Here goes, my first blog! I didn’t think this was a topic I would be writing about anytime soon, especially as my first one, but as I said in my welcome blog, I’ll be sharing the highs AND the lows.
As I’m typing this with two fingers strapped together, I’m repeating “I love my horse, I love my horse”. But as all horse owners know, sometimes it’s not quite that simple. Let’s start from the beginning…
It’s a beautiful morning and I’m feeling so lucky to live here as I hack down our countryside drive on Mocca with the sun rising to the East when, whoops, we’re suddenly facing the wrong way. As we get back on track I notice them. Ah, that explains it. There are scary sandbags monsters that weren’t there the last time we rode, goodness what a fright for poor Mocca! (facepalm)
Continuing on I smile to myself on this stunning morning, forgetting about all the work and life admin that needs doing and just enjoy the icy-cold air on my face and rays of sunshine across the fields ahead. We haven’t hacked in almost a week and Mocca is surprisingly relaxed, despite our rocky start. I think about taking the short route and heading back to school her but decide to take advantage of the wind-free day and venture on further. As we get to the ditch, a possible turning point for home, Mocca becomes jolly and I know I’ve got my hands full; this is where the fun begins. At the end of the track she is determined to continue on to home so, being about as stubborn as Mocca, I turn her left up towards the woods. Ha! That slows her down!
Into the front of the woods and over the mound we begin to trot. Down the mound and out the other side of the woods she breaks into canter; with a small half-halt she’s powering on in trot around the corner until, whoosh! Dogs barking.
What’s happened?
Why am I on the floor?
Clutching the reins with one hand I peer up at Mocca, still pulling backwards, glaring at something in the near distance. Scrambling to my feet as I try to calm her I follow her gaze to two black dogs sitting in the corner of the woods not seven metres away.
How strange.
They see me coming and turn on their heels, trotting across the field and onto the neighbouring farm. I search for an owner but no-one is around; just me and the piaffing giraffe my horse has turned into.
Great. Now I have to mount this wild beast that seems to have grown a whole two hands in the last thirty seconds.
What does a (nearly) twenty eight year old do when she falls off her horse in the woods on her own? She calls her mum. Yep, I’m not even ashamed to admit it. She is part of a rural watch group with local farmers and the police so sends a message to them while I call the dog warden.
Right, now to re-mount.
To my surprise, Mocca stands quietly while I sort myself out before retracing our steps along the track. Poor Mocca, it absolutely wasn’t her fault I took a tumble and she’s clearly not happy about it. We jog along the track for a while until eventually she relaxes and begins to stretch her neck as we begin the last leg of our hack.
You thought we’d finished? Oh no, there’s more…
As we turn down the drive, with no more than two hundred metres to go, the horses in the paddocks decide I haven’t been thrown around enough and set off at a gallop, whinnying as they go.
Off Mocca goes, high-tailing it up the driveway as my dad, giggling, passes in his car and makes some hilarious comment I can’t hear over the sound of hooves and screeching lungs.
It’s been a few years since I’ve fallen off so I’m sure I’ll know about it tomorrow!
Sadie in the Saddle 