Conversations through the middle

Life from a (slightly) more mature perspective

Horses and cars – king of the road?

Out riding a couple of weeks ago John and I were met by a 4×4 pulling a livestock trailer, one of those closed-in trailers with open slats along each side. My horse just doesn’t like them and started to mess around. I wasn’t worried and put my leg on to get him past, but he wouldn’t go. The friend I was riding with moved her mare in front and we all went through fine.

I was completely shocked when the driver of the 4×4 – who admittedly had turned off his engine to avoid frightening the horses further – shouted to me ‘they shouldn’t be on the road, they are too dangerous’.

Now I’ve heard that some people believe such guff but I’ve never come across anyone like that before. Call me naive but I always thought, and still think, that people are pleased to see horses and riders; they’re a reminder of a more peaceful time when life was lived at a slower pace and folk were not so stressed out and materialistic, when things other than possessions mattered.

The road we were riding along is not busy with traffic, it is close to Dedham village, it is rural. Our horses are educated and mature. John is not a youngster, shying away from the slightest object or noise, he is a school master in every sense of the word.

The livestock vehicle was noisy with metal jangling and creaking, and quite frankly it scared him. Obviously. If the driver had stopped earlier we might well have passed without problem, but he didn’t. At no time did we present a danger to anybody.

Why do drivers think they own the roads? What represents the biggest danger – a horse quietly walking, enjoying a country hack or a large, heavy 4×4 towing a trailer, which was frankly going too fast? I know which one I would rather run into.

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Camping out… almost

The horses at our new yard live out during the summer and, thanks to the lovely weather we’ve had this month, some of them have been living out for a few weeks already. Now, I have never left John out all night and I have no idea if he lived out before he came to me, but one reason for moving yards was so that I could try it. Everybody I’ve spoken to about it says their horses love it and of course, living outside is natural for horses in the wild.

Nonetheless, for us it was another one of those big steps we seem to encounter regularly, and I was prepared for a night of camping out at the yard with a sleeping bag and flask of coffee to hand, to keep an eye on him.

Except my friends refused to stay with me and as I’m a bit of a baby when it comes to being outside in the dark, on my own, in the middle of nowhere, I bottled it. I went home and worried instead.

When I went to see him the next morning he was a picture – I have never seen a horse look so tired, his eyelids were drooping and his head hung down heavily as if he was about to drop. I guess he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before.

The second night was better – he still looked tired but seemed happier.

The third night I decided to bring him in for his supper and a hay net, and if he seemed content, to leave him in his stable for the night.

I had convinced myself he was unhappy out in the field and preferred the creature comforts of his own space, with soft shavings to sleep on. Well, he polished off his supper no problem, then he started to call for his field neighbours. His calling became more urgent and he began to pace around his stable. At that point I got the message. He didn’t want to be in, he wanted to be out.

So I led him back to the field and since then I’ve stopped fretting about him. He spoke and I listened.

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Cracking hacking!

My horse never hacked out, not with me, not for the first four or five years I knew him. Then we moved yards and gradually we started riding out. If you’ve read my blog over the past couple of years you will know how difficult that was for us and how proud I am that we came through and were able to enjoy the gorgeous countryside around Little Horkesley where he was stabled at the time.

Then I moved him to Dedham. As I said in my last post, he’s settled brilliantly, but for me, the first ride at the new yard was something akin to riding Splash Mountain at Disney – something I was totally terrified of but something that had to be done.

So after John had been at the yard a week, I saddled up to ride out with a friend… he was a superstar. Why did I ever doubt him. He didn’t put a hoof wrong and it was as if he knew where he was going. We enjoyed a lovely hack, he was chilled, laid back, didn’t spook, it was as if he had walked those paths all his life.

Perhaps he has. I know nothing of his history but surely horses don’t travel that far when they’re traded? Perhaps John’s life before I knew him centred on or around Dedham. Perhaps he grew up there, spent the first 17 years of his life there, before his owner decided she/ he didn’t want him anymore. Oh my, their loss is my gain.

Since then we have been riding out regularly. He has become even closer to his field neighbour Libby, who is also his hacking companion, and we are loving the country lanes and tracks of Dedham!

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Settling in


I worry too much. John travelled well, he was a little stressed for the first couple of days, calling and walking around the stable, but other than that he’s settled beautifully. I think it helps that he already knows a couple of the horses there – friends who moved from my last yard to this one before I did. He has also fallen for the flirty chestnut filly in the next paddock – though she doesn’t return his affection, more like turns and kicks out at him. Poor love, he always falls for the girls and they always reject his advances, usually with a bite on his nose.

Anyway, back to the matter in hand. You would think he’d been here for years (and the filly is actually an 18-year-old mare, but she doesn’t know that, still thinks she’s a baby – after all, you are as old as you feel and she (Libby) obviously still feels good as she has been known to act like a four-year-old). He has a large paddock and a very large stable; it’s peaceful, surrounded by fields, and you can’t hear the traffic. Dedham is also a very beautiful place and I’m so happy to be spending time there (the artist Constable thought it was okay too).

The petrol prices are crippling but hey ho, what can you do. I’m still glad I moved.

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