Stepping outside the comfort zone

The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley.

Very true, and also the best laid schemes of woman and horse.

Yesterday the Ent was going for a long countryside run, and the plan was that he would finish his run at the yard, and accompany Max and I, longlining, off the beaten track and back home to our garden, where Max would feast on our grass, and then I'd ride him home again.

But the Ent arrived at the yard covered in welts from running in the long grass, and in need of antihistamine. He could not tolerate a leisurely walk through more long grass to see us back to our home.

So I slathered him up with arnica and witch hazel gel from Max's first aid kit, and sent him on his way.

Hmm... Plan B?

I knew longlining was out, but decided to take Max back home anyway, just we two, on foot.

Max was out of his comfort zone because we were treading unfamiliar paths, and I was, because it was just Max and me, no back up. Max is strong, opinionated, and when out of his routine, he can be a bit wild eyed and ready for trouble.

He can be a handful, but I decided to go ahead anyway. No point in giving up before we started because there might be trouble, so I set my mind on believing there wouldn't be trouble instead. And if there was, we could always turn back and do something else.

So we set off, and we went pretty well. We had to go down one very large hill.

"Trot now?"

"Um... no."

Then at the bottom of the hill, we had to get over a fairly busy road with a poor outlook for when it was safe to cross, but we got along just fine.

We walked along the farm lane that leads to my house, and though Max was agog at new scenery, he was well behaved, upright and eager, until we reached the final bend in the road towards our house. A big cheer came up from the nearby cricket field, and Max bellowed one long neigh that spoke of his anxiety at being in wholly unfamiliar territory with only a puny human to protect him.

At the end of his forlorn call out to any horse that might reassure him that he was not about to be carried off by winged demons, he gave my shoulder a nudge.

"We're OK, right?"

"Course we are! Just a little further, and you can have a very lush munch."

We got home, Max had a wander in the garden, picked a few flowers, stared through the windows with great interest, ate, gratefully received a little bucket of water, started with alarm at a herd of passing cyclists, and then the Ent, showered and full of antihistamines, escorted us back along the lane, over the crossroads, and to the foot of the big hill.

Ent could go no further, as path was overgrown, so Max and I bid him goodbye and carried on our way, with me eventually hopping on board and riding him the last leg home.

We cursed the flies on our hot journey home, my dressage whip was handy for flicking tenacious horse flies off Max's belly and legs, and we arrived safely back at the yard, with a sigh of relief from grateful Max, fully back in his comfort zone.

Max stood still for a hose bath, and seemed to enjoy the cool water for a change, as long as I stayed away from his back legs and belly. I lathered him up with shampoo to get the grease off, dried him off, and took him back to his box for a feast of cinnamon apple bites.

We will retrace our steps many times until it's not outside the comfort zone any more.

I have a spare head collar and lead rope at home now, so Max can enjoy his time in our garden, munching without his bit, and eventually, hopefully by the end of the summer, I'll be able to ride him home and ride him back to the yard without either of us being on high alert.

This is the way we broaden our horizons, and my low mileage pony learns to get to grips with the big wide world, with my steadying hand always there to help and ease away worry.

I'm very pleased he had enough faith in me to follow where I led, even without the steadying presence of the Ent on the ground. There's a lot to be said for slow and steady progress. It pays big dividends in the end.