You may remember that having found Ziggy quite daunting I took a retired French Arab racehorse, Mattie, on loan at the end of last summer. He was meant for me to enjoy hacking on, but once I got him I seemed to get more confidence with Ziggy, and what with one thing and another I've had only a lesson or two on him since then; my husband and his sharer have been riding him mostly (and adoring him).
Well, today I was going out hacking with the lady I rent my grazing from, and it was important that we were able to have a good chat, so I thought I would go on Mattie as he's happier going beside. We had a lovely long ride and oh! What a pleasure!
Mattie goes in a Dr Cooks crossunder, with reins like washing lines. Want him to move over or turn? Just shift your weight slightly. Want him to walk faster or slower? Just move your seatbones a little faster or slower. Want him to stop? Just stop your seat moving. We cantered up the longest sand track in our area ("the Golden Mile") with loose reins, in perfect balance and with my seat in full, easy contact with the saddle the whole time!
Honestly, he made me feel as if I really know how to ride. He's not the same in the school - schooling has formed very little of his education - but as a hack, the purest, unalloyed delight.
Oh - and to give you an idea of how unspooky he is: a HUGE machine like a cross between a piledriver and a bulldozer has been working on our heath. It is orange and bright green, with caterpillar tracks taller than me. It was parked beside the bridlepath, with one of its buckets on the far side, and with its huge arm (at least 30m long) bent to form a colossal orange arch. Bertie, my friend's big stolid piebald cob, trembled and quivered at bucket and machine. Mattie's lovely ears said, "Goodness me, whatever can that be?" I said, "You want to have a look, Matster?" and let his reins loose. He walked over, sniffed the infernal machine, stood under the arch and stretched his neck up like a giraffe to investigate.
What a gem.
Well, today I was going out hacking with the lady I rent my grazing from, and it was important that we were able to have a good chat, so I thought I would go on Mattie as he's happier going beside. We had a lovely long ride and oh! What a pleasure!
Mattie goes in a Dr Cooks crossunder, with reins like washing lines. Want him to move over or turn? Just shift your weight slightly. Want him to walk faster or slower? Just move your seatbones a little faster or slower. Want him to stop? Just stop your seat moving. We cantered up the longest sand track in our area ("the Golden Mile") with loose reins, in perfect balance and with my seat in full, easy contact with the saddle the whole time!
Honestly, he made me feel as if I really know how to ride. He's not the same in the school - schooling has formed very little of his education - but as a hack, the purest, unalloyed delight.
Oh - and to give you an idea of how unspooky he is: a HUGE machine like a cross between a piledriver and a bulldozer has been working on our heath. It is orange and bright green, with caterpillar tracks taller than me. It was parked beside the bridlepath, with one of its buckets on the far side, and with its huge arm (at least 30m long) bent to form a colossal orange arch. Bertie, my friend's big stolid piebald cob, trembled and quivered at bucket and machine. Mattie's lovely ears said, "Goodness me, whatever can that be?" I said, "You want to have a look, Matster?" and let his reins loose. He walked over, sniffed the infernal machine, stood under the arch and stretched his neck up like a giraffe to investigate.
What a gem.
