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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

By George, I think he's getting it!

We took Max out for a walk yesterday, the Ent holding the reins, and me the clicker bag of pony nuts and spare head collar, just in case Max got the mentals.

We started in the school, a little obstacle course so Max could strut his stuff for the Ent, then out into the world.

We met sheep being herded into a new field by farmer, tractor and dog (we have established that Max is not fond of sheep), we met a child eating tree (read child, climbing tree, feet dangling out of branches where feet should absolutely not be dangling!) and we met a walker sitting in the long grass on the side of the hill eating an orange whilst a collie looked on.

These things all struck Max as most peculiar and a good reason to have a bit of an Arab brained hullabaloo.

So as we walked on, as Max tensed and got tall a blew hotly through flared nostrils, I asked for "Spanish", or "Whoa" or "Over" or "Kiss" and immediately I said the word, Max shifted his focus, relaxed, did as I asked and waited eagerly for the next instruction.

This is very encouraging! We need to transfer it to saddle of course, and I will only do that slowly with the Ent accompanying on foot or bike, but the fact that Max is listening to me rather than thinking about what is unknown in the landscape tells me that all the slow and patient work we have been doing in the school has been worth every second. Not just for bonding and putting the fun back in our time together, but in giving Max a focus that makes him feel secure in his world, and a willingness to hand over the responsibility of deciding what's scary to me.

I heart my clever pony!