In the beginning, it was fairly easy for us to travel the short journey to Waterman's farm, but it became more difficult the further out of Southampton we moved our horses. The first place we settled down in was a place called Tatchbury Mount Farm, next to Tatchbury Mannor five miles north of Totton, Southampton. These stables, with grazing, were run by Mrs. Jane Anderson. My daughter was really pleased to move in there, as several of her school friends with their ponies were up there as well. Besides, there was the excitement of the gymkhanas which Mrs. Anderson organised for the local Pony Club. Lady was supurb at that sort of thing, such as the jumping competitions, novelty races and so on. Even today my daughter has still got the many rosettes she won. Magic and I used to have a go now and again, winning only one rosette for jumping , but this really was not for us. I just loved to hack - and we did a great deal of that together. Like Lady, Magic was much better on her own but if another horse or pony came along, then it was Showtime! The only horse that didn't have any effect on ours was a ploddy black mare 15.00h.h.cob by the name of Cola. We first met her and her owner, a shy girl close to my daughter's age, at Toot Hill. The girl tended to move Cola and herself to wherever we went to with suitable stables and grazing, and over the years, they proved to be a substantial number.
From Tatchbury we then moved onto the edges of the Forest at the back of a restaurant fairly close to Cadnam, called the Wishing Well. We rented a huge field with a large open fronted shed on it. There was a little pony filly, just a year old, in there as well. She belonged to the restaurant owner's daughter, who was almost the same age as my girl. We stayed there for almost two years, and watched the girl outgrow the 12.02 h.h. pony who was now of an age to be broken in. One day, we arrived to find Honey had been superceded by a three year old, hardly broken in, New Forest dun pony by the name of Dragon. He was by now, galloping up and down the field, disturbing our mares. This pony was totally unsuitable for a twelve year old girl who was not very confident at the best of times around horses - even ours - despite the fact, that she went regularly for riding lessons.
From what I gathered, it would appear that Dragon had been bought from man in a public house called the Red Dragon in Brook, at a really knocked down price! Even by Winter selling prices, this pony was sold ridiculously low! I think that should have told the owner of the restaurant that something wasn't right with the deal.
After a couple of weeks we were asked to school Dragon, so we set about working with him but before we had accomplished anything really dramatic, he had been sold on. I believe the decision had been made on the very afternoon of the day I had had my accident with him. This happened as I was exercising him along the lane by the Restaurant. After a short distance, I fell off Dragon as the saddle slipped to the left caused by Dragon as he shied, reared and bucked - it felt as these three motions were as one. He had been spooked by his own reflection as we trotted up to a mirror located on the bend. After falling, I still held onto the reins. Believe me, I soon let go of them as he jumped over me after taking off from my right leg. Not being deterred, I hobbled down the lane to where he was standing, looking at me as if I was so stupid. I grabbed his reins and tightened up the girth. With superhuman effor, I forced myself to remount to finish the ride. As it was very cold, my legs were numbed and it was only when I got home that I saw the huge bruise covering the whole of the top of my right thigh. Thinking logically about it, I hadn't gently kneed his chest area before tightening up the girth in the first place. Some horses fill their lungs with air just as the girth is being tightened, thereby causing a false sense that the girth is tight, when it's not. And as it was so cold that morning, I just wanted to get off. Once on board, I completely forgot to check the girth again. Silly me. For years, I had a hoof print on the inside of my leg and had to have it checked up at the local hospital. Least said about that, the better.
Anyway, my husband and daughter had decided to break Honey in, as by now we had bought the little pony for our son. Honey had such a wonderful personality, very kind and gentle, so it was not long before she was responding to her training and turned out to be a very intelligent, well behaved, super riding pony. My son was a natural rider and both he and Honey were well suited to one another. The restaurant had become very noisy and extremely busy with far too many cars coming in and out for horse comfort. We therefore decided to move a little way down the road to a Doctor's fields, next door to a cattery. Being no shelter in the field, my husband set about constructing one from corrugated sheets and eight wooden supports he bought from a scrap merchant on the other side of Portswood, next to the railway track. When it was finally built, it looked just great, and it still stands, even today. So Magic, Lady and Honey settled in to their new surroundings. It was about this time that we became really adventurous and rode over to a small village called Dinton just outside Salisbury. Before we made the trip, I made sure that all the tracks were clear by checking them out myself by car. It usually took a full day to do, but it was a safety precaution. Then, just before the actual journey with the horses, I got our farrier, Ken, who had shod the horses for years, to put new shoes on them all. The journey was long, and I needed to know that our mounts would not lose a shoe. I headed up, with my daughter and son close behind. We took the woodland tracks and then the main bridal paths, up to the ridgeway and then rode along the old medieval drovers ways down into Dinton. We all camped in a field at the back of a local pub. My husband always went on ahead of us, carrying everything we needed for our journey breaks, usually at Downton, in the back of his Wolkswagen Caravanette. We did this 'holiday' for many years, riding out from where ever we had moved to, later including Rosehaven Stud at Furzley, Thomas's Stables at Newbridge, and Lyburn Farm on the edge of Fritham. We covered the thirty or so miles at quite a pace, thoroughly enjoying ourselves. However, one year, (when we were back to two horses) Lady became lame when she cut her frog on a sharp piece of flint on one of the tracks we had ridden along, just north of Dinton. We were at Lyburne Farm at the time. Fotunately for us, we were able to hire a small cattle truck from Salisbury Livestock Market, and managed to get her back home safely. But it did cut our holiday short that year. Magic covered the ground back home at such a lick, refusing to rest. I was sure that she wanted to get back as fast as her hooves would carry me to see how Lady was... If that was the case, then it was very surprising as both Magic and Lady were not really very fond of each other. Cola had been moved into Lyburn and her owner was very happy to let Cola keep Lady company in the huge cow barn - especially when it was hot! It took several visits from a vet and a couple of months for her frog to heal completely. The main thing was to keep the wound clean. This we did by applying antiseptic cream and applying steralised gauze carefully into the wound every day, covering the whole with a special sock. This sock covered over the whole hoof and fetlock. It was secured into place by a soft wad of gamgee covered over by an elasticated exercise leg bandage, tied carefully just below her knee. Lady's convalesence could have been a real problem for us, but we were extremely lucky to have the owner's daughter, Jean, willing to look after Lady when we could not get up to administer to her needs ourselves. It was during this time that my daughter started to ride Magic, but she thought twice about it when Magic decided to jump over the public access gate next to the cattle grid by the Royal Oak at Fritham. And this from a trot! Hard to believe? Well, it really did happen.
The most exciting rides next the Dinton trip, were usually in the New Forest, especially around the Newbridge, Fritham, Fordingbridge, Lymington and Lyndhurst areas. Many a time we had galloped at full pelt over the Fritham Plains. Tally Ho and all that... But sometimes my daughter and I rode for charity by joining in on a couple of Sponsored Rides over the Fritham area. These rides were very arduous for both horse and rider, and when Magic and Lady went off as a drawn pair, they thought they were hunter trailling! So, instead of a pleasantly paced ride, we literally flew over the trail course from start to finish. We had, thank God, a couple of quick breaks as the horses were checked by vets at a couple of places en route to make sure that the horses still competing were fit and well enough to keep going. They were, and they did. Both our animals had on their running martingales which did help keep in check their heads from smashing into our faces. Not very pleasant to have your nose broken when out in the New Forest, eh? Altogether we raised about a hundred pounds between us over the two years we entered the sponsored rides. Because I knew the Fritham area so well, a commoner friend of mine, Barbara, asked if I would like to help with the round up the ponies in that area for the Beaulieu Pony Sales. Of course, Magic, who was, suprisingly, very well-behaved that day, that I really did enjoy myself herding ponies towards Fritham. My friend was glad of our endeavours and hard work during the round up. After the ponies had been temporarily herded into a specially built coral, they were then sorted out. The lucky ones had their owners pay for their grazing dues. To show that these had been paid, a portion of their tails were cut and removed, finally to be unceremoniously released. Those left behind were then loaded into hired cattle trucks and transported by road to Beaulieu Station. When they arrived there, they were put into large pens or stockades, where they were fed and watered. The sales began the next day and it was at this time that my daughter and I decided to ride over to the pony sales to see what went on there for ourselves. We left very early; the journey took us via Lyndhurst and then eventually over Matley Bog, taking the main track to the Station itself. To be honest, we didn't like to see the ponies herded together. The lucky ones were bought for children's ponies but the majority going to the meat trade in France. After that experience, I didn't ever join in a round-up again. The open spaces of the Forest plains and heathland areas did something to our mares just as soon as they had changed address from town to country. Magic and Lady suddenly blossomed from naughty nags into speedy roadrunners, with the heart and speed of thoroughbreds, thereby making a number of our rides extremely tiring indeed. Depending on which time of year we were riding in the New Forest, we had to be aware of, and to keep an eye open for,deep mud holes, adders, flying ants, bot flies, tics, large hornets, stallions, stags rutting, and rabbit scrapes dug into the plains themselves. Such scrapes could cause a horse to trip over and have a terrible accident if one of its feet accidentally landed into one. But, the worst thing we had to look out for above all else, was the local hunt. We steered very clear of those as both our mounts became hooved demons. Still, sometimes it was exciting. I for one secretly enjoyed people admiring my mare as she extended her neck with mane and very long, wavey white tail flying, hooves apounding. Then there were the cars that gingerly pass us as sparks flew from shod hooves as she tried to gallop off with me. It was at times like this that I was glad she wore her martingale! It was quite possible to get yourself lost when travelling along the network of paths and tracks criss-crossing the south eastern area of New Forest, especially if we had not travelled over them for over a year or so. But if my mare had gone along any of tracks in the past that I was not too sure about myself, she always took charge as she remembered her way around. If not, she was quite content to follow other hoof prints along these tracks to get us out of a mess. These always led the way off the enclosed Forest or off-track plantations. Magic always got herself home no matter what, as she knew a good feed was to be had at our journey's end.
By the time we had moved into Dr. Doran's from The Wishing Well in the Spring of 1984, my son was beginning tire of Honey, as he thought she was too tame for him. Eleven year old boys tend to be like that, especially ones who can ride well, have got adventure in mind and need a challenge. In fact, he had his eye on a five year old stocky palomino pony named Trigger who was about the same height as Lady. My main task at this time was to get a good home for Honey as I was not prepared to pay for the keep of four horses. It wasn't crucial during the Summer as there was plenty of grazing but I was aware of the Winter looming up. They were becoming extremely expensive to keep, both in time and money. However,I managed to find Honey a new home just before the Winter, and in late September, 1984 Honey went on to new owners. They had their own stables and fields on the other side of Totton, up towards Cadnam. The last I heard of Honey was that she was still living there, kept in semi-retirement. She could be still alive today, as she was, after all, the youngest of any of our horses. Trigger was in a field at Rose Haven Stud, close to Furzley Mount. Carl was so impressed by him. So, after my son had ridden him and we had negotiated a price, we put a head collar on Trigger and started to walk the little chap back towards Dr. Doran's. The journey back was just awful. The pony pulled, reared and tried to escape many times after the New Forest mares, but my husband was just about able to hold him - and there was Trigger - looking as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Once in the field, he quietened down but decided to herd our three mares. Magic got so frustrated that she squeeled with utter indignation and frustration at the antics of the smaller bully-boy.
As it happened, Trigger was a sturdy, extremely handsome pony, very much used to getting his own way. He became such a handful, even for my son to handle. I understood that Trigger had been broken to shafts, so that gave my husband an idea. He went out and bought a second-hand, two seater trap (which needed some repairs doing to it), complete with pony harness. How he found out about the trap, was a mystery to me. So, for a short time, Trigger went from a riding to a driving pony. But that did not last long. We found out at Thatchbury Mount livery and D.I.Y, after we had moved Magic, Lady, and Trigger in there for the Winter, that young Trigger was a rig. That is, he had not been castrated properly, so it was time to say goodbye to him. Again, and as I had done for Honey, I managed to get him a good owner, but what happened to him after that, is any ones guess.
Honey outside Dinton
Trigger Makes Four....
Back to Two..
Everything went well at Church Farm in Upton Lane for a time, but then in 1994 I developed a very nasty condition called scapulitus or frozen shoulders and could not look after her properly, especially carrying heavy water buckets, cleaning out her stable, pushing a laden wheelbarrow up to the dung heap, and so on. My husband helped as much as he could, but it was really getting difficult. Even the simple jobs of grooming and tacking her up were very difficult to do, let alone ride her out. She was, as I have already intimated, a very powerful horse to control. Therefore, I reluctantly decided to find a new owner for her. So, it was mission accomplished, just as Magic reached the ripe old age of twenty six, when I gave her on to a very kind elderly man I had known for a number of years and who had just lost his old grey hunter mare at the age of almost thirty a year before. I knew already that he really liked Magic and would give her the all the T.L.C, just as I had. After all, she had been part of my family's life for just over fifteen years, and parting with her caused me much emotional distress. I haven't contacted her new owner for many years now. I am too frightened to, as I fear that she may well be dead. After all she would be well over thirty three years old by now, and that is really old for a horse. Since I let Magic go, I have never ridden another horse, nor do I feel any wish to. Instead, I make do with my cat, but I often wonder about Magic, even to this day..... In 1996 at the age of thirty years old, Lady's teeth became badly worn down. Also, her liver and kidneys were starting to cause severe problems as well. These caused Lady's overall condition to deteriorate rapidly. Old age is such a bitch for both horse and man. My daughter, after an agonising time, decided to let the vet put Lady out of her misery and she had her humanely put down. Lady was buried with dignity in the field she had lived in for three years by my husband and son-in-law. Cola also died that year, and thus ended our associations with the horse. It had been great whilst it lasted, but all good things have to come to an end.
Perhaps one day I will get myself a donkey. After all, I did start off by leading donkey's up and down Blackpool sands almost fifty years ago.