Three Fond Farewells

Life has not been  kind to the yard recently, and by not kind, I mean we have lost three horses. The first to perish was Freddie – a 14hh grey BSJA pony, owned by one of the pro-riders on the yard and jumped by one of the BSJA kids based with us. While in a jump off, the pony went down at a sharp turn and broke his shoulder – a terminal injury. He never got up though: he had a massive attack of some kind, presumably a coronary or aortic aneursym and died immediately on the spot. He probably fell and broke his shoulder precisely because he was having a cardiac event, though some of the kids have a theory that he died out of panic at his injury. They think this because of pony B. (Sadly I don't have a photo of Freddie, as he's only been on the yard a couple of months, and doesn't put his head over his door, preferring the peace and quiet of the back of his box).

The second to go, also passed away under the same rider and also in a jump off. After too tight a turn, 'Baby Bailey' as he was known (a Welsh B compared to the riding school's Bailey, a 14.2 pony) broke his leg in more than one place and had to me put down in the ring. Combined with losing Freddie and with getting a new competition pony within 3 days of losing Bailey, some kids began to wonder if the rider was at fault and if he really loved his ponies. I can't speak about fault, I wasn't there, but just because you get another competition pony so soon does not stop you missing or loving the ones that came before. Competing horses is a bit different to private owning: the season goes on whether you're a part of it or not, and as the kid in question has appeared in national youth teams, he needs to keep his BSJA record sheet looking good and keep his name in the running. Now he has to do that with a new pony. Here's some photos of Bailey: the sanest and sweetest little Welshie I've ever known.

Finally, and the one that upset me most, was Bentley – 17.2hh of sweet young Warmblood (6 or 7 years old). A couple of months ago, they suspected he had a stress fracture in his pelvis, so cross-tied him in his stable, providing water and haynets at door level to immobilise him as much as possible. I remember looking after him for a day when it happened: monitoring and refilling his water for P, fussing over him, and it was the first time the YM addressed me directly and asked me to do something. It was only to refill his haynets for the night, but given how scary and dismissive a man our YM can be, and that he only spoke to me before to check I was okay on my way to A&E and on my first return to the yard after the accident, it felt like a 'wee big deal' as my countrymen would say. Anyway,  a week or two later Bentley got cast in his stable, and that point he was put to sleep.  Bentley, or Bentlers as I often called him, was a sweety, and full of mischief. He's in one of the double sized corner boxes due to his huge frame, and is right next to Guinness. He was a torture in the funniest way: nothing could be set down around him. With his giant neck, he could reach anything you put over Guinness' door: I have often picked up Poo's bridle and rug off the floor, after trying to tell Bentley not to grab them while laughing my head off. (Not the best way to chastise a horse I know, but he was being inquisitive, and with no one else ever telling him off for it, consistent discipline was impossible).  I'd often stroke his big head and his ears would splay out like a donkey, as if he was enjoying it to the point of stupor. I've also spent many a time watching him in the field: he'd pick up his tail like a Lippizener (sp) and his front legs like a hackney: he had the proudest looking trot, head up and mane flowing.  

 

I thought I'd find Bentley's empty box hard, but it turned out Homer was in it by my first visit after Bentley had gone: another giant, sweet, affectionate horse, and the horse who  helped stop me from missing Bolero so much and finding his empty box so painful as it goes. While the yard will never be quite the same with the silly Bentlers in the corner, Homie does a rather good job of being cheeky and adoreable himself. That corner of the yard is still my favourite: with Paddy the Highland, who is stunning and a snogging machine (he knows the command 'Kisses!' and happily obliges), Guinness the stunner (buckskin tobiano, with a marmite personality that I adore) and the gorgeous, sweet Homer, who I appreciate even more now that I'm riding him. It'll never be the same without Bentley, but it's still once of my happy places on this earth 80)

Run free at rainbow bridge Freddie, Bailey and Bentley: you are sadly missed x