22nd December, 2016 Jennifer Juniper

Todays blog is from Laura, giving an update on her beautiful Fell Pony, Juniper:

Juniper has been getting on great: she's learning to stand still on the yard (without being tied up) and most of the time picks up each foot herself for you to pick out.

We've made a start on long-lining: she picked it up very quickly and wasn't too bothered by the lines, although she did make some cross faces when she thought she should be coming in to me rather than staying on the outside of the round pen. (I imagine her saying "I know Join-up and you're doing it wrong!"). It doesn't take her long to understand, though, and she did some lovely licking and chewing.

Today I introduced her to her hi-vis quarter sheet, as part of the preparation for going out and about. You'll see from the photo that even on a dark, misty day it looks very bright! She was also not bothered by it at all. I'd previously introduced her to it, allowing her to follow it and rustling it on her sides. Today I laid it on her back, unfolded it, slid it off over her bottom, put it back on, walked her round with it just laying on her, then did it up onto the roller and walked her round and she was entirely unphased. She didn't even give it a cross look!

I then took her for a walk around one of our fields. She was a little distracted by Fabio (one if her herd mates) being ridden in a distant field and some highly suspicious-looking sheep through the hedge, but she stayed with me and listened when I asked her to walk beside me rather than push in front.

21st December, 2016 It Started with a Cob

Today's blog comes from Jackie H:

Well actually it didn't start with a cob. It started when I was nine years old and finally persuaded my parents to allow me to start having riding lessons. I went to a local riding school and started learning to ride on what I suspect was a small New Forest pony.  Like a lot of people I carried on riding at riding schools until I was into my twenties. Then I had children, then I had no time, so I gave up riding until I was 50! My mother died, never having done some of the things she held most dear and this catapulted me into thinking what I wanted to achieve before I shuffled off. The answer was astonishingly simple. I wanted to own my own horse. This led to a two year journey to get back into riding. It was a helluva lot more difficult that I thought it was going to be. Muscles had definitely gone south in the meantime! But I have never been one to delay gratification and in the end bought a cob that I was assured was a 'safe cob' on impulse (and for too much money).

The safe cob turned out to be no such thing, and after a few rides where I experienced a number of unscheduled gallops and unceremonious dumpings (one in a ditch, having crossed a road to get there), I decided that I was unqualified to sort the problem and that I needed help to do something. Luckily I had arranged to go to a Monty Roberts demonstration, which was where I met Sarah. Getting some basic groundwork in place with Charley proved the key to getting more confidence and a better relationship with this little mare. That and time and patience. 

I have had such a lot of fun and have learned so much from both Sarah and Charley (and my friend Pam whose patience has been boundless while I dithered, over analysed, and worried, and messed about generally).  Plus Charley has sure taught me to sit a buck. (Mostly!)

Of course if you have one horse, you have to have two so that it doesn't get lonely. And then you have to have three so that there is not too much competition between the first two. Then you have to have four so that two don't pair up and leave one out...so that led to my little shopping accident... of which more later...

20th December, 2016 Catch Me, If You Can

Today's contribution is from Sarah B, client and now of course, friend...

I had spent yet another evening following my horse, shaking a bucket of feed, taking both of her friends away, anything to catch her but nothing worked. She was still in the field wearing her Fieldsafe headcollar which was only any good if you were close enough to grab it.

Back in 2009, I had decided that I wanted to breed an Arabian foal. The huge flaw in my plan was that I didn't own an Arabian mare!  We went to a stud that my friend knew of where the owner was keen to reduce their numbers but although stunningly beautiful none of them were what I was looking for. Before we left I wandered around a corner and saw the most beautiful horse I had ever seen.  I exclaimed this rather loudly and the owner of the stud quickly replied, "That one is for sale!"

Her full name was Medina... a name that's a bit like when your mother calls you Katherine instead of Katie...

She was eight years old, and pretty much knew nothing, except how to be extremely handy with her back legs if you dared to walk past her shoulder, or if she saw a show halter would run around and snort.  I'd had her home for ten minutes before I found out just how little she knew. When I put a rug on her I met her back hoof. I could only put her head-collar on over the stable door, and when I turned her out it took me three hours to catch her again.

Over time some things did get better. She learnt to lead nicely, she picked her feet up when asked, she was backed, shown under saddle, and won every time.

However, some things didn't improve. The farrier walloped her with a rasp leaving me with a quivering wreck every time she caught sight of a farrier, never mind one being close to her. She needed to be heavily sedated even for a simple trim. She didn't always travel well,  and I still couldn't catch her. The catching issue extended to her stable where on more than one occasion she spent the night with her rug half done up or stayed in for a whole day because she wouldn't let the yard owner put a headcollar on her. She'd learnt that if she put her nose in the back corner of her stable no one would be brave enough to approach her.

Six years later with one foal, a colic surgery, several rosettes, lots of bruises and even more tears I sent a message to Sarah giving her the full history. She replied that she would try but that she could not promise that it would work.

One of Sarah's first observations was that Dina was actually frightened of the headcollar. This made sense as, at the stud, several men were employed each autumn to corner the foals and force their headcollars on - the same thing happened with rugs. I could understand that this had a profound effect on Dina and her avoidance made so much sense. Sarah began to use clicker training to overcome her fear. Working just in the school, Dina responded amazingly well to Sarah's clicks and allowed us to catch her. I was left with homework!

Where the motivation and patience came from to practice every single day I shall never know as I never did my homework at school and always at the last minute at university. Soon I even had my very flighty, normally frightened, mare walking over tarpaulins at liberty and for the first time I was in control of the catching and she didn't even seem to realise. Day in, day out, I was getting yes, yes, yes. It was such a wonderful feeling; I was even brave enough to ditch the field safe headcollar. I didn't have to hide the headcollar from her, or pretend I didn't want to catch her, but learnt to read her body language and put in a well timed click which made all the difference. She didn't bother putting her nose in the corner of the stable anymore, one click and she was with me.

I can honestly say that in two years I have never had a 'no'. I've had a few maybes but even then she has never taken more than thirty seconds to catch. I don't have the embarrassment of keeping the vet waiting, and she's not had to stay in, or out, because of the catching.  She understands me now, and I understand her.

Later I spoke to Sarah about Dina's other big problem, her feet. Again Sarah came and worked her magic. We went as far as borrowing some farrier's chaps and employed her husband David to be a pretend farrier. I practiced pretend rasping her feet every day. Slowly we got her confidence back.  I've now not had to sedate Dina for a trim for well over a year.

To have solved both of Dina's big issues with one simple tool is quite incredible. I am now using clicker to teach her not to bolt through muddy gateways. Dina has taught me so much and for that I must thank her. I took on an incredibly intelligent mare with semi-feral tendencies. She changed the way that I handle my horses and she's made me think about what I do. It's all positive and I'm so so glad that she found me that day.

Thank you to Sarah for opening my eyes to a different way of approaching her problems and solving them for us

19th December, 2016 Houching, a Plan

Stuck for a last minute, cheerful Christmas present? I've asked for one of these myself. It turns out that my hairdresser, Robyn's grandmother is artist Suzan Houching. Not only does she take commissions and exhibit in galleries, but she has written a book called, My Story in Colour. Copies are available from Waterstones in Ringwood. Published by littleknollpress. She has also illustrated the book, 'Wizzy the Animal Whisperer', a childrens' book by Ant Ridgeway.

19th December, 2016 The Title's Okay...but it's all downhill from there...

In typical modest style I have received a blog from Isle of Wight best friend, Annie. Not only does Annie have a New Forest pony that I have worked with a few times, but she works with the BHS which have been grappling with quite a few serious welfare issues on the Island; something for which you have to be emotionally strong and steadfast.

Years ago, when she used to accompany on many of my Isle of Wight visits I discovered that she had turned up even though her Dad had died that very morning - she never makes promises that she doesn't keep. Now that I can type I still feel there's not enough I can say about lovely people like Annie.

" 'Magnus is a well built, handsome New Forest pony, bred at the M... Stud'. This ladies & gents is how the lovely Sarah described the 14hh little brown pony in her record of work way back in March 2010. Since that very first visit 6 years ago, the everyday life of this little brown pony has been transformed beyond recognition. A misunderstood, anxious, complex little soul when I first met him, Magnus needed handling with kid gloves and a bucket load of sensitivity. His former life had been a never ending stream of shows and high expectations. Magnus really needed time to simply be Magnus.

With Sarah's unswerving and unfaltering help and guidance Magnus has relaxed into his new life. He gets muddy, he's unkempt'ish (Ed: remember the BHS bit!), he has a full set of kissable WHISKERS! No longer fed to bursting with highly molassed feed and then pacified with herbal calmers. Most importantly, he no longer lives on his nerves.

This pony has taught me (and continues daily to teach me) more than any other horse or pony I have ever come into contact with during my 40 plus years around equines. If I could impart any words of wisdom to those who spend their precious time around these magnificent & highly spiritual animals, those words would go something like this........

Open your heart & truly listen! (A horse's psychological welfare is just as important as it's physical wellbeing). Clear your mind, breathe deeply & give your horse or pony the opportunity to communicate with you. NEVER be afraid, or too proud to ask for help or guidance."   

18th December, 2016 Unassailable

Mum again...

We always thought that the lovely places we could ride were unassailable (Ed: I don't know why you thought that, Chasewater was a boating lake!), but that turned out not to be the case. The authorities decided to landscape some of the ground around Chasewater and turn it into a country park; preferably without horse riders. There were still ways in but an entrance gate was introduced across our normal route, and a man with a hat was installed to take money and keep the riders out. On one occasion we were riding out with Jane Harding who although she looked an innocent child was actually about eighteen. We all galloped across the play meadow, one of our favourite places to race, and were accosted by Mr Jobsworth on the gate. He looked at Jane and said, "You are not too old to have your bottom smacked," to which she replied, coyly, "Yes, but you're too old to do it!"

Next to where we kept the horses there was a field which must have been over thirty acres - lovely for a gallop after the corn was cut,  and a way across to the next village without using the road.  A stream ran across it, and a hedge with wide gaps in it.  When it was cut down there was an enormous amount of branches and brash left at the side of it.  One Sunday morning, Sarah and some of her friends (Ed: Mother! I am certain you were there and that Jackie who was a grown up!!!)  decided to turn this into hurdles and to hold jump races. From what I understand (Ed: You should know I am certain you were there) about ten children were there with their ponies, and they were having a lovely time racing over these improvised hurdles when the owner of the field drove past in his car.  He stopped in horror and fury. Well known for his bad temper, he was wearing a very tidy suit and his best brogues. 'Potato Bailey' as he was known, to distinguish him from Farmer Bailye with the cows, had to wade straight through the stream and the mud to scream at the riders, going red in the face and using some choice language. (See, you wouldn't remember that amount of detail unless you were there.)

The very nearest part of Cannock Chase was also supposed to be out of bounds as it belonged to a Boy Scouts and not the Forestry Commission or the Council.  Again we knew a few back ways in, but over the years we were caught there several times until we were known and recognised.  The  Chief Scout Leader threatened to confiscate my horse (Ed: I'd like to have seen him try) and even to shoot us.

Ed: My Mum has left out the day we decided to gallop across the school playing field at my comprehensive school in which stood the Caretaker's bungalow. There was me and Diane Brazier on our Thelwell ponies, Smokey and Pepi, flat out and overtaking my Mum's horse, Thunder. This was against his dignity and he promptly bucked her off right under the nose of the Caretaker!  

17th December, 2016 Underwired Support

I have been kept sound and sane by a number of visitors week including Lorraine and Lou, even though with my thumb and Lou's broken leg we looked like an episode of Casualty.

We couldn't even sit up straight...

Not only did Lorraine look after the two of us but she also provided me with today's blog...

"I rode my first pony at the tender age of seven. My very non-horsey parents allowed me to go with a school friend and unfortunately I became hooked within the first ten minutes. I asked every Christmas and every birthday for a horse of my own but to no avail. I worked anywhere that would have me with horses and saved every penny I could lay my hands on. When I was fourteen I worked for a local dealer and, having told him that I was sixteen, he let me buy an unbroken skewbald mare from him for £80. I had no more money, no field, and no clue what would happen from there on so had to tell my parents. They marched me back to his yard to get my money back so I owned my first horse for an hour and forty minutes!

I 'legally' bought a horse when I was thirty-four, but due to my marriage breakdown had a ten year gap. I met Louise when she had just bought Bear and evily she enticed me with comments like, "Wouldn't it be nice if you got one and we shared a field?" Later I was travelling from Yarmouth to Lymington on the Isle of Wight Ferry when this picture sent via Facebook popped up...

 There was immediately a disconnection between my fingers and my brain as I asked whether he was still available and where he was. Yes he is and he is in Lymington! I am sure you understand the fact that two hours later he was mine was not really my fault? The “How was your day at work dear” conversation that evening was a little different to normal.


He is turning into a fine young man and despite the fact he will probably out live me I love him to bits."