The Professionals

My friend, the Native Pony Professional has been and clipped my horse. Native Pony Professional clips at the speed of light and it took no time at all to shave my orange pony and leave him bald with a shocked expression on his face. He now looks like a proper grown up horse. Gone is all the half bred welsh pony hairiness and now at least he won’t get overheated just from walking and trotting around a field.

I bought this wet dishcloth of a horse when he had just turned 5 years old. I was the 6^th person to own him and gaining his trust took time. He’s a very sweet and loving character but he’s also a bit odd as he absolutely adores children. He has on more than one occasion scaled a heap of split logs like Bambi on ice, to get near to Britney (not her real name). Britney is a bit unsporting as she happens to be allergic to all things equine but before her sneezing and red eye became really horrible, she used to stand on a step stool and put hair clips in his forelock and he loved it.

Despite this horse being terrified of any person he does not know over the age of 12, once you are on board him he resembles a giant guide dog. He doesn’t care about tractors the size of houses towing trailers full of sheep and he is the only horse in the world to have no fear of those sodding England flags that people attach to their cars during major football tournaments. He’s astonishing. He is the most sensible horse that I have ever ridden. But if I ever ask you to hold him while the Vet gives him his flu booster, just say that you are busy. I quite understand.

He isn’t however, what we call in the trade a “Granny Bike” and last winter he developed a nasty habit of trying his damnest to buck me off. This is not a fun pastime and if anyone tells you that they like a horse that bucks; they have clearly NEVER sat on a horse that can really buck. The sharp, violent buck is a horrible action, firing the rider up in the air and if the horse twists to the side while you are still in mid air, it only leaves the ground underneath to catch you. By some luck each time Dobbin tried this, I managed to land back in the saddle and regain my composure with my knees shaking slightly against the saddle. In the perfect world, when a young horse gives a cheeky buck, you should wrap your legs more tightly around him and give him a smack behind your leg with your whip to encourage the horse to move forwards and not upwards. In the real world however, as soon as Dobbin finds he’s being whacked he will buck again and after a few more buck/whack exchanges, you’ll find yourself saying “You’re very naughty” in a high voice and waggling your index finger at the back of his ears.

Anyone over the age of 19 is too old to fall off and knowing that if this clever horse bucked me off once he would do it again and again, I sent him to my friend the Problem Horse Expert to sort out. After a week and a half I went and rode my reformed character with Problem Horse Expert who said “If you have this bucking problem again, I think you’re going to have to belt up and sit on him”. To Problem Horse Expert, Dobbin was probably about as exciting as sitting on a bean bag in the cupboard under the stairs listening to the Jeremy Vine Show.

Back in 2012, Scottish Moose Friend and I went to watch the Cross Country at the London Olympics. It was an amazing experience but left me feeling quite depressed. A year later we went to Burghley and again I felt slightly downhearted watching the pro’s jump fences that were so big you couldn’t quite believe they were real. The Burghley course designer should have just gone the whole hog and covered the fences with broken bottles, razor wire and wired them into the mains electric. How on earth do you get to the point where you can trust a horse to jump a fence that’s the size of a 4x4 and make it look easy? It made me wonder if I should bother riding at all as it made the fallen tree in the wood that Dobbin and I pop over in the mornings look a bit feeble.

Last week I visited a racing yard. It with a stunning, purpose built yard with the most incredible facilities, a horse walker, a covered gallop and an equine swimming pool. I fell in love with a lovely 4 year old and I watched him work with his stable companions on the 6 furlong gallop high up in the hills. The Thoroughbred is the king of the equine world and watching these equine athletes gave me a familiar feeling of despair.

This feeling disappeared the very next morning when I was out on Dobbin. We were standing at the railway crossing as the train sped over it, sounding its horn as it went. I nearly died; Dobbin didn’t move.

I’m willing to bet my horse, house and car that the 4 year old racehorse that I had lusted over the day before would have gone into orbit if that had happened to him. Horses for courses, I suppose.

 The difference between the professional and the amateur can be small or it can be great. I’m glad the pro’s are here because we amateurs need all the help we can get.