Dara blows it

With hindsight, I know it was bound to happen. Dara had had a very long vacation doing nothing much at all. I had wanted to give him time to mature and muscle-up physically, so had not pushed him with work. And, he had come from a very structured, disciplined environment, as most racehorses do, to one that was relaxed, quiet, unpressured. I've often noticed that horses who move from a hard-working life to a cushy one go through a giddy phase a few months later. It's as if they suddenly realise what fun not doing much can be, and they decide to retire from work altogether. Cue naughtiness, stubborness, sudden phobias for dogs or bicycles or bridles.....

And of course, I was expecting it - or at least, something , though thus far Dara had been amazingly good. One Saturday afternoon in February I was hacking him round the village, as usual. It was cold and windy, but despite this and the fact that we were on our own, Dara was reasonably settled; the worst he did was try to jog a bit, but he responded obediently when I told him to 'walk steady'. We went up a lane beside a stubble field, and I decided I'd try a few circles with him there ( we were allowed to ride on the stubble), and then go home and get warm.

At the top of the lane I discovered my friend Glynnis, filling up her ponies' water trough in the paddock opposite. I drew rein and made Dara 'stand' whilst I chatted - good training for him, in obedient patience if nothing else ! But the wind was cold, and we didn't linger too long. I walked Dara over onto the stubble, and started the large sweep of a right-rein circle.

I don't know exactly what happened next ... I remember Dara resisting the rein-pressure, and then suddenly, he wheeled, and reared ( I think), and then I was up in the air and Dara was taking huge leaps, like a gazelle....(Afterwards Glynnis said she'd never seen anyhing like it !). I think I stayed on for four, maybe five, of these almighty bucks, and then I hit the stubble and Dara hit the bolt-for-home button.

I remember crouching on my hands and knees in the mud ( thank goodness it was mud ! Hard ground would have fractured something for me) and watching Dara disappear at full gallop into the distance. Glynnis came running over, but though I was badly winded, and couldn't move or speak, we both realised I was going to survive. Gynnis left me there to regain my wind whilst she drove off to find Dara, who was now clattering along the road headed for the village.

Eventually I managed to stand, and very sorely limped back down the lane, making mental notes to upgrade all my insurances. I hobbled half a mile back into the village, and eventually found Glynnis and Dara partway down Main Street, where a neighbour had shooed and cornered him into a garden. He was looking rather pleased with himself and his little adventure. Don't you just love a Thoroughbred ! Nobly, and against all my better judgement, I insisted on remounting and riding Dara home. Dara seemed quite taken aback, and swished his tail a lot, but I knew I had to do it, right now - or maybe I never would.

Back home at last, with Dara bedded down and happily munching hay in his stable, I soaked my aching body in a hot bath, and tried to figure it all out. What on earth had triggered that outburst ? It was so out of character for him. It had to me my fault, somehow. What had I done wrong ?