Next

Back

               Horse Sense    cont...

"Old Mary will be OK for you then," he replied, dismissively turning to five horses in the paddock. He and my three offspring selected four of them without much ado. There remained a grey mare, saddled but, as it were, empty. The refrain "Tom Pearce, Tom Pearce lend me your grey mare" was quite audible to me, as a ring of faces, seemingly thirty five feet in the air, waited patiently for me to mount. I had very clear thoughts as to what had happened to Tom's grey mare. And besides who's ever known a mare called Mary? I was not happy.

I mounted - well enough once again, from the left. Mr Jones led the way at a walk out of the paddock and along a short lane to the hillside. I brought up the rear astride Mary. As each horse cleared the lane it broke into a trot, so, without any instructions from me, did Mary. It seems completely perverse that just as a horse is going up, you are coming down. Even with the knowledge that one's weight should be taken by the legs, it's helpful to have some notice that it needs to be applied.
For about twenty yards my small change and the car keys took a terrific pounding and a strong yearning for tight fitting underwear was foremost in my mind. But, just as quickly as Mary had initiated the trot, without evidence, at that time, of my incompetence, she now walked again and was certain of it.

This was fine by me. I showed my appreciation by patting her neck - this much I had learned from television - grateful riders always pat the horse. And I was very grateful.

Happier now, I was able to take in the view. We were on a hillside which sloped away to the right. Sheep grazed in their mysterious unidirectional habit. Very clean, very white sheep they are in those parts. Not a black faced, black eared Wallace and Grommet one anywhere.

Towering mountains rose beyond the valley to our right, with just enough puffy white clouds to give the otherwise clear blue sky artistic interest. My pleasure at this scene completely swamped any prudent contemplation that we may have been heading towards those mountains.

We were on a much used path which followed the contour of the hill. In due course this rounded the hill to the left where one could see that it approached the head of the valley which rose up from our right. The track about a hundred yards further on turned sharp right in a hairpin bend, to ascend, gradually, the hill which formed the far side of the valley. By the time I locked my attention onto these vital indications of our progress the advance party was in fact negotiating this very slope. I was well behind.

When stressed, the untrained mind forgets the various useful snippets of knowledge that it has acquired at varying intervals over the years. And whatever snippets of equestrian info there were in my mind, they had not been gathered into a section labelled "HORSES - THE RIDING OF". So it did not strike me that falling behind, with Mary in charge, was really of no consequence - not to Mary anyway. She knew that route, of course. Mervyn Jones knew that she knew. But I did not know.

So, some thirty yards from the sharp angle in the path, I noticed that the ground now rose to my right to meet the continuation of it which my kids and Mr Jones had long since passed. "We can cut the comer off and catch up a bit" I reasoned, not realizing that complete disintegration of reasoned thought had now taken place. I pulled gently on the right rein. There was no response!

cont.... Next