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| Rosie, shortly after arriving from Yorkshire, at around 18 months old |
Rosie (the Highland pony) was about four years old. For anybody interested in pony lineage, Rosie's registered name was Rosette of Gleneagles and she was by Cock'o'the North (what an unfortunate name for a stallion - but it probably did his street cred no end of good!) out of Rose of Balinoe. Anyway, Rosie came from aristocratic stock which you wouldn't believe if you met her as she was a true St. Trinian. In human form, she should have had pigtails with blue ribbons tied in a bow, wrinkled socks which were always in concertinas around her ankles, scuffed toes to her shoes and a smudge of mud on her nose. You probably get the picture. So now convert that to a medium-sized (14.1hh) mushroom coloured VERY hairy pony who had always got a dirty tail and you had Rosie. She was also completely adorable, by the way.
Now Highland ponies are renowned for being easy to handle, with calm characters and an amiable disposition. What people don't tell you is that they are incredibly hard on their surroundings. They won't walk around something if they can just trample over the top of it, if when leaned on it gives then push it over. As a result, fences were made to be pushed over unless they were electrified (and even then, Rosie bit it three times before she believed it was the fence which was walloping her!), they also have an inbuilt curiosity which constantly gets them into trouble.
Rosie had a bit of an unfortunate start in life, which left her committed to searching out as many different types of food as she could lay her whiskery lips upon. If you attempted to walk across the field with a plastic carrier bag in your hand, you'd be mugged until she had been able to put her head inside and examine the contents, consuming anything remotely edible at the same time.
She was a sore trial to her mother, but I loved her all the same.
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| Rosie at 3 yrs |
I kept the horses (I had another Highland, Kellie of Whitefield) on a four acre field and would regularly drive my car (said Cortina which went by the name of The Duchess) across the field and up to the feed shed and hay barn which was situated on the geographically highest point. It was an interesting drive in the mud and/or snow and you certainly learned how to control a skid (eventually).
On the day in point, I'd driven The Duchess up to the feed shed and parked it in the shade provided by the buildings, which meant it had its nose buried in a dog rose bush. I'd been particularly keen on keeping it shaded as my Sainsbury's shopping was in the back of the car. Because of transporting horse feed, hay and several dogs around, I very rarely had the back seats available as seats, instead opting to keep them collapsed down so as to maximise the available space in the Estate part of the car. Cortina Estates were vast inside and it was a very useable space. It was also a very good space for all your shopping to roll around in and so I'd been in the habit of stacking it all up behind the driver's seat. Because of the dogs, I was also in the habit of leaving the windows rolled right down on hot days - making the car rather less baking to get back into.
I had been industriously unloading sacks of bags of horse feed from the back of the car to the feed shed - and both ponies had been very interestedly watching the proceedings in the way small children watch shopping being unpacked - quite sure you're going to get to the sweeties eventually. On the last trip (which involved carrots for all), I closed down the back of the car and went to get everything settled and sorted into its bins and cupboards. Kellie followed me and I thought Rosie was probably behind her.
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| Rosie, growing nicely, at 4 years |
After a while, I realised there was no Rosie and everything was suspiciously quiet. Now, because I *know* Rosie, I went looking for her very, very quietly. Telling Kellie not to make a noise, I tiptoed down the passageway that leads back to the field - Kellie was somewhat perplexed by this odd behaviour but watched with interest. Hmmnnn, no Rosie by the hay barn, no Rosie by the water trough, looked out across the field and there wasn't a Rosie in sight anywhere.
I wondered if she was still by the car and hoped she wasn't licking it. They liked to do that, I think it was the salt from the road that was the interest but it didn't do the paintwork any good, particularly when the teeth were employed. As I continued my stealthy approach around the corner to where I've left the car, I was rewarded by the sight of a vast pony backside standing extremely close to the driver's side of the car, the rest of the pony being temporarily obscured by the vastness of the backside and the growth of the dog rose bush. What is it that she's so interested in? Move forward and around to the side a little, for a better view, but then notice something moving IN the car. Um, that looked like a pony head in the car. Eh? IN the car? I move a bit closer and yup, she's got her whole head and neck in the car, through the driver's window! EEK! On second thoughts, I'd better not shout, just in case I make her jump and she hurts herself trying to get out in a hurry (not to mention trashing bits of the car en route). Moving even closer, I realise that there's a number of things scattered around on the grass and dried mud and under her (shod) feet. In fact, she's standing on a packet of ham. In the dog rose bush is a bottle of mineral water (she obviously didn't want that as she couldn't get into it. On the floor beside her is a loaf of bread, the plastic wrapper torn to pieces (that one was yummy!) and a large hoofprint in the few remaining slices. By the side of the bread is the remains of a packet of Rice Krispies breakfast cereal. The box is slobbered into papier mache, but the plastic inner bag is still intact (got bored with that one). At this point, I don't really care if she gets her silly head stuck or not and ask of her "ROSIE!! WHAT are you doing??".
Well, she took off like a Harrier jump jet - except her head was still inside the car. I was a tiny bit concerned about the future of my car versus the damage half a ton of panicking Highland could wreak - but I was also more than a little bit peeved about my shopping! Goodness only knows how she'd managed to get her head through the window and across the back of the driver's seat to reach the shopping with her determined and semi-prehensile upper lip, but she had and it was all unravelling back the other way as she attempted to extricate herself from the incriminating evidence.
As her head finally twisted and turned and popped back out of the open window, I realised she had hold of something in her mouth. A second look revealed it to be a freezer bag containing a bag of frozen runner beans and another bag of frozen brussels sprouts - which had been chomped and was scattering its contents like mad green confetti as it swung from her teeth. Head free from the car, off she went - straight through the dog rose bush like it was Becher's Brook and off across the field, bag swinging from her teeth, brussels spraying everywhere, ears pricked, head slightly turned so she could watch me chasing her, tail up and she might as well have had a big sign over her head, saying "You gotta catch me first!". So I'm running after her, yelling "bring back my Brussels!!" and notice a family of four cyclists who had paused on the road and were watching our little charade with great amusement. It was at this point that the ridiculousness of it all got the better of me and I stopped chasing her - but Gyp (my lurcher dog) took over. Off they both went, around and around the field, Gyp barking and chasing Rosie, Rosie still spraying brussels sprouts from the bag between her teeth (who knew it contained that many!) and Kellie standing looking utterly amazed with possibly a bit of admiration mixed in, watching it all going on. I was doubled over with laughter at this point.
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| Grown up Rosie, being shown by Lynda at Kent County Show in 1999 |
Bless her heart, if she wanted Brussels sprouts that badly, she could have 'em! I eventually managed to retrieve the runner beans, but the sprouts were a gonner.
Happy days.
