The second ride was a lot less boneshaking. I had retained at least some of the helpful information and advice offered to me by those with much more experience and sense, and felt myself click a lot more with Sunny while in the saddle. We had had a bond on the ground from the start, but when mounted I was a different person, and, I'm ashamed to say, a slighly over-confident one at that. I was sure my ability to conquer riding school ponies was infallible, and would work on any horse, but the first ride proved me completely and utterly wrong. It made much more sense to accept I wasn't perfect, and doing so led Sunny to trust me. With my parents there to guide and support me, I could relax, and concentrate on getting Sunny listening to me, rather than concentrating on not hitting the ground.
Weeks went on and I worked with Sunny, improving my riding and his manners. He was still a tough ride - strong and willful in canter being the worst offence - but we were making progress. That is, on the flat. When jumping, we may as well have been trying to compete at Grand Prix level with the success we had. He was a dirty stopper, pulling into every fence, refusing the tiniest jumps, and bunny-hopping when given a sharp kick. It was excruciatingly tedious to try and make him relax and jump calmly, and there were days when the frustration got the better of me. Sunny was a former eventer, but years of pure dressage, and months of rest in the field had made him reluctant. I have always been a very keen jumper, and this was a very large obstacle for a young girl to tackle. One day in particular was totally refusal-free, and I was on an enormous high. At the same time, someone had tried to steal Sunny's rug and tore it badly, scaring him and almost destroying the careful groundwork I had done with him. It was a miracle he was still so placid and kind, and made me appreciate how special this horse was.
Sue gave me instructions and tips to help me re-school him, and we made noticeable progress, but he would sometimes take a few steps backwards and revert to his old, cheeky ways. I had to introduce him to every jump, push him on strongly, and let him cop on and stop refusing for no reason. It wasn't the ideal training method, and in summer, he stopped altogether. I tried to jump him over one, simple jump more than forty times, and he wasn't having any of it. Beaten, worn out, and quite upset, I gave him a few months break from jumping. We had him shod, used hoof-treating supplements, schooled him to be more responsive, and did everything we could to improve our chances of actually jumping. My natural instincts to be airborne and to solve problems came into play, and eventually, we got him back on track in autumn.
From there, we went uphill. We improved immensely, and had a total mutual respect that enabled us to keep moving onwards. I started to jump him bareback, which, on an excitable thoroughbred in an un-fenced field, is no mean feat, and even tried bridle-less. In October, we managed to leap 3 feet together, which was just 15cm less than my overall record. This was also the day of my first fall, when he stopped suddenly at 1 metre. November and December brought snow, which Sunny was delighted to canter around in, fully rugged, with me on his back. In January, we went to our first show at my riding school, and earned a respectable clear round in the 60cm class and a few justified stops in the 70s. He never touched a pole all day. Now, in February, we have nearly perfected his canter, making it rhythmical and relaxed, and I have him on an outline most of the time. Bareback and bridle-less jumping is the way to go, with our record standing at about 70cm. We've been in a bit of trouble with jumping again, with the ground in a bit of a messdue to terrible wintry weather, but I am determined to make it through this annoying little phase. We are closer than ever as a team, and I love him more than anything.
I'm just thankful I'll never have to leave Sunny, and this incredible being has changed my life, my riding, and my attitude for the better.
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