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New Season

It's been a while, but mainly because it's been a while since I was out.

Monster was put out to grass for summer to rough off, and when ambles started I was too busy at work use them to get her fit. For the last month she's been out on walks with me and my wife has been schooling (ha!) and lungeing her. As way of saying thank you on Saturday I lent monster out to my wife and followed on foot. As you can see from the photo the weather wasn't too great as I variously ran, sat on the Hunt quad and stole lifts off of the other followers.

I wasn't sure as we saw the field if I was ever going to get Monster back. My wife bore a grin so wide the top of her head had nearly come off and she was telling me how good she was. Apparently one of the field had told her "You'll be OK, she's a good little jumper". As well as needing bigger breeches to cope with the weight I've put on not going out hunting I'm going to need a bigger hat to get my swollen head into.

And the Academy Award™ ...

...for best Horse in A Dramatic role goes to...

/fanfare

...MONSTER.

"Who, little old me? Gosh! I never expected this! Oh! You shouldn't have", and gush to fade.

A little midweek hunting for us both to make the most of the remaining season has somewhat backfired. Basically, MONSTER is broke. She lost a shoe, which wasn't noticed until an hour after the fact when the retrieved item was found not to fit the supposed victim, but Cinderella like was a perfect fit for her coloured cobby toes. Bless her she put in some good jumps after it had gone - in fact I'd had to hold her back, but once back home it became clear all was not well.

Turns out that as well as some slight bruising on the affected foot by over- compensating for it she has strained the tendons in the other leg.

Cue much batting of eyelashes at me and a series of 'dog with sore paw' impressions.

For all my joking about her acting the poor mare is genuinely sore and on enforced box rest. We remain to see how she is on Saturday morning when she should be being bathed and plaited up and realises that she is staying at home.

The good news is she'll be right before the end of season and only misses one of the meets we had planned.

In the meantime, I'll just let her continue her acceptance speech...

Stone Walled

"What are you doing down there, again" are never words one want to hear whilst out hunting. That such words should spring forth out of the mouths of innocents - nine year olds mounted on little grey ponies that wouldn't look out of place in a Thelwell cartoon - is even more humiliating. Yet such the latter half of the season has progressed.

After a crashing fall through a stone wall at the weekend - which we are both fortunately escaped from with nothing more than bruising (me) and slight grazing (her) I think that we have reached our limits. During a week of heavy going she consistently stopped at everything first time, needing much encouragement to get on.

With no hunting to be had at the weekends since Xmas, and then little jumping when we were out I was particularly nervous that our first real foray of the year was to be in HEDGE COUNTRY. I needn't have worried. With firmer ground underfoot, and more experienced horses to follow MONSTER had a crack at everything, pulling like the proverbial steam engine as we went for every fence. She's a tidy little jumper, properly snapping her front legs up so much that she would need a stud guard if we wore them. Even so she just clipped two of the more imposing obstacles. You can see the capstones flying from the drystone wall below.




Then, just before second horses it all went A over T. I had already had a closer look at the turf when she clipped the top rail of a fence from a difficult approach when we returned to the above wall. Perfect striding wasn't enough to get us over a second time and in a shower of stones we went through rather than over. Foot followers, at least one of whom would love to get their hands on MONSTER, rushed to the scene to make sure that horse and rider were alright, and to repair the wall.

Still, it's nice to know that her jumping limits match my bravery limits. I may jest about getting a more capable schoolmaster as a second string, but MONSTER and I (grammer) have learned this lark together and I know in my heart of hearts that nothing could replace my affection for the big coloured goon, never mind replace her in the field.

Trappy

Two lessons were learnt at the weekend.

The first is that 1001 makes a great spot cleaner for hunting jackets, and gives you a nice fresh smell.

The second is that leaving muddy tack to dry off for two weeks then trying to clean it on the morning that you're going hunting is A Bad Thing. Especially when you're in your white breeches and hunting shirt. Quite apart from that trivial reason for keeping tack cleaned and looked after a rather more dramtic justification was provided by our HUNT CHAIRMAN.

Our HUNTSMAN had done a sterling job in securing country on Saturday despite weeks of biblical rain. As we drove to the meet the mental checklist went something like this:

• Hat - check


• Jacket - check


• Gloves - check


• Waterwings - er

The first half of the meet was very trappy for MONSTER who refused everything at first presentation, which is very unusual. She may refuse a couple of jumps - last time out walls were fine but she refused every post & rail - but this was consistent refusal at everything. Bless her, I think she was unsure of her footing up to the jumps. With leg, whip on the shoulder to cue her when to jump, and shouts of "GET ON!" she managed most everything eventually. And some of the banks she climbed up have to be seen to be believed.



No sooner had the HUNTSMAN changed to second horses and the second half of the hunt commenced than the tack-cleaning lesson was brought home. I'd been cantering along a bridleway behind our CHAIRMAN and one of the MASTERS, wondering about the protective qualities of their hats. Lovely velvet Pateys. Now RIDER wears a Patey for dressage and they are lovely hats. But I wouldn't wear one for jumping, and certainly not in the field.

Exit the bridleway and HUNTSMAN and HOUNDS set off over a large upright. Nothing that more experienced riders would quibble at, but large to me in my first season, OK. On the approach CHAIRMAN takes a flyer to the left and hits the ground like the proverbial sack of potatoes.

Instead of leaping to his feeet and patting pockets in an "It's OK, I'm alright manner" he lay there, motionless.

Everyone is cool, phones are produced in case we need to call for assistance, and he is taken through a set of mental checks - "Can you feel your fingers, your toes, have you swallowed your tongue" etc - to make sure he's OK to even sit up.

Eventually he arises, very groggily. In his punch drunk state there is no more hunting for him. The cause of his fall is clear. Snapped reins and bridle. Apparently he felt them snap just before the fence and decided that abandoning horse before the fence was better than being thrown off on landing.

MONSTER and I called it a day and led the riderless horse back while followers in a 4x4 picked up the CHAIRMAN and took him home.

My tack will be cleaned and checked well before the next meet.

Foul Weather - Clean Boot

The weather was appalling on Saturday as we had our first effort at clean boot hunting. A local fell-runner set off to lay a trail, with no scent other than that of his well worn running shoes. It was like being a Texas Marshall chasing a chain gang escapee as the Bloodhounds were set onto the trail. Watching them come out of the woods, sniff around for the trail, then set off with a hue and cry in pursuit was quite something. Apparently there are quite a few local runners keen to act as bait.

After last week when I had finally got MONSTERs bitting sorted out she foxed me (ha) at the start of the meet by somehow dumping her curb chain onto the floor. Before I could dismount to collect it off the floor we were off. Cue 30 minutes with absolutely no brakes. Between halves there was a chance to retrieve it, so her plan failed, this time.

For a non-jumping day the second half contained a fair amount of hurdles, walls and hedges. I jibbed at the wall and hedges when I saw one of the pony clubbers going round. I see no shame in bowing to the wisdom of a nine year old with more experience and better jumping ability than I.

Hedge Hopping

I must confess that as I showed GROOM the five bar gates last weekend I couldn't quite believe that I'd jumped them. Maybe they'd been opened and replaced with pallets, as above.

Everyone was looking forward to yesterdays meet, in hedge country. The warm up was a couple of pallet fences, as above, and a stone wall. Any doubts that MONSTER and i (grammer) had cleared five bar gates was dispelled by fence four, which was a metal five bar gate. We sailed it. In fact as the fences get higher I've noticed that there's more time to get ready for landing. Tuck your head between your legs and kiss your arse goodbye, as the old joke goes.

For the third week running I stayed on board, so I'll tempt fate and say that I'm improving. Woop!

The Kindness of Strangers

Two weeks ago, whilst shivering in Polyester in a horizontal rain, I asked the members of the Hunt where to go for a jacket. INTERNATIONAL SHOWJUMPER said that he had been lent a jacket that didn't fit him and might fit me, and promptly offered to bring it to the next meet.

He was as good as his word, and before we set off I tried on a perfect fitting jacket. 32oz cavalry twill, tattersall check lining. INTERNATIONAL SHOWJUMPER said to wear it and then get in touch with the owner to see if I could arrange to buy it.

This week I got in touch, and asked if it would be possible to buy it. The owner was so pleased that the jacket was being used in the field and not just fancy dress that she refused payment.

In hindsight I shouldn't have been surprised - the hunting field has made me feel very welcome and there's a camaraderie missing from any other part of life I've encountered.