Boy racer

We had us some fun today, and a couple of hairy pony moments, as well.

Hacked out with two good friends, one on a retired hunter and the other on trusty but low mileage cob. Blustery day, but clear and sunny. Wore far too many clothes. Had been cold when we set off, but once the sun came out, I wondered why I'd opted for a fleece over a denim jacket, over a sweater, over a vest...

Max was full of the joys of spring. A slight change in routine too, because I'd arrived at the yard late (for reasons explained later). Usually I give Max some hay to munch while I get him ready. He has his lunch time hay at 11.00 am, so for me to rock up at half one and not feed him a snack when he's absolutely STARVING is not on in his book.

The other two were all ready to go, so hoofters picked, a very cursory brush to make sure his girth, saddle and bridle area were clean and wouldn't cause rubs, and we were off, straw in tail, unkempt mane and forelock and a few muddy stains on his haunches as well. Me in my rolled up jeans and Muck boots as well, so we were two scruffs together. My friend commented, "You look like a little kid and her hairy ponio!"

"Off we go rejoicing!" I said, and three happy steeds strutted forth.

Fairly uneventful in the beginning. A bit of a trot up a hill which Max turned into a canter because his wee legs couldn't keep up with the big boys, and he was up for a bit of "Whee!" anyway. Reached the summit of the hill with much snorting and head tossing and a little prancing thrown in. There was no doubt that Max was having fun.

He overtook, he tucked his head and showed off, he snatched at grass and he was quite strong, wanting to go, go, go! as I coaxed with curled fingers and firm seat for slower, slower, steady...

We opted to turn up "the gallops", a long stretch of wide field just perfect for blowing off steam. The horses all get excited when we turn onto this bit of land because they know the handbrakes are about to come off. Max was dancing sideways, my friends were checking that we were OK to go, I gave the nod and we set into an easy and steady canter.

I was just relaxing into it when my monkey boy found his turbo switch and decided to remind me that yes, his mother was a sturdy Fjord, but his daddy, well, he was an Arab racer.

"Oh!" was all that escaped my lips as Max gathered himself and then took off full pelt, tail held high (I was advised by those left behind).

Fast! Really fast. It was a bit scary, but in an exhilarating kind of way. You don't have to worry with Max that he's going to tank off or do anything foolish, but he definitely had his own ideas about the pace to be set.

The other two caught up to help me contain him and we settled down, and then decided to try again with Max in the lead so he didn't feel he had to race anybody. That was a little more successful and we had a more balanced and sedate canter for a stretch.

Never really got Max settled again after that. He remained fiery Arab stallion for the rest of the hack, although a whispered "Good lad!" from me would stop him as he turned his head to see if this meant a pony nut was forthcoming.

Back to the yard for a brush and a sponge down, and then out to his field triumphant, to graze and roll.

A brilliant hack out, reminding us of the joy of seeing the world from the back of a horse. We paused to take in the view of the rolling countryside and the wind ruffling the crops whilst the sun shone on the fields of rape, blinding yellow against fluorescent green billowing before us like silk fabric playing on the wind.

That joy was made all the more poignant by the reason for my lateness today. We lost one of our lovelies on the yard this afternoon. A young, beautiful mare who should have had her life before her, but instead, was beyond saving from a diseased liver. I had said my goodbyes to her already as I knew the end was imminent, and I chose not to be on the yard when it happened. It is sometimes heartbreaking stuff, sharing our lives with these incredible creatures.

Rest in peace, lovely mare. You will be missed by so many.