There have been some very special horses and ponies in my equestrian life. Some were chubby, lazy cobs who taught me to use my legs, others were whizzy little crackers who taught me to stick on when things didn't go my way. On my way home from riding today, my dad and I reminisced about all the special equines, from the beginning until now, almost eight years on.
First, there was Bobby. The first pony I ever rode in a lesson, and a lazy bugger. He had a gorgeous bay coat and a white face, and was probably around 13hh. He was the pony who started the addiction, got me hooked on horses, and began the long love affair with all things equestrian. So thank you Bobby for being the mounting block.
Then came Bay Nicky, the slowest, laziest, most stubborn pony I've ever so much as encountered. I still adored him, in his chunky bay glory, and was delighted with myself for successfully managing to lead him a few yards to win a leading race. I've never had to work harder to wake a pony up! Thank you Bay Nicky for teaching me to perservere.
Spider was the first livery I ever sat on, and boy was he pretty. A teeny, almost pure white gelding who needed only slight aids to get going. I still distinctly remember his pink saddle pad with green trim, with Spider embroidered on the side. I was delighted to get to ride him, albeit for just one lesson, and he taught me that all ponies are different. Thank you Spider for teaching me that, and also how to let go of something good.
Buzz was next. Another cobby schoolie, who was nothing special, just always there. He still is. He's piebald, comfy, and moody. I rode him fairly regularly, but one day he taught me a very important lesson - horses have feelings too. He was plodding around as usual one sunny day, but I felt a change in him. He responded quicker, trotted with his head up, cantered for the full perimeter of the arena, and his good mood rubbed off on me. Thank you Buzz for teaching me that horses are more diverse than they seem.
The most special pony of those early days had to be Trigger. A smart, speedy but gentlemanly little pony, with a shiny bay coat and a terrible fear of umbrellas. One day, I begged and pleaded with my mam while the rain pounded down to still go riding, and just as she gave in, the sun emerged. I was the only one who showed up for our lesson, and learned the most I ever had, including diagonals in trot and how to canter properly, with no one helping and clucking and waking him up for me. He was my regular mount, who I adored the most. He chucked me off in the rain once, after spooking at an umbrella, but I still trusted him with everything. He died of a twisted gut just a few months later, aged 21. Thank you Trigger for everything, being so amazing and teaching me so much, especially how to say goodbye.
Little Blue was a tricky pony. He was first my older sister's favourite pony, but soon became mine. He was cheeky, blue piebald, had a smashing jump, and a hell of an attitude on a bad day. He bucked my sister off once, tearing ligaments in her neck and stopping her riding for numerous weeks. I still rode him, but was much more wary than before. He wasn't malicious, but made me realise that this was a dangerous sport. He went lame a year ago, and I have a very sad feeling that he had to be put down. Thank you Little Blue for teaching me how to get the best out of a tough pony, and what kind of a sport I'm really doing.
There was a pony who scared the life out of me at first, but turned out to be the sweetest thing once I matured and gave him a chance. His name was Trucker and he was stocky, probably a short cob, and was white all over apart from black patches on either side of his face and on his belly. He was a nightmare at first, and jumped the high side of a crosspole the first time I rode him, which I vowed never to do again. Anout two years ago, I saw his good side. He was the kindest pony on the ground, maybe a bit clumsy but always considerate. I rode him again, fell in love with him after realising that he was a tough jumper because he was green, taught him to pick his legs up, and finally jumped an 80cm jump on him, which was a huge feat at the time. He was the most honest, hardworking, and generally sweet horse I think I've ever known. He was sold to another riding school about a year ago. Thank you Trucker for teaching me to always give second chances, and believe in my mount.
A very special mare helped my riding enormously. Dark bay, whith socks and a white stripe, she's an odd mover but jumps like a dream and knows no boundaries. Cookie. If you want to learn how to get a glue bum, ride Cookie for a while - she'll either take off, buck you off, or jump you all the way to the moon and leave you there. She is, in short, mad. I affectionately nicknamed her psycho pony, due to her silly antics, but she's brilliant fun once you learn to calm her down and hang the hell on. Her owner is lovely, does brilliantly with her, and has calmed her down considerably. They're the cutest pair too, and Cookie adores her owner. I've jumped high on Cookie, helped her to relax, and always had a soft spot for the nutter. so thank you Cookie for teaching me how to handle strong ponies, and stay on in tough situations.
Diamond was the new Trigger. He was a livery, he was quick, he was a magnificent jumper, and he wasn't mine. I so wished he was! No more than 13.2hh, totally chestnut except for one teeny star under his forelock, and with the world's squeakiest saddle, he was the pony to ride. And still is. He's small but mighty, klein aber fein, and I jumped my first real show and chase-me-charlie on him. We got to 1 metre but weren't allowed to go further due to a lvery policy, and my dad remains to this day convinced that we could have won it. The last time I rode him was fantastic; we jumped our record again, and he behaved in his usual, happy, Diamondy way. He's the fun little show pony that everyone wants, and I miss riding him. Thank you Diamond for teaching me how to just have a laugh on a really good pony, and how to balance when teeny pony decides to take off a stride away!
A more recent horse to teach me something was Tara. Young, powerful, lofty, a bay mare at about 17hh, I adored her. I got to canter her over a few poles on the ground at the end of a lesson last year, and was dying for more. She reminded me of Betty, a very green grey cob mare who I learned to really jump big single fences on, and for that reason I begged and begged to ride her for weeks. She fell lame, and has been out of work since. Thank you Tara for teaching me how good youngsters really are, and to accept that I can't get what I want all the time.
A beautiful blue piebald cob mare of about 15 hands has just entered my life. Her name is Molly, and I love her to pieces. From her softness, to her responsiveness, to her incredible jump, I adore her. She's seven, but only broken about a year or so, due to the death of her foal, so she's still green and learning her job. She has the sweetest disposition, and the most docile nature, and every time I dismount, I want to get back on. Thank you Molly for teaching me how to sit big leaps, how to cater to a greenie, and that special horses are never perfect, but that makes them more special.
Benny is like Trucker was - misunderstood. Everyone, including me, groaned at being told they were on Benny, as he sometimes needed a few backhand wallops along with numerous flailing kicks to make him trot. He's a chunky, dark bay heavy cob with a huge barrel, a bald face, and one wall eye. Some think he's lazy and impossible to ride. I think he's Supercob! He may not be a drop-dead gorgeous, pure bred show horse, but he has the biggest heart I've ever known, and the most surprising ability to jump, as I've taken him over a 95cm oxer easily. I love his happy bucks and head tosses when he does his big, bouncy, rolling canter; I love his springy trot; and I love how we've gelled together after years of friction. It all magically clicked one day, and I've worked him out - he hates working on a day above 18 degrees Celsius; he needs automatic release to get him to pck himself up and jump the bigger fences; and he needs to be loved and cuddled. Benny has been there from the start, but I've only come to appreciate him properly in the past year or so. Thank you Benny for teaching me how to use my legs, how to enjoy being taken off and bucked with, and how to see a diamond in the rough.
I can't write a thank you without mentioning Sunny. He is the most incredible being, and the horse I have given my heart to. I love him more than anything! He's a chestnut thoroughbred gelding, with a summer belly on him at the moment, and the most beautiful mover, jumper, and looker I've ever seen! We do have our problems, like all partnerships, but just being in eachother's company is bliss. I have two posts about him and our story on this already, and numerous videos of him on my Youtube, HorseyBeefs. He isn't a schoolie, and I don't own him, but he still is, in part, mine. He's made me the rider I am today, and I grin every time I see him or even talk about him. Thank you Sunny for teaching me how to love a horse as my own, how to keep going when things get tough, and how to be a real horsewoman.
Finally, I have to thank the pony who has been my favourite from the start, who I have fallen off, had my heart broken over, had my faith restored by, and learned everything from. Susie. About 14hh or so, she's a cute bay mare, the same age as me, with three dark spots on her quarters and a teensy tiny star on her forehead. She's got a smooth, controlled canter, a floating jump, a fear of new obstacles, and something that draws every little girl at my yard to her. She's the special pony that everyone fights over, even though she has a tendency to refuse, because she has a caring, almost maternal instict and looks after her rider with amazing tenderness. She began as a plod, then a refuser, then a superstar, then a has-been, then a plod, then a worse-than-plod stubborn nightmare, then a regular schoolie, and now back to a superstar. It's been a rollercoaster, but even in the worse-than-plod days, everyone loved her. She's the most changeable pony, but still the most constant. She went from having to be smacked again and again to even walk (the work of some lazy little boys who never learned to kick) to responding straight off the leg to canter; from refusing anything put in front of her to leaping a decent sized coloured filler first time, along with spooky jumps, arrowheads, water jumps, a jump on a ridiculous angle, and even a jump constructed of logs, leaves, and anything we could find in the field. I haven't ridden her in a long while, and miss her soft canter unbelievably. My legs will probably dangle miles below her belly now, but I don't care. I love her too much to just let go. Thank you Susie, for teaching me everything, for making the fearless, proper rider out of the little girl who was terrified to jump her first oxer. Thank you for being there.
