November 2011

November 26, 2011: Someone Stole my Donkey!

And in its place, they left a horse!

Okay, don't panic, Benjamin is still alive and kicking (very much so. More on his disastrous foot-trimming later). What really happened was that I was tired of Arwen's lack of energy/enthusiasm/life, so heartily agreed when Kevin suggested giving her some kind of feed with maize in it. When we went to town on Wednesday afternoon Mom took me to see Margie the nutritionist who said that maize would help, but since Arwen is eating such frightfully good hay, is overweight, and has access to mineral blocks, we should cut out all the extra stuff and, for concentrates, give her a few cups of what she called "micronised maize" and what looks to me like horse cornflakes. Maize (mealies to you and me) is legendary for fizzing horses up, so I dared to hope. I introduced Arwen to half a cup of mealies morning, noon and night and voila, next time I climbed on I had a horse between my knees!

I took her out and she was pretty awesome. She didn't prance (Arwen? Prancing? Over her dead body!) but she picked up her head and pricked those big donkey ears of hers and she actually enjoyed the exercise. She stepped out nicely, kept her eyes open, and strode happily along. At one point I was even holding her back!

She trotted properly, she walked properly. She cantered too fast, of course. That is the bad news, and it's rather a pain, but we'll fix it. Once or twice I started wondering whether she still had brakes but she proved that she could still come to a dead halt from a canter at a quite minimal pull on the reins (almost catapulting me over her head in the process). Best of all, she wasn't silly and skittish. A duiker shot out right under her nose and she didn't turn a hair.

YAHOOO!!!

I do wish that she had her own spirit and didn't need to be stuffed full of mealies to show it, but yeah, I'm pretty pleased. Arwen's just not a really spirited horse and I can live with that.

We set up the scale to put the Frieslands through the crush today, so I weighed the little foals as well. At thirteen and fourteen months, respectively, Thunder and Dancer both stand the same height - 143cm or 14hh. 14hh at the age of just one year! They are going to be big horses. Dancer started out miles taller than Thunder, but now it looks like he might just catch her up. Thunder weighs 322kg and Dancer 312kg. Dancey lost weight from two months ago when she was last weighed; Thunder grew by 9kg. I'm not too worried; both of them lost a lot of fat, they're showing ribs now, but I think they grew upwards quite a bit. I didn't measure them then so I can't tell for sure. Anyway they're both glossy and bright-eyed despite the fact that Dancer got kicked in the face or hit her head on a pole or something. She has a scratch just below her left eye and the area around it is swollen up. She could be said to have a black eye were it not for the fact that it's black already. I have no idea what to do with it and it seems minor, not involving the actual eye, so I'm just watching it.

I might give them a bit extra meal, though. They're getting around 500g now, which is pretty minimal for growing foals.

Dancer had her feet trimmed on Wednesday. She was a real pest, kicking and plunging, which is most unlike her because she's had her feet picked up since she was a month old. After all the wet weather we've been having, her feet are starting to smell, so Kevin recommended more frequent hoof picking and everyone has their feet picked out every day now. Oddly enough Dancer has been an absolute angel and never even offered to kick or fidget while I clean her feet, so perhaps she was just having a bad day.

Benjamin is another story; his left hind pedal bone has dropped and he's on his way to laminitis. The fact that he deeply resents his feet being handled doesn't help either. Kevin only managed to trim his forefeet; after that he was dragging me about and kicking out viciously with his back feet so the horse mutterer called it a day. I've been working hard with the dumb old donkey and now he lets me pick his back feet up without the aid of a lunging rein. Hopefully he'll stand still next week.

Friday, as usual, found me at Cheryl's stables helping with lessons. I got to ride too; first I was stuck with laid-back, happy-go-lucky Sunny who lives in his own dreamy little world full of flowers and butterflies. In his world, riders don't exist, so he tends to drift off and forget about his rider now and then. Once he's brought down to earth he's a nice, dependable, honest horse, but yesterday his head was in the clouds and he leaned on my hands, plodded ceaselessly and was a real bore. I missed big, fiery Double Reef, bumpy and grumpy as he can be. Later, to my delight, I was allowed to ride beautiful young Magic. Also an ex-racehorse, Magic is an iron grey three-year-old with a white blaze and socks. He's still exploding with muscle, having recently come off the track, and he simply ripples all over when he moves. He has the loveliest gentle face and I adore him. His owner hurt her back and couldn't ride him for a while, so I had to lunge him first, which was a bit hairy since the lunge ring was muddy after all the rain and Magic's balance isn't what it should be, but we survived. Because of his bad balance and the wet arena I stuck to walk and slow trot, and there was a buck in him but it never came out, thankfully. He's got the most awesome jump, last time I rode him I got to jump him over a teeny little 20cm cross and he floats.

The lessons were fun too, Applejack the Pony was roped in for a change. Applejack is about ten hands high and immensely popular with the little kids. One little girl, the fearless Abby who always manages to get the best out of her mount, had an absolute ball with him, giggling incessantly as they trotted around the arena with Abby trying hard to post on the choppy pony trot and looking like a particularly hyperactive bit of popcorn. They walked through the labyrinth as well, though of course to Applejack the labyrinth was huge and walking through it was no effort, much to the irritation of Abby's older sister Megan who was riding big long-backed Pumpkin. Needless to say, Pumpkin didn't cope with the labyrinth quite as easily as Applejack did. The mare really wasn't in the mood for jumping (she never is) but she did it eventually.

Today I gave Skye her daily grooming. Four more days until we can ride again. How long can four days possibly be? Oh well, the lack of riding is but a small price to pay for immunity against African Horse Sickness. She's thriving and as beautiful as a sunbeam; yesterday, late in the afternoon just before she was fed, she heard something at the bottom of her camp. Instantly she changed into Lead Mare Mode and floated towards whatever it was (I never did find out, it was probably a passing duiker or jackal) at a massively extended trot, throwing out her white socks, starlight mane blowing back across a neck that bent like a rainbow. Tail high, she flowed to a stop, tossing up her head until she seemed to grow with every breath. The sun was just going down and the light had turned thick and rich, and it loved her coat, flashing back off it, bathing her in gold. Oh, but she is beautiful.

One afternoon I managed to get a nice picture of her, just after a storm had blown over in minutes to fade sapphire blue in the east. I loved the rich gold of her coat against the moody blue behind.

I also took Thunder for a walk. Since the recent AHS inoculation has put lunging on hold, and anyway he's so young that lunging would only happen once a week or so, his training mostly consists of going for walks like a large and uncommonly magnificent dog. I've been having trouble with him recently, due to the handler and not the horse; he gets really nervous away from Dancer, much the same as he did when he was led away from Skye, and what with Achilles galloping about neighing and Dancer standing still and neighing, Thunder gets really worked up and starts to prance and neigh. To his massive credit, he never shows aggression the way that Siobhan did; no rearing, no biting, no chopping with his front feet and very little trying to drag me away. Like his dad he tends to lose concentration and try to wander off, but a tug on the lead rein generally brings him back. The constant shouting in my ear, prancing and general tenseness got on my nerves and I got cross and impatient, and Thunder seriously freaks out if you're impatient with him, he needs a lot of reassurance, so walks were generally a disaster. Today I took a step back and tried to sort of reassess the situation and figure out what stupid beginner mistake I was making this time, and I decided to try to solve Thunder's herdbound problem the same way as I tried to solve Arwen's; by making walks as relaxing and pleasant as possible and being more reassuring than rebuking. Bingo! It worked. He instantly tuned in to my much more relaxed mood and relaxed himself; Thunder is very sensitive and quickly picks up on my mood. The result? A much quieter little colt who walked calmly on a loose rein and even went for a gentle trot on a loose rein without trying to run off. He still neighs, of course, and he's still nervous, but about ten times better than our last walk on Thursday. Thanks be to God.

I sprayed some water at him as well from a hosepipe, having a vague idea that getting him used to water would be a good thing. He's jumpy about it, especially on his hindquarters, and quite maddeningly insists on walking around me in circles when I spray water on his hindquarters, but he's getting there. When Siobhan, at the age of two, got kicked and needed to be hosed down she went ballistic, broke a fence, and had a magnificent temper tantrum, all because she didn't want the nasty corrosive water on her front fetlock. Thunder stands dead still to be sprayed on his head, neck, forelegs, shoulders and sides, it's just the hindquarters we need to work on. He inherited that particular peeve from his mom.

He's such a lovely colt, with his mother's blazing gold coat, spirited honest eyes and willing nature. His pitch black legs and long, thick black mane and tail provide a handsome contrast to the chestnut coat. And of course, the star. I love him so much. He's going to be a truly majestic, regal horse when he grows up.

Last of all I took Arwen for a ride. She's so much better after the mealies, with regards to the laziness. We even rode down past the forest, which is where both she and I (but mostly I) get scared and tense, and she behaved beautifully. She had a tiny little spook, one of those where everything goes straight for a second and then it's over, and she was staring into the woods for a while but nothing serious. Her slow canter still hasn't made a reappearance yet, but I'm hoping it'll come together in the arena during our next schooling session. We had a nice run up Gallop Stretch during which I admit to leaning over her neck and urging her on with every bone in my body, resulting in an actual gallop, not what Kevin accurately refers to as a grannygallop. She's a lot lighter on my hands, too, hardly ever leans on them now, though of course wherever we go the nose is sticking out a mile. I know what I'm going to be doing during my next lesson.

November 20, 2011: Lazy Lazy Horse

Perhaps it's a bit unfair for me to say that today after Arwen gave me two pretty nice rides, but I have my head in my hands over that laziness thing of hers at the moment. The trouble is not merely getting her to go from walk to trot or trot to canter, the problem is getting her to move like a horse and not a dead donkey. On her bad days she doesn't actually trot, just picks her feet up a little higher to make me think she's trotting. Getting a decent working trot out of her requires kicking and an extended trot, on a good day, needs a whack from the whip.

And what happens when she does not want to go forward? I get frustrated. And then? I start riding like a windmill. Rain kindly took a video of Arwen and I today and I feel horribly ashamed of myself. My legs flap, my arms flap aroud her ears; the whip flaps, the elbows flap. Arwen pays absolutely no attention and plugs along at a snail's pace. Worst is the hands. Hands are so important in riding. For ages and ages I rode with my arms as straight as sticks and my hands resting in the horse's mane; I squished that habit eventually, with the help of Achilles who bucked if you put your hands down, but now I'm so terrified of Arwen slowing down that my arms have gone all straight again. Grrrrrrr.

After the slow and frustrating warm-up neither of us were in much of a mood for jumping, but Arwen perked up quite well after popping over the 90cm once or twice and I started to sit a bit quieter. By the end of it she was lolloping over the 90cm like an old hand and though she did slack off to a trot several times in the middle of the 80cm combination, she didn't offer to stop or run out. I even got her to canter rhythmically through the combination, though I kicked and kicked and kicked. By now the kicking is a habit, and a very bad one at that.

Otherwise I'm actually quite happy with my riding. My jumping position leaves much to be desired, and of course as a result of the kicking my toes turn out half the time, but I seem to be sitting up straight instead of slouching forward like I used to. Now, the hands must come up, the toes must turn in, the kicking must STOP, and I must focus on my jumping position. I'm happy with Arwen's jumping, though. She wants a very strong ride up to her jump, she needs to know that you're commited and there behind her, so I use my legs a lot - probably too much - and give her a lot of rein since she is timid and won't jump if she thinks I'm going to pull on her mouth. But if she knows her rider is going all the way then she goes all the way too and jumps nicely. She's so confident over the bigger jumps now. 90cm won't seem like much to a real showjumper, but Arwen is a fat 14.1hh five-year-old and the pole is a good deal higher than her chest, so I know she needs to stretch to get up there.

It took me a long time to get used to Arwen's need of lots of leg in front of a jump. Skye is totally different, if you kick her all the way she gallops, unbalances and jumps massively. She's a lot less tiring. If she's in the mood - in other words not bored to death by the arena and a foolish rider - I can get away with using my legs very little. Arwen is prone to jumping pretty messily and usually we knock the poles down several times during the session, but it's rare for Skye to knock poles, she's very careful with her legs. She doesn't need the very committed approach, I just need to trust her and let her do her job. I can't wait to get back in her saddle again. Oh sigh.

Anyway after watching that APPALLING video I got on Arwen to fetch cows this afternoon and kept my hands UP. I left my whip behind and didn't miss it as much as I thought I would; fetching cows still makes her a bit jumpy, which gets her on her toes and not as droopy and dull. Perhaps she is getting too much time in the arena. Though as a rule she only jumps once, or maybe twice, a week she gets schooled two or three times in addition to that, so maybe I need to revise her schedule, though she is still almost just as lazy on outrides. Or perhaps the fact that I was riding a bit more like a human and a bit less like a deranged monkey made a bit of an improvement. Anyway I was very pleased with her, she behaved herself very well and I trust her much more now. She's getting fitter, too, not half dying after a few minutes' canter. I aimed her at a little bank - no higher than 60cm, but vertical - and to my surprise she popped over it without a fuss. The first time she saw the bank a few weeks ago she freaked out and said that there was No Way she was going Up There, but a few days ago she was cantering up to it and over it, albeit extremely skew and neccessitating even more kicking, and today she decided that it was no longer scary and jumped up. She was reluctant about trotting through some shallow water, but did it eventually. She used to lose her head awfully if the herd of cattle we were herding charged off, but now she listens to me. There were just a few bad moments when she decided that the Jersey calves in long grass were Terrible Horse-Eating Monsters and refused to approach them, balking like a kitchen table. Thankfully there was no rearing/spooking/bolting involved and I managed to get her to walk up to them, once they saw us and picked up their heads she realised they were cattle and not demons.

3000 words in the new WIP happened today. I do hope I'm not stuffing it with filler. Since I'm writing from the point of view of a martial arts teacher I decided that I needed to learn something about martial arts, so I read a lot about that today and was so fascinated that I tried to stuff a whole lot of it into the story. A major info dump could have resulted, but I'm so sick of filler after Sparrowhawk's 60 000 word excess that I kept myself in check and trimmed it up to just a little bit about the use of the quarterstaff. Still ended up with a long monologue on the part of my hero, Sir Flann, who insisted on nattering on about the why and when of weapons instead of the how. I think it's valid, though. The character feels very strongly about it, and I hope the reader will get that impression from his heated speech.

Then I sort of dusted Skye off. It would be nice so say I brushed her until she gleams, but she gleams like a sword's blade brushing or no brushing. I still meticulously groomed every inch of her, combed out her mane and tail, cleaned her feet and gave her the world's unluckiest apple which she devoured like a vaccuum cleaner. Hugging her tightly, the mighty crest of her neck fitting perfectly into my arms, I could only thank God for something so bright and so beautiful. When the world spins I know I can depend on a horse named Skye and most of all on the love of God. With Him above my head and Skye between my knees, I don't need to be afraid of anything.

Ever.

November 19, 2011: Thrills and Spills

Okay, you know the excuses by now. Life has been hectic, lots of stuff to do, extra studies, blah blah. Ha! So much for extra studies. We're in the middle of a bit of a crisis, involving a lot of accounting on my parents' part, so Rain and I have been roped in to do a bit more farm work. By a Herculean effort on our whole family's part, we've been putting five groups of Frieslands (100 cattle) through the crush each Saturday in about three hours flat. Doesn't sound like much? Well, each heifer gets weighed, her height is measured and she is dipped for ticks, minimum. Most of them need something else, too - an inoculation, or a deworming, or a shot for vitamins, or a tag, or I could go on for ages. Oh yes, and it's all duly written down. Added to this is our neck clamp, which sticks/comes off its rails every now and then, requiring some quick thinking on the handler's part.

Anyways, even though we are in crisis mode a bit, and things get a bit stormy and stressful, I'm quite enjoying the extra farm work. The extra studies have flapped out of the window until the crisis is over, so I'm spending a lot of time either outside or with my butt in the chair, banging out words a mile a minute. I don't think I've ever been this productive. Okay, so when I was eleven and writing a novel named Strength Lies in the Heart that was just as pathetic as its title (if not more), I used to write five chapters a day, but then I a) didn't have better things to do and b) it was a load of rubbish. Now, I'm cranking out about 3000 words a day. Not much of a feat for an accomplished writer, but it's more than I've done for years. I finally gave myself a kick in the pants and got Sparrowhawk's revisions rolling again. I was about to introduce a new character, came down with a bad case of the I-Don't-Wannas as they're known on Magical Words, and decided to interview him before sticking him into the story. Boom! I suddenly have an AWESOME character and a nice new little conflict/plot point thingy that should tie up the main plot a lot nicer than it originally was. For the non-writers out there, yes, I interviewed him. I sat him down and got out my little list of questions, and for the dubious, I truly didn't know what he was going to reply. Am I schizophrenic? A little bit, probably, but at least I'm not alone; I learnt that trick at Magical Words too.

The Last of a Legend is in the drawer for a while. I would love to haul it out again, but I might be writing myself into a tangle with it. For now, I don't want to lose momentum on the more promising projects. I'm in love with Sparrowhawk because I can depend on it and I'm starting to learn where I stand with it. With the new WIP, which also doesn't have a name yet (sigh), I'm trying something rather odd and different. Firstly, the story is a cross between School of Rock, Harry Potter and Narnia; secondly, I'm writing in first person, which I haven't done since Pinto; and thirdly, I'm writing from an adult POV, which I haven't done, full stop. The adult POV is scaring me a bit, because a) I'm not an adult b) I'm writing YA and as a rule YA novels are not written from an adult point of view. Admittedly almost all the other characters are either kids or horses, and The Hero spends all his time interacting with them, but I'm still nervous about it. In rewrites I guess I'll shake it up a bit and split the story in half, one half from the grownup's point of view and the other half from one of the teenager's point of view. It might never work, but I fell head over heels in love with it and half of life's failures come from pulling in one's horse when he is leaping.

Onto the horses. They are all happy and well, albeit fat in some cases. Skye is absolutely glowing, though she put on some weight and we still have two weeks to go before I get to ride her again after her inoculation. I'm not fussed, we'll work the extra weight off in no time. She's still far from being a little fat pig like Siobhan and Arwen. I know she will explode when I get on again but I quite like it when she gets as fizzy as a well-shaken Coke bottle, because she always takes care of me and she's not rebellious, just full of energy, so she prances magnificently. She's living a life of luxury at the moment. She bites Arwen in the backside if she thinks I'm giving her too much attention, though.

I'm a bit nervous about getting back on Siobhan after her having almost two months completely off, but when I was last riding her, she was over the bucking-every-single-time stage (at least, I fervently hope so) so I hope she'll behave herself. Siobhan's training was going well. However I'm still scared to death of riding her out. Ever since Achilles... oh sigh, I'll just have to suck it up and do it.

The foals are glowing too; growing tall and shiny. I'm seeing ribs, but with foals, ribby is good. In fact everyone is glowing except for Benjamin the donkey. Kevin reckons he's starting with the early stages of laminitis. He's not lame/in pain, but his left hind pedal bone has seen better days. Hopefully with his concentrates cut down to nothing and corrective trimming we can manage it, though I don't think the summer grass is good for it. Thankfully Benjamin never has to work, he just has to walk around in his paddock, so it's not the absolute end of the world, though I've seen acute laminitis and it's not pretty. We've caught it early, though. He's in no pain at all and was never overfed.

The mares both got fly masks. ("Hey, you've got aliens in your paddock!" announced Kevin.)

I took my two students for an outride, out on the farm all the way to the little dam. Arwen is miles and miles and miles better on outrides, to the degree that I put Brandon on her and she didn't turn a hair. To be honest riding out on her tends to be quite dull because unlike Skye she never anticipates a gallop, she never prances and I have to kick her half to death to get a decent gallop out of her. Actually, I prefer her like this, since I don't trust her with my life like I do Skye, so I guess she'd scare the pants off me if she started getting fiery like Skye is. Anyway I can't complain because just a month ago I was scared silly of riding her out and she was scared silly of being ridden out and started rearing, bucking, spooking and head-tossing incessantly. To her credit, she plugged along without putting a foot out of place. Last time I blogged I said that cantering out made us both nervous. Now we canter loads. We even gallop. Well, she tries, anyway, but she's really not the fastest horse in the world and I feel sorry for her because she starts to puff and pant. Skye may look like a big hairy carthorse but she sure can run.

Skye was awesome as well with Dylan. Understand that Dylan is a beginner - a willing and capable beginner, but still a beginner - and if Skye shot off with him the way she shoots off with me when I want her to, he would stand about as much chance as a chocolate kettle on a hot stove. Skye takes such good care of him. The fiery steed that prances and champs with me on her back turns into a calm, quiet, obedient school pony with the patience of a saint.

Arwen has been too lazy for words lately. Two weeks ago our lesson was utterly pathetic, I couldn't get her to trot in anything approaching a decent speed and I used my whip far too much (too often, not too hard). I admit to becoming intensely frustrated with her being so dull to my aids. She didn't jump at all well, though to be fair I got left behind the first couple of times and pulled horribly on her mouth, so I can't really blame her for that. Our last lesson was loads better, but an extended trot is still a major accomplishment if it ever happens after an age of kicking. Other parts are really good; she has a lovely fixed rhythm to her canter, and I've finally learned that horses can't do U-turns, they need nice big round turns (C-turns I suppose). That's elementary stuff really, I guess, but I had a mental block against it.

We fetched the cows on Monday and the last time I fetched cows with her she basically fought me the whole way and had a little temper tantrum that gave Mom a heart attack. This time she was stunning, drifted along without a peep of protest and even splashed through the water without going crazy like she did last time. It's been insanely hot and fat little Arwen, who's prone to sweating, suffers if I ride too early so I haven't fetched cows again but suffice it to say I was very proud of her. Progress at last. Her biggest issues now are the laziness and the fact that she still doesn't bring her head in. For now, I want to work on the laziness more than the collection. Getting her to move at a snail's pace with her head in isn't going to achieve much.

Rain's riding has been going SWIMMINGLY which is saying something, because not even Kevin could teach her on her stubborn days and Kevin really can teach. I bullied her into cantering, knowing that once she actually cantered she would adore it, and I was right. Thankfully lazy little Arwen canters really slowly, so Rain feels safe. She's even stopped bouncing up and down like a spring and looks quite solid on the canter. She's never going to compete or back youngsters, but I would love it if Rain would ride around with me on the farm. I would like to train Siobhan for Rain and sort of give her back. I have enough riding horses, especially with Thunder being backed in two years' time, and Siobhan isn't a really promising horse, besides with those withers jumping her would be a nightmare. The smart thing to do would be to sell her, but I love her too much. She was my first really difficult horse and backing her was one of the most rewarding things I have ever done.

My truly amazing parents, who are the best parents anyone can ever wish for, have let me register my own Jersey stud. I am so EXCITED!!! When I was about five they bought me an old cow named Blinkers, who is now living out her retirement:

... but had lots of lovely calves. My 18 female Jerseys consist mainly of her descendants, with a few others, Mom also decided to give me a tiny little heifer named Fiona who grew into a nice cow. So I have 18 Jerseys and if Jersey SA hurry up I'll soon have my own Jersey stud. HURRAY!! [does little jig of excitement]

My little SP heifer, Briar, has been registered and I got her certificate. It was quite thrilling, in a way that no accomplished farmer would understand, to see the name HYDEAWAY BRIAR and just below it, STUDBOOK PROPER. I've got two SPs now, Briar and a heifer named Florette. If Blue Moon ever decides to calve and has a heifer, that will be SP as well. Moon sure is taking her time so I hope she's got something nice in there for me. I have to heifers in calf to AI bulls; Borina, due in March, has an Access calf and more excitingly Freya, who is only a month pregnant, has an Eclipes calf, Eclipes being one of the top bulls in SA at the moment. If Babeica takes she should also carry an Eclipes calf.

I might, however, make some radical changes and sell ten of my cows. It will be quite heart-wrenching and I'll keep a few nicer ones and a handful for purely sentimental reasons, but if I market them as a small dairy herd they should find a good home, or at least not a home that involves turning them into steak. The proceeds from that sale would go to just two or maybe three really top-notch young heifers to form the foundation of Joyful Jerseys [possibly, one of the six stud names I chose].

Bushwillow Stables is also really busy at the moment. I still ride my beloved Double Reef almost every single week. His jumping is much improved. Two new horses have arrived, a big grey named Trompie and a little grey named Cowboy who has a BAD ATTITUDE. Cowboy is a stallion and despite the fact that he's about eleven hands tall, he managed to snap three of the fence poles around his paddock and wreak absolute havoc. He somehow got Bobby (a massive carthorse about sixteen hands tall) out of his stable and proceeded to nearly kick the poor guy to pieces, whereas Bobby only landed a scratch or two on the little brat. Observing the beat-up Bobby, whose wounds are superficial but painful, I was just making up my mind that there was one horse I was never riding when Kevin mentioned in passing that I was going to be riding Cowboy since Kevin is too big. Oh crivens, that should be fun. Okay, I'm sure he's not that bad, besides eleven hands isn't far to fall is it? The nice thing with the challenging horses is that if you get them right the success just makes you feel like you're soaring over the clouds.

I got to ride on a lovely little horse named Shadow this week. Suffice it to say that Shadow's previous owners were not the greatest horsemen in the world. The poor filly arrived in a game trailer much too low for a horse to ride in; she tossed up her head, banged it on the trailer and split her face open. If she had whacked her head just a little further back, she would have hit her poll and died. Mercifully, she just cut herself open, but it was still a nasty wound; the cut went all the way down to the bone, high up on her forehead. The cut has healed without even leaving a scar, and now all that remains is her phobia of having her head and ears touched - which has improved - and her lack of a forelock, which had to be cut off to keep it out of the wound. She's a wonderful filly; around fourteen hands high and the most perfect dappled grey I've ever seen. I'm a sucker for dappled greys anyway, and I fell instantly for Shadow with her sad past. She's very sweet and though she's newly backed, she almost never explodes, unlike Siobhan. I had a great ride on her this Friday. She's very responsive and though her brakes were a bit hairy at the start, we fixed that in five minutes of walk and stop, walk and stop. Since Achilles I've been nervous of newly-backed young horses, but after just half an hour or so I rode her out in the company of Leanne (a seven-year-old student mounted on Pumpkin) and Natasha (another apprentice riding on Firefly). My dear little mount didn't put a toe out of place. She looked at things a little, and she's still not used to her bit, tossing her head now and then, but she's so steady and quiet that I feel at my ease in her saddle. We even cantered when we got back to the arena, though she goes too fast like most young horses, and needed to be kicked into it, but unlike the newly-backed horses I've ridden she never even offered to buck, toss her head or swerve and we cantered several times before calling it a day and cooling off. She plodded calmly around the arena on a nice loose rein, walking cool. Then I was sitting on the ground thinking "Where on Earth did my horse go?" and watching Shadow skid to a halt a few metres away. To the filly's enormous credit, she came to a stop and turned around to see where I'd gone instead of rocketing off. Something must have spooked her enormously. That wasn't defiance, that was fear; I wasn't asking her any difficult questions, we were just walking around. There was a bit of thunder in the air so I guess that could have been it. With horses you never really know what spooked them. I sure hadn't seen that one coming, though, so I still can't figure out if it was a dumb fall or a dramatic one. No one watching could even tell me what had gone wrong. One moment I was on, the next moment I was off. I shook my head to clear it, got up and caught Shadow, who had totally calmed down. Kevin came strolling up and put me back on, asking as an afterthought, "You didn't hurt yourself, though?"

"Uh... nope," I said. Shadow had bucked, or leapt into the air or something, I had flopped onto her left shoulder and she spooked at me and shied, leaving me sitting on air; I landed on my back, rolled and managed to avoid injury of any description. At least, that's what I think. Shadow behaved herself impeccably for the rest of the ride and after getting over the initial fright I was confident on her. That makes a very nice change. I hate being a nervous rider. I hate, hate, hate, hate it because it's terribly crippling. There are certain horses that I trust and I'll jump the moon on them, and other horses that make me shiver just to sit on them. Namely, Achilles. At least I can still approach a new horse with an open mind.

Well, this blog is getting as long as the Iliad so I had better shut up and go to bed now. Nursing a stiff bum (from falling off, not from riding, I haven't been stiff from riding for ages) and a severe shortage of riding Skye. Just a few more weeks to go...