By Archie, aged 8.
I should prefix this story with some necessary information. I am an 18hh Suffolk Horse who weighs nearly a tonne, my Mum is about the size of my head. This story happened in our second week together. I should also advise that Mum absolutely loathed hacking at the time and wasn’t the most confident of equestrians, full stop.
For reasons known only to her, Mum had pulled on her big girl pants and decided that we should go for a short hack out. I’d had a snort at a couple of things, but things were going ok… and then I saw it! Lurking in the trees was a something. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it was definitely dangerous, tiger, bear, lion, who knew? I stopped, I snorted, I stamped my feet, but it was still there, waiting, ominously.
Now Mum and I were relative strangers, and to be honest, she’s so tiny I often forgot she was there entirely. From somewhere behind my ears, this disembodied voice and insistent heels were urging me on, towards the thing. Remember, for all I knew this strange woman could be a complete lemming. So, I did what any sensible horse would do in the circumstances, I turned on my heels and got the hell out of dodge, full spin and 0 to whoo hoolie in seconds.
Suddenly finding herself on an out of control horse who was quite frankly not stopping for anyone, Mum actually yelled help. She then immediately muttered, ‘Oh for goodness sake, what is anyone going to do.’ (Mum is very calm in a crisis).
Now what she knew and unfortunately I did not, is that the field we were currently hurtling across at warp speed is dissected by a rather large ditch. Mum says out loud, ‘Ok, we’re either going in it or over it.’
I had no clue what she meant until I had to skid, cartoon style, to a stop, my front hooves right on the edge. Mum, however, continued her trajectory, disappeared over my ears and into the ditch. Please don’t be alarmed dear friends, a bramble bush broke her fall. However, much like a furry see-saw, her considerable momentum was sufficient to upset my tenuous balance, and I slid in after her.
You can see the problem here? Mum is stuck in the narrow wet, muddy bit at the bottom and I am trying really hard not to stand on her. She, still terrifyingly calm, is trying to inch her head away from my flailing hooves, all the while talking to me, so I’m not scared. Not scared? We’re in a bloody ditch woman!
After what seemed like hours to us but was probably a minute, tops, I managed to scramble out of the dyke and trotted over to a grass verge. I’m a stress eater, ok?
Mum appeared a few moments later, which is just as well because I’d got my reins caught under my front leg and I was starting to panic. She untangled me and called Aunty D and Aunty J, who hot-footed it to our location.
The decision was made that Aunty J would ride me back while Aunty D took Mum to the yard to assess the damage. (Something, which Mum now believes was wrong and she should have got straight back on board)
So that is how Mum ended up walking onto a busy yard, horseless and covered in mud, hoof prints and blood (bramble bush remember) but was, other than a few scratches, completely unhurt.
Unfortunately, once she’d had a chance to think about it, she had a complete meltdown, and her confidence was utterly kyboshed. (There was even some talk of me getting my marching orders) It took nearly a year, a lot of pre hack throwing up, aunties on chaperone duty and a very patient and sensible horse enduring a lot a squeaking and vibrating (she would shake that hard) to get her right again.
She’s now happily a hackaholic, and this is one of her favourite stories because it freaks people out. It’s my favourite story because obviously, I’m the hero. So, dear friends, that is how Archie saved Mum.
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