HavanaDays

Excerpt:

STIRRUPS

Havana was so good at carrying a saddle for the first time a few weeks ago, that I decided the time had come to introduce him to the idea of stirrups dangling from the saddle on either side of him.

After breakfast this morning, whilst Mrs B. was grooming Corris ready for a ride, she didn’t mind us borrowing his saddle.
******I introduced Havana to the saddle again by holding it over my arm for him to sniff.
******It is easy to see his magnificent dark, Thoroughbred sire, Falconwood, when I look at Havana now.
******Quietly, I did up the girth around Havana’s ribcage. Feeling the resulting slight increase in pressure behind his shoulders and on his back, as well as just behind his front legs, Havana nudged my left hip with his nose – a reciprocal gesture letting me know he could now feel the saddle, reminding me that he was tolerating the strange sensation … and warning me not to take his compliance for granted.

As I felt he really should investigate the strange phenomenon of stirrups, I encouraged him by holding the iron towards his muzzle. That worked; a brief sniff – and Havana had the metal in his teeth. As it evidently neither tasted, nor felt, very interesting he released his grip, so gravity swung the iron back against his side, giving him a soft, dull, thump in the ribs.
******No reaction.
******I invited Havana to take the stirrup iron in his teeth a few more times and each time he dropped it, letting it bang against his furry side. I could see that stirrups were not an issue for this little horse!

I stood and looked at him. In a saddle, he really looked like an adult horse. I fleetingly remembered the crazy three-and-a-half-month-old ball of orange fluff who, in a summer meadow in North Wales, had been adamant that I should not ignore him.
******I had shooed the little creature away when he repeatedly tried to get my attention in the only way he knew – by biting me!
******“Go away, you’re too little”, I’d said to him.
******He had disregarded my rebuff; he knew he had already made the impact upon me that he needed to make. He knew that his future was secure … we had found each other.

Fearing they would be down to Havana’s knees, I had deliberately set the stirrups at my riding length.
******Now, I could plainly see the bottom of the stirrup irons were level with Havana’s elbow (the top of his front leg); a perfectly respectable place for them to be, especially at the age of only two years and nine months when he was still not fully-grown.
******Looking at the magnificent horse in front of me, Havana’s persistence was vindicated. Here was the proof … I could stop agonizing. We’ll be fine!

To promote safety and good manners, I have taught Havana to walk a few steps backwards in his stable before going out of the door.
******I was roused from my state of dream-like admiration by Havana, very purposefully striding backwards until he bumped his bottom on the back wall of the stable. As I watched incredulously, he executed a perfect ninety-degree turn so he was parallel with the back wall and then, as if to emphasise the point, continued walking backwards until his bottom met the side wall – and again, could go no further.
******He stood alert, looking inquisitorially at me. I knew exactly what he meant:
******“Which bit of walking backwards in my stable don’t you understand? I’ve done all your ‘saddle-stuff ’ – now can I go out in the field and eat grass?”

In a moment, I took off the saddle and rubbed Havana’s back and chest. Corris got his saddle back and he and Mrs B. went off for a ride.
******Havana didn’t even want to join Rollo and Prince in their game of biting legs; after a long night in his stable he had some serious grazing to do.