Just when I go and talk about partnership, it is somewhat tested over the weekend. We had a hack from hell on Friday then on Saturday, and when I went to collect Rainbow from the big field on Saturday, the farmer 'next door' had decided too organise a clay pigeon shooting party. Ba-bang! every few moments, about 100 metres away from us, as I approached Rainbow to catch her...
Friday hack was very challenging. It started off with both Rainbow and friend's horse refusing to leave the yard's driveway as they'd dug up a slice of the driveway, a whole width of it, presumably fixing some pipes, etc. and some temporary traffic signs and cones had been added, and the hole boarded up, creating a 'bridge' we had to cross. The horses hadn't seen it yet, so it caused them alarm. Then, behind a bush, where we could not see, a man was loading up a lorry with scaffolding, making loud banging noises. So, all the horses could see was a scary thing 'banging' in the middle of the road.
Friend's horse pirouetted, almost sweeping us along and Rainbow was trying to turn around. I found that with Rainbow getting angry is pointless. Being firm and praising goes much further. Eventually she walked over the boards and the friend followed.
The rest of the hack was not much more fun; friend's horse was leading and when a lorry approached us on the opposite lane, it had some plastic flying out of the back bit, albeit it was on the ditch side, he'd clocked it. He spun around again and friend was fighting with him to get on. Rainbow is fairly sensible, but with this constant commotion she was now head up and alarmed. I somehow pushed her past the lorry. We'd stopped the traffic on both sides of the road – lucky people were patient and waiting as my friend and her horse bounced across the road in several directions.
Later on we came across a hedge-cutting tractor 'hiding' behind the hedge, a whirring noise emanating from the cutter, and this was near a stud farm which has paddocks on both sides of the road and often makes Rainbow a bit nervous anyway, as she can feel the presence of other horses. My friend's horse decided to turn around, again, and Rainbow was back in 'giraffe-mode'. As my friend fought with hers, I again pushed mine through the 'hedge alley with horses and whirry-things on either side'. Rainbow wanted to run, I held her with all of my arm strength, keeping heels down and trying to do an impression of a potato sack. The length of the hedges/paddocks is not short, around 200–300 metres, I reckon. I just remember thinking at one point, as we were doing our hurried jog – in the middle of the road... – past the paddocks, that my arms were tired and hurting from holding Rainbow, but I knew I couldn't let go until we'd get to the 'village bit', which is calmer.
The rest of the hack went without incidents. I was knackered when I got home. But it showed me something – upon reflection - that Rainbow is still pretty dependable and was only like that because of the circumstance, and because the other horse was playing up, it caused her to be alarmed and scared of certain things. Had we been out with someone calmer at that point, she probably would not have paid attention to most things.
Saturday was Rainbow's day off and I took her to the field. I collected her in the afternoon and was really worried it'd be a nightmare with the guns going off in the next field. I'd been sent off to the field by the yard owner, to whom I had bumped into at the car park, and I had expressed my worry about the shooting, that 'Rainbow doesn't care if you don't care.' Thanks.
Walking towards the field, I was entertaining all horror scenarios in my head and hoped that she wouldn't pull off from the lead rope, if she got scared, as had decided if she doesn't let me catch her, I would have to leave her in the field overnight. What I didn't want is to have a horse running around with lead rope dangling and me unable to catch her.
The mares were in the further corner of the field, presumably standing as far as they could from the gunfire. As Rainbow saw me, to my absolute surprise, even in the situation, she started walking towards me, even though the gunfire was emanating from behind me. I think she realised I was coming to 'rescue' her. She let me catch her. We walked together towards the gunfire and although she did have a little spook at one point (I think it was me shaking at the other end of the rope as the gun shots made me jump!), she followed me but kept an eye on the shooters in the other field.
The story took even more bizarre turn. From somewhere, a man dressed in full country attire, complete with a cap, some tweed and beige trousers, with his labrador, suddenly appeared on the other side. There is a public footpath that crosses over the land where the yard is, but this was not the correct route. I was aiming for the nearest gate and was very relieved to see this man, so I didn't question him on his route of choice. I just shouted out to him if he could help me open the gate, which was tied up with a piece of old rope, and he was happy to help, jovially commenting how it must be fun to be walking a horse through with all the guns going off. I said indeed, but noted that I now have an idea what horses in wars must have endured, so it was possible for them to deal with loud bangs.
The man, very chivalrously, undid the rope and pushed the gate open with some strength. However, the gate only had one functioning hinge and it popped off, the man, still pushing the gate, fell over the gate and suddenly his previously beige trousers weren't so beige anymore. Luckily his dog didn't get squashed. I was asking if this friendly man was OK and if his dog was OK, as he clambered back up, obviously very surprised himself having found himself lying on top of a flattened gate. I was still holding Rainbow, and the guns were still going off, so there was very little I could do to help the man and the dog. I offered to help put the gate up with him, realistically I would have only been able to give single-hand assistance with holding the horse in the other, but the man urged me to continue my journey and to walk away, offering to put the gate right himself. All I can say that thank you to him and sorry about making him fall over a loose gate...
But, in summary, I can now honestly say that I have, if not a bullet-proof horse, almost a bomb proof one. Not once, even though she was clearly worried, did she really 'freak out' about the guns and on both occasions, the hack and the shooting, she was putting her trust in me to lead her home safely. And that's really lovely to see.
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