Daisy, Daisy, give me you answer do

Another warm and pleasant afternoon on the Forest, this time in the company of Wendy and the New Forest Carriage Driving for the Disabled Group. The assistants, and in particular the horse owners, are to be highly commended for preparing and transporting their horses and carriages to various venues on the Forest and to be congratulated for owning so calm and cooperative creatures. Each horse has an entourage of at least 5 people, all ready to support the person with a disability (disabilities) by adapting the equipment for their particular needs, making sure the horse has the right harness and reins on, head-holding, and then escorting the horse through the Forest in bicycles and with a sign-written car. Needless to say the horses are loved by everyone involved and I was particularly pleased to meet Daisy face-to-face as I have seen her many times being driven along Roger Penny Way with her owner Felicity. 

I became Daisy's head-holder at three change-overs and apart from tryng to rub me (my fault) she stood like a rock while everything went on around her. 

Wendy was allocated Jerry to drive and like of all of the disabled visitors, she was given the opportunity to take over the reins if she would like to. Some people have more severe disabilities which prevent them from doing so but the joy is being in the presence of horses and people who love and care about them. 

Jerry wears a fly-rug to protect him from the insects

These good and honest ponies were quite hot when they got back and they were washed down before they went home. We all know that horses are addictive - and Wendy misses her two Highland ponies very badly - and I have no doubt we will be back. 

Moss, the whippetosaurus

This group needs the following if anyone can help: funds, other drivers and quiet steeds, light-weight safety steps.

Molly with her team of helpers

It's a S**t Job.

Such a beautiful, beautiful day today, warm, blue sky, pretty clouds and a light breeze. The perfect day to sit and watch the horses enjoying some new grass and swaying through their ballet of interactions: nose to nose, or synchronised, seeking each other out for different reasons. I could just sit on my garden chair with my back to the barn door and wait, and wait, and apparently wait for them to poo. 

Normally, I split them up for the purpose of taking samples for their faecal worm counts. This enables me to do other jobs,but I thought that I would nice, relaxing afternoon instead. This is how it went.

Theoden: "What's in the cardboard box? No, really, what's in the cardboard box? Hit me with the cardboard box because I've got a blasted fly on me. I don't care if you can't see the other horses, scratch my ears."

I peer under his belly trying to keep an eye on the others for any er, productions. 

Theoden: "Right, if you are not going to eliminate all of these insects, I am leaving. I am going to stand in the field shelter." Exits stage left and now I am down to 6 horses and 6 samples.

Nelly: "Have you noticed there's no water in the trough? I don't care if you can't see the other horses, I need some water and I need it now."

I stand up and go into the yard to connect the hosepipe and turn the tap on. Bearing in mind that it only takes 3 seconds for a pony to poo, I wonder if any of the have 'gone' without me and execute a complete Poo Patrol before sitting back down.

Theoden: "I'm back, no one else came with me and I got lonely." Okay, you can stay here with me - only could you move out of the way?

Horses tend to poo once every two hours and now there is only an hour left. It could get very busy. Horses are normally inspired by the smell of poo and they are all grazing close to the poo pile. Not today.

A gust picks up the cardboard box, shakes open the top, and discards all of my plastic bags in the vicinity. I go round collecting them up and hope that no-one has done anything surreptitious. Second Poo Patrol commences. Sit back down.

Water trough overflows. Run into the yard to turn the tap off and disconnect the hose. Was I gone too long? Third Poo Patrol. Sit back down. 

Horses are all standing in a line like can-can dancers, some facing towards me and others away. What with the breeze and the insects, their tails are continuously moving and Pie, in particular, has a high tail carriage - could that be? Was it? Patsy stands and looks pensive, or could she have COLIC? 

Jack takes a long, long drink and should pee for England. It's Patsy that wins the race to go first. I pick up three little bags, in case anyone else gets inspired, and go and collect a nugget, shall we say, of her poo. The bags are small and the nugget was big and I am now being pestered by seven equines, all wanting to know what I am doing. Dave goes next and now I've got one plastic bag in my left hand, that's Patsy, and his in the right, fingers covered in muck and Henry decides to go but I can't find it. Ah, clever mule is always worried about leaving clues as to her whereabouts, so she has park it on top of Patsy's. Patsy left hand leftest, Dave left hand rightest, Henry right hand. Back to the barn, put the right form in the right post bag with the right small bag and there's poo all over the forms and the postage bags are difficult to open without licking you fingers. I've had to write the horse's names on with a thick marker pen and I haven't got anything else to fill in the other details. 

Sit back down. Relax again. And now the unpleasant Fritham dog chorus starts. This field used to be my haven but now there are several demented collies, one of which barks incessantly when she is let outside and that is most of the time. One of the other set along the road howls relentlessly when the other, younger, dogs are taken out. 

The Fallow deer stream across the fields, all fifty of them, and sit in the Circle to watch proceedings. In the sky, a Red Kite is searching for carrion and a diminutive Kestrel is looking for mice. There's a little Lapwing that keeps going in and out of the barn so I move my chair along a bit so that he has a clear flight path.

The sun coming out from behind the clouds activates a large fly and Theoden gallops about pretending to be a friend when really he is trying to pass it off. I have shut the far field gate because no one is leaving here until they've taken a s**t!

Nelly: "Are my hooves okay? Could you rub my ears please?" Nelly, do go away.

With 3 down and 4 to go, the equines divide themselves up into couples, one who has been and one who has not. My eyes are like a kaleidoscope, and they feel as if they are being stretched as I try to observe all of them at the same time. 

At long last, Theoden and Nelly do their duty. More bag packing. More investigations. I decide to pack up as much as I can and sit in the shade of the oak tree to wait for Jack and Pie. I discover an undiscovered new poo and have to wait for one of them to go in order to work out who was in fact my poo champion. And of course, it was Jack.

I sit in the car with the nub of an ancient pencil to fill in the rest of the forms and wonder what the vets will make of my childish handwriting and my childish implements, and then I chuck them in the postbox at Godshill and hope that I have not jammed the letterbox and that none of the packages will leak.

So there's no photos of my beautiful horses in their rich summer coats because I left my phone in the car and didn't dare go and get it in case it led to any further identification problems. 

Facewash

 

After a lovely drive, we thought we would let Kalina watch Kelly being bathed with the hose at much closer proximity. It was Kalina who chose to go forwards into the yard and to engage with what was happening. 

Although the plan had been to see what she would make of being washed with the hose, this was such a positive move that Claire felt that we should not go any further on this occasion. I agreed. Kalina did take a good look at the hosepipe being taken back to the tap, so as well as washing her, we must do some more work on getting her used to the hosepipe moving around. 

Eco-wash

Kalina with Karioka before she took exception to being washed with a hose. 

The best way to prepare a horse to accept water on its body, is to get the horse quite hot in the first place. This morning Kalina was driven with Bali, Karioka, and Kelly.

The farm location for these horses ia absolutely perfect for access to good wide tracks. 

After their drive, the other three horses were washed within sight of Kalina, and Kalina herself accepted a sponge bath with cold water. Progress! Darn it, I wasn't there myself but I have got a video...

Happy Birthday to You

 My neighbour's pony, Fleur, has just reached her 20th birthday, and to celebrate, her owner made her this gorgeous cake!

Of course it disappeared faster than you could say, "Congratulations Fleur".

It's good to see her looking so well considering she almost died from strangles and the subsequent treatments for it. Her recovery took well over a year. 

Pre-wash!

 

Once again small changes for Kalina - the hose pipe is now about 8 foot long and Claire is imitating the movements needed for bathing her. This is a horse that reacted so badly to being washed at a show that Claire was worried that people might think she had beaten her! Ever since the initial incident with the hose pipe on the floor, she has been terrified of them. This is the first time she has been back in the pen since that event too.

Claire and I agree on which step to take next and often catch ourselves saying the same thing at the same time. Claire has a marvellous attitude to the horses, despite being a very competitive woman, and she is willing to go back to the very very beginning where it is necessary. The horses have a great deal of trust in her and always try to do their best. The only instruction I have had to give has been to not reinforce any slight nervousness by saying 'ooh what's that!' or 'Good Girl' in a slightly high pitched voice. We all do it, and people with children tend to do it more. There has been a lot of yawning going on and if the children are bored watching then we know we have got the pace about right.

Snake Pass

What I like about clicker training, is that it is possible to take a circuitous route which avoids the horse's original reaction to the stimulus. Nevertheless, it's a fine line to tread, knowing which direction to take next - introduce a longer piece of hosepipe, lay it on the floor, touch the horse with it or wiggle it on the ground, let the horse touch it on her own, change the colour, introduce water, and so on. All the time, we are trying to build up so slowly that we don't trigger a strong reaction.

Yesterday, we made four changes - Claire took over from me, we rewarded Kalina with cleavers rather than grass, we slightly increased the length of the hose pipe, went back to a shorter length and repeated all of the work on Kalina's left hand side. There was the occasional slight snort but nothing more and at times she came forward to touch and mouth the hose. All a far cry from her extreme reaction to a moving hose pipe, when she crouched and shook, and tried to breast the bars of the pen in the yard, and her subsequent reactions to anyone trying to bath her. Claire, who spends most of the summer showing her heavy horses has had to take Kalina out of the team.

Asked whether Kalina is generally nervous, Claire explained that at the Yorkshire Show the heavy horses were stabled in the Heavy Horse Village which was reached through a passageway between massive farm machinery and fluttering banners and flags; Kalina didn't turn a hair. 

The whole session was uneventful and afterwards Claire's daughter wanted to practise too. Ordinarily these horses NEVER receive hand treats because they are petted by all kinds of people, young and old, at the shows that they go to. 

I Don't Like Spiders and Snakes

Just like her owner, Kalina has an innate fear of snakes: any sensible horse would have. Unfortunately, a little while ago she was badly shaken up by the hosepipe moving about under the pressure of water and now needs some reassurance that it will not bite her. 

I have worked with Claire a number of times and she is always prepared to take things slowly, so today we introduced Kalina to clicker training and a very small 'snake'; only one problem, she doesn't really like or understand about food from the hand. We packed away all the herbal treats, carrots, and cubes of bread as they were not to her taste and instead presented her with tiny bouquets of clover and grass. Soon she was moving about, backwards and forwards for treats, politely listening for the clicks and waiting until the treat was offered.

 To make them last longer I held the grass tightly so that she had to break it off. 

Next, I introduced a short length of hosepipe that was a mere 12" long to which she had no reaction at all. She was prepared to touch it and happy to let me touch her with it. She reacted to the longer section, about a yard long, by snorting at it and taking a couple of steps back, but in time she was prepared to stand and look at it more closely, even when Rowena, Claire's Mum, was making it wiggle on the ground. As you can see in the picture, she still has a 'running foot', left hind, but she has her head lowered and she is looking at it with both eyes. After this we were happy - okay, I was extremely happy - to lead her out to the fields with her companion Karioka. Tomorrow, I shall not be so selfish and I will let Claire carry on the good work. 

Camel Craziness

With a sense of adventure, David and I went up to Birmingham at the beginning of the week, to attend a talk by Christina Adams, author of Camel Crazy. She is a hero of mine in the camel world and I couldn't wait to get there to hear her talking about camel milk and camels in general. 

The talk itself was in the Muslim Student and Community Centre, right next door to the flat we stayed in overnight. We were made very welcome by everyone there and it was great to meet so many people from diverse cultures. Christina herself is an American lady who was on a quest to find something, anything, that would help her son's severe autism. She is absolutely convinced that camel milk made an enormous difference to his life. 

I eventually got to talk to her directly, and she had that sparkle in her eye that comes when two camel people meet each other and know just how it feels to get into the soul of a camel. I told her about Tulip and Shilingi, and the Loisaba Conservancy. Of course I asked her to sign my book too. 

She told me I wasn't weird, just early, with my view about the value of camels, but the fact is we are all too late since these animals have sustained nomadic pastoralists for years and in times of climate change and drought they will become more and more essential. 

Anyone wanting to source camel milk, can contact The Hump Group who have a Facebook page.

Making Strides

 

Last Sunday, my young Kenyan friend, G, had his first formal (and surprise) riding lesson at Arniss on the New Forest. So many forms to fill in these days and it wasn't easy for his Mum to explain to him why he suddenly needed to be measured and weighed on a Friday night. Fifty years ago I was chucked out of the car door at Sylvia's riding school, made to brush and muck out all day before being treated to a ride on a pony on its way back out to the fields. Still, much better to have a proper record of clients, how heavy they are, and what progress they have made. 

G worked up to his first trot and Harry, the pony, was very benevolent towards him. G had great posture and didn't hang on to the pony's mouth. 

Lessons, sadly but understandably, are very expensive these days and this was more of a taster session than the promise of further lessons. My horses are all adamant that they have retired and I respect that.

Driving Rain

Photograph with the permission of: Graham Wiffen Photography

Last weekend was fun in the rain. On Saturday my friend Wendy and I went to watch the first day of the New Forest Concours International d'Attelage at the New Forest show ground. I have known for a long time that driving people are the nicest horse people around and we were made very welcome at this event, people telling us about their horses and ponies, and the history of their vehicles. Everyone was beautifully turned out - sadly underneath their long Mackintoshes. 

Photo permission granted by Graham Wiffen Photography

Our particular favourites were the two Highland Friesian crosses who were bred,it turns out, by Ruaridh Ormiston (see earlier holiday in Scotland). They were a beautiful match and had great temperaments although it was noticeable that all the horses, including the lofty KPWN gelderlanders who were happily snoozing in their stables before dancing their away across the show ring lawns.

Photograph by permission: Graham Wiffen Photography

According to AIAT-GB, the Concours International d'Attelage de Tradition competition format was developed around 30 years ago in order to regenerate interest in traditional driving. 

Two Welsh Section C's and the eventual winners.
Photography by permission: Graham Wiffen Photography

On course, the horses - at a time when they were raring to go - had to stand still long enough for the driver to pick up and then deliver safely a glass of champagne, and soon to go past someone noisily banging on a drum. After other obstacles, they set out - in the by now pouring rain - to drive around a circuit on the Forest (at least there would be no crab flies!). 

Love the One You're With

One amazing survival instinct of horses is their ability to love the one they're with - after all, your life may depend on them.

Fleur, who lost he soul mate last year and was pretty poorly herself took a little while to accept her new companion, Pickle, considering her to be a poor replica of her erstwhile friend. Not only was she a silly roan colour, she was young and frivolous too. However, Pickle knew how to be tactful and persistent and now look...

Even though they have two stables available, they have moved in together.

Meanwhile, Prince has a new best friend too. The two of them practically fell into each other's arms although Prince has to stand on his tiptoes to reach.

What makes you smile like you are trying to swallow a coathanger?

 

At least one third of my heart is always in Kenya and I miss seeing my lovely camels and the kind team that looks after the milking herd. Today I needed a camel fix, and they kindly obliged with this gorgeous picture. Tulip in the middle, Kukuman behind the camera, and from the left Ekomwa, Dayow, Mohammed and Nurr.

Brakes

Until now, Ruth and Prince have been bound together by the elasticity of clicker training but, as is often the case, that elastic was stretched to its limit and broken by the green carpet of temptation, known as grass. On their way up the track, Prince had started to get ahead of Ruth in order to thrust his head down to eat the long grass and tasty foliage along the way. By the time he was head of her, no amount of pulling him back with the lead rein worked, and circling him just made things worse. 

It was time to instal some rules  and so I went to see them to see if I could help. The first thing to do was to make sure that he never got more than a few inches ahead of Ruth, and that each time every time he did she needed to turn towards him and back him up until he was in the right place. Being such a sensitive and responsive pony it was easy to establish this with the lightest of touch and some clear body language. 

Once we got up to the - massive field - we let him eat for five minutes in what will become one of three designated places along a walking route, and then continued with some basic groundwork: forwards, backwards, turning left and right, asking him not to get ahead of her in any situation. All of this he accepted very easily and he seemed to enjoy the activity. 

In the last picture he stopped on a sixpence when Ruth came to a seering halt.

From Ruth: 

"I just wanted to let you know that I took Prince up the track to the field yesterday. There was no barging, walking ahead of me or trying to get grass on the way up! 😊 He was extremely well mannered, if anything a little on the laid back side!"

By George

My own horses are coming out of the winter well. We've been providing plenty of nesting materials to the local birds and their summer coats are emerging. Last weekend we were visited by sme Kenyan friends and Dave temporarily came out of retirement so that George could experience his first sit on a horse. 

Progress Reports

 For followers of Prince and Muli Bwanji, I have some videos for you to enjoy.

Zanzibar Safari ya Nje

Despite first appearances, my trip to Zanzibar was intended more to be an educational trip rather than a holiday, although it always helps to have a friend who has an apartment! My overriding mission was to practice my Swahili as much as possible and see whether I could get by. Zanzibar is the birth place of Swahili and the place where it is spoken the most purely. 

With the help of a few friends of Colin's, and a huge gulp of bravery, I was soon fairly independent, talking to anyone and everyone that I met. Muslims, Masai, and tourists, chatting away to shopkeepers in the spice market in Stone Town and the man who worked for the BBC who sold Kiswahili story books. I walked into town to change money, and go to the pharmacy (toothache!).

I didn't feel in the least bit worried. Even the people touting for customers on the beach understood a "La, asante" and left me along or chatted about other things, mainly my ability to talk to them. I had a happy afternoon with two wonderful ladies from the mainland of Tanzania, first having a massage and then, somehow, my hair braided; not so much cultural appropriation, but cultural appreciation. Like women everywhere, we put the world to rights.

I was invited to eat with a family of Muslim women as they broke their fast for the day during Ramadan. While the men were off praying at the local mosque, the ten women, who had twenty five children between them, made the food in massive, massive cauldrons on fires outside. The children, who were playing, soon came to investigate me, watching videos of horses and the post-banging in machine over and over again - shouting tena! tena! when one came to an end. One little girl tested her English out on me and I added in some new words to her collection of fruits and trees and food.

A visit to Jozani Forest, conducted entirely in Swahili, was extremely pleasant in the shade, looking at black and white Colobus monkeys and the rarer Red Colobus monkeys known as Kima.

Jozani also has mangroves which are crucially important to ecology. Thankfully they are protected, and like the Forest itself, no development can take place. Everywhere else hotels and apartment are being thrown up to satisfy the Blue Economy which is vital to the island.

My other mission, of course, was to see if I could find any camels, and I learned that there are only three remaining, all imported from the mainland. One is in a zoo at Stone Town but these two live at the hotel I went to last and they live on the surrounding trees and can get right down to the sea. 

Mission accomplished although the grinding poverty behind the party beaches is hard to witness and yet everyone remains friendly and polite, whatever they think of the tourists, their livelihoods depending on it.  Zanzibar has banned the plastic bag but the litter is mainly made up on single use plastic drinking water bottles - that will be down to the tourists too. 

The End

We are very lucky to live in a country where we have the ability - albeit at a cost - to have our animals put to sleep, without pain, by using drugs or a humane killer (gun). Indeed, we would be considered to be causing unnecessary suffering if we failed to do so and could be prosecuted.

Last week I was in Zanzibar where the cultural and religious rules, or at least the interpretation of them, forbids the killing of an animal unless it is going to be eaten. The Quran also states that it is forbidden to be cruel towards any animal, a rule that we know is ignored in many countries and by people of every religion and those with none. The Masai and Samburu are generally Christian now but their way of life is very pragmatic - where you have livestock, you have deadstock and that's it.

Moving to a hotel near the end of my visit, I was welcomed to 'Paradise' and it was lovely to see donkeys, camels, chickens and a turkey with their chicks, running around the well-tended grounds. The female donkey had been unlucky in the past when someone had cut off the tops of her ears, a 'traditional medicine' of the cruellest kind. However, she was happy and well now and had a filly foal at foot called Bonita.

At the top of a hill within the grounds, I spotted some more long ears, flickering in silhouette. I climbed the hill to a shady area where a donkey was just about standing, cleary shaking and extremely hot. There was no water that he could reach and the only food provided was dried banana leaves which were long and fibrous. His genital area was covered in blue spray and swollen with infection and every so often he tried to stretch his back legs to ease the pain or attempt to pee. There were no droppings in the area. It was clear to me that he was in agony and that he was dying.

The Masai men who work at the hotel for an Indian owner, quickly came up and we talked in Swahili about what had happened. Apparently, three weeks ago, the donkey was attacked by the other donkey jack and had been badly bitten in the genital area. I gathered that the vet had been and later I was told by the owner that the donkey had had an operation and later contracted tetanus. I asked the men to bring clean water, and I offered the donkey a drink which he took eagerly but not for very long. I asked them to leave the water close to the donkey.

An hour later, I went up again by which time the donkey was recumbent. I wiped him over with a damp cloth which I borrowed from one of the Masai, and offered him water from my hand which he sucked from my fingers. We placed the dried leaves under his head to prevent sand getting into his eye but they insisted he was just sleeping when I knew that he was dying. By the following morning he had gone.

The owner wasn't prepared to talk to me properly about what had happened but in later messages told me that it was against the culture and religion of Zanzibar which has a very high proportion of Muslims, to put any animal to sleep. This seems to have overridden the religious rule about not being cruel to an animal and I am struggling to reconcile the two. Even at law school we discussed the fact that rights are great until they rub against the rights of others - in this case an animal - and we know that religious books were written long before we had choices about how to kill an animal for welfare reasons. 

I have no doubt whatsoever that this donkey was loved, and shown love, and treated well by his owner to this point. His owner was definitely sad when his donkey died. I wish he could see, even if it is just to keep tourists happy about welfare standards, that it was unfair to leave this donkey struggling and in pain. Rest in peace Punda.