Nick walked calmly into the truck, scuffing his feet to check the grip before walking over to Moxie. He rubbed her up and down the face and around the ears. At first she threw her head about, objecting, trying to step into his space, looking like she was going to wind herself right up again, but Nick just kept rubbing until eventually she stood, not quite relaxed, but at least still.
Never changing his practical pace, but definitely not going slowly to avoid upsetting her, Nick clipped his long lead on and then untied Moxie, turning her towards the ramp. As she went to barge past him he kept his back to her and, throwing his arms up, he ran backwards into her space, bumping into her chest. When she threatened to barge over the top of him again, he ran backwards again and then, lifting up his foot, he did something Essie had never seen anyone do before. He kicked her in the chest with the flat sole of his shoe, no harder than a slap, but it took Moxie completely by surprise. She stopped and went backwards out of his way, ears forward, eyes on Nick.
Essie panicked. What was this madman doing? What had she gotten Moxie into? Her hands itched to take her back, but then Essie looked closely at Moxie. She’d never seen her react like that before, and whatever it was Nick had just communicated to her, he seemed to be speaking her language. She might be surprised, but she accepted it.
Nick walked forwards and Moxie took a couple of quiet steps after him before rushing up behind him again. But he was one step ahead of her, running backwards into her space, throwing his arms up and blocking her. Moxie took rushed steps back, then stood still. Nick didn’t turn to look at her, clearly he just expected her to stand, then he walked calmly down the ramp. Moxie, head lowered, followed behind him, keeping a respectful distance, ears forward, watching his every move.
As they hit the bottom of the ramp Moxie rushed past him, but Nick was a step ahead. He’d already turned and headed in another direction, so by the time she spun at the end of the rope, she was behind him again. She tried again and again, and each time she did, he was turned already, so she was always behind him, always following, until suddenly she let out a big deep breath and snorted, clearing her nose and walked straight behind him on a loose lead toward the yards. She followed him like a loyal dog. Testing her, he stopped and she nearly ran into him. This time he just walked quietly backwards and she respectfully took the exact same number of steps back, and then he walked forwards and she calmly did the same, but this time watching him, switched on, stopping when he did, walking faster or slower to match his pace. She looked like Joshy could lead her. Nick turned a cheeky smile on them like it was no big thing.
Looking directly at Essie, Nick said, “Tomorrow I’ll teach you how to work with her like that. By the time you finish on Sunday you’ll know the tools to lead her anywhere, and she’ll be confident to follow you.”
“That was amazing,” Rob said. “I could do with some of that for working with the horses I cart. I don’t do many, but sometimes they’re a bit wild.”
“Spectators are always welcome,” Nick said. “It’s good for families to watch and learn, then you can help each other out at home.”
Essie felt awkward at Nick’s assumption that they were a family, but now wasn’t the time to set him straight so she just let it go, turning her attention back to Moxie as Nick let her loose her in her designated yard.
“There you go,” he said. “Put your horse gear in the arena, it’ll be safe and dry in there, settle her in and I’ll see you first lesson tomorrow. Any problems, call the mobile number.” And like a magician, he walked off, leaving them staring at this new Moxie he’d made appear right before their eyes.
The morning was misty and strangely warm as they retraced their route. Somewhere in the back the esky bumped into the side of the van every time they turned a corner.
“Remind me to stick a pillow or something behind that thing when we stop for coffee,” Francesca said.
Turning, Essie looked at their makeshift camping gear in the back. By the time they arrived home last night, tired and in the dark, camping had seemed the sensible thing to do. As Francesca had pointed out, “It’ll be like a birthday holiday with your pony. Van-essa is perfect for it. We can make beds in the back, take food, changes of clothes – it’ll be fun.” Essie couldn’t tell if she genuinely meant it or if she was trying to convince herself.
“Want to stop and grab something to eat?” Francesca asked as they slowed to go through a small village.
“I’m not hungry,” Essie said, too nervous for food.
Francesca shot her a quick look, but didn’t push it. She swung into a parking space and said, “Righto, if you’re sure, I’ll just get myself something.” She emerged from the cafe with two hot drinks and two small bags. Passing Essie one of each, she said, “You can have it now or later.” Smiling, she took a sip of her drink then got back on the road.
As they drew closer clouds started to build, heavy and dark. When they reached the point where yesterday they could see the arena in the valley, today there was nothing but cloud.
“Nearly there,” said Essie nervously as they turned onto the dirt road that led them through the property gates, just as big splats of rain began to hit the windscreen. “Thank goodness for the arena,” said Francesca, draining her coffee, but all Essie was thinking about was getting Moxie from the yards to the indoor stables. There were a couple of floats in the parking area, but no one seemed to be around. As they pulled up, Francesca said, “I threw the raincoats in. They’re just behind your seat, Ess.” She checked the time on her phone. “You’ve got forty minutes,” she said, and Essie felt her gut flip.
“I’d better go and get Moxie and bring her up to the stables,” Essie said, looking out at the sky. “I’ll just grab her halter out of my bag.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Francesca asked.
“No, I’ll be right,” Essie said, hoping some of Nick’s magic was still holding its spell over Moxie. “You wait in the arena out of the rain.”
Francesca looked hard at her for a minute and then nodded. “Okay.”
As they came around the corner into the arena they saw that the lack of people and horses outside was because they were all in here, dry in the stables, Moxie included. A young guy walked up to them, an N L logo on his shirt and said, “G’day, I’m Sam; I work for Nick. Hope it’s okay, but with the weather coming in we brought the horses for the morning lessons in so you can get ready in the dry. Moxie has her hay and she seems pretty happy – just let me know if you need anything. Oh, and just a reminder, Nick will start on time. He probably won’t be on time for the rest of the day,” he laughed, “because he takes as long as each horse needs, but you’ll be on at nine. Sing out if you need anything else.” And with a half-wave, he walked away.
Moxie was happily pulling at her hay net, but she turned and walked over when Essie came through the door, nickering softly. Essie felt slightly better seeing how relaxed she was. Glancing at the arena clock, she started taking off her rugs. She could hear Francesca chatting to one of the other owners in another stable and was glad to have Moxie to herself for a moment. As she pulled the last rug off, she stood back and looked at her. It was hard to believe that in such a short time they had turned her from that sad pony into this one. Her coat shone, her tail was growing out and glowed white, her mane was pulled and lying flat, hooves solid and neat, her weight finally perfect thanks to unlimited hay and grass. She was a pony to be proud of, Essie thought, whispering to her, as she picked up a body brush and got to work, “You might not look exactly like the pony on the J S O’Brien website, but you could definitely be a close relative.”
Essie looked up and down the row to see if anyone else was putting work boots on their horses, but the only people about were busy chatting or feeding. Looking at Moxie’s fine legs, she pulled Chet’s work boots out of the bag, knocking them together to remove the dust and wishing she’d thought to wash them. Bending to put them on, she suddenly felt herself slide into the horse space. She couldn’t
have explained the feeling to anyone else. Somewhere between Chet and Moxie, she’d forgotten what used to come so naturally, but here it was, the start of that feeling. It was like her muscles and her brain finally remembered how to do this horse thing. Doing up the last boot, she felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe she could do this.
Running her hand down Moxie’s face, Essie clipped the lead onto her halter, pulled a piece of hay out of her forelock, and took a deep breath. “Come on, girl,” she said quietly, and led her out of the stables towards the arena gate. Moxie took long, loose, eager strides beside Essie, ears forward and eyes wide as they came through the gate. Nick was waiting. As they pulled up, he smiled. “Good morning, ready to go?”
“Yes,” Essie said, trying to sound determined. She turned to stroke Moxie, who had her eyes on Nick. “Yes, we are.”
“So, tell me a bit about Moxie,” said Nick, seeming to focus on Essie, although she could tell he was really watching Moxie.
“Mum and I bought her accidentally at a farm auction. She was in a pretty bad way, so we’ve just been getting her healthy again.” Essie paused to push Moxie back as she tried to turn and look about, bumping into her. “We managed to track down the people who broke her in and trained her,” Essie said, “and they said she competed in dressage until she injured herself and got turned out to spell. But then her owner died and she was forgotten.” Moxie turned her head so hard that Essie was pulled onto one foot, her arm stretched to its limit. It took both her hands on the halter to pull her around again. “And so, before we got her she was in a farm paddock for a couple of years. Moxie, stand up,” Essie finally said, exasperated.
“Right,” said Nick, “and how has she been going?”
Essie shook her head. “Good and bad. Mostly she’s okay, but sometimes she spooks and carries on so badly when I lead her that I can’t keep hold of her. Once she’s wound up I don’t know what to do. She gets in my space and,” she paused, searching for the right words, “and I feel like she is constantly asking me a question, or asking me for something,” Essie said, “but I don’t know what that is. That probably sounds silly,” she finished, as Moxie reached in and nudged hard at her arm again.
“Actually, that makes perfect sense,” said Nick, “and you’re right on the money.”
“Here,” he said, “I’ll take her.” Reaching out, he swapped places with Essie, taking the lead rope from her and standing exactly where she had stood. “Just while we talk a bit more.”
Within moments, Moxie was doing to Nick exactly what she had been doing to Essie, stepping into his space and nuzzling at him, fidgeting, demanding.
Looking at Essie, relaxed but focused, he said, “I don’t know about you, but standing here talking, I want Moxie to be able to wait there, and to be comfortable just doing it. I don’t need her standing right on top of me, and I certainly don’t want her standing in my space at the moment she gets a fright. I also don’t want to have to tell her every two minutes to stop it, be quiet, be still, stand up. I just want her to do it. Yesterday in the truck, do you remember any of what I did?”
Essie was tongue tied. She could replay it all in her head, but it sounded stupid to say “you ran backwards and kicked my horse”.
“Let’s put it a different way,” Nick said. “If there’s a herd of horses, there is a mare who is absolutely the boss, who keeps everyone in line and safe. Stallions do the fighting, but it’s the lead mare who is the number one, and her word is the law. If anyone gets out of line, do you know what she does?” Rather than waiting for Essie to answer he suddenly stepped backwards into Moxie, who was right on his shoulder, bumping him. Waving his arms, hat in hand, he spooked her off him. When she didn’t go fast enough, without turning around, he kicked out at her again, backwards with the soft sole of his shoe. She ran back, stopping as soon as Nick did and then standing still, head up and ears pricked, staring at him, not frightened, but on alert.
“If a horse in the herd doesn’t do what the lead mare says, she turns her rump on them and threatens to kick them.” Nick put his hat back on and took two steps towards Essie. Moxie also took exactly two steps. “Not like a nasty, cranky mare, but like a boss who expects to be obeyed. She has the responsibility to keep them all safe, so a horse not doing what they’re told isn’t tolerated. Moxie has lived by herself in that paddock for the last two years, making all the decisions for herself. She has been her own lead mare. It would also have been quite stressful for her, with no herd or company around. And then along comes you, telling her what to do, bossing her, or trying to and she’s not convinced that you are the lead mare. She’s not sure that she can relax and hand things over to you, and so now she needs you, Essie, to tell her that you are the boss, that she doesn’t have to worry, or spook or look for danger, because you have it all under control. She just has to do what you tell her, and she’ll be safe. So, what I need to show you is how to communicate that to her clearly and kindly.”
Essie looked at Moxie, standing steps away. Every time she went to take a step forwards, Nick simply took a step back and she corrected herself until eventually she stood quietly and relaxed.
“Right,” said Nick, “that’s step one. Grab yourself a spot close by Essie,” he said. “Moxie and I are going to do a bit of work, so I can see what we’ve got. Can we have the stick and flag, Sam?” he called. Sam passed them across the arena wall. “Don’t be surprised if she jumps all over the place, Essie – that’s just her asking me what I know. It’s important that we find out exactly what you’ve got here, so I can send you home confident that you know what to do and how to help her, okay?”
Essie looked at the clock on the arena wall. Nick had been working with Moxie for half an hour, taking her through a series of in-hand exercises, calling out occasionally, explaining to Essie what he was doing.
At first Moxie was confused, trying to spin and pull away, ducking left and right, questioning Nick, but he never wavered. Essie never heard him speak, never saw him get frustrated, he just kept on asking her to move where he wanted her. Essie watched, fascinated, as, seemingly by doing nothing much at all, slowly but surely Moxie focused on him and began to do what he asked, calmly and steadily. And rather than fizzing up if she wasn’t sure, she just tried again to get it right. Essie knew that half of what Nick was saying to Moxie with his body language and footwork was so subtle that she couldn’t even see it, but she could see the result in her horse, who suddenly looked switched on and eager, but relaxed at the same time.
It was like the leading miracle Nick had performed the day before, but much bigger.
Walking back to where Essie stood, Nick passed her the lead rope. “Just hang on to her for a minute, would you, Essie?” he asked, shooting her a quiet smile. Then, stepping out of the arena, he bent down behind the wall and came back carrying a saddle and bridle.
“Already?” Essie asked, shocked.
He smiled and said, “We’ve got four days, and judging by her groundwork, she’s ready. I wouldn’t get on her if I didn’t think she’d be fine. That’s right, isn’t it, Moxie?” he said, throwing a saddle blanket over her back. As she went to fidget, he reached across and said, “Here, I’ll take her, thanks,” and looped the lead rope over his arm as Essie stepped away.
As Nick threw the saddle onto her back, Moxie began to swing about. The relaxed pony from moments ago was gone, sidestepping away from him. For a minute Nick let her go while he pulled the saddle around as best he could and then, rather than trying to hold her still or hanging off her head, he gave her one sharp pull on her halter, just one, and to Essie’s surprise Moxie stopped still.
Doing the girth up, Nick turned to Essie and said, “I gave her the chance to settle and she didn’t, and that’s okay. But what I didn’t do was hang on her head, creating more tension or nag at her. It’s easier for horses if things are black and white. Grey areas just confuse them, and then she doesn’t know where she’s at and who’s in control so she starts to worry.”
Essi
e had no reply. She was holding her breath, terrified about Nick getting on Moxie but also excited. Was the old Moxie still in there? And if she was, even if a horseman like Nick could ride her, that didn’t mean Essie would be able to. The voice of doubt started in her head, but then there was no room for anything as Nick stepped onto the mounting block and Moxie stepped up beside it. Essie had hoped he might ride her at some point; she’d thought maybe on the last day. She had prepared herself for just getting her lead manners under control, and then needing to get help somewhere else for the ridden stuff. But they were just forty-five minutes into the first day and he was about to get on her.
Behind Essie, someone said, “Excuse me.” The next person was standing waiting with their chestnut horse. Essie turned to open the gate, and when she turned back, her heart caught because Nick was on Moxie.
Rubbing her down the neck and along the sides, he sat with loose reins, letting her move her feet and sort out her balance, and then with a gentle kick he walked her on. Nick was relaxed in the saddle, like Moxie was his horse that he rode every day. Essie was transfixed, and as Nick rode towards the back wall she found herself following, perching on the plastic mounting block out in the middle of the area.
Letting her walk out, Nick turned the little mare right and left with a wide, soft hand – so different, Essie thought, to how she rode. As he came around the long side of the arena with the full sixty metres in front of him, he gave her a click up with his voice and a soft kick, and without missing a beat Moxie bounded into a swinging trot, each stride massive for her size, her hind legs powering her along. Essie expected Nick to check her and try to contain her, but as they headed into the corner, Moxie took it at speed and Nick didn’t touch the rein. Essie marvelled at his confidence and balance; he was completely at one with the horse. As they came down the next long side Moxie really opened out, front legs throwing forward, tail behind her like a white banner. As Nick went past, he sang out, “Moxie’s got the moves.” He looked like he was loving every minute of it.
The Pony Question Page 15