The longest hack...

I hadn't planned it at all. My only plan was to longline Max out to the War Memorial and then ride him back. So he had his saddle instead of his roller, the lines attached to his bridle and the reins carried by me for swap over on our homeward journey.

It went pretty well, actually. Max tried to turn for home a couple of times, and was determined to go off and see the pigs in their field even though I didn't want him to.

When we got to the polythene silage monster blowing in the wind though, it was a bit too much for the boy, so I took the lines off, put the reins on and led him past the hazard.

I was looking for a place to mount up and also confused by the number of familiar paths that had been blocked. I had been considering riding Max a different way home so we wouldn't have to push past the silage monster again, but all options seemed to be closed off.

I decided on the track next to the pond field, up to the ridge and then back home. Mounted up and Max was off with no hesitation. We did have a debate though, when we reached on of our usual shortcuts home and found the way blocked by a rusty gate.

"We can't go that way, Max."

"Can!" insisted Max, as he gave the rusty gate a shove with his nose and opened it. I was still for going the other way, but Max strode on, and since I admired his determination and the wind was bitter cold, I decided to go along with him. A long walk down the farm track only to be met with barbed wire barring our onward journey home.

We turned back and trotted along the path we'd just walked, I dismounted to open the rusty gate and then hopped on board again and took us the way I'd meant to in the first place.

A tricky path, quite rocky, and Max picked his way along the banks, saving his feet. I was on the look out for mud and slippy bits, urging him to take care and pay attention, and Max was ignoring my pleas and carrying on with accuracy and grace.

I decided to save the last very rocky bit of our uphill path and take us along the edge of a field which I knew wasn't barred. The going got a bit tricky, past hawthorn bushes and scrub. The ground was uneven and I was worrying about rabbit holes. The going for Max and his bare feet is a real weakness for me, especially as historically he's been a bit of a stumble bum. I felt the anxiety building...

"Max, I really don't like this!" I was actually thinking of dismounting and leading again so I could be very sure of where Max was putting his feet.

"Chill! I am in control of this situation. Find your neutral space."

That was me told!

Max handled it like an absolute pro, not a step wrong, not one hesitation, all with an air of calm maturity. I felt a bit of tension ease out of my tight shoulders and neck as I was faced once again with the fact that Max is definitely growing up. I may have had to take care of him with the silage monster, but he was taking care of me now. How about that for partnership and trust, eh?

He got us through and back onto our familiar path and we headed in the direction of home, past his old field mate, Smokey, and then for our final leg were joined by another happy hacker from our yard on her much older and more experienced boy.

Max was not having it. His head tucked, he rose and he went into trot.

"Look at you, Max!" enthused the other rider. "Are you off to dressage? You're in outline! Look how handsome!"

Indeed, he was. Our companion was not to be outdone and the two had a prance off trot all the way back to the yard like a couple of flash stallions. I then discovered that Max and I had been out on our own for nearly two hours. We have done that before on accompanied hacks, or in hand, but that's the longest we have been out alone on a ridden hack.

He behaved impeccably, like a proper gentleman, with quiet confidence and a final flurry of bravado.

I could not be more proud of him.

Round or flat?

YO worked Max for me today, and I arrived at the yard before my shift in plenty of time to make a fuss of him.

That he had worked hard was evident by the fact that he was still damp where he'd been hosed down for sweat. It is a mild day today, and Max is still fairly hairy, so not surprising he managed to get himself into a lather.

He greeted me with a lusty neigh and a request for comfort. He tucked his head into me and told me he'd worked very VERY hard that morning and was spent.

"Oh, Max! Look at the state of you! Did you do well? Did you behave yourself?"

He assured me that he had been stellar but he was starving, so I gave him an armful of hay and a teensy apple for being such a good boy.

The YO, when she turned up on the yard, had another tale to tell.

"Max had told me he worked really hard today," I opened.

She told me that he'd been like "a plank of wood". Just didn't want to work at all, and really didn't want to be "round".

Now "round", there is a thing. You don't want your horse working with a hollow back under saddle, struggling to accommodate your weight by hollowing the back, and not working through the hinds or fronts well. The idea of round is to get them to collect themselves, raise the back, power through the hinds and tuck up those neck muscles so they're light in front, holding your weight and their own in optimum position, and working well through their shoulders and hinds. I'm probably not describing it very well, but it goes to something called "outline" and it's important in that it helps the horse work efficiently and powerfully, builds up the right muscles to keep fit and hold a rider's weight, and remain light in the hand for directions through the bit, and supple through the back for fitness and "feel", so that commands given by the rider's seat and legs can be felt with just the slightest shift of weight in the seat, just a brush with the legs at the right moment.

Oh, I could go into classical schools of riding here, and dressage and all sorts, but that's not really Max. I'm only interested in "roundness" to the extent that I want Max to be fit and healthy, and strong so he can use his body in the best way, the same way I watch my own fitness. It's a bit like posture, in a way. Don't slouch else you'll get a back ache. Hold yourself up, back straight,shoulders back, power in the legs, to avoid injury.

Whether Max is collected and "on the bit" when we're out and about on a hack, well, that doesn't really matter to me.

After talking to the YO, I went back to Max.

"So, you don't want to be round, young sir?

"Pfft. I'm round enough, don't you think? Look at me! Round as a peach, sound as a pound."

"Well, she said you were flat, like a plank of wood. Wouldn't you rather be round, like an apple?"

"I do like apples, but I also like toast, and that's flat. Flat is good."

"Round is good too, though, like that ball you like to kick around."

"I kick it around to get it flat. I just need one proper good stomp and that thing is a pancake. Flat as..."

Enough said. He worked very hard, he protested to being round, but to be honest, my boy is never flat. He's got way too much about him for flatness. Anyone who sees Max and thinks "flat" just ain't looking hard enough.

Outline isn't everything, and I know that from the moment when I left the yard today and paused to watch Max and the Boss out in their field, cantering together in a play fight, with mini rears and quick turns. They were having fun, proper horseplay, and Max was anything but a flat plank of wood.

That's a thing to see; horses moving naturally with no rider, no instruction, just doing what they do. That's more beautiful to my eye than any amount of roundness under saddle.

Nekkid and sheepish

Continuing mild spell to the extent that Max went out to his field and enjoyed the sun on his bare bum for the afternoon. I weighed up the chance that he'd roll in mud against the feeling of warm sunshine and being free to have a scratch, and decided that since I was at the yard anyway, I'd put his rug on just before I left.

I think, by the state of the loose hair and mud stains on his sides that my decision was appreciated.

The horses were all a little agitated as the Hunt went through our area yesterday and it always causes a stir, all the horses thundering about while ours are kept in for their own safety.

After it had all died down, our afternoon lot went out and Max and the Boss (who had been part of the Hunt earlier in the day) spent quite a bit of time investigating new arrivals in the next paddock over.

A flock of sheep have been borrowed to graze our summer "jumping paddock", and although the Boss was familiar with the species and walked off with an air of boredom after initial surprise, Max was quite taken with these new creatures, especially when they decided to have a bit of an enmasse run-about.

"What the devil? Is it one thing? Is it many things? What is that noise?"

I'm not sure Max could decide whether to be charmed or appalled (or jealous of the abundance of scrubby grass the creature(s) had at their disposal.

Riding through hullaballoo

Comparatively mild weather has arrived and is forecast to continue. I've removed Max's hoody (well chewed by his friend Smoky) and later in the week will probably move him down a notch to his lightweight rug, as the low temperatures are hovering around +7. He's moulting already, which is a good sign that the medium weight is a little too warm, and the itchy, loose hairs will soon irk him.

We had a good grooming session today, and then a walk out with the Ent to see the pigs in their new field, up close and personal. This means turning off the lane and up a track in the middle of a stubble field.

The seven pigs are enclosed by an electric fence not a great distance from the track. It's hard for me to distinguish where the electric fence lies, so I'm sure as far as Max is concerned, there is no fence, just a herd of feral pigs lined up looking at him and making piggy noises.

I could feel Max tense up, but he was good as gold. Stopped a couple of times to stare in disbelief, one snort of horror and indignation, but nothing more. He and I shall try again tomorrow on our own, without the protection of the Ent between us and them.

Spring must indeed be in the air as it was a busy day out in the countryside. We ran into walkers with sticks, saw little patches of snowdrops flowering prettily, and ran into several other hackers out on the bridleways. Most of them were known to us, but Max always seems surprised to see them out of context.

"What you doing here?!"

"I don't know! What you doing here?"

We passed a pair on the road, one dancing gracefully sideways, then saw another pair heading down a track ahead of us... then we passed the piglets. Max likes piglets even less than pigs. all wriggly and fast and mad!

Finally a convention of hackers, gathered in a group discussing the ground ahead, which bits to avoid and how to get round them.

I wonder what a suitable collective noun for a group of hackers might be? A jaunt of hackers? An escapade of hackers? I need to think about this...

The point is, it was busy out in them thar hills and Max, for the most part, remained composed. I may have to readjust my expectations accordingly, because my boy is growing up!

Mystery golden disc in sky over Hampshire…

... Radiates warmth. I wonder, should I fear it?

Course not! The sun has capered over Hampshire for the last couple of days, though today has danced away again, to warm others and leave us with grey skies once more.

It has been pleasant, though still cold. Pleasant to the point where I strode purposefully to Max’s box on Tuesday afternoon determined to exercise him before my yard shift started, only to find him snoozing in the sunshine, curled up like a pussy cat. He lifted his head for a kiss, and indulgent guardian that I am, I moved his hay over to where he could easily munch while remaining at his ease, and instead of exercising, just curled up with him to enjoy his Maxo Relaxo time. I have no doubt there’s as much value in such time spent together as there is in working on halt transitions in the school.

Under overcast skies today, we headed back to the school, Max wearing his “embarrassing necklace” as our YO has dubbed it. A pretty unhappy session really. We’re both bored with school work now and Max seemed to have lost his ability to “stand” again.

I thought, since there was no rain, we’d give it up and go out for a wander instead. A bit problematic as the farmer’s pigs have moved to a new field, and we’d only just got used to them where they were (and this time there’s no avoiding them) and also some very low flying helicopters that have been buzzing the area for a couple of days now. We’ve already had one run in with a low flying helicopter and it was not fun.

Yesterday, one of our younger yard horses was so frightened that he jumped out of his field into the road to get away from it. No cars, thank God, and he found his way back to the yard in a lather. He’s been moved to another field as a result. He can still jump out, but only into the yard so in less danger of hurting himself or causing a menace on the road.

As we left the school, Max’s former best buddy field mate was being turned out with his new field mate. A bit of field swapping has gone on and sadly, Smoky no longer lives with Max and the Boss. We hope that will change soon, because Max and Smoky are fast friends and they miss each other.

I let them have a sniff at the gate, and then Max and I went off (Max very reluctantly). We got past the pigs fine and Smoky was following us along the fence line. Then we turned up the bridleway and were awash in really sticky mud.

Max managed to get us up the hill, puffing and picking his way carefully, and we walked a little further along the top of a hill before I hopped off, giving it up for a loss. I knew Max was struggling because his four feet were sliding out from under him like Bambi on ice in the Disney film. Once my own feet hit the ground, I was doing the same.

We got back down the hill and were again in line with the field where Smoky and his ginger friend were out grazing. There was a stare off, and then I urged Max on. Another stop, another look, and Smoky and Ginger were closer. Another "Walk on, please sir!", another stop, Smoky and Ginger were closer.

I started to laugh and said, “Max, it’s just like that Doctor Who episode with the angel statues that can only move when you blink!” Struck me as really funny because Smoky and Ginger were always side by each in exactly the same position I’d last seen them, only way closer!

Max looked at me, completely baffled. He does enjoy it when I laugh, but this time he couldn’t figure out what the joke was. Well, he’s never seen Doctor Who, has he?

Once the mud was gone, I mounted up again and Max and I trotted home, with Smoky following us along the fence line again. Quite sweet, really.

Tack off, rugged up, lots of praise for being a good boy, and then off to the field.

“Don’t wanna.”

Really reluctant Max. Happy in his box, hay, water, nice straw bed. Yawn!

“No field tonight, ok? Damp and nasty. Here is good.”

Unfortunately that is not the yardroutine. Much as I would have loved to have let him stay in, curl up with stacks of hay, and stay warm and dry, there was no option but the field, and to the field he went. Little heart stealer stood by the gate and watched me walk away, all forlorn. Watched me get into my car, and called as I drove off.

Argh!

How much would I love to have Max at home with me? One day….

Everybody has to have a goal, and mine is having Max on my land, at home, with a box/barn he can choose to live in or not as he sees fit, when he sees fit.

One day...

Talk to the hoof; the pony ain't interested!

If Max didn't make me laugh so much, today would have been frustrating!

Into the indoor school for a bit of longlining today. The weather is improving, but the lanes and bridleways still aren't brilliant under foot, and as we haven't been able to get up to much this week with the snow, queues for the indoor school and whatnot, I figured it was a good opportunity to do a little more work on the lines, revisiting our transitions and such.

Max did not want to know. He was amiable enough, he was happy to be with me and offering up all his tricks for a fuss and a giggle, but when it came to getting down to work, "Nyah, nyah, nyah. Don't wanna! Phht!"

I chased after him, I growled, I stomped my feet all to no avail. If I got up close and personal, and full of energy myself I could push him on for a bit, but it didn't last long.

Took the lines off and decided to try the lunge. Frankly, with very little effect, as it happens. To get anywhere I still had to be at his shoulder, encouraging him to match my pace. He grumbled, he griped, he shook his forelock at me, snorted, tried to see me off. All in a good natured way, but definitely not playing ball just the same.

Stopped and tried clicker training for a bit, and that Max was agreeable to.

Finally capitulated all together and took of his pad and roller so he could have a roll. This he did with wild abandon, rolling over three times and squirming away all the itchy bits with his four feet pointing skyward. Despite the cold, Max is moulting so a roll was very welcome indeed.

Good things I noticed about today: Max still holds himself beautifully on the lines in his Dr Cook's. Not so great on the lunge, but maybe that will come. I love what he does on the lines, and how he responds to vibrations from my fingers.

I also noted that in trot, both on the lines and on the lunge, he kept sticking his nose to the ground, like a hound dog on the scent.

Remarked about it to another livery owner after we'd finished our session and she said her boy was doing exactly the same thing. She thought it was just them trying to have a good stretch after a few days of being fairly stationary and pretty cold.

General thoughts on today's session: C'est la vie! We all have days where we just don't want to do that work, and today was Max's day. Big deal! Nothing to get worked up about, and tomorrow is another day. In a way, I feel we get further by me accepting his moods and working round them rather than trying to drive him on despite his objections.

No, not all the time, it's not a "get out of jail free" card, but every now and then, better to read him, cut him some slack and call it a day. Max wanted a play day, not a work day, and fair enough. I like to play, too!

Built like a Fjord

The south of England had a dump of snow last night and Max the outdoor horse has come into his Norwegian heritage with a fey spirit.

Snow? What's a little snow?

In for a few hours this morning to defrost, exercise and munch down some hay. Then a quick visit from me before yard duties, a carrot, a pear, and check that all his limbs were fine and he was warm enough, then off across the snow covered yard, to the snow covered field, sure footed and light on his bare feet. He was pleased to find a pile of hay awaiting him to save him digging for what little grass is about, and was a picture of serene contentment one moment as I glanced at him from the yard, and the next, a mischievous imp cavorting in the snow.

I half expect to find he's built a snowman when I return tomorrow.