of touch.
Blow me down. We were actually doing it! Proper doing it! Not always correct - bad timing, maybe me not being in the right place at the right time, but I could send him off at the trot and then up to canter, then change direction, then he'd give it some wellie and a bit of free spirited bucking and wall of death, but all very under control, all still listening to me and waiting for the next ask.
I could see by his face that he was enjoying himself, so we kept going, then I called him down to walk and whoa, approached, pat and pony nut, then sent him off again: "And trot off, sir!"
In the middle of this, Ent pitched up and came into the school, set himself up on a chair to observe. Max looked, acknowledged, but didn't take his concentration off me and for the first time ever, Ent saw that Max can shift it!
Yet still Max listened to me, even with an audience. He changed direction, he came back down to trot when I asked, and then off he went again when I upped the energy, with eager eyes and eager feet.
It was just brilliant to watch! So uplifting!
I was so pleased, and I know we didn't get it totally right, and I know I need to get better at listening to him too, as well as him listening to me... but it just felt so wonderful and so right.
We were doing it, and the whole vibe was that we were just having fun together. No stress, no weirdness, Max wasn't running away from me, he was just expressing himself so splendidly because he knew it was OK and exactly what I wanted.
We can definitely build on this, I feel. It just felt so different from other times we've tried.
After he'd finished running about, he showed the Ent how he can do Spanish on both legs with me on his bare back ("Really? Where's your hat?"), and then I slipped off and we went for a long walk, blackberry picking, in just his headcollar.
I'd almost forgotten how much I just like to walk out with Max just in hand. He was so chilled though, yeah a little bit of grass grabbing, but no Arab Mist at all.
I think we're on to something, me and Max! I think we're beginning to communicate on a whole new level. Don't want to run before we're walking, but man, it's pretty damn fine. It makes me feel optimistic and also makes me so sure that Max and I are just meant to be. My worries of letting him down, or not being knowledgeable enough or whatever my insecurities are - it doesn't matter because Max and I get each other, and we're finding our way to something really cool in our communication.
Max is all about the fun of being us together, and he's patient and clear in what he says and thinks. As soon as I get in the moment with him, with honesty and my heart and soul there for him, he makes it so bloomin' easy!
Love my pony. He's the best teacher I've met in my life's journey, and a proper soul mate.
Max is "home". That is the closest word I can find to describe what it is that we have: home.
But at the same time, I don't want him to feel lucky, because the life he has is just what it should be; it shouldn't be down to luck. And for those of us who care to acknowledge it, we get a heck of a lot more from the horses than they get from us.
Had a really good and encouraging day with Max yesterday. The Ent and I had planned to take him for a walk in hand for our Sunday afternoon bit of time together, but before Ent showed up on his bike, I went on ahead and took Max into the school for a lunge, but a good lunge because the jumps were all down so we had the whole school to work with.
He balked a bit, tried a few of his fancy moves, but I got round them pretty easily and was thinking that since we've started our "do nothing Fridays", things have really changed between Max and me, and we have taken another step forward in our journey together.
I barely have to hold the lunge line - it's firm enough in my hand for contact, but there's a slack I have to keep from dragging on the floor (think that would feel a bit tickly vibration in his mouth if I let it drag) and little finger tweaks are enough. I can see his ears registering change of pressure and I can get him to extend his trot by changing my body language.
I'm way better at positioning myself now, I think (still working on it) so it was a pretty fret free session, even with the whip in my hand. Have done a lot of work on re-introducing the whip as an aid that doesn't scare Max, but helps us with tempo and momentum.
After we'd done ten minutes of good trot work on each rein, I took everything off and started doing some free style. Historically we have been pretty useless at this - Max knows how to get away from me and put himself out of reach and out of touch.
Blow me down. We were actually doing it! Proper doing it! Not always correct - bad timing, maybe me not being in the right place at the right time, but I could send him off at the trot and then up to canter, then change direction, then he'd give it some wellie and a bit of free spirited bucking and wall of death, but all very under control, all still listening to me and waiting for the next ask.
I could see by his face that he was enjoying himself, so we kept going, then I called him down to walk and whoa, approached, pat and pony nut, then sent him off again: "And trot off, sir!"
In the middle of this, Ent pitched up and came into the school, set himself up on a chair to observe. Max looked, acknowledged, but didn't take his concentration off me and for the first time ever, Ent saw that Max can shift it!
Yet still Max listened to me, even with an audience. He changed direction, he came back down to trot when I asked, and then off he went again when I upped the energy, with eager eyes and eager feet.
It was just brilliant to watch! So uplifting!
I was so pleased, and I know we didn't get it totally right, and I know I need to get better at listening to him too, as well as him listening to me... but it just felt so wonderful and so right.
We were doing it, and the whole vibe was that we were just having fun together. No stress, no weirdness, Max wasn't running away from me, he was just expressing himself so splendidly because he knew it was OK and exactly what I wanted.
We can definitely build on this, I feel. It just felt so different from other times we've tried.
After he'd finished running about, he showed the Ent how he can do Spanish on both legs with me on his bare back ("Really? Where's your hat?"), and then I slipped off and we went for a long walk, blackberry picking, in just his headcollar.
I'd almost forgotten how much I just like to walk out with Max just in hand. He was so chilled though, yeah a little bit of grass grabbing, but no Arab Mist at all.
I think we're on to something, me and Max! I think we're beginning to communicate on a whole new level. Don't want to run before we're walking, but man, it's pretty damn fine. It makes me feel optimistic and also makes me so sure that Max and I are just meant to be. My worries of letting him down, or not being knowledgeable enough or whatever my insecurities are - it doesn't matter because Max and I get each other, and we're finding our way to something really cool in our communication.
Max is all about the fun of being us together, and he's patient and clear in what he says and thinks. As soon as I get in the moment with him, with honesty and my heart and soul there for him, he makes it so bloomin' easy!
Love my pony. He's the best teacher I've met in my life's journey, and a proper soul mate.
Max is "home". That is the closest word I can find to describe what it is that we have: home.
Tuesday 14 September 2010
The gun
I am preparing myself tonight, because tomorrow morning, during my yard shift, we are going to lose another one of our lovelies.
Dear ol' retired mare, a proper party girl in her time, has been on retirement livery with us for a couple of years now. Tomorrow morning, between nine and half nine, the Hunt man will come for her.
She'll be brought in from her field first to the barn for a bit of hay. That's going to be hard enough. Then she will be led off to the back of the school for the deed to be done.
It is time, I don't doubt that for a second. I was up at her field this afternoon feeding her polos while she chattered away to me, all eager, sunken eyes and shaky legs.
She didn't used to hang out by the gate - she was bloomin' hard to catch! -and she's been losing weight, despite the fresh sprouts of grass in her field from the rain. She also just seems a bit depressed, tired, done. Her owner noticed it when she was over two weeks ago for the vet check "She's just not right" she said sadly. Her owner is very attentive and visits regularly.
It's time. She's in her 30s now, and has had a good life blessed with caring humans. Best not to dither and let her linger on in hope that she might hang on a bit longer. Why make her arthritic joints suffer through the turn in the weather that is upon us now?
But it's the gun that I can't abide, nor what follows.
I understand the gun. There are so many horsewomen that I respect that think the gun is the best way, not just based on economy (though that is a factor for some), but on the basis that it's so quick and the horse knows nothing about it. They aren't afraid of guns, as we are, and a good huntsman, gentle and relaxed with them in their last moments, is much better than the injection. That is argument. Plus it's all so quick, job done, body taken away, no hanging around waiting for arrangements to be made, no emotional trauma for those on the yard working round an outline in a field, or a cold body in a box.
Yeah, I hear that, I understand it, but I could never... It just seems such a violent end for a gentle creature. I do not for a second condemn those who choose that route, but I have a hard time with it myself.
Tomorrow morning, my hope is that I can spend a bit of time with the dear old mare while she enjoys her hay, and I will slip her a piece of liquorice because she loves it so. I will muck out a couple of boxes, and then, if all goes well, I will rouse Max from his sleepy time, saddle up and get the hell off the yard, because even though she will be taken out of sight, if I'm on the yard, I will hear it.
But we have the vet tomorrow for flu jabs, and we have the farrier for feets, and chances are I won't be able to slip away because I'll have to direct traffic and hold horses and listen to that shot.
But before that, there will be liquorice and a cuddle, and then a lovely old coloured mare will leave this world and will be missed by those of us who knew her; me in her retirement years, and her heartbroken owners who also remember her glory days.
She is good horse. I am sad for her passing, but smile in celebration of her life.
Dear ol' retired mare, a proper party girl in her time, has been on retirement livery with us for a couple of years now. Tomorrow morning, between nine and half nine, the Hunt man will come for her.
She'll be brought in from her field first to the barn for a bit of hay. That's going to be hard enough. Then she will be led off to the back of the school for the deed to be done.
It is time, I don't doubt that for a second. I was up at her field this afternoon feeding her polos while she chattered away to me, all eager, sunken eyes and shaky legs.
She didn't used to hang out by the gate - she was bloomin' hard to catch! -and she's been losing weight, despite the fresh sprouts of grass in her field from the rain. She also just seems a bit depressed, tired, done. Her owner noticed it when she was over two weeks ago for the vet check "She's just not right" she said sadly. Her owner is very attentive and visits regularly.
It's time. She's in her 30s now, and has had a good life blessed with caring humans. Best not to dither and let her linger on in hope that she might hang on a bit longer. Why make her arthritic joints suffer through the turn in the weather that is upon us now?
But it's the gun that I can't abide, nor what follows.
I understand the gun. There are so many horsewomen that I respect that think the gun is the best way, not just based on economy (though that is a factor for some), but on the basis that it's so quick and the horse knows nothing about it. They aren't afraid of guns, as we are, and a good huntsman, gentle and relaxed with them in their last moments, is much better than the injection. That is argument. Plus it's all so quick, job done, body taken away, no hanging around waiting for arrangements to be made, no emotional trauma for those on the yard working round an outline in a field, or a cold body in a box.
Yeah, I hear that, I understand it, but I could never... It just seems such a violent end for a gentle creature. I do not for a second condemn those who choose that route, but I have a hard time with it myself.
Tomorrow morning, my hope is that I can spend a bit of time with the dear old mare while she enjoys her hay, and I will slip her a piece of liquorice because she loves it so. I will muck out a couple of boxes, and then, if all goes well, I will rouse Max from his sleepy time, saddle up and get the hell off the yard, because even though she will be taken out of sight, if I'm on the yard, I will hear it.
But we have the vet tomorrow for flu jabs, and we have the farrier for feets, and chances are I won't be able to slip away because I'll have to direct traffic and hold horses and listen to that shot.
But before that, there will be liquorice and a cuddle, and then a lovely old coloured mare will leave this world and will be missed by those of us who knew her; me in her retirement years, and her heartbroken owners who also remember her glory days.
She is good horse. I am sad for her passing, but smile in celebration of her life.
Saturday 11 September 2010
And I will sing a lullabye...
I love Saturday mornings, around 9.00 when all the out at night horses are in and settled, have eaten their breakfasts, and most are curled up like pussy cats in their deep straw beds, having a snooze.
This is when I creep in on Max and have a sit down with him.
Today I found him lying down, but head up, awake and somewhat alert, but definitely set for a trip to the land of nod.
So I sat down in the straw next to and him he nudged me for treats.
After a half piece of liquorice, delicately received, I started to sing his lullaby, which is "Kookaburra".
I'd only got to the second line, and he dropped his nose onto my knee, that lovely soft weight!, and his head began to nod, those eyelids drooping.
So I sang on, and gradually, oh so slowly, he stretched completely onto his side, his head in the straw seeking a comfy pillow, inching back, little by little, until he was flat out.
Then snoring with eyes closed.
I sang on, just whispering the words while his ears twitched, and then when he was spark out, slowly, carefully, I started to get up to get on with more mucking out.
He opened one eye as I rose, let out an almighty contented sigh, and slept on, peaceful and safe, just how I like him.
This is when I creep in on Max and have a sit down with him.
Today I found him lying down, but head up, awake and somewhat alert, but definitely set for a trip to the land of nod.
So I sat down in the straw next to and him he nudged me for treats.
After a half piece of liquorice, delicately received, I started to sing his lullaby, which is "Kookaburra".
I'd only got to the second line, and he dropped his nose onto my knee, that lovely soft weight!, and his head began to nod, those eyelids drooping.
So I sang on, and gradually, oh so slowly, he stretched completely onto his side, his head in the straw seeking a comfy pillow, inching back, little by little, until he was flat out.
Then snoring with eyes closed.
I sang on, just whispering the words while his ears twitched, and then when he was spark out, slowly, carefully, I started to get up to get on with more mucking out.
He opened one eye as I rose, let out an almighty contented sigh, and slept on, peaceful and safe, just how I like him.
Friday 10 September 2010
Happy Whuffle to me
It was fortunate that my birthday this year fell on a Friday, which is the day that Max and I have scheduled to do nothing.
It's a productive nothing. We go into the school, Max is at liberty, no headcollar, no saddle, no nothing. He is set free to do what he likes, and I have no intention other than watching him, with nobody around to ask questions or wonder what we're up to or why I'm not riding.
We've had our do nothing Fridays for about a month now, and Max has a good understanding of it. He used to stand expectantly (after his roll) waiting for me to ask something of him. Now he knows I won't, so he has a wander about, sniffing and looking, but always wanders back to where I am.
If he indicates that he would like to try some stuff out, then we do that until something else catches his attention and off he goes again. We spend about an hour just hanging out together quietly like this, and the time just flies by. There is nothing boring to me, about watching Max be a horse.
The brilliant thing about our do nothing Fridays, is that it has the potential for Max magic.
So it was, on my birthday, that Max's gift to me, was magic.
There was laughter, of course, and there was peace. Much time spent standing together nuzzling and lots of attention paid to Max's best itchy spots. He even allowed me to crawl right under him for a proper belly scratch.
After a time, I set myself up on the bench to just sit and watch, and Max wandered over and planted himself, again, in the perfect position for me to mount up, so I did.
Again, he took me to the centre of the school, and then stood, ears slightly back, waiting.
So, like the first time, I nudged his left elbow with my boot and whispered "Spanish". Up came his left leg, hovering and then down. So I nudged his right elbow, and up came his right leg, hovering, and then down.
"Max, you are brilliant!"
That is when I heard, and felt, a deep, rumbling whuffle from my boy. It was gentle and musical, quiet and wonderful.
I slid off his back and he turned his head to face me with soft, unblinking eyes.
"Are you wishing me a happy birthday, my Max?"
Head nod reply.
I don't have to tell you who got all the pony nuts.
It's a productive nothing. We go into the school, Max is at liberty, no headcollar, no saddle, no nothing. He is set free to do what he likes, and I have no intention other than watching him, with nobody around to ask questions or wonder what we're up to or why I'm not riding.
We've had our do nothing Fridays for about a month now, and Max has a good understanding of it. He used to stand expectantly (after his roll) waiting for me to ask something of him. Now he knows I won't, so he has a wander about, sniffing and looking, but always wanders back to where I am.
If he indicates that he would like to try some stuff out, then we do that until something else catches his attention and off he goes again. We spend about an hour just hanging out together quietly like this, and the time just flies by. There is nothing boring to me, about watching Max be a horse.
The brilliant thing about our do nothing Fridays, is that it has the potential for Max magic.
So it was, on my birthday, that Max's gift to me, was magic.
There was laughter, of course, and there was peace. Much time spent standing together nuzzling and lots of attention paid to Max's best itchy spots. He even allowed me to crawl right under him for a proper belly scratch.
After a time, I set myself up on the bench to just sit and watch, and Max wandered over and planted himself, again, in the perfect position for me to mount up, so I did.
Again, he took me to the centre of the school, and then stood, ears slightly back, waiting.
So, like the first time, I nudged his left elbow with my boot and whispered "Spanish". Up came his left leg, hovering and then down. So I nudged his right elbow, and up came his right leg, hovering, and then down.
"Max, you are brilliant!"
That is when I heard, and felt, a deep, rumbling whuffle from my boy. It was gentle and musical, quiet and wonderful.
I slid off his back and he turned his head to face me with soft, unblinking eyes.
"Are you wishing me a happy birthday, my Max?"
Head nod reply.
I don't have to tell you who got all the pony nuts.
Wednesday 1 September 2010
Max Schoolhouse Rocks!
Remember Schoolhouse Rock? Anyone? No? Just me then.
I do remember, and today, Max was introduced to "Number 8".
It all happened because the Grammar Rock song about "Interjections" (which I still know off by heart) was going through my head, so I went and looked them up on YouTube, and they're all there. "Lolly, Lolly, Lolly get your adverbs here" and "I'm just a bill, yes, I'm only a bill and I'm sitting here on Capitol Hill" and oh my goodness, "Figure 8"! How could I have forgotten about that one? I loved it, the gentle, slightly dreamy song with the equally dreamy and funny cartoon.
"Think of eight, as two times four, think of four, as half of eight... If you skate, it would be great, if you could make a figure eight; that's a circle that turns round upon itself..."
So I was singing that to Max today, as we did figure eights in the paddock. The slow cadence of the song helped us keep our rhythm and I sometimes stopped singing and just whistled the tune, while Max's ears worked overtime, pricking ahead to look where he was going, and flicking back to listen to me.
It took my mind off my troubles and put me in the moment with my Max, and he responded beautifully, dancing slowly to the song, and bending elegantly around the curves. Well it felt elegant to me - I'm sure it wasn't that elegant to watch!
The whistling is interesting. I grew up with a daddy who was always whistling tunes, and when he was home I could tell where he was from the sound of whistling. It wasn't a habit I expected to pick up, and I'm nowhere near as good as my dad, but I know now that I whistle too, as does my brother, as does my sister.
Interesting at the yard though, because the neds have become accustomed to my whistling as I go about my duties, and I see them come forward in their boxes with pricked ears as I whistle past them - well, rarely past them, I always have time to stop and offer a wither scratch and a kiss on the neck - and breathe deep while I'm at it - horses smell so wonderful!
Now I want to talk about the sweet chestnut mare who slipped away from my care and protection today. I hope if enough people spare a thought for her, she might end up in safe hands.
There are so many horses we want to save, and we can't save them all. But this girl, I just loved her. She had a bad start, that was obvious, and had learned to be mistrustful of the humans. But she so wanted to trust. Even when she was unsure, scared and acting out, her big, mobile ears were pricked forward, looking for understanding and telling the world she wasn't bad.
She went back to the dealer today. She had been bought to be brought on, "produced" and sold on at a profit, but she proved to be tricky and more of a "project horse" who needs a lot of time, patience and understanding.
I could not bear let her go this morning. We had a long chat, a carrot and some liquorice and a big cuddle. If there is anything witchy in me at all, if there is any justice in the universe, then this little mare is wrapped up warm in protection and love, and she will find a happy home with somebody who is happy to take on a long term project.
But when the time came for her to leave, I got on Max and got off the yard. My last look back over my shoulder showed me her looking back at me with her big donkey ears pricked as she called to me.
I am truly gutted and can only hope she finds a safe road. Dear little thing. She deserves a safe road. They all do. I hope she'll find her way to a loyal heart, gentle voice and soft hand.
Sometimes, I wish I had never looked.
Today, I sang "Figure 8", and Max was elegant through his bends, and a beautiful chestnut mare with big fuzzy ears and a kind eye slipped through my fingers into the unknown, and she took a little piece of my heart with her.
I do remember, and today, Max was introduced to "Number 8".
It all happened because the Grammar Rock song about "Interjections" (which I still know off by heart) was going through my head, so I went and looked them up on YouTube, and they're all there. "Lolly, Lolly, Lolly get your adverbs here" and "I'm just a bill, yes, I'm only a bill and I'm sitting here on Capitol Hill" and oh my goodness, "Figure 8"! How could I have forgotten about that one? I loved it, the gentle, slightly dreamy song with the equally dreamy and funny cartoon.
"Think of eight, as two times four, think of four, as half of eight... If you skate, it would be great, if you could make a figure eight; that's a circle that turns round upon itself..."
So I was singing that to Max today, as we did figure eights in the paddock. The slow cadence of the song helped us keep our rhythm and I sometimes stopped singing and just whistled the tune, while Max's ears worked overtime, pricking ahead to look where he was going, and flicking back to listen to me.
It took my mind off my troubles and put me in the moment with my Max, and he responded beautifully, dancing slowly to the song, and bending elegantly around the curves. Well it felt elegant to me - I'm sure it wasn't that elegant to watch!
The whistling is interesting. I grew up with a daddy who was always whistling tunes, and when he was home I could tell where he was from the sound of whistling. It wasn't a habit I expected to pick up, and I'm nowhere near as good as my dad, but I know now that I whistle too, as does my brother, as does my sister.
Interesting at the yard though, because the neds have become accustomed to my whistling as I go about my duties, and I see them come forward in their boxes with pricked ears as I whistle past them - well, rarely past them, I always have time to stop and offer a wither scratch and a kiss on the neck - and breathe deep while I'm at it - horses smell so wonderful!
Now I want to talk about the sweet chestnut mare who slipped away from my care and protection today. I hope if enough people spare a thought for her, she might end up in safe hands.
There are so many horses we want to save, and we can't save them all. But this girl, I just loved her. She had a bad start, that was obvious, and had learned to be mistrustful of the humans. But she so wanted to trust. Even when she was unsure, scared and acting out, her big, mobile ears were pricked forward, looking for understanding and telling the world she wasn't bad.
She went back to the dealer today. She had been bought to be brought on, "produced" and sold on at a profit, but she proved to be tricky and more of a "project horse" who needs a lot of time, patience and understanding.
I could not bear let her go this morning. We had a long chat, a carrot and some liquorice and a big cuddle. If there is anything witchy in me at all, if there is any justice in the universe, then this little mare is wrapped up warm in protection and love, and she will find a happy home with somebody who is happy to take on a long term project.
But when the time came for her to leave, I got on Max and got off the yard. My last look back over my shoulder showed me her looking back at me with her big donkey ears pricked as she called to me.
I am truly gutted and can only hope she finds a safe road. Dear little thing. She deserves a safe road. They all do. I hope she'll find her way to a loyal heart, gentle voice and soft hand.
Sometimes, I wish I had never looked.
Today, I sang "Figure 8", and Max was elegant through his bends, and a beautiful chestnut mare with big fuzzy ears and a kind eye slipped through my fingers into the unknown, and she took a little piece of my heart with her.
Friday 27 August 2010
Sometimes doing nothing is everything
I am over the moon with my boy, and me, and us!
I have mentioned I prefer being on the ground with Max rather than riding him, but we're not very good at it yet (not that we're brilliant ridden either, but we'll draw a veil over that)
A friend of mine came over to give Max and fuss and watch us lining last week, and she noted (as I often have) that when his tack is on, whether it's saddle, roller, whatever, Max switches off and gives me the dead eye. He'll go through the motions, and sometimes, especially when there is nobody watching, we click and he's superb, but mostly not.
Today, I took Max into the school with no intentions at all. My point was to just be with him, ask nothing of him, and see what happened. I wanted him to understand that sometimes when we go into the school, it's just to hang out. Sometimes, I will ask nothing of him at all. Sometimes it's just about being in the moment.
I had cleared my desk at work, and decided not to do overtime. I put it out of my mind. I had decided groceries and house chores could wait, I had nothing pressing to do other than hang out with Max. No agenda, nowhere else to go, nothing else to do.
YO had the day off and was not on the yard, so that was another mental block out of the way. No pressure felt from disapproval and incredulity at what I think passes for working with my horse.
I closed the school door behind us and took Max's head collar off. He was already pawing the ground as I did that, so I stepped back and he had a roll. I walked away from him.
There was a lot of mooching about and I left him to it. There was also a lot of just hanging out with me, which was fine.
We were in there for a long time. Sometimes he wanted to do stuff, and we did, and sometimes he got distracted so I let him do his thing.
I sat down on the bench we use as a mounting block, and Max spent a lot of time sniffing my boots (I wore them for mucking out that morning, so I expect they smelled interesting!).
I stood up on the bench to see how Max would like me WAY tall, and he thought that was great for scratching his ears, but then he walked away. Eventually he came back and planted himself in the perfect position to hop on his back.
I hadn't been planning to do that, he had nothing on at all, and I didn't have a hat, and I know it wasn't immensely sensible, but in that moment, getting on his back felt like exactly the right thing to do. So I did.
He took me, with a purposeful walk, to the centre of the school, then turned his head to look at me. I sat still and looked back. He was totally relaxed.
He had an itch on his side, so I reached down and helped him, then gave him scritchers on his best itchy spots, and felt like it was a really good thing to be doing - can't really explain why, but it was all so calm and so together, him totally accepting me being up there - well, he always does because he's kind and generous, but this felt different - and me up there with no purpose in mind other than sitting on his back and being with him.
I sat back up, nudged his elbow with my toe then whispered "Spanish".
I have tried and tried to get Max to do his Spanish stamp from the saddle and he never does it. He looks confused or resolute with a Bartleby the Scrivener "I would prefer not to" vibe.
He'll do it if I'm on the ground, with somebody else in the saddle even, but never with just me up there on my own.
But today,with the merest whisper and the slightest nudge, he gathered himself, looking perfectly majestic. I felt all those muscles tweak, felt him prepare and gather himself, sort his balance like it was all in slow motion, and then up came that leg, high and then hovering there, like it was the most natural thing in the world for us to be together with nothing, but claiming our rights to everything.
It felt... amazing! Absolutely bloody amazing. What came from him, the willingness, the... oh! the grace and the power and the gift. It was incredible.
I'm sure it was nothing to watch, but to feel... I wish I could find the word.
Max and me, we're just a hairy, stubborn, comedy pony and his hapless know-nothing human. But today, in that moment, we were Amazing.
I slid off his back and looked him in the eye. The moment held for a few more seconds as he looked back at me, an ancient and wise thing.
Then my big grin broke the magic: "Max, you are BRILLIANT!"
Max shrugged off tall, elegant stallion cloak and became smiley, hairy Fjord pony again; nodded his head enthusiastically and accepted his pony nut prize as we became just us again.
What a pony though! And what a full heart, what a smile still on my face.
Horses are just... just... need a new word that has never been uttered before, that is sacred, musical and awesome just for horses.
I have mentioned I prefer being on the ground with Max rather than riding him, but we're not very good at it yet (not that we're brilliant ridden either, but we'll draw a veil over that)
A friend of mine came over to give Max and fuss and watch us lining last week, and she noted (as I often have) that when his tack is on, whether it's saddle, roller, whatever, Max switches off and gives me the dead eye. He'll go through the motions, and sometimes, especially when there is nobody watching, we click and he's superb, but mostly not.
Today, I took Max into the school with no intentions at all. My point was to just be with him, ask nothing of him, and see what happened. I wanted him to understand that sometimes when we go into the school, it's just to hang out. Sometimes, I will ask nothing of him at all. Sometimes it's just about being in the moment.
I had cleared my desk at work, and decided not to do overtime. I put it out of my mind. I had decided groceries and house chores could wait, I had nothing pressing to do other than hang out with Max. No agenda, nowhere else to go, nothing else to do.
YO had the day off and was not on the yard, so that was another mental block out of the way. No pressure felt from disapproval and incredulity at what I think passes for working with my horse.
I closed the school door behind us and took Max's head collar off. He was already pawing the ground as I did that, so I stepped back and he had a roll. I walked away from him.
There was a lot of mooching about and I left him to it. There was also a lot of just hanging out with me, which was fine.
We were in there for a long time. Sometimes he wanted to do stuff, and we did, and sometimes he got distracted so I let him do his thing.
I sat down on the bench we use as a mounting block, and Max spent a lot of time sniffing my boots (I wore them for mucking out that morning, so I expect they smelled interesting!).
I stood up on the bench to see how Max would like me WAY tall, and he thought that was great for scratching his ears, but then he walked away. Eventually he came back and planted himself in the perfect position to hop on his back.
I hadn't been planning to do that, he had nothing on at all, and I didn't have a hat, and I know it wasn't immensely sensible, but in that moment, getting on his back felt like exactly the right thing to do. So I did.
He took me, with a purposeful walk, to the centre of the school, then turned his head to look at me. I sat still and looked back. He was totally relaxed.
He had an itch on his side, so I reached down and helped him, then gave him scritchers on his best itchy spots, and felt like it was a really good thing to be doing - can't really explain why, but it was all so calm and so together, him totally accepting me being up there - well, he always does because he's kind and generous, but this felt different - and me up there with no purpose in mind other than sitting on his back and being with him.
I sat back up, nudged his elbow with my toe then whispered "Spanish".
I have tried and tried to get Max to do his Spanish stamp from the saddle and he never does it. He looks confused or resolute with a Bartleby the Scrivener "I would prefer not to" vibe.
He'll do it if I'm on the ground, with somebody else in the saddle even, but never with just me up there on my own.
But today,with the merest whisper and the slightest nudge, he gathered himself, looking perfectly majestic. I felt all those muscles tweak, felt him prepare and gather himself, sort his balance like it was all in slow motion, and then up came that leg, high and then hovering there, like it was the most natural thing in the world for us to be together with nothing, but claiming our rights to everything.
It felt... amazing! Absolutely bloody amazing. What came from him, the willingness, the... oh! the grace and the power and the gift. It was incredible.
I'm sure it was nothing to watch, but to feel... I wish I could find the word.
Max and me, we're just a hairy, stubborn, comedy pony and his hapless know-nothing human. But today, in that moment, we were Amazing.
I slid off his back and looked him in the eye. The moment held for a few more seconds as he looked back at me, an ancient and wise thing.
Then my big grin broke the magic: "Max, you are BRILLIANT!"
Max shrugged off tall, elegant stallion cloak and became smiley, hairy Fjord pony again; nodded his head enthusiastically and accepted his pony nut prize as we became just us again.
What a pony though! And what a full heart, what a smile still on my face.
Horses are just... just... need a new word that has never been uttered before, that is sacred, musical and awesome just for horses.
Tuesday 24 August 2010
Poor Max is unemployed!
Was talking to YO yesterday, can’t even remember about what, and she said, categorically and not for the first time “A horse is not a pet. Horses are far too expensive to be pets. A horse needs a job, and if they don’t have one, then there is no use for them.”
Did I protest? No, because there’s no point challenging her on this stuff.
One, I don’t understand how she can be so firm and unrelenting with her opinions on just about everything. How do you learn stuff if you never listen to another point of view? And even with all her experience and knowledge – which granted, is a lot and I do rate a lot of it very highly indeed – just because I don’t have the same experience and knowledge doesn’t mean she can’t learn something even from lowly me. We can learn stuff from anybody and everybody, sometimes in unexpected and marvellous ways. It pays huge dividends to be open to that.
Two, why can’t Max be a pet? Surely it’s my call on the expense, and if he’s healthy and happy, then who is it hurting?
Of course Max is a pet! He’s got no job other than being a happy horse and being with me.
YO has been away for two weeks on hols and it has been bliss because Max and I have just been doing lots of “play” at liberty work. We’re not very good at it, but I love it best of all, him buck nekkid and so eager and attentive. He does like to stick really close to me though, which can get a bit much with the flailing hooves of canter. I’m going to get better at this though, because we both enjoy it so much.
So since he’s unemployed and all, do you think I could send him off to Winchester to apply for Job Seeker’s allowance? The extra dosh would come in handy… Except he would probably offer to take his pay in polos and carrots.
Did I protest? No, because there’s no point challenging her on this stuff.
One, I don’t understand how she can be so firm and unrelenting with her opinions on just about everything. How do you learn stuff if you never listen to another point of view? And even with all her experience and knowledge – which granted, is a lot and I do rate a lot of it very highly indeed – just because I don’t have the same experience and knowledge doesn’t mean she can’t learn something even from lowly me. We can learn stuff from anybody and everybody, sometimes in unexpected and marvellous ways. It pays huge dividends to be open to that.
Two, why can’t Max be a pet? Surely it’s my call on the expense, and if he’s healthy and happy, then who is it hurting?
Of course Max is a pet! He’s got no job other than being a happy horse and being with me.
YO has been away for two weeks on hols and it has been bliss because Max and I have just been doing lots of “play” at liberty work. We’re not very good at it, but I love it best of all, him buck nekkid and so eager and attentive. He does like to stick really close to me though, which can get a bit much with the flailing hooves of canter. I’m going to get better at this though, because we both enjoy it so much.
So since he’s unemployed and all, do you think I could send him off to Winchester to apply for Job Seeker’s allowance? The extra dosh would come in handy… Except he would probably offer to take his pay in polos and carrots.
Tuesday 3 August 2010
That's not a bolt, it's just bogging off!
... sniffed my YO.
Sure as hell felt like a bolt to me!
We were along a high ridge overlooking the downs. Deep drop down to one side, bush and barbed wire to the other, and ahead, WAY ahead, three choices: a steep hill down to the left, a stile and barbed wire fence to a field straight ahead, and an even steeper hill that we have trouble negotiating when we're sedate to the right. All tracks rutted by tractors with rabbit holes either side. The track on the right was the way home.
Don't know what set Max off. He was being tormented by flies, properly going mental with them and we were brisk trotting to get away from them, then a sudden noise from the bushes behind us, a brief pause where everything hung still for just a moment while Max collected himself and I had time to wonder what next, then KERBLOOEY! Like a racer responding to the starter’s gun, Max exploded forth!
Max was flat out and not listening. Yeah, he spooks, he scoots forward a couple of steps at speed, and then he listens and stops. Not this time, not scooting, not listening; he felt completely different and not connected to me at all. Blind panic.
It felt like it was happening forever. I guess it was actually maybe 20 to 30 seconds. Maybe less than that. Probably less than that, to be honest, but we were shifting it some, going so fast while time stood still in my head.
All I can remember thinking is “FFS don't fall off because you'll break!”
Looking back now, I'm pretty chuffed that despite little voice in my head saying "ohmygodohmygodohmygod", big voice in my head stayed calm, looking at the path ahead, calculating risk, thinking my way out of it.
Once I realised I wasn't going to fall unless something really untoward happened (like that's not a possibility chimed in alarmed little voice) it was just a matter of getting Max back to me before he had a chance to make the three way choice, which frankly, left to him, was going to be a bad decision for us no matter which way he chose.
I ended up stretched along the length of his neck, my mouth next to his ear, my hands grasping the reins right by the rings of his bit.
"No, Max! Whoa!" (thank God for clicker training "whoa" in ground and ridden work) and big squeeze on the reins, lifting the pressure up.
OK, that was crap. Not elegant, no finesse, but it did the trick. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Max came to a quivering halt just as we reached the cross roads of the three choices, but he was alight, crackling and pinging, like an explosion ready to happen.
Took me about a nano second to decide that we didn't now want to negotiate the steep hill home with me in saddle, so dismounted and that sent him into loopy again, just the shift of weight. I told him to get hold of himself very firmly, and we walked down the hill - pranced sideways down the hill with rolling eyes and red, blowing, flared nostrils and straining to burst away.
Then I got back up and rode him home.
But that's not a bolt, it's just bogging off. Whatever, I can still feel everything jangling under my skin.
Tomorrow morning, weather permitting, I'll take a break from the yard before the flies get bad, and we'll re-trace our route to prove to both of us we can.
The good things about Mr Max's wild ride? It's happened now, and we did OK. I stayed calm, and Max came back to me, even in proper, full on Arab mist, even in hand down that stupid hill, while I watched his worried eyes and strong neck bunching up against my hand, a firm "No, you will not lose your shit, you will listen to me now because I WILL get us home safe, sir" worked.
It worked because of all the silly, needless ground work we've put in over the past few months. I'm convinced of that.
Bloody hell, what a ride! And what a good Max, even if he is a nut job sometimes.
Sure as hell felt like a bolt to me!
We were along a high ridge overlooking the downs. Deep drop down to one side, bush and barbed wire to the other, and ahead, WAY ahead, three choices: a steep hill down to the left, a stile and barbed wire fence to a field straight ahead, and an even steeper hill that we have trouble negotiating when we're sedate to the right. All tracks rutted by tractors with rabbit holes either side. The track on the right was the way home.
Don't know what set Max off. He was being tormented by flies, properly going mental with them and we were brisk trotting to get away from them, then a sudden noise from the bushes behind us, a brief pause where everything hung still for just a moment while Max collected himself and I had time to wonder what next, then KERBLOOEY! Like a racer responding to the starter’s gun, Max exploded forth!
Max was flat out and not listening. Yeah, he spooks, he scoots forward a couple of steps at speed, and then he listens and stops. Not this time, not scooting, not listening; he felt completely different and not connected to me at all. Blind panic.
It felt like it was happening forever. I guess it was actually maybe 20 to 30 seconds. Maybe less than that. Probably less than that, to be honest, but we were shifting it some, going so fast while time stood still in my head.
All I can remember thinking is “FFS don't fall off because you'll break!”
Looking back now, I'm pretty chuffed that despite little voice in my head saying "ohmygodohmygodohmygod", big voice in my head stayed calm, looking at the path ahead, calculating risk, thinking my way out of it.
Once I realised I wasn't going to fall unless something really untoward happened (like that's not a possibility chimed in alarmed little voice) it was just a matter of getting Max back to me before he had a chance to make the three way choice, which frankly, left to him, was going to be a bad decision for us no matter which way he chose.
I ended up stretched along the length of his neck, my mouth next to his ear, my hands grasping the reins right by the rings of his bit.
"No, Max! Whoa!" (thank God for clicker training "whoa" in ground and ridden work) and big squeeze on the reins, lifting the pressure up.
OK, that was crap. Not elegant, no finesse, but it did the trick. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Max came to a quivering halt just as we reached the cross roads of the three choices, but he was alight, crackling and pinging, like an explosion ready to happen.
Took me about a nano second to decide that we didn't now want to negotiate the steep hill home with me in saddle, so dismounted and that sent him into loopy again, just the shift of weight. I told him to get hold of himself very firmly, and we walked down the hill - pranced sideways down the hill with rolling eyes and red, blowing, flared nostrils and straining to burst away.
Then I got back up and rode him home.
But that's not a bolt, it's just bogging off. Whatever, I can still feel everything jangling under my skin.
Tomorrow morning, weather permitting, I'll take a break from the yard before the flies get bad, and we'll re-trace our route to prove to both of us we can.
The good things about Mr Max's wild ride? It's happened now, and we did OK. I stayed calm, and Max came back to me, even in proper, full on Arab mist, even in hand down that stupid hill, while I watched his worried eyes and strong neck bunching up against my hand, a firm "No, you will not lose your shit, you will listen to me now because I WILL get us home safe, sir" worked.
It worked because of all the silly, needless ground work we've put in over the past few months. I'm convinced of that.
Bloody hell, what a ride! And what a good Max, even if he is a nut job sometimes.
Saturday 24 July 2010
How Now Loud Cow?
Ho hum. Another boring ol' hour long hack on boring ol' Maxo Relaxo without incident.
He just can't seem to work himself up into a fizz about anything, and is all co-operative and laid back, like a comfy armchair parked, with a pouf, in front of the telly with a bucket of hot buttered popcorn and some soporific film to nod off to with a vague smile and feeling of comfort and good will.
Well, mostly that. It wouldn't be a Max story if there wasn't a comedy pony incident to throw into the mix.
It came almost at the end of our hack, as we negotiated our way between two fields of grazing cows. One side the dairy herd, the other, a few isolated babies and their mommas.
Max grew up in a field with cows, so they don't really bother him generally, but there was one momma on our right side with a straining full udder. She had one quite young calf on one side having a go, and on the other, well Max could not work it out. A bigger calf, who had to kneel down on his front knees in order to reach the low slung, heaving full udder of plenty.
He stopped and looked for quite a long time, trying to work out what manner of creature was kneeling calf.
"Where his front legs go, eh? How does he walk? What the heck is he doing?"
At this point, one of the dairy herd cows came over to have a look at us and have a moo.
This started a moo off, between all the dairy cows on the one side, and the isolated cows and calves on the other.
Moo! Moo! MOO!
Then I started to moo back at them from the saddle. Max mooved off, but I kept mooing, and so did the cows. Max got cross with me.
"Cease and desist!" he snorted. "So rude! You're encouraging them and they're talking absolute gibberish. Something about the quality of butter drips off toasted crumpets. It's crazy talk! Stop it now, they're following us. Be told!"
He shook his head with indignation and trotted on.
That's when one lone sheep in another paddock chose to show itself and bleat, and Max did a Riverdance. Well, not so much the flailing legs of Flatley but perhaps more of a Bambi on ice all four legs out and splayed as Max finally lost his cool.
But hey, it was just for a second. He collected his cool back, gave one last snort of derision to the bold and talkative farm critters, and trotted for home.
I seem to have created... a happy hacker?!
And tomorrow is another day. He may yet show me his Arab mist again. I am wondering if the timing of hacks whilst on morning yard shift is helping me? He's a little drowsy in the morning, so perhaps that is a good and helpful thing. Whatever it is, it's good! We'll ride the wave while it's there to be ridden, and deal with the rest when it comes up.
He just can't seem to work himself up into a fizz about anything, and is all co-operative and laid back, like a comfy armchair parked, with a pouf, in front of the telly with a bucket of hot buttered popcorn and some soporific film to nod off to with a vague smile and feeling of comfort and good will.
Well, mostly that. It wouldn't be a Max story if there wasn't a comedy pony incident to throw into the mix.
It came almost at the end of our hack, as we negotiated our way between two fields of grazing cows. One side the dairy herd, the other, a few isolated babies and their mommas.
Max grew up in a field with cows, so they don't really bother him generally, but there was one momma on our right side with a straining full udder. She had one quite young calf on one side having a go, and on the other, well Max could not work it out. A bigger calf, who had to kneel down on his front knees in order to reach the low slung, heaving full udder of plenty.
He stopped and looked for quite a long time, trying to work out what manner of creature was kneeling calf.
"Where his front legs go, eh? How does he walk? What the heck is he doing?"
At this point, one of the dairy herd cows came over to have a look at us and have a moo.
This started a moo off, between all the dairy cows on the one side, and the isolated cows and calves on the other.
Moo! Moo! MOO!
Then I started to moo back at them from the saddle. Max mooved off, but I kept mooing, and so did the cows. Max got cross with me.
"Cease and desist!" he snorted. "So rude! You're encouraging them and they're talking absolute gibberish. Something about the quality of butter drips off toasted crumpets. It's crazy talk! Stop it now, they're following us. Be told!"
He shook his head with indignation and trotted on.
That's when one lone sheep in another paddock chose to show itself and bleat, and Max did a Riverdance. Well, not so much the flailing legs of Flatley but perhaps more of a Bambi on ice all four legs out and splayed as Max finally lost his cool.
But hey, it was just for a second. He collected his cool back, gave one last snort of derision to the bold and talkative farm critters, and trotted for home.
I seem to have created... a happy hacker?!
And tomorrow is another day. He may yet show me his Arab mist again. I am wondering if the timing of hacks whilst on morning yard shift is helping me? He's a little drowsy in the morning, so perhaps that is a good and helpful thing. Whatever it is, it's good! We'll ride the wave while it's there to be ridden, and deal with the rest when it comes up.
Thursday 22 July 2010
PS
Reading back, that last one is pretty flat story telling for me (I was barely awake, it has to be said) but I am still so chuffed and about what Max did, both the leaving ponies he wanted to follow, and the incident with the dog.
We have had so many troubles with his "Arab Mist" and spent so much time, sometimes quite frustrating time and also sometimes wonderful inspiring time filled with laughter and applause, going right back to basics and doing such simple (to other eyes) ground work, and "circus pony tricks" with clicker training.
"Why aren't you riding him?" "You have to WORK it out of him!" "Horses aren't pets, they need a job!" blah blah, blah in the background. "How did he go today? You're not working him hard enough." "He's getting fat." "You need his respect!" and on and on until I just about wanted to pull my own head off.
So I ignored the back chat from the peanut gallery and followed my own path. When I say "ignored" I don't mean I didn't hear the back chat. Oh, I heard it all right, and it kept me awake at night sometimes, full of doubt, losing confidence in myself, wondering if I was letting Max down and then screwing my courage to the sticking place and getting up the next morning and trying again.
And it often felt like we were just playing, like we weren't really achieving anything but Spanish Stamp and "gimme a kiss gorgeous!" Going through obstacle courses, backwards and hands-free, doing in hand, working on transitions and lateral work, all by the seat of our pants and figuring out what worked for us.
But now, I know we have achieved something, and it's something pretty special.
Will the back-chatters notice? Course not! I have done nothing worth noticing. All I've done is FINALLY got Max going and obeying like all good horses should do, and it's about time too. Certainly nothing to crow about!
Well cock a flippin' doodle doooo anyway!
I will crow because what we have achieved, small as it is, maybe momentary as it is (tomorrow's another day with another Big Bad to face) we didn't get there through force or submission, we got there through playing and patience, experimenting and larking about. And a bit of determination and resolve too.
It's not a flat story, it's a story of great promise and respect.
Max really is magic and he's coaxed the best out of me so I can coax the best out of him.
Well, he wouldn't want me getting big headed about this stuff, but every now and then, he shows me I'm doing OK, and yesterday's hackette, that's what he did. All those hours sweating and laughing in the school resulted in Max responding to a finger twitch on the reins and an asking voice.
So I'm giving Max a dancing ovation
We have had so many troubles with his "Arab Mist" and spent so much time, sometimes quite frustrating time and also sometimes wonderful inspiring time filled with laughter and applause, going right back to basics and doing such simple (to other eyes) ground work, and "circus pony tricks" with clicker training.
"Why aren't you riding him?" "You have to WORK it out of him!" "Horses aren't pets, they need a job!" blah blah, blah in the background. "How did he go today? You're not working him hard enough." "He's getting fat." "You need his respect!" and on and on until I just about wanted to pull my own head off.
So I ignored the back chat from the peanut gallery and followed my own path. When I say "ignored" I don't mean I didn't hear the back chat. Oh, I heard it all right, and it kept me awake at night sometimes, full of doubt, losing confidence in myself, wondering if I was letting Max down and then screwing my courage to the sticking place and getting up the next morning and trying again.
And it often felt like we were just playing, like we weren't really achieving anything but Spanish Stamp and "gimme a kiss gorgeous!" Going through obstacle courses, backwards and hands-free, doing in hand, working on transitions and lateral work, all by the seat of our pants and figuring out what worked for us.
But now, I know we have achieved something, and it's something pretty special.
Will the back-chatters notice? Course not! I have done nothing worth noticing. All I've done is FINALLY got Max going and obeying like all good horses should do, and it's about time too. Certainly nothing to crow about!
Well cock a flippin' doodle doooo anyway!
I will crow because what we have achieved, small as it is, maybe momentary as it is (tomorrow's another day with another Big Bad to face) we didn't get there through force or submission, we got there through playing and patience, experimenting and larking about. And a bit of determination and resolve too.
It's not a flat story, it's a story of great promise and respect.
Max really is magic and he's coaxed the best out of me so I can coax the best out of him.
Well, he wouldn't want me getting big headed about this stuff, but every now and then, he shows me I'm doing OK, and yesterday's hackette, that's what he did. All those hours sweating and laughing in the school resulted in Max responding to a finger twitch on the reins and an asking voice.
So I'm giving Max a dancing ovation
Max the Bold
Two mouthed abominations, rogue Tesco bags and snaky looking branches across the path ahead aside, when it comes to proper drama and a “real” threat, Max is brave and he listens.
We had a lovely hackette yesterday morning, early so before the flies were too bad and before it got hot. Not early enough though, to avoid meeting some friends on their way back to the yard at the top of our first hill. Max was keen to stay with Gin and Monty but after a quick chat off they went and off we went – admittedly it took a bit of convincing that yes, I really did want to go in the opposite direction, but Max metaphorically shrugged his shoulders and gave in without any real fuss.
Nothing of note really; beautiful day, Maxo-Relaxo of the swinging belly and swivelling, listening ears.
On the way home, we were heading up a gentle slope and the ground was not so hard, so we had a little trot, then a teensy canter and then I regretfully slowed Max down because we were reaching a crossing of bridleways with obstructed vision, so I didn’t want us to bound into anybody.
As we reached the spot, suddenly Max flattened and shot forward several steps. Two things happened then in the slow/quick time where everything goes so fast, but you still have time to think and see in slow motion.
1. I didn’t think I was going to be able stop him because he was obviously proper freaked out.
2. I glanced behind to see what had caused our invisible trouble and saw an unleashed spaniel jumping up at Max’s hinds.
The next thing that happened was Max stopped, responding to my auto-pilot “Steady”. We turned to look.
“Just a dog, Max,” I said.
“A stupid, rude, hoof to the head dog if he comes any closer. SHOO!”
The dog scampered off, no owner in sight, Max and I carried on home, and Max wasn’t coiled for more spooking, but went right back to relaxed and willing..
I’m really proud of him. He had every reason to get his freak on this time, but he didn’t.
Another Good Day!
We had a lovely hackette yesterday morning, early so before the flies were too bad and before it got hot. Not early enough though, to avoid meeting some friends on their way back to the yard at the top of our first hill. Max was keen to stay with Gin and Monty but after a quick chat off they went and off we went – admittedly it took a bit of convincing that yes, I really did want to go in the opposite direction, but Max metaphorically shrugged his shoulders and gave in without any real fuss.
Nothing of note really; beautiful day, Maxo-Relaxo of the swinging belly and swivelling, listening ears.
On the way home, we were heading up a gentle slope and the ground was not so hard, so we had a little trot, then a teensy canter and then I regretfully slowed Max down because we were reaching a crossing of bridleways with obstructed vision, so I didn’t want us to bound into anybody.
As we reached the spot, suddenly Max flattened and shot forward several steps. Two things happened then in the slow/quick time where everything goes so fast, but you still have time to think and see in slow motion.
1. I didn’t think I was going to be able stop him because he was obviously proper freaked out.
2. I glanced behind to see what had caused our invisible trouble and saw an unleashed spaniel jumping up at Max’s hinds.
The next thing that happened was Max stopped, responding to my auto-pilot “Steady”. We turned to look.
“Just a dog, Max,” I said.
“A stupid, rude, hoof to the head dog if he comes any closer. SHOO!”
The dog scampered off, no owner in sight, Max and I carried on home, and Max wasn’t coiled for more spooking, but went right back to relaxed and willing..
I’m really proud of him. He had every reason to get his freak on this time, but he didn’t.
Another Good Day!
Wednesday 14 July 2010
Carry on my wayward pone...
...no more napping, almost home,
Where you'll turn your head to me
And stretch for carrots, three.
(with apologies to "Kansas")
Finally a break in the weather here in England-land. It's been dry and hot, horse flies abundant, neds tormented by them, making hacking unpleasant because of the hard ground, relentless heat and nasty biting insects.
The school has not been much better, softer ground, less buzzing pests, but hot, hot, hot and dusty.
We've had a few goes at this and that: long lining, working in the paddock, and the occasional desperate "charge!" on the great outdoors. With the dry weather, the pony paddock where Max spends his leisure time is pretty slim pickings for grazing, so any forays out make him all about what he can get in his belly... until the head shaking and stomping to fend off irritating insects puts paid to that and we have a frantic trot home in a cloud of midges.
But yesterday, the temperature dropped, the clouds covered the sun and there was the smell of rain in the air.
We started off in the school, working on trot poles, ridden. Max enjoys the trot poles and gets a little over-excited about them. I had him at stand in the middle of the school whilst making an adjustment to my stirrups, and Max decided to take himself back over the poles instead.
After that, a little bit of work on canter transitions. We are at early days with this, but I have found I am beginning to be able to correct Max's diagonal cantering progress by putting more weight into my outside foot - straightens us up a treat. Well, it had been doing, but Max, already excited about the trot poles, got very excited about the canter and we got snorting, cavorting and all I could see from the saddle was crazy legs flailing like he was trying to start a new dance craze.
We went for a very short hack after that. I was on yard shift for the morning, so no time to stray too far from home adventuring. This went well, a little napping by the cows, but that was easily dealt with.
On the way home, we approached a gaggle of humans stood outside a gas lorry. Max pricked his ears with interest at this vision on his horizon, and I felt him tense, but he kept moving forward. This was "just curious" tension, rather than "I'm gonna blow!" tension.
The gas man opened a back hatch on his lorry in preparation and this caused Max some concern.
"The creature has opened its mouth yet does not move. Surely walking towards it cannot be wise?"
"It's fine, Max, just people and a harmless lorry."
We went on. Then the man opened a second hatch and began to uncoil a black hose used for gas delivery.
"DANGER! WRONG! UNNATURAL! What in the name of all that is hoofed can this be?!" Max stood rigid. "A snake! The Abomination has a mouth AND a snake!"
Before I had a chance to placate or decide whether it would be best to dismount and give Max my protection from the ground (in my opinion he had every right to be dismayed and wary at this point) one of the onlookers turned, smiled and spoke:
"Hello Max! What sort of contraption can this be, eh?"
Max relaxed slightly as he recognised the voice of our friend, the Gardener, who saved the day by turning to the gas man and asking him to stop what he was doing until Max had made his way safely past.
We did this at a sideways trot, nodding my head in thanks to the gas man and the Gardener whilst Max protected his bottom from attack, just in case.
A pony having had such a fright surely deserves to have his grass reins removed and a chance to have bit of nosh of lush grass by the school, doesn't he? And so it was.
And then the rain finally came.
Where you'll turn your head to me
And stretch for carrots, three.
(with apologies to "Kansas")
Finally a break in the weather here in England-land. It's been dry and hot, horse flies abundant, neds tormented by them, making hacking unpleasant because of the hard ground, relentless heat and nasty biting insects.
The school has not been much better, softer ground, less buzzing pests, but hot, hot, hot and dusty.
We've had a few goes at this and that: long lining, working in the paddock, and the occasional desperate "charge!" on the great outdoors. With the dry weather, the pony paddock where Max spends his leisure time is pretty slim pickings for grazing, so any forays out make him all about what he can get in his belly... until the head shaking and stomping to fend off irritating insects puts paid to that and we have a frantic trot home in a cloud of midges.
But yesterday, the temperature dropped, the clouds covered the sun and there was the smell of rain in the air.
We started off in the school, working on trot poles, ridden. Max enjoys the trot poles and gets a little over-excited about them. I had him at stand in the middle of the school whilst making an adjustment to my stirrups, and Max decided to take himself back over the poles instead.
After that, a little bit of work on canter transitions. We are at early days with this, but I have found I am beginning to be able to correct Max's diagonal cantering progress by putting more weight into my outside foot - straightens us up a treat. Well, it had been doing, but Max, already excited about the trot poles, got very excited about the canter and we got snorting, cavorting and all I could see from the saddle was crazy legs flailing like he was trying to start a new dance craze.
We went for a very short hack after that. I was on yard shift for the morning, so no time to stray too far from home adventuring. This went well, a little napping by the cows, but that was easily dealt with.
On the way home, we approached a gaggle of humans stood outside a gas lorry. Max pricked his ears with interest at this vision on his horizon, and I felt him tense, but he kept moving forward. This was "just curious" tension, rather than "I'm gonna blow!" tension.
The gas man opened a back hatch on his lorry in preparation and this caused Max some concern.
"The creature has opened its mouth yet does not move. Surely walking towards it cannot be wise?"
"It's fine, Max, just people and a harmless lorry."
We went on. Then the man opened a second hatch and began to uncoil a black hose used for gas delivery.
"DANGER! WRONG! UNNATURAL! What in the name of all that is hoofed can this be?!" Max stood rigid. "A snake! The Abomination has a mouth AND a snake!"
Before I had a chance to placate or decide whether it would be best to dismount and give Max my protection from the ground (in my opinion he had every right to be dismayed and wary at this point) one of the onlookers turned, smiled and spoke:
"Hello Max! What sort of contraption can this be, eh?"
Max relaxed slightly as he recognised the voice of our friend, the Gardener, who saved the day by turning to the gas man and asking him to stop what he was doing until Max had made his way safely past.
We did this at a sideways trot, nodding my head in thanks to the gas man and the Gardener whilst Max protected his bottom from attack, just in case.
A pony having had such a fright surely deserves to have his grass reins removed and a chance to have bit of nosh of lush grass by the school, doesn't he? And so it was.
And then the rain finally came.
Monday 7 June 2010
Ole!
Here, we are preparing for Spanish Stomp.Took Max into the jumping paddock for a bit of lining and in hand. I expected trouble because the paddock is full of tempting grass, and Max is on restricted grazing. He was very good though, tried it on a few times, but we're both getting a bit better at communication and co-operation, so what was very difficult last summer was less so this summer.
After some fine work on the lines, we decided to have a photo session of Max being magnificent, and he did not disappoint.
The rope I am holding high is not part of the command, it it just holding it out of his way so he doesn't get tangled in it.
Finally, please feast your eyes on my beautiful boy! Is he not swoonsome?
We have come so far, and this summer is telling me just how far. I had him out for a hack last week, and after one wrenched back brought on by a grazing swoop, I opted for fixing the grass reins I devised last summer. Off we went, Max's head in control and me feeling like he was comfy, but unable to unseat me in his quest for candy.Only Max wasn't comfy. As we went on, he became more and more distressed by the restriction, and I came to feel it wasn't frustration because he couldn't graze, it was frustration at the restriction itself. We've worked so hard on light hands, light mouth, quick reactions to tiny pressure, fingers just squeezing, that the grass reins that were such a help last year, this year, are almost a punishment.
As Max's distress escalated, and I realised it wasn't just a protest, it was proper distress, I hopped off and took the grass reins off, walking him the rest of the way home, which wasn't far away by that point.
I wondered if it was the bit (back in his Pee Wee) and if I should try the grass reins in the scrubs bit with a little more give, but before that, I decided to try him out with no grass reins at all. Much better! Yes, he had a snatch or two, but so easily countered with just a word and a squeeze from me. There is no need to hold him in so tight.
Max is not the same pony he was last summer, nor am I the same rider. Our journey together continues to enlighten and delight me, and sometimes the progress we have made goes unnoticed by me until it stands up and gives me a cuff round the ears.
This is why it's so important to continue to listen to my wonderful horse. We are a partnership evolving, and some stuff that we once needed to guide and help us is now surplus to requirements.
My life with my beautiful horse continues to teach me lessons that are so valuable and reach beyond the realms of our relationship.
For that I am grateful and, here's that word again, humbled.
Max is my kind teacher as much as I am his. May it always be so. I waited for him for so long, dreamed of him since childhood, and now that he is here, he is beyond every dream and wish.
Just a horse? In your dreams!
Friday 28 May 2010
Straw potato
Max's skills at adapting his environment to suit his comfort have reached a new plateau.
I thought it was a one off, but now, three days in a row I have found him lying down contently in his bed, straw stuck in his forelock and mane from a good stretch and scratch, quietly munching hay that has been dragged over from its usual spot in the corner of his box to one more convenient atop his straw bed. This way it is within easy reach of his chomping gnashers: breakfast in bed.
Max can't reach his hay spot from his prone position, therefore he must move it before he lies down, with intention and forethought.
When it comes to creature comforts, as with most things. Max knows where his priorities are.
I thought it was a one off, but now, three days in a row I have found him lying down contently in his bed, straw stuck in his forelock and mane from a good stretch and scratch, quietly munching hay that has been dragged over from its usual spot in the corner of his box to one more convenient atop his straw bed. This way it is within easy reach of his chomping gnashers: breakfast in bed.
Max can't reach his hay spot from his prone position, therefore he must move it before he lies down, with intention and forethought.
When it comes to creature comforts, as with most things. Max knows where his priorities are.
Monday 17 May 2010
Aw! All grown up!
Had a hellacious day at the yard. Lots of stuff going on, preparing for the arrival of my sister from Canada and was hoping to start early and leave early, but it wasn't to be. The lovelies have their stuff and you can't rush them through any of it.
We have a new mare who is not settling, a clever, gentle ginger giant who releases himself under his own guidance for a yard wander, and lots of horses staying in for visits from their owners who needed skipping out and haying up to keep them occupied.
And Max. Well, as it happened, today both of Max's field mates were being held back, so I held Max back too because he's not been a horse happy to be in a field on his own in our time together.
We have history here. Before I bought him, he spent a time in a field (swamp) on his own with no Other Horses, and he just about coped but he was not happy. Then he came back to our village and lived in a field with his mum again for a spell.
That didn't work out so well, for lots of reasons, and I moved him to a yard that I thought would be just the ticket, but I'd been forewarned by his previous owners that "Max can never be in a stable! He climbs out of them. You must NEVER put him in a stable!"
Well, we got round that one without too much trouble. He lived out, but I would bring him into a spare box, put food down, stay with him while he ate it, and then take him out again.
Then, I would stand outside his door while he ate, then take him out again.
Then, I would wander away and give him a bit more time on his own, but be close by. He settled, and he was fine. We turned being into a stable into something that was a good thing, and Max loves his home comforts now, to the point that I think if God forbid, he ever needs box rest, we'll be able to cope just fine. He's Maxo Relaxo.
But things changed at that other yard, and not for the good. Had I only known then what I know now, but we can all say that about different phases of our lives.
I was working the yard to earn Max's keep, but while I was doing that, the Yard Manager filled up all the boxes with liveries, and there were no spares for Max to practice or have respite in.
So he was left out most of the time, but YM's horses were also out in the next field, so he was never totally alone, and when I was on the yard in the mornings, I'd bring him into a spare box once I'd mucked out and released the others into the field, and Max would stay happily in a spare box, watching my every move and nickering for a bit of attention.
Then things changed more. The fields got poached, liveries left and the YM's horses moved into the spare boxes and spent their nights, and Max was left as the only horse out at night. Lone horse in a field. Not the kind of life horses are wired for at all.
He had his mates brought out to him during the day, but they went back to their boxes at about 4.00 pm and Max was beside himself, calling for company. It broke my heart to leave him like that, desperate and alone.
Then in the morning I would pitch up at half seven to start work, and there Max would be, at the gate and calling as soon as he saw my car. I'd take him hay, but all he wanted was to come in from the field with me. I'd try to find a space for him as soon as I could, so I could bring him in to have dry him off and warm him up, and give him the comfort of a herd; me and the horses that were still in. Even if it just meant tying him on the yard I was working with a hay net, just so he wasn't on his own.
Happy as a clam he'd be then, munching and watching, but then the time would come to take him back to his lonely field and he would protest, then call after me as I left.
I hated those days with a hot hatred. That yard was in free fall going bad, and even when Max finally got his own box, I knew I had to get him out of there, he became so clingy and needy. Just not right at all.
So we moved to our present yard, where Max is happy has grown in confidence and is settled in his world. The routine is faultless and generally, Max was never left on his own in a field. On the rare occasions that it did happen, he would again stand by the gate and call after me as I walked away.
But time marches on, and Max and I have had many adventures.
Today, finally, at the end of all my chores, I had to face taking Max out to his field alone, because I couldn't stay any longer. I took a pear, and his mint lick to ease the pain and prepared myself to be heart sore.
As we trod that path, I met my YO just returning to the yard from her house and told her to expect some talking from Max. I even set my mobile phone up to record because I thought if Max gave a belting few neighs, I would use them as a ring tone.
So in we went, gate closed, pear. Max went off to his water trough and had a long drink.
He was alert, looking for his mates, but mates there were none, so he came back to me and had a go at his mint lick.
"Are you OK, Max? I'm going now, lots to do. Your friends will be here soon, I promise. You won't be alone for long."
Big blink.
"OK, I'm going, now. See you tomorrow, God bless."
Another big blink.
Closed the gate, put the chain on, walked away.
Not a sound. Switched phone off recording option. Turned back.
"Bye Max."
"See ya, lady!" head down, eating grass.
"I'm really going now, Max. No kidding."
Head up, big expressive eyes.
"I'm OK, mum, go do your stuff. Don't worry."
"Sure?"
"Sure."
Oh! My grown up boy!
Bittersweet. Glad he's not bovvered, slightly sad he didn't try to call me back, but also so happy that he didn't feel the need.
Back on the yard, saw YO in feed room and said, "My boy is all grown up! Not a word."
"He's a sensible pony now. Good on him."
Yes, he is. Mostly. Except for when he isn't. But for today, really glad that Max feels so self-contained. A bit of time on his own in a field is no longer something for him to worry about.
Aw... they grow up so fast.
We have a new mare who is not settling, a clever, gentle ginger giant who releases himself under his own guidance for a yard wander, and lots of horses staying in for visits from their owners who needed skipping out and haying up to keep them occupied.
And Max. Well, as it happened, today both of Max's field mates were being held back, so I held Max back too because he's not been a horse happy to be in a field on his own in our time together.
We have history here. Before I bought him, he spent a time in a field (swamp) on his own with no Other Horses, and he just about coped but he was not happy. Then he came back to our village and lived in a field with his mum again for a spell.
That didn't work out so well, for lots of reasons, and I moved him to a yard that I thought would be just the ticket, but I'd been forewarned by his previous owners that "Max can never be in a stable! He climbs out of them. You must NEVER put him in a stable!"
Well, we got round that one without too much trouble. He lived out, but I would bring him into a spare box, put food down, stay with him while he ate it, and then take him out again.
Then, I would stand outside his door while he ate, then take him out again.
Then, I would wander away and give him a bit more time on his own, but be close by. He settled, and he was fine. We turned being into a stable into something that was a good thing, and Max loves his home comforts now, to the point that I think if God forbid, he ever needs box rest, we'll be able to cope just fine. He's Maxo Relaxo.
But things changed at that other yard, and not for the good. Had I only known then what I know now, but we can all say that about different phases of our lives.
I was working the yard to earn Max's keep, but while I was doing that, the Yard Manager filled up all the boxes with liveries, and there were no spares for Max to practice or have respite in.
So he was left out most of the time, but YM's horses were also out in the next field, so he was never totally alone, and when I was on the yard in the mornings, I'd bring him into a spare box once I'd mucked out and released the others into the field, and Max would stay happily in a spare box, watching my every move and nickering for a bit of attention.
Then things changed more. The fields got poached, liveries left and the YM's horses moved into the spare boxes and spent their nights, and Max was left as the only horse out at night. Lone horse in a field. Not the kind of life horses are wired for at all.
He had his mates brought out to him during the day, but they went back to their boxes at about 4.00 pm and Max was beside himself, calling for company. It broke my heart to leave him like that, desperate and alone.
Then in the morning I would pitch up at half seven to start work, and there Max would be, at the gate and calling as soon as he saw my car. I'd take him hay, but all he wanted was to come in from the field with me. I'd try to find a space for him as soon as I could, so I could bring him in to have dry him off and warm him up, and give him the comfort of a herd; me and the horses that were still in. Even if it just meant tying him on the yard I was working with a hay net, just so he wasn't on his own.
Happy as a clam he'd be then, munching and watching, but then the time would come to take him back to his lonely field and he would protest, then call after me as I left.
I hated those days with a hot hatred. That yard was in free fall going bad, and even when Max finally got his own box, I knew I had to get him out of there, he became so clingy and needy. Just not right at all.
So we moved to our present yard, where Max is happy has grown in confidence and is settled in his world. The routine is faultless and generally, Max was never left on his own in a field. On the rare occasions that it did happen, he would again stand by the gate and call after me as I walked away.
But time marches on, and Max and I have had many adventures.
Today, finally, at the end of all my chores, I had to face taking Max out to his field alone, because I couldn't stay any longer. I took a pear, and his mint lick to ease the pain and prepared myself to be heart sore.
As we trod that path, I met my YO just returning to the yard from her house and told her to expect some talking from Max. I even set my mobile phone up to record because I thought if Max gave a belting few neighs, I would use them as a ring tone.
So in we went, gate closed, pear. Max went off to his water trough and had a long drink.
He was alert, looking for his mates, but mates there were none, so he came back to me and had a go at his mint lick.
"Are you OK, Max? I'm going now, lots to do. Your friends will be here soon, I promise. You won't be alone for long."
Big blink.
"OK, I'm going, now. See you tomorrow, God bless."
Another big blink.
Closed the gate, put the chain on, walked away.
Not a sound. Switched phone off recording option. Turned back.
"Bye Max."
"See ya, lady!" head down, eating grass.
"I'm really going now, Max. No kidding."
Head up, big expressive eyes.
"I'm OK, mum, go do your stuff. Don't worry."
"Sure?"
"Sure."
Oh! My grown up boy!
Bittersweet. Glad he's not bovvered, slightly sad he didn't try to call me back, but also so happy that he didn't feel the need.
Back on the yard, saw YO in feed room and said, "My boy is all grown up! Not a word."
"He's a sensible pony now. Good on him."
Yes, he is. Mostly. Except for when he isn't. But for today, really glad that Max feels so self-contained. A bit of time on his own in a field is no longer something for him to worry about.
Aw... they grow up so fast.
Monday 10 May 2010
Cheeky chops
Finding the right bit is a continuing challenge/nightmare.
In an effort to keep Max's cheeky chops untroubled, I decided to try him in his Tom Thumb Scrubs bit again. The "Tom Thumb" has a bit of a reputation as a harsh bit, but that's if you don't know there's an American version, and a UK version. The UK version, sweet iron, jointed with three copper rollers to play with at the joint, and copper inlays at the side to play against the sides of his tongue is a moderate bit. There are brakes, if necessary, but a sweet tasting bit with things to play with, which gets the mouth working and salivating softly. As always, a bit is as harsh as the hands that guide it and if I have nothing else, I have gentle hands - I'm far too aware of Max's delicate mouth to be too strong with him.
I have been using a bit loaned by my YO for ages now, and though Max has been OK in it (OK enough that I was considering buying my own). But for allthat, there has been something nagging me about it, something that just didn't feel right, so I thought we'd have a change, I'd give YO her bit back and see how we went. There was no more intent in this than I was cleaning my bridle and thought it a good opportunity to swap bits over.
YO turned up while I was doing the swap, and I told her the bit was fine, but I'd had it long enough and I'd get my own so she could have it back. This was really just a polite explanation; I was grateful for the loan and wanted to say something pleasant about it as I handed it back. It was kind, after all, for her to let me have it for so long.
It has been a long time, but I've not been using the borrowed bit consistently, swapping Max around with bitless and his Pee Wee as well. Thank God for that, in retrospect.
I had thought the borrowed bit was a bog standard "French link" with the typical lozenge in the middle. To my horror, in response to my "I'll buy my own" was advice that the particular bit we were using is very good for getting horses "lighter" and, "Oh, it's not a French lozenge, by the way. I know it looks like one. But if you're looking to buy your own, it's called a Dr Bristol."
I wonder if the horror registered on my my face when YO said those words. I don't think it did.
Good Lord! I had no idea! Dr Bristol bits have a reputation as one of the strongest (harshest) bits around. I hadn't noticed that the lozenge was angled, and I know there's an argument that it's better to put pressure on the horse's tongue rather than the bars, but God's truth, I would never knowingly have stuck a Dr Bristol in Max's gob and I'm thinking back now on corrective pressure I used when he was evading that I never would have used if I'd known what I was dealing with!
Thank goodness I always strive to be light with my hands, and I just use pressure by squeezing with my fingers (like squeezing water from a sponge) then release, as opposed to putting my forearms, biceps and even back into it. But even so! My poor Max and his delicate mouth! What an assault on that tender tissue.
No, I certainly won't be getting one of those to replace the one I've handed back! I feel now like I've been careless for not noticing, and for not paying attention earlier to my misgivings about that bit, even though I couldn't put my finger on why I was having those misgivings. Max never objected strenuously, but there was something about it that just didn't feel right to me. Now I know, and I am aghast that I unwittingly put such a harsh thing in his poor mouth.
But now we are back in the Tom Thumb, and Max is happy and going well. He's so responsive (he always is when we do an initial change of bit) and had a pleasingly relaxed look in his eye.
He is still not adverse to playing his old evasion tricks but I'm getting much better at reading his body language and knowing how to deal with his mischief.
It's a bit tricky working out pressure and release with my hands with Max, because he's such a cheeky monkey! I can usually see when he's about to evade my direction. Max is no good at disguising his intentions, he'll go along perfectly nicely, but when he gets to that turn (usually on the left rein), his ear cocks towards where he's thinking of going instead, and I can see an unmistakable glint in his eye that forewarns me.
So if I'm quick off the mark, I can check his next move by applying slightly more pressure to the inside rein and positioning myself to get him round the turn without deaking out on me.
I can either counteract it completely with encouraging praise, or if not quite quick enough, I can bring him to a halt and ask for him to back up a couple of steps, then silently put him back in position, or sometimes if all is lost and going a bit wayward, I can ask him do something completely different for a while and then get him back in position to where we were and ask again.
But the tricky bit: If I succeed on my check and get him round the turn (with praise) then that would be the ideal time to release the pressure from my hand as a reward. Thing is, if I do release then, the little monkey will take the release and bloomin' well turn and go through with his evasion! He's not so green as cabbage looking, my Max.
He doesn't do that every time, but often enough that it's making it really tricky for me to know whether to release pressure or not. If I do, he might fake me out, but if I don't, then I'm just applying pressure with no release and Max isn't learning that if he yields, things gets instantly easier (reward).
Why the evasion? No real reason other than Max being Max. He'd rather play than work, and he does it because he can.
Today, though, his auntie H gave me some brilliant advice: "Why not try reverse psychology?" If Max wants to evade, or looks like he's planning to evade then make it my decision to go in the direction of his planned evasion before he has a chance to do it himself!
Brilliant! So simple and so stunningly brilliant! Make me wonder why I didn't think of it myself. D'oh!
So, just keep Max so busy with changes of direction that he won't know which way he's about to go, so he can't plan the evasion and instead, he'll just have to switch his focus to me being busy with him.
Might take a while to work it out, I'm not expecting it to be easy, but it will keep us both on our toes, and is an easy, non-confrontational way to work out the problem without getting into a battle of wills about it.
Auntie H is a genius! Max won't think so, but as much as it will draw a line under his games, it's a very kind way for us to go forward, playing, not fighting. As it should be.
Auntie H is Max's good friend, and in his heart, he knows it. As do I, that's why she gives such good advice - she loves Max, and takes his snorts of protest with good humour (and she's always good for a herby treat, so Max will always forgive her).
In an effort to keep Max's cheeky chops untroubled, I decided to try him in his Tom Thumb Scrubs bit again. The "Tom Thumb" has a bit of a reputation as a harsh bit, but that's if you don't know there's an American version, and a UK version. The UK version, sweet iron, jointed with three copper rollers to play with at the joint, and copper inlays at the side to play against the sides of his tongue is a moderate bit. There are brakes, if necessary, but a sweet tasting bit with things to play with, which gets the mouth working and salivating softly. As always, a bit is as harsh as the hands that guide it and if I have nothing else, I have gentle hands - I'm far too aware of Max's delicate mouth to be too strong with him.
I have been using a bit loaned by my YO for ages now, and though Max has been OK in it (OK enough that I was considering buying my own). But for allthat, there has been something nagging me about it, something that just didn't feel right, so I thought we'd have a change, I'd give YO her bit back and see how we went. There was no more intent in this than I was cleaning my bridle and thought it a good opportunity to swap bits over.
YO turned up while I was doing the swap, and I told her the bit was fine, but I'd had it long enough and I'd get my own so she could have it back. This was really just a polite explanation; I was grateful for the loan and wanted to say something pleasant about it as I handed it back. It was kind, after all, for her to let me have it for so long.
It has been a long time, but I've not been using the borrowed bit consistently, swapping Max around with bitless and his Pee Wee as well. Thank God for that, in retrospect.
I had thought the borrowed bit was a bog standard "French link" with the typical lozenge in the middle. To my horror, in response to my "I'll buy my own" was advice that the particular bit we were using is very good for getting horses "lighter" and, "Oh, it's not a French lozenge, by the way. I know it looks like one. But if you're looking to buy your own, it's called a Dr Bristol."
I wonder if the horror registered on my my face when YO said those words. I don't think it did.
Good Lord! I had no idea! Dr Bristol bits have a reputation as one of the strongest (harshest) bits around. I hadn't noticed that the lozenge was angled, and I know there's an argument that it's better to put pressure on the horse's tongue rather than the bars, but God's truth, I would never knowingly have stuck a Dr Bristol in Max's gob and I'm thinking back now on corrective pressure I used when he was evading that I never would have used if I'd known what I was dealing with!
Thank goodness I always strive to be light with my hands, and I just use pressure by squeezing with my fingers (like squeezing water from a sponge) then release, as opposed to putting my forearms, biceps and even back into it. But even so! My poor Max and his delicate mouth! What an assault on that tender tissue.
No, I certainly won't be getting one of those to replace the one I've handed back! I feel now like I've been careless for not noticing, and for not paying attention earlier to my misgivings about that bit, even though I couldn't put my finger on why I was having those misgivings. Max never objected strenuously, but there was something about it that just didn't feel right to me. Now I know, and I am aghast that I unwittingly put such a harsh thing in his poor mouth.
But now we are back in the Tom Thumb, and Max is happy and going well. He's so responsive (he always is when we do an initial change of bit) and had a pleasingly relaxed look in his eye.
He is still not adverse to playing his old evasion tricks but I'm getting much better at reading his body language and knowing how to deal with his mischief.
It's a bit tricky working out pressure and release with my hands with Max, because he's such a cheeky monkey! I can usually see when he's about to evade my direction. Max is no good at disguising his intentions, he'll go along perfectly nicely, but when he gets to that turn (usually on the left rein), his ear cocks towards where he's thinking of going instead, and I can see an unmistakable glint in his eye that forewarns me.
So if I'm quick off the mark, I can check his next move by applying slightly more pressure to the inside rein and positioning myself to get him round the turn without deaking out on me.
I can either counteract it completely with encouraging praise, or if not quite quick enough, I can bring him to a halt and ask for him to back up a couple of steps, then silently put him back in position, or sometimes if all is lost and going a bit wayward, I can ask him do something completely different for a while and then get him back in position to where we were and ask again.
But the tricky bit: If I succeed on my check and get him round the turn (with praise) then that would be the ideal time to release the pressure from my hand as a reward. Thing is, if I do release then, the little monkey will take the release and bloomin' well turn and go through with his evasion! He's not so green as cabbage looking, my Max.
He doesn't do that every time, but often enough that it's making it really tricky for me to know whether to release pressure or not. If I do, he might fake me out, but if I don't, then I'm just applying pressure with no release and Max isn't learning that if he yields, things gets instantly easier (reward).
Why the evasion? No real reason other than Max being Max. He'd rather play than work, and he does it because he can.
Today, though, his auntie H gave me some brilliant advice: "Why not try reverse psychology?" If Max wants to evade, or looks like he's planning to evade then make it my decision to go in the direction of his planned evasion before he has a chance to do it himself!
Brilliant! So simple and so stunningly brilliant! Make me wonder why I didn't think of it myself. D'oh!
So, just keep Max so busy with changes of direction that he won't know which way he's about to go, so he can't plan the evasion and instead, he'll just have to switch his focus to me being busy with him.
Might take a while to work it out, I'm not expecting it to be easy, but it will keep us both on our toes, and is an easy, non-confrontational way to work out the problem without getting into a battle of wills about it.
Auntie H is a genius! Max won't think so, but as much as it will draw a line under his games, it's a very kind way for us to go forward, playing, not fighting. As it should be.
Auntie H is Max's good friend, and in his heart, he knows it. As do I, that's why she gives such good advice - she loves Max, and takes his snorts of protest with good humour (and she's always good for a herby treat, so Max will always forgive her).
Sunday 9 May 2010
A trick of the light?
Something strange happened today with Max and me.
We were longlining in the indoor school for the first time in ages. Max was trying his Tom Thumb Scrubs bit again, which he hasn't had in for about a year. It has copper inlays to press against the side of his tongue, and three little copper rings to play with in the middle. I don't think the bit was responsible for what followed though, I think it was just Max and me.
I strayed from his side to behind, still directing with my hands and voice, and Max continued forward with confidence. We changed direction with ease, no faffing or having to go the long way round, just a slight change of pressure with my hands, a slight change of body position, and Max didn't miss a beat, but put himself exactly where I was asking him to go.
So we upped the tempo to trot and carried on, on big circles, on small circles, changing direction, changing pace and then, well then I said "Canter" and Max cantered, not a few steps, but until I said "And.... trot... Max, walk..." and then he did his transitions down to stand when asked.
Granted, I didn't have him cantering for ages, just a few circuits around on each lead so who knows what would have happened if I'd tried to keep him going longer? We can attempt that another day. For now, it's still win/win and quit while we're ahead.
But if you'd happened to walk into the school today and observed us in session, you would be forgiven for thinking that it looked like we knew what we were doing!
We were longlining in the indoor school for the first time in ages. Max was trying his Tom Thumb Scrubs bit again, which he hasn't had in for about a year. It has copper inlays to press against the side of his tongue, and three little copper rings to play with in the middle. I don't think the bit was responsible for what followed though, I think it was just Max and me.
I strayed from his side to behind, still directing with my hands and voice, and Max continued forward with confidence. We changed direction with ease, no faffing or having to go the long way round, just a slight change of pressure with my hands, a slight change of body position, and Max didn't miss a beat, but put himself exactly where I was asking him to go.
So we upped the tempo to trot and carried on, on big circles, on small circles, changing direction, changing pace and then, well then I said "Canter" and Max cantered, not a few steps, but until I said "And.... trot... Max, walk..." and then he did his transitions down to stand when asked.
Granted, I didn't have him cantering for ages, just a few circuits around on each lead so who knows what would have happened if I'd tried to keep him going longer? We can attempt that another day. For now, it's still win/win and quit while we're ahead.
But if you'd happened to walk into the school today and observed us in session, you would be forgiven for thinking that it looked like we knew what we were doing!
Tuesday 20 April 2010
That look on his face...
Max has a very expressive face, and I have come to know that there are two particular expressions, worried confusion vs stubborn "I'm not doing it" that have a very subtle difference, so I am learning to watch very carefully to discern between the two.
If Max is having a moment of "Nyah, nyah, nyah, not gonna do it your way" then I can be firm and forceful and get after him with a stomp and a huff.
If, however, the look is "I'm not sure what you're asking and I don't want to get it wrong" then the stomp and huff is the last thing I should do.
Max is generally eager to please and he tries his heart out for me. He loves the enthusiastic "Yes! Max, that's brilliant! How clever are you?" He gets puffed up and excited, and eagerly waits for the next instruction so he can do it again.
But when we are trying something new, even a variation on a theme, he becomes unsure and will stand still, not offering anything because, I think, he doesn't want to get it wrong.
I can't explain to him that there is no "wrong" so I have to be very careful to read him well and interpret the difference between "No I don't want to" against, "I'm not sure" and let my own actions, voice and body language reassure and encourage him.
Today we were in the dusty indoor school, going through our paces. His "Spanish Stamp" is coming along so well. We can easily do it at liberty with a big mix of different instructions.
One, two three steps, and my hand up for "whoa". A tickle at his elbow and I get an extravagent leg lift and stomp. A finger between his fronts and he tucks into a handsome bow, point at his quarters and he moves them over, hand flat on his shoulder and he moves his shoulder away, stand at his head, eye contact, point and say "back", and he steps back quickly and now, almost in a straight line. No confusion, not hesitation, he's up for all of that.
Today, we were trying to move on, using a long line, a long whip (slow re-introduction of the long whip) and going out on a big circle around me to see if we could still get the occasional "STAMP".
I started at his side with the whip. I wrapped up the tailing end and poked him in his Spanish Stamp place with the whip end, rather than my finger.
The look of confusion.
So I tried again with my hand. Up went his leg.
Then the whip end. Look of confusion.
Then the whip end with my foot also raised up and stamping. "Max, Spanish!" I saw him watching my leg then blinking - Max was thinking.
I could see he was trying to take it in, but he wasn't sure. I waited. I asked again, tapping with the whip end.
He stood, but his shoulder muscle twitched and his weight shifted. I watched, waited, and asked again.
A tiny foot raise. No extravagent movement, but a hesitant one, "I'm not sure...Is it this?"
Tiny foot raise got big praise and a pony nut. "That's it, Max! Brilliant boy."
We tried again, and he reponded with a bit more confidence.
"Yay! That's it Max! It's different, but it's the same. You're getting it!"
We continued, and as his confidence grew, I moved further away for the ask, until I was at some distance. Again, his big "stamps" became tiny, hesitant little lifts, but the more praise he got, the more his confidence grew.
Then I sent him out on a big circle at trot for a bit, brought him back to walk and asked again.
Nothing but a furrowed brow.
I moved closer and pointed, with my leg also raised. A shoulder twitch.
Closer again, asked again and up came the tiniest twitch of a raised foot.
Big praise, I moved away and asked again and proper leg up and out, greeted by enthusiasm and a big handful of pony nuts. He can sleep on that and we will try again tomorrow.
It is slow progress, but it is progress and it's all about watching my quite clever pony work it out and learn. It is fascinating and gratifying to watch him learn, and is is humbling to see him trying so hard to give me what I ask for.
We had a slight breakthrough moment today too, when after all that, I unclipped his line and he walked back down the school at my shoulder, his head went down and he managed a raise of left foreleg, then right, in his version of proper moving forward "Stamp" with alternate legs.
I hadn't asked for it, but to my mind, it was Max catching on and putting it all together, so although he didn't get a click/treat, he did get a mighty big fuss, and Max likes that, too.
We went the long way back to the yard, along the lane, and I asked for Stamp while we went, and he gave it to me, just one leg at a time.
He is such a generous, willing, eager creature! His delight in delighting me is a treasure beyond words. And my delight in Max knows no bounds.
If Max is having a moment of "Nyah, nyah, nyah, not gonna do it your way" then I can be firm and forceful and get after him with a stomp and a huff.
If, however, the look is "I'm not sure what you're asking and I don't want to get it wrong" then the stomp and huff is the last thing I should do.
Max is generally eager to please and he tries his heart out for me. He loves the enthusiastic "Yes! Max, that's brilliant! How clever are you?" He gets puffed up and excited, and eagerly waits for the next instruction so he can do it again.
But when we are trying something new, even a variation on a theme, he becomes unsure and will stand still, not offering anything because, I think, he doesn't want to get it wrong.
I can't explain to him that there is no "wrong" so I have to be very careful to read him well and interpret the difference between "No I don't want to" against, "I'm not sure" and let my own actions, voice and body language reassure and encourage him.
Today we were in the dusty indoor school, going through our paces. His "Spanish Stamp" is coming along so well. We can easily do it at liberty with a big mix of different instructions.
One, two three steps, and my hand up for "whoa". A tickle at his elbow and I get an extravagent leg lift and stomp. A finger between his fronts and he tucks into a handsome bow, point at his quarters and he moves them over, hand flat on his shoulder and he moves his shoulder away, stand at his head, eye contact, point and say "back", and he steps back quickly and now, almost in a straight line. No confusion, not hesitation, he's up for all of that.
Today, we were trying to move on, using a long line, a long whip (slow re-introduction of the long whip) and going out on a big circle around me to see if we could still get the occasional "STAMP".
I started at his side with the whip. I wrapped up the tailing end and poked him in his Spanish Stamp place with the whip end, rather than my finger.
The look of confusion.
So I tried again with my hand. Up went his leg.
Then the whip end. Look of confusion.
Then the whip end with my foot also raised up and stamping. "Max, Spanish!" I saw him watching my leg then blinking - Max was thinking.
I could see he was trying to take it in, but he wasn't sure. I waited. I asked again, tapping with the whip end.
He stood, but his shoulder muscle twitched and his weight shifted. I watched, waited, and asked again.
A tiny foot raise. No extravagent movement, but a hesitant one, "I'm not sure...Is it this?"
Tiny foot raise got big praise and a pony nut. "That's it, Max! Brilliant boy."
We tried again, and he reponded with a bit more confidence.
"Yay! That's it Max! It's different, but it's the same. You're getting it!"
We continued, and as his confidence grew, I moved further away for the ask, until I was at some distance. Again, his big "stamps" became tiny, hesitant little lifts, but the more praise he got, the more his confidence grew.
Then I sent him out on a big circle at trot for a bit, brought him back to walk and asked again.
Nothing but a furrowed brow.
I moved closer and pointed, with my leg also raised. A shoulder twitch.
Closer again, asked again and up came the tiniest twitch of a raised foot.
Big praise, I moved away and asked again and proper leg up and out, greeted by enthusiasm and a big handful of pony nuts. He can sleep on that and we will try again tomorrow.
It is slow progress, but it is progress and it's all about watching my quite clever pony work it out and learn. It is fascinating and gratifying to watch him learn, and is is humbling to see him trying so hard to give me what I ask for.
We had a slight breakthrough moment today too, when after all that, I unclipped his line and he walked back down the school at my shoulder, his head went down and he managed a raise of left foreleg, then right, in his version of proper moving forward "Stamp" with alternate legs.
I hadn't asked for it, but to my mind, it was Max catching on and putting it all together, so although he didn't get a click/treat, he did get a mighty big fuss, and Max likes that, too.
We went the long way back to the yard, along the lane, and I asked for Stamp while we went, and he gave it to me, just one leg at a time.
He is such a generous, willing, eager creature! His delight in delighting me is a treasure beyond words. And my delight in Max knows no bounds.
Wednesday 14 April 2010
Is that your nose or are you eating a banana?
I had the vet out to see Max today.
When he was about four years old, very soon after he became mine, a bump developed slightly above his left nostril. We suspected that he'd been stung by a wasp (the yard he was at was rife with the angry buzzers that summer). The bump never went down.
When I moved to my current yard in Spring the next year, I asked the vet in attendance for flu jabs to have a look, and he told me it was a benign cyst, purely a cosmetic matter and that I shouldn't worry about it.
So I didn't. I kept an eye on it though, and noticed that sometimes it seemed to have grown a little. Every now and again I'd feel inside his nostril too, where there was also a little bump, but basically nothing changed. Until this past weekend.
I thought it looked bigger again, that bump. I put my fingers up Max's nose for a feel (no, he certainly did NOT like that) and was shocked to feel a bump the size of a golf ball, which felt like it was full of liquid.
Hence today's vet visit. I wanted to know if the change was sinister, if I should be doing something about it, if it was going to interfere with Max's breathing, if he was going to need it drained or worse still, an operation to remove it.
So today, after an almost sleepless night of worry, I have learned about atheromatous cysts, because that is what Max has.
This was not caused by a wasp sting; Max was born with it. They generally don't show themselves until the horse is about four years old, and then in about another four years, they become quite a bit more noticeable. Max is a textbook case.
The cyst forms in the false nostril and as it is made up of skin cells, they keep multiplying to produce more skin cells, so the lump keeps growing. It is painless, harmless and will not now or ever obstruct Max's breathing or turn into something nasty.
So we talked about options. Yes, I could have it surgically removed, and no, it wouldn't grow back. If I don't have it surgically removed, it will continue to grow and Max will eventually have quite a large lump on his face. It won't bother him, it will just be there looking lumpy.
Horses are quite tricky with general anaesthetic, and an operation of this kind would require GA. Standing under sedation would not be favoured by any surgeon because of the location; you really need the horse to keep his head perfectly still while the operation is taking place.
Draining the cyst is not an option and could just make matters worse: "Bacteria would love the chance to get into a spot like that!" my vet said.
So we talked, I considered that if an operation was going to happen at all, it would be better to do it while Max is young and fit, but there still is the risk of general anaesthetic. For something life-threatening, or a condition that will probably cause future health issues (like the operation Max had in 2008)then the risk is worth it. But is it worth it for this?
So I asked my vet "What would you do if Max was your horse?"
He smiled and said, "You know if you look at most vet's horses, you'll see all kinds of weird and wonderful lumps, bumps and minor complaints that aren't interfering with the horse's quality of life, so they are left alone. If Max was my horse, I'd do nothing at all. I'd call it his 'special lump'."
That is exactly what I am going to do: Nothing.
Max is healthy, he's safe and he will always be my lovely horse no matter how bulbous his nose gets.
When he was about four years old, very soon after he became mine, a bump developed slightly above his left nostril. We suspected that he'd been stung by a wasp (the yard he was at was rife with the angry buzzers that summer). The bump never went down.
When I moved to my current yard in Spring the next year, I asked the vet in attendance for flu jabs to have a look, and he told me it was a benign cyst, purely a cosmetic matter and that I shouldn't worry about it.
So I didn't. I kept an eye on it though, and noticed that sometimes it seemed to have grown a little. Every now and again I'd feel inside his nostril too, where there was also a little bump, but basically nothing changed. Until this past weekend.
I thought it looked bigger again, that bump. I put my fingers up Max's nose for a feel (no, he certainly did NOT like that) and was shocked to feel a bump the size of a golf ball, which felt like it was full of liquid.
Hence today's vet visit. I wanted to know if the change was sinister, if I should be doing something about it, if it was going to interfere with Max's breathing, if he was going to need it drained or worse still, an operation to remove it.
So today, after an almost sleepless night of worry, I have learned about atheromatous cysts, because that is what Max has.
This was not caused by a wasp sting; Max was born with it. They generally don't show themselves until the horse is about four years old, and then in about another four years, they become quite a bit more noticeable. Max is a textbook case.
The cyst forms in the false nostril and as it is made up of skin cells, they keep multiplying to produce more skin cells, so the lump keeps growing. It is painless, harmless and will not now or ever obstruct Max's breathing or turn into something nasty.
So we talked about options. Yes, I could have it surgically removed, and no, it wouldn't grow back. If I don't have it surgically removed, it will continue to grow and Max will eventually have quite a large lump on his face. It won't bother him, it will just be there looking lumpy.
Horses are quite tricky with general anaesthetic, and an operation of this kind would require GA. Standing under sedation would not be favoured by any surgeon because of the location; you really need the horse to keep his head perfectly still while the operation is taking place.
Draining the cyst is not an option and could just make matters worse: "Bacteria would love the chance to get into a spot like that!" my vet said.
So we talked, I considered that if an operation was going to happen at all, it would be better to do it while Max is young and fit, but there still is the risk of general anaesthetic. For something life-threatening, or a condition that will probably cause future health issues (like the operation Max had in 2008)then the risk is worth it. But is it worth it for this?
So I asked my vet "What would you do if Max was your horse?"
He smiled and said, "You know if you look at most vet's horses, you'll see all kinds of weird and wonderful lumps, bumps and minor complaints that aren't interfering with the horse's quality of life, so they are left alone. If Max was my horse, I'd do nothing at all. I'd call it his 'special lump'."
That is exactly what I am going to do: Nothing.
Max is healthy, he's safe and he will always be my lovely horse no matter how bulbous his nose gets.
Monday 12 April 2010
Pal Joey
Today marks the passing of a rather splendid pony.
Joey was 36 years old, maybe 37. He's been around so long, nobody is exactly sure of just how old he is. Was.
He has lived on our yard for as long as anybody can remember, a fixture, head out over the box looking for a rub and a polo, trotting gamely out to his field every afternoon, and then dragging whoever was bringing him in the next morning with his eagerness to eat his breakfast. Once across the lane and safely in the yard, you could just sling his lead rope over his neck and let him find his own way to his box because he would go ahead and take his own self in there and tuck in.
On one occasion last summer, whilst he was tied up for mucking out, but not released into the wild yet, he got his "Sod this for a game of soldiers" head on, broke free, and finding the gate open, navigated his own way to his field and sorted himself out, no help from any of us on the yard.
We were aghast that he'd broken free, that the gate had been left waywardly open, that he'd crossed a lane on his own (traffic smart boy though, and not a busy lane) and got himself settled. But there you have it, Joey knew his routine, knew what he wanted and when he wanted it and was quite single minded about getting it.
He taught so many local kids how to ride. He was a confidence builder back in the day, and my friend, the Baker, said her daughter had her very first lone hack on Joey, probably about 15 years ago.
Up until last year, he was still taking the occasional little un out for an in hand hack, steady and careful with his charges, and always kind. We put a stop to that when he got a little too frail and thin looking, although I expect if we'd asked, Joey would still have been willing. We was so kindly and gentle with the little ones. With us bigger ones, he was a bit more cheeky, because he knew we could take it!
Last Autumn he was losing lots of weight and we worried about whether he could make it through another winter. Had the vet out and blood tests, which proved inconclusive. They noted that something wasn't right, but without further intrusive investigations, they couldn't tell what. He was too old for that kind of invasive investigation, so vet suggested a steroid injection to help with his stiffness and get his condition up,and we'd see what happened.
What happened was that Joey sailed through the harshest English winter we've had in decades. What happened was that he continued to be the yard mascot, coddled, groomed, given the choicest treats on offer from every hand that walked past his box, because we loved him and loved to see him happy. Nobody could pass Joey's door without stopping to give him a fuss and offer a carrot bite, a mint, a few pony nuts, all of which he accepted with gusto and a hopeful nudge for more.
The back of his box was open to the hay barn, and also a convenient tying up spot for other horses in transit (getting their rugs changed, getting groomed and tacked up for a ride) and Joey would be there, eager to say hello, share his hay, get a mutual grooming session going on. He would not stand for bad behaviour though, and nor would I.
"Shame on you," I'd say to any upstart who dared to menace him. "Joey is our elder statesman. Show some respect!"
Joey was not easily menaced though, and very forgiving, to both his human and equine friends. And canine, come to think of it. Oh, and rodent, because he had a few mice take up residence in his box that he tolerated quite well (less well than the yard staff, judging by the "EEEEKS!").
But this morning, that changed. YO looked out her bedroom window in the morning and saw him lying down. Not typical behaviour. She hurried outside and he raised his head, got up, trotted over to the yard, but as soon as he got to his box, made ready to lie down again.
Definitely not right, so he was walked around the yard and vet was called. Colic was suspected.
It was colic. Just a small colic, caught very early, so our boy was in no distress. He was given a pain killer, the vet investigated to see if it was something simple, but it wasn't. His gut was twisted and the only solution was an op. End of the road for our dear old gent.
So it was that Joey left us.
The yard is not the same without him. That familiar, ever present, wise old head no longer hangs out over the stable door, beckoning us over for a fuss and a carrot.
I am so glad that Saturday afternoon was partly spent giving him a good scratch and lifting clumps of moulting hair off him with our fingertips, while he preened and wibbled his bottom lip with the joy of our gentle ministrations.
I am so glad that he made it through the hard winter and had a few days of being out in his field naked, with the sun on his bum, as we left rugging him up against the chilly night air as late as we could.
I am so glad that my last working encounter with him on Saturday was full of laughter and he dragged me across the yard with his eagerness.
I am so glad that on Sunday, when I was over to do stuff with Max, I slipped Joey a little piece of liquorice and told him he was handsome and grand.
And I am so sorry that he left today and I didn't get a chance to say goodbye.
Godspeed, dear little old man. You were a gentleman and I am so grateful to have known you. I wish upon all the horses a life like you had, dear Joey. A gentle, happy, long life, adored by many, and with a peaceful end.
R.I.P. our Joey. Missed by so many, always remembered with a smile.
Joey was 36 years old, maybe 37. He's been around so long, nobody is exactly sure of just how old he is. Was.
He has lived on our yard for as long as anybody can remember, a fixture, head out over the box looking for a rub and a polo, trotting gamely out to his field every afternoon, and then dragging whoever was bringing him in the next morning with his eagerness to eat his breakfast. Once across the lane and safely in the yard, you could just sling his lead rope over his neck and let him find his own way to his box because he would go ahead and take his own self in there and tuck in.
On one occasion last summer, whilst he was tied up for mucking out, but not released into the wild yet, he got his "Sod this for a game of soldiers" head on, broke free, and finding the gate open, navigated his own way to his field and sorted himself out, no help from any of us on the yard.
We were aghast that he'd broken free, that the gate had been left waywardly open, that he'd crossed a lane on his own (traffic smart boy though, and not a busy lane) and got himself settled. But there you have it, Joey knew his routine, knew what he wanted and when he wanted it and was quite single minded about getting it.
He taught so many local kids how to ride. He was a confidence builder back in the day, and my friend, the Baker, said her daughter had her very first lone hack on Joey, probably about 15 years ago.
Up until last year, he was still taking the occasional little un out for an in hand hack, steady and careful with his charges, and always kind. We put a stop to that when he got a little too frail and thin looking, although I expect if we'd asked, Joey would still have been willing. We was so kindly and gentle with the little ones. With us bigger ones, he was a bit more cheeky, because he knew we could take it!
Last Autumn he was losing lots of weight and we worried about whether he could make it through another winter. Had the vet out and blood tests, which proved inconclusive. They noted that something wasn't right, but without further intrusive investigations, they couldn't tell what. He was too old for that kind of invasive investigation, so vet suggested a steroid injection to help with his stiffness and get his condition up,and we'd see what happened.
What happened was that Joey sailed through the harshest English winter we've had in decades. What happened was that he continued to be the yard mascot, coddled, groomed, given the choicest treats on offer from every hand that walked past his box, because we loved him and loved to see him happy. Nobody could pass Joey's door without stopping to give him a fuss and offer a carrot bite, a mint, a few pony nuts, all of which he accepted with gusto and a hopeful nudge for more.
The back of his box was open to the hay barn, and also a convenient tying up spot for other horses in transit (getting their rugs changed, getting groomed and tacked up for a ride) and Joey would be there, eager to say hello, share his hay, get a mutual grooming session going on. He would not stand for bad behaviour though, and nor would I.
"Shame on you," I'd say to any upstart who dared to menace him. "Joey is our elder statesman. Show some respect!"
Joey was not easily menaced though, and very forgiving, to both his human and equine friends. And canine, come to think of it. Oh, and rodent, because he had a few mice take up residence in his box that he tolerated quite well (less well than the yard staff, judging by the "EEEEKS!").
But this morning, that changed. YO looked out her bedroom window in the morning and saw him lying down. Not typical behaviour. She hurried outside and he raised his head, got up, trotted over to the yard, but as soon as he got to his box, made ready to lie down again.
Definitely not right, so he was walked around the yard and vet was called. Colic was suspected.
It was colic. Just a small colic, caught very early, so our boy was in no distress. He was given a pain killer, the vet investigated to see if it was something simple, but it wasn't. His gut was twisted and the only solution was an op. End of the road for our dear old gent.
So it was that Joey left us.
The yard is not the same without him. That familiar, ever present, wise old head no longer hangs out over the stable door, beckoning us over for a fuss and a carrot.
I am so glad that Saturday afternoon was partly spent giving him a good scratch and lifting clumps of moulting hair off him with our fingertips, while he preened and wibbled his bottom lip with the joy of our gentle ministrations.
I am so glad that he made it through the hard winter and had a few days of being out in his field naked, with the sun on his bum, as we left rugging him up against the chilly night air as late as we could.
I am so glad that my last working encounter with him on Saturday was full of laughter and he dragged me across the yard with his eagerness.
I am so glad that on Sunday, when I was over to do stuff with Max, I slipped Joey a little piece of liquorice and told him he was handsome and grand.
And I am so sorry that he left today and I didn't get a chance to say goodbye.
Godspeed, dear little old man. You were a gentleman and I am so grateful to have known you. I wish upon all the horses a life like you had, dear Joey. A gentle, happy, long life, adored by many, and with a peaceful end.
R.I.P. our Joey. Missed by so many, always remembered with a smile.
Thursday 8 April 2010
Naked Freedom
It’s happened. Spring has properly arrived in Hampshire, and though long overdue, it is very welcome!
It’s warm, it’s sunny, there is no whipping wind, no rain clouds, no flies. I should be out on the trails with my best boy, right? Wrong.
Of course I could be. I definitely could have saddled Max up and gone out for a ride amongst the busy tractors in the busy fields but I had another thought.
My back is stiff and painful after yesterday’s play time, though I still could have ridden for all that. I guess the riding thing doesn’t really bother me that much one way or another. I enjoy it, but I don’t need to be out there every day riding my horse, just because I can.
As the warming sunshine beamed down, and the grass beckoned brilliant green, I thought “Wouldn’t it be wonderful for Max to be out there being a horse with no flippin’ rug on for a change? Wouldn’t he like to celebrate this good weather too, by feeling the sun on his bum, basking in the warmth and having a couple of bloomin’ good rolls to get rid of that itchy, moulting hair?”
Bonus now too because there aren’t really any flies about yet, but they will descend upon us so soon, and it will be fly masks, fly spray and general foot stomping, tail swishing, head shaking irritation so a day like today, really nice to just let him go be a horse outside.
I checked the 24 hour forecast, weighing up at what time I might have to wander back to the yard to put a rug on against evening chill, but really the temperature isn’t going to drop dramatically until around midnight (too late for me to be fumbling with velcro and clasps in the dark) and though it will go down to single figures, about 6 Celsius at 1.00 am, the temperature will then climb again.
So then I had the argument in my head. Well, I said two figures before the rug comes off at night, not one. But how can I leave him all afternoon and evening in a rug when it’s so gorgeous and warm?
Then I looked across the lane out my window at the momma cows and calves, who have no more hair than Max does, living perfectly happily and unperturbed in all kinds of weather and I let go of my inner mum (put on your cardigan, I’m feeling chilly) and gave in to my inner horse (“Let me be free!”) and decided today is the day to go for it.
Luckily, I have assurances from my friend who is doing the evening yard check that she will very happily go and put Max’s rug on if she feels it is getting a bit too cold, but we both know he won’t need it. It just means I’ll sleep a bit better tonight knowing that somebody is ready to rug him up if necessary.
And Max? Oh he’ll greet me tomorrow needing a good groom and covered in mud and all sorts, but who cares about that. Max with nothing between him and the night sky but moonbeams is a happy picture to lull me to sleep and dream of my own dun coloured, cheeky unicorn.
It’s warm, it’s sunny, there is no whipping wind, no rain clouds, no flies. I should be out on the trails with my best boy, right? Wrong.
Of course I could be. I definitely could have saddled Max up and gone out for a ride amongst the busy tractors in the busy fields but I had another thought.
My back is stiff and painful after yesterday’s play time, though I still could have ridden for all that. I guess the riding thing doesn’t really bother me that much one way or another. I enjoy it, but I don’t need to be out there every day riding my horse, just because I can.
As the warming sunshine beamed down, and the grass beckoned brilliant green, I thought “Wouldn’t it be wonderful for Max to be out there being a horse with no flippin’ rug on for a change? Wouldn’t he like to celebrate this good weather too, by feeling the sun on his bum, basking in the warmth and having a couple of bloomin’ good rolls to get rid of that itchy, moulting hair?”
Bonus now too because there aren’t really any flies about yet, but they will descend upon us so soon, and it will be fly masks, fly spray and general foot stomping, tail swishing, head shaking irritation so a day like today, really nice to just let him go be a horse outside.
I checked the 24 hour forecast, weighing up at what time I might have to wander back to the yard to put a rug on against evening chill, but really the temperature isn’t going to drop dramatically until around midnight (too late for me to be fumbling with velcro and clasps in the dark) and though it will go down to single figures, about 6 Celsius at 1.00 am, the temperature will then climb again.
So then I had the argument in my head. Well, I said two figures before the rug comes off at night, not one. But how can I leave him all afternoon and evening in a rug when it’s so gorgeous and warm?
Then I looked across the lane out my window at the momma cows and calves, who have no more hair than Max does, living perfectly happily and unperturbed in all kinds of weather and I let go of my inner mum (put on your cardigan, I’m feeling chilly) and gave in to my inner horse (“Let me be free!”) and decided today is the day to go for it.
Luckily, I have assurances from my friend who is doing the evening yard check that she will very happily go and put Max’s rug on if she feels it is getting a bit too cold, but we both know he won’t need it. It just means I’ll sleep a bit better tonight knowing that somebody is ready to rug him up if necessary.
And Max? Oh he’ll greet me tomorrow needing a good groom and covered in mud and all sorts, but who cares about that. Max with nothing between him and the night sky but moonbeams is a happy picture to lull me to sleep and dream of my own dun coloured, cheeky unicorn.
Wednesday 7 April 2010
Canter, canter, canter
An empty field next to the indoor school beckoned. The lovely “long field” that up until this past weekend has been occupied by a grazing horse during the day. It’s free now though, and has such a lovely slope, so Max and I took advantage of the dry weather to have a little outdoor fun.
I was on yard shift and pressed for time, so thought rather than a rushed hack, we could stay close to home and still do something useful.
We started off in the school to warm up, and then into the field to trot around the fence line, then canter, canter, canter up the hill. Max was wayward, insisted on a diagonal rather than straight up, but he went forward eagerly, whilst I lifted myself slightly out of the saddle to give him freedom and not unbalance him. I still find my back troublesome and less flexible than I would like, and I find absorbing the movement of canter quite challenging. Much better to hold myself away from Max so he doesn’t have to absorb my flailing movement while I’m trying to absorb his.
He had a few goes and nipping at the grass, but was easily dissuaded, and he found an old feed bowl with some feed still in it as surely and quickly as Sherlock Holmes finds a clue but we got round that one as well.
Very good fitness/strengthening work for Max with the slope, very good pointer to me of where I still need work and where I’m still stiff (I can feel yesterday’s efforts in my mid-back today) and wonderful to see and feel that our concentrated work in the school over the past few months is progressing to ridden work very nicely indeed.
Max was a little full of himself to say the least, and he had some pretty strong ideas of his own (and that’s fine, I never want him to lose his mischief or his opinion) but best of all, Max is listening and he showed me yesterday that when he’s not sure he heard me right, he cocks an ear back and asks for clarification. No whip, no stick, no spurs necessary.
Of course, he wouldn’t be Max if he didn’t occasionally meet my request with a head shake, a snort and an implied “Nah, you don’t want to do that, you want to do THIS!”
Even then, despite any laughter that might erupt from me, when I insist, he figuratively rolls he eyes and gives in.
Clever, singular, brilliant pony!
I was on yard shift and pressed for time, so thought rather than a rushed hack, we could stay close to home and still do something useful.
We started off in the school to warm up, and then into the field to trot around the fence line, then canter, canter, canter up the hill. Max was wayward, insisted on a diagonal rather than straight up, but he went forward eagerly, whilst I lifted myself slightly out of the saddle to give him freedom and not unbalance him. I still find my back troublesome and less flexible than I would like, and I find absorbing the movement of canter quite challenging. Much better to hold myself away from Max so he doesn’t have to absorb my flailing movement while I’m trying to absorb his.
He had a few goes and nipping at the grass, but was easily dissuaded, and he found an old feed bowl with some feed still in it as surely and quickly as Sherlock Holmes finds a clue but we got round that one as well.
Very good fitness/strengthening work for Max with the slope, very good pointer to me of where I still need work and where I’m still stiff (I can feel yesterday’s efforts in my mid-back today) and wonderful to see and feel that our concentrated work in the school over the past few months is progressing to ridden work very nicely indeed.
Max was a little full of himself to say the least, and he had some pretty strong ideas of his own (and that’s fine, I never want him to lose his mischief or his opinion) but best of all, Max is listening and he showed me yesterday that when he’s not sure he heard me right, he cocks an ear back and asks for clarification. No whip, no stick, no spurs necessary.
Of course, he wouldn’t be Max if he didn’t occasionally meet my request with a head shake, a snort and an implied “Nah, you don’t want to do that, you want to do THIS!”
Even then, despite any laughter that might erupt from me, when I insist, he figuratively rolls he eyes and gives in.
Clever, singular, brilliant pony!
Tuesday 6 April 2010
Hands Free Max
For the first time in a few weeks Max and I tackled his obstacle course in the school. This is a L-shaped group of poles set out that we use to hone our skills on reversing and moving his quarters and shoulders around to manoeuvre through the “L” on just voice and hand signals.
Well, that’s the theory. We have been doing it with the aid of a head collar and slack lead rope as well, to help Max with the signalling (and me too, there are plenty of times where a pause must be taken to figure out the best way to get direction and motion without going over the boundaries of the poles.
We started off with a warm up doing our regular box of tricks, to which we have now added “Whoa” with a hand signal, then “walk on” three steps, “whoa” then “Spanish for a leg lift, and on we’d go again.
Then approach the obstacle course, he’d follow me in, then “whoa” then “back” for a few steps, then forward and out.
He was doing so well, responding so quickly and correctly, that I decided to give it a go free style, no lead, no head collar.
Can Max do it? Oh yes he can! Not quickly (yet) but unfailingly and thoughtfully we got through our L, wandered around the school pausing for various commands, lateral moves, more backing up, more raising forelegs, and then through the L again.
We then worked a little bit on just hand signals with no voice to back it up (pretty good but less focused) and then just voice and no hand signal, better, and more useful in preparation for the same commands from the saddle, when the hand signal is likely to be unseen.
This is a two pronged thought process, which I hope will eventually brings us to good response to voice in the saddle, and good response to free work with just signalling. For now, our liberty work is only successful when I am close by, but with time and patience, I hope that I will be able to get the same responses at a distance.
I just love working with Max like this. The time flies by and I have to be alert so that I don’t press on too long and flood Max’s head with too much stuff and let him get frustrated.
We’re still after win/win when it comes to schooling, and that will always be my priority.
Well, that’s the theory. We have been doing it with the aid of a head collar and slack lead rope as well, to help Max with the signalling (and me too, there are plenty of times where a pause must be taken to figure out the best way to get direction and motion without going over the boundaries of the poles.
We started off with a warm up doing our regular box of tricks, to which we have now added “Whoa” with a hand signal, then “walk on” three steps, “whoa” then “Spanish for a leg lift, and on we’d go again.
Then approach the obstacle course, he’d follow me in, then “whoa” then “back” for a few steps, then forward and out.
He was doing so well, responding so quickly and correctly, that I decided to give it a go free style, no lead, no head collar.
Can Max do it? Oh yes he can! Not quickly (yet) but unfailingly and thoughtfully we got through our L, wandered around the school pausing for various commands, lateral moves, more backing up, more raising forelegs, and then through the L again.
We then worked a little bit on just hand signals with no voice to back it up (pretty good but less focused) and then just voice and no hand signal, better, and more useful in preparation for the same commands from the saddle, when the hand signal is likely to be unseen.
This is a two pronged thought process, which I hope will eventually brings us to good response to voice in the saddle, and good response to free work with just signalling. For now, our liberty work is only successful when I am close by, but with time and patience, I hope that I will be able to get the same responses at a distance.
I just love working with Max like this. The time flies by and I have to be alert so that I don’t press on too long and flood Max’s head with too much stuff and let him get frustrated.
We’re still after win/win when it comes to schooling, and that will always be my priority.
Look Ma, No hands!
My clever boy!
Max and I, despite the brilliant weather, were back in the school to hone his ninja skills.
Can that Max follow instructions unfettered by head collar or lead rope, with just voice and hand signals, manouevre his beautiful self backwards through an L shaped obstacle course with some Spanish Stamp thrown in?
You bet your ass he can!
Marvellous Max, the perfect coffee with cream coloured heart stealer.
Max and I, despite the brilliant weather, were back in the school to hone his ninja skills.
Can that Max follow instructions unfettered by head collar or lead rope, with just voice and hand signals, manouevre his beautiful self backwards through an L shaped obstacle course with some Spanish Stamp thrown in?
You bet your ass he can!
Marvellous Max, the perfect coffee with cream coloured heart stealer.
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About Me
- maczona
- The diary of a young horse and a not quite so young novice. What happens when you decide to return to riding after years away from it and suddenly find yourself buying a horse, and a very young horse at that? Who teaches who?