Bears and bears and bears, oh my!

Another beautiful September day here in Merry Ol' (this part of Merry Ol', at any rate). I rode Max yesterday and was concerned that his left hind seemed to keep catching. He was fine in the school, but once out and about, it felt like he was going to collapse like a deck chair.

I don't think it's very dramatic from the ground, because I kept calling out, "There! There! Did you see it?" "No," the Ent replied, "The saddle has slipped a bit to the left, maybe that's what you feel..." This was after I'd asked him to walk behind and keep an eye on Max's left hind (and yes, it might have had something to do with the saddle, and therefore my weight being off kilter, but that was not what I felt).

Max seemed fine though, no swelling, no heat, no pain, so I'm not sure what it was all about.

This morning I took him into the school first to see how he was, and again, after a little warming up, I felt that back leg give. We left the school and I dismounted, deciding to take him out in hand for some hill work and at a convenient point, if all was well, I'd mount up.

What an enjoyable outing! It's been ages since just Max and I went on an awfully long walk together, and I do so love walking by his side, watching his expression change, and standing still with him as he gazes out at who knows what on the horizon. I think he sometimes does it just to psyche me out and give himself a laugh.

"Ha, ha! Made you look!"

The only downside of our walk was other walkers, who invariably want to know if I've fallen off. A legitimate question, I suppose, and quite kind if they're checking to see that I'm all right, but after the second or third explanation it gets old. Maybe I should just fake a limp when I see others approach, say that indeed, I have fallen off and be done with it!

There was another, more mysterious kind of walker out in abundance today though, and Max was not impressed.

Blackberry season is not only a joyous time for equines with a nimble lips and a taste for tangy fruit, it also brings out the bi-ped blackberry pickers, with their tin and plastic buckets, and purple stained fingers (and mouths, for the smaller variety).

Trouble is, these blackberry pickers seem to prefer to work in stealth, the only hint of their presence being a flash of colour on the other side of the bush, and a faint rustling that seems to become louder, more insistent, more threatening, when a horse of vivid imagination approaches.

The faint rustling made me think of a much loved book from childhood "Blueberries for Sal" by Robert McCloskey. I remember the illustrations were all shades of yellow and blue. Sal was out picking blueberries with her mother, and bear was out picking blueberries with her cub on opposite side of the same hill...

Admittedly, I seem to remember Sal was a lot less worried about bears than Max.

"Augh! Bears!"

"There are no bears in Hampshire, Max."

(rustle, rustle... "mmmrf... Hello?" little voice says from other side of bush)

"Oh hello! See Max? Blackberry pickers!"

"bears?"

"No, blackberry pickers."

"bears."

And on we'd walk a little until...

"Hit the deck! More bears! Huge bears! Hungry bears!"

(rustle, rustle, chomp... "Oh, hullo Max! Would you like a blackberry?")

Some of the "bears" even knew Max, and though he was happy to take any blackberries offered, his mistrust was swayed very little by the gift.

I think bear season only lasts a couple of weeks though, so soon this will be behind us and we'll have to invent a new unseen foe of which to be wary.