During the late Summer of 1979, she made the journey from Salisbury Green, via West End, Portswood, Salisbury to Toot Hill where I installed her on a local farm, just outside Romsey, some four miles away from my home. She now had all the grazing she could eat, and had a very big stable - converted from a milking parlour - within which to Winter or to stand in order to keep the flies off in Summer. Also, Magic had new friends with whom to frolic and canter around the fields of Toot Hill Farm at Rownhams near Southampton.
At the very onset Magic became a family activity, with husband, daughter and young son, all joining in. My daughter was especially delighted at the prospect of Magic's arrival. As she had been helping out at a small Riding School in Testwood fairly close to Southampton, she eagerly offered to help me. At the age of twelve, my daughter was willing to do anything for a ride!
To begin with, Magic was extremely difficult. Difficult to catch, groom, tack, mount and ride; but, thank heavens, not difficult to feed. I soon found that the feed bucket or a hand-full of horse pellets, became the solution for some of my initial problems with her. However, she did have a very nasty habit of biting whilst tightening up her girth.... Lord, how it hurt when she sank her teeth into the flesh covering my rib-cage! It only happened a couple of times, I can tell you. I remembered something that I had learned at the stables of my youth. So, the very next time I was about to get her ready for a ride, I grabbed her upper lip and bit, just hard enough to give her a fright. And it worked. From that time on, she only tried to nip half-heartedly and the mere sound of my angry voice stopped her short. Others, yes. But me, no. Finally it was sinking into her brain that I was the one in charge, not her.
To be honest, it took well over nine months for her to accept me, but she finally did. Not once did I ever have an accident on her, apart from the time we were riding along the edge of Hundred Acre Field on the Mountbatten Estate, when suddenly she was frightened by a pheasant flying up from the long grass in front of her. As a result of this she half reared, became unbalanced and fell over onto her side. Fortunately for me, I managed to get my feet out of the strirrup irons, fell off, rolling myself into a tight ball just beyond her as she landed. Lucky for me I had managed to avoid being squashed, even badly hurt, under her weight. However, she, me and the saddle were still in one piece.
Another time I spent over two hours trying to get her through a gate, wide enough to take us. Finally she decided she'd had enough and went through it as though nothing had happened. As for me. I was so exhaused from using leg aids to counteract her backing and circling in the lane that I cut my ride short. Dustbins, tractors, motorbikes, fast cars and silent cyclists all had their effects on Magic's road behaviour - which did get better, thankfully, over time! However, I did eventually have to buy a crop. Just the mere sight of it in the corner of her eye had a very odd effect - somewhere between fright and flight. Me thinks she must have been chastised on many occasions with such an aid according to her reaction to it. Despite the quirks of occasional bad manners, I always felt safe riding Magic, even when she was in a stroppy mood!
During the early 1980's, the Summers were long, hot and dry, especially in Southern England up to around the north of Birmingham. Everywhere looked like the African Tundra before the rains. The grass quickly turned from green to straw yellow, which was sounding alarm bells for horse owners at the time. Hay prices rocketed and we had to search for miles to find a farm with any surplus bales for sale. Care had to be taken in making sure that the bales were not old and dusty. I didn't want our horses to get respiratory diseases, thank you very much. Horse feed was, thankfully, still available: pony nuts, crushed barley and oats, sugar beet, bran, and crushed maize, (horse equivalent of "Corn Flakes") and lots of carrots and apples. The hay was stored at Toot Hill, but the hard feed I kept at home as this extra food was expensive and I didn't want it to disappear into the mouths of other owners' ponies as some of my hay had! I was careful with the mix of feed, as Magic and Lady were not working - it was far too hot for that - and had to keep the energy food, such as crushed oats, down to an absolute minimum. Waterman very kindly let me store my hay in his barn now as he could keep an eye on it for me. (This magnificent old barn building had been standing since it was first built in the early 1600's. It had seen many wedding celebrations, as well parties, to celebrate the end of major Wars, Royal crownings, jubilees and anything else that was to be joyously commemorated over the centuries. Then in the late 1990's, the old place was maliciously burnt down by yobs. They were never caught, which is a great pity as old Waterman probably turned in his grave at their despicable act of wanton destruction.)
It was during this time that Magic had the worst accident of her entire existence, and it was only through sheer luck that she did not lose her life. It happened whilst she was grazing near the stream that runs through the Mountbatten Estate. I was holding her reins whilst she was happily munching on the only bit of grass to be had for miles. Then suddenly she reared, dragged the reins from my hand and galloped off up the track, jumping a cattle grid as she did so. Unfortunately, her hind hooves hit the last rung and she came down. Both shoes being bent beyond all recognition. The skin over her left knee had been ripped open and blood was pouring from the deep gash. I was mortified at her state, and tried to comfort her, wondering what the hell I was going to do. Just at that moment a landrover came towards us, stopped and the Estate Manager got out. Assessing the situation, he used his radio phone to summon help. By now Magic was up, shocked, trembling and definitely lame. A vet suddenly arrived. Apparently he had been on business at the Estate. He tended to her wound and securely bandaged it. He then gave her a tetanus and antibiotic injection. Patting her of her neck, he told me that if the gash had been any deeper, he would have asked my permission to shoot her, as the knee joint itself would have been damaged beyond repair. After making arrangements for him to come and visit Magic at Toot Hill, I gave him my home address and telephone number, but he told me he would give me his bill when he had completed Magic's course of treatment. Magic was now able to hobble back and we took it very steady. It took over two hours for me to lead her back to her stable. Normally that short journey was just under half an hour's walk at my walking pace. It took several months and a lot of hard work before her wound completely healed over. Of course, getting herself jammed between the open top and closed bottom her stable door did not help matters. It took six adults, some strategically placed straw bales, and a lot of shoving, pulling and pushing to finally dislodge her from the door. She was, as Waterman described her - a real character. She sure was! It's a shame that I didn't have a video camera then. A film of her jamed in that door as she was, would have most definitely been screened on I.T.V's "You've Been Framed"!
When living in Oxford during the early 1960's, I learned just how deadly these noxious killer plants really are, as I found a young dead pony in the orchard behind the house we lived in at Kidlington, just outside Oxford. The pony had been fed some Yew by her ten year old owner who just hadn't got a clue about how to look after it. Her parents must have been idiots for allowing her to have a pony without any knowledge or understanding on how to look after it. The poor thing must have died in utter agony as its lips were drawn tightly cross its young teeth. Years later, whilst riding in the New Forest on Magic, I come across a New Forest pony mare, which looked very much as if it had died from bracken poisoning, which grows profusely in and around the Fritham area.
Of the fourteen owners at Toot Hill, three were young girls from twelve to around twenty, two young men, one in his early twenties, the other much older, six single women between the ages of eighteen and twenty, whilst the remaining owners, were like myself, married. Everybody took it in turns to check the field fences, but one field in particular, on the other side of the lane, between the farm and woodland, was not very securely fenced. It had rusty barbed wire strands in several places that could be breeched by a horse or pony. On one occasion, we all got 'phone calls from Waterman very early in the morning to tell us that horses and ponies were wondering towards the Mountbatten Estate! Once the culprits were rounded up and put into the main field with Magic and her friends, all hell let lose. They did not appreciate five intruders... fortunately no harm was done but I for one was glad when the horses were removed back into their own field once repairs had been done. One pony in particular caught our eye. She was a chestnut mare, cross Welsh Arab, standing just under fourteen hands high, with four white socks, flaxen mane and tail, white blaze and a wall eye that positively made her look evil. She belonged to the eldest man up there, a chap by the name of Dave.
One of the duties we fourteen owners of the horses and ponies did, was to clear up droppings in the fields in order to stop the spread of worms and help the grass to keep growing. That was a bit of a laugh really, as the fields were becoming 'tired' and over-grazed even then. Also, we had to check for poisonous plants such as hemlock, foxglove and the plant, ragwort. Of course, ragwort was in the fields and had to be dealt with. It is a particularly nasty plant which contains Pyrrolizidine alkaloids that are very toxic, especially when dried. This plant will eventually destroy the liver of any horse that accidentally eats enough of it in their hay. Even back in the early 1980's we had to search the hay for it, as ragwort was infesting the whole of Southern England, including Hampshire. Fortunately, the field hedges were clear of any yew trees, privet, laurel and labernum. The patches of bracken growing on the top of the hill in the big field were regularly cut down, removed and burned. In the early Autumn we began to hunt for acorns under the Sessile oak trees growing in the biggest fields and ancient hedge rows. This was because Larry, a beautiful ten year old bay hunter, some 16.00h.h. died very mysteriously in late September, 1980, the vet putting the blame on his eating too many leaves and acorns thus leading to acorn poisioning. His young owner was absolutely devastated at the loss of Larry. Horses can get acorn poisoning if they eat too many acorns or oak leaves, just as Larry had. All parts of the oak contains tannin. The younger the oak leaves and acorns, the more toxic they are and if too much is eaten, this can lead to poisoning in the intestinal tract and kidneys, which will cause kidney failure and eventual death. Waterman wasn't too happy the death of Larry, but he soon cheered up when another horse moved in and took up Larry's old stable. After that, Magic (and a little later, Lady) were stabled during the day until the danger had passed. That caused an awful lot of extra work for me, but it was worth it.
'Photo of Lady and Hubby.
Lady Makes Two..
Well, as it happened, Dave, who was a Romany, had been boasting about his poaching activities on the Mountbatten Estate to a couple of his cronies in a pub on the Romsey Road. Unfortunately for him, the local gamekeeper overheard his conversation and reported it to the Estate Manager. As Dave was a bit of a dubious character in the area, it was well known that he kept a pony at Toot Hill. As a result of this old Waterman had been told to get rid of both Dave and his pony, as his farm still formed part of the Estate. We heard about this from Waterman who also told us that the pony was going to be shot at the week-end. To cut a long story short, my husband and daughter had both taken a fancy to the pony. So my hubby and I decided to buy Lady from him as a surprise for my daughter on the Friday evening before the Nackerman was due to arrive at the farm on the following day, Saturday. You know the sort of thing - quick 'phone call, quick transaction and cash in hand. Waterman was not altogether sure about this. He had seen Lady on many occasions rearing, bucking and galloping off in full flight with Dave just about hanging on for dear life. He told us, in confidence, that he thought she was dangerous and at the age of about twelve, the mare was far too old change her bad habits. He added that he also thought a young twelve year old girl such as my daughter couldn't ever handle her. Well, I am glad to say he was partly wrong, yet, partly right. Lady was always a handful in many ways, but despite her dancing on the spot, rearing, and generally showing off, Lady never hurt my daughter at any time or in any place. My daughter did master Lady - or Elorie Queen II according to her registration documents - with love and kindness. What's more, she kept old Lady for eighteen years - the last four of which the old gal spent in complete retirement.