His Inner Pony

Spring is in the air, and I think much of it is being channelled through Rebel’s hooves.

We were out of doors two Saturdays ago, mixing with the kids as the indoor arena was in the process of being resurfaced. Reb’s inclinations — to be interested in the ponies, to look at the ponies, to drift towards the ponies — are cute… if you’re watching from the sidelines.

If you’re trying to get him to canter, well. Not so much.

Oh, I hate being so grumpy, and to be honest, I’d love to spend an hour or two just watching him play out in a field. But it’s hard to be indulgent when I’m being remonstrated because I can’t manage him.

His blood is definitely up. Whenever we’re outside, he’s just about manageable, barely, roaring around the turns, dropping his head and shoulders, barreling up the straight… He dumped last Saturday, onto the wet sandy sand, and proceeded to pelt off to the opposite end of the arena and treat us to a display of rodeo skillz.

Last night, indoors? Well, I started working on the thing that all the instructors tell me to do, to sit back, to really really keep my leg on, and sponge the reins so that we’re keeping the bit in the right place. It worked, which is something, but seriously, once he gets going, you needn’t tell me that yes, he’s much stronger than me.

I’m delighted that he’s in touch with his inner pony… but I wish he’d grow up a little…

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