My much loved horse and friend, Kerrydancer

For 35 years my horse, Kerrydancer, Kerry for short, called to me every morning. I bought her when she was 9 months old so we were old friends.

Then at 6.50am on August 1st 2007 she didn't call when the other horses came down to be fed.

She was lying asleep in one of her favourite places but she didn't want to get up and I could see that, although she wasn't in pain or injured, she was ready to go on.

I had known for some weeks that the time wasn't far off. She had begun to lose condition and was often a bit stiff, but it was a time I dreaded.

By the time the vet arrived less than an hour after I found her Kerry was on her feet but she wasn't herself.

She went to sleep peacefully while I held her head and talked to her.

She had a good life and a peaceful death on one of the few fine days we had this summer.

Sometimes I imagine I can see my beautiful Fell/Arab palomino in her prime wandering in the woods.

Happy memories of a happy horse are things that will never die.

Any comments to ckerrydancer@aol.com Subject 'Kerry'

The Mischievous Horse

I bought my Fell/Arab horse, Kerrydancer, when she was 9 months old and she rapidly established her reputation for mischief.

She responded well to handling. I could groom her, clean her hooves, lead her on the roads and she accepted bridles and bits as soon as they were introduced to her. She also enjoyed trips along country lanes on long reins.

Unfortunately she spent her spare time developing her own methods of entertainment.
For some time she shared a field with sheep. That is until she decided to pretend to be a sheepdog.

She would determinedly round up the sheep at one then drive them carefully to the other end of the field. Then, nose down, she dispersed them and watched while they resumed grazing. Then when they were all nicely spread out she would start the whole process over again.

So we moved her to a field with cows as they weremore her own size.

Everything was fine until one of the cows calved early.

Kerry decided that the calf was a foal and that it was hers. She washed it and stood over it protectively. Before the cow lost interest we had to rescue the calf from its foster mother. We picked up the calf and carried it out of the field followed by the anxious filly. Once outside we were able to stable Kerry and restore the calf to its mother.

Kerry decided that she didn't want to stay in the stable and devised a way of fiddling with the bolt and letting herself out. When we fixed a fail-safe device to stop her she discovered that vibrating the bottom of the door with her hoof would release the device and she could then undo the bolt. (How she did we just don't know).

The cause of the trouble was that she was and is an incredibly intelligent horse. She needs to be kept occupied. She is now in her 30's, still intelligent, but althougn thankfully happy to contemplate the world in a less pro-active way. She is still the boss!

She has to have her feed trough in the field filled first. She has to have the first hay supply. In Spring when horses are brushed to remove loose hair she has to take first turn.

But then as an equally bossy old girl I know how she feels! You can read more about my odd animals at www.percydale.com and click on Animal Antics in the sidebar.

If you would like to learn about really enjoying your horse read the following book. It's brilliant!

Natural Horsemanship – Make Friends With Your Horse

People have been working in partnership with their horses since civilisation began. Natural horsemanship was a way of life because man and horse worked together for the mutual good. Man offered protection to the horse by keeping away predators. Horses helped man to move around the countryside, carry heavy loads and work the land.

They were also valuable allies in battle. Most of the advanced dressage skills were developed for army manoeuvres.

Natural horsemanship is a way of forming a partnership with your horse that will benefit both of you.

I had never been happy with the formalised way of breaking and training horses. All that endless lunging just seemed boring, so I did it my way and called it gentling. Then I read a book by Pat Parelli and discovered a way of training horses that was just what I always thought it should be like.

If you have anything to do with horses and haven’t yet heard of Pat Parelli you are in for a treat.

Pat Parelli is the great exponent of natural horsemanship as the best way to train horses. He devised a method of schooling the rider and the horse as partners in a joint venture of horsemanship that doesn’t need expensive equipment or round pens or even enclosed arenas. It is not just for training young horses, even mature horses can benefit.

The essential part of natural horsemanship is the development of good communication between you and your horse. You aim to be partners aiming for the same goal. As your friend your horse will always do its best to please you. When you are happy, your horse is happy.

When you’ve studied the system you wonder why it isn’t more widely practised.

If you haven’t read any of Pat Parelli’s books on natural horsemanship why not start now?

Little Pony - Big Problem

Anyone who owns a horse or pony knows that acquiring the equine is just the start of your problems! Take Ben, for instance.
Ben arrived in the village with my sister who had just come to live on the hilltop on the opposite side of our 14-acre goose green to my own cottage. They say that size isn’t everything, and my sister’s Shetland pony proved the point. He, Ben, measured all of 36 inches to the withers (the highest point of his shoulders), but in his mind he was as big as a Thoroughbred horse with the courage of a lion. He also liked mares. The fact that most of them were considerably larger than he was just didn’t enter into it as far as he was concerned. As soon as one came into view he would start snorting, stamping and showing off, galloping up and down behind the fence as they passed. When they looked down their noses at him and walked on he obviously thought it was their loss. That was until he got his come-uppance from my palomino pony.
It was a nice summer’s day. Bees buzzed, birds sang, and my sister decided to take Ben for a bit of road work. As usual in the holiday season the village green was swarming with holidaymakers, some playing games, some enjoying picnics and some just sitting. A couple of local lads were playing round on motorcycles and one young man was washing some mud off a pick-up down by the stream.
I took my palomino filly, Kerry Dancer, out of the stable and tethered her on the hill in front of my house then walked over the green to join my sister who had stopped to let some admirers have a closer look at the little chestnut pony. Ben ignored us all and munched happily at the lush grass. Suddenly his ears pricked and his nostrils flared. He’d scented Kerry Dancer. Rearing up with a stallion-like screech he set off over the green at a flat out gallop. We were all completely taken by surprise. My sister hung on to the lunge rein for the first 30 feet or so down the hill ending up on her backside in the middle of the stream before she finally gave up and let go. Released from her annoying encumbrance Ben’s speed increased.
People scattered right left and centre as he set out to prove that the shortest distance between two points was a straight line. As the risk of being trampled to death passed most of them joined in the growing crowd chasing after the miscreant.
From Kerry’s point of view the approaching stampede must have been a hair-raising sight.
First was Ben, closely followed by a mini-pick-up, a couple of motorbikes, several push bikes, a gaggle of people on foot, three sheepdogs, a terrier, a Labrador, an English setter, me, and my sister, sodden from the waist down.
What else could any self-respecting filly do? As Ben screeched to a halt in front of her she swung round and planted two hind feet fair and square in his chest.
Ben was unhurt but devastated to find that, having at last encountered a filly with no intervening fence to get in his way, his attentions were not wanted. Rejection hit him hard. Head down, tail drooping he turned and plodded back across the green - small, pathetic and almost lost in the crowd of erstwhile pursuers.
Ben’s depression didn’t last long. See below to find out more about his further adventures.

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Ben - The Shetland Pony Who Thought He Was A Thoroughbred Stallion

We had problems with Ben from the moment we got him home from the auction. He was a vibrant chestnut pny with a long flowing tail and a flamboyant mane. He also had a temperament to match!
He, Ben, measured all of 36 inches to the withers (the highest point of his shoulders), but in his mind he was as big as a Thoroughbred horse with the courage of a lion. Anyone encroaching on what he regarded as his personal space was treated to a ferocious display of hooves and teeth. Once he had established that due respect was being given to his supremacy he was quite agreeable to accepting homage in the form of carrots, Polo mints, etc. Ben would then permit himself to be haltered and taken for a walk. Traffic was not a problem. People were treated with disdain. In spite of his diminutive stature he still could give the impression that he was looking down his nose at them from a great height.
Ben also liked mares. The fact that most of them were considerably larger than he was just didn’t enter into it as far as he was concerned. As soon as one came into view he would start snorting, stamping and showing off, galloping up and down behind the fence as they passed. As they disappeared from view they would be treated to screeching whinnies of rage and frustration.
The vet who was used to visiting our other horses thought that Ben’s total aggression problem appeared to stem from too much testosterone.
We decided he would have to be gelded in the interests of public safety and our peace of mind. Arrangements were duly made with the vet and we looked forward to a bit more of a tranquil life in the future.
But everything about Ben seemed to attract confusion.
He was not the only Shetland stallion in the village - just the best known. So when a vet turned up one morning enquiring for the whereabouts of the Shetland stallion he had come to geld, no-one thought for a moment about the other little pony who was quite happy to live life quietly keeping down the grass in his owner’s garden. By the time I got back from work that afternoon and went up to prepare Ben for his ordeal I discovered that the deed had been done.
I was surprised because the vet had promised to come later on when I was there. However I assumed there must have been a good reason for his early visit. Ben, although rather subdued, seemed quite settled so I left him to recover and went home.
Half way through supper there was a knock on the door and the vet walked in, apologising for being later than he promised.
That’s right! Wrong vet, wrong pony! Just as well they’d both needed gelding.
When I phoned the other vet he admitted that he had been taken aback by the fierceness of the pony he had gelded having been led to believe it was very quiet.
The only difference that gelding made to Ben was that he was no longer interested in mares. He remained convinced that he was as big as a Thoroughbred and brave as a lion. His new interest was terrorising the friends of my sister’s partner when they were working on their stock . But that’s another story.
For anyone interested in enjoyable and successful horse-training Theodora recommends Charlie Hicks – Best horse training developed over 100 years ago
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