This was how my horses wished me “happy New Year.”

The day started out just fine and continued happily with me taking the Mutterer’s white gelding for a hack, which turned out to be an awesome first ride of the year. The white gelding is taking long to sell for reasons I cannot imagine because he really is the most enjoyable little horse and with plenty of talent to boot. Anyway, I shall not complain because I get to ride him in the interim, which is no great burden whatsoever. He was his usual steady, gentle, comfortable self and we had a lovely long hack through the summer grass.

Then I took my sister and her QH mare to go and swim in the dam while I perched myself on an absolutely rotund Arwen. She had a nice two weeks off, which were very well deserved because she worked hard this year, but now that she’s starting to get very hyper I’ve put her back in as much work as the vaccination will allow (we have three more weeks to go). She looks beautiful, shiny, glossy and healthy, but also extremely fat, which has always been her downfall. The fat beast and I both need to get back in shape (although, in my defence, I am nowhere near as fat as she is).

The walk down to the dam was quiet and uneventful and Arwen even stood very still for me to strip off her saddle and my boots (thank you Arwen, I hate hopping around through the burrs trying to mount an errant horse bareback). I scrambled on and we set onto the banks. I gave her as good a kick as my bare heels could give and she went straight in without hesitation. I had just enough time to praise her when suddenly, with a horrible sensation that I have no desire to ever feel again, Arwen’s legs vanished into the mud. In a matter of seconds my feet were dangling in water that should have been knee-deep. Ten seconds of absolute terror ensued during which Arwen floundered valiantly and I, clinging to mane and kicking for dear life, egged her on at the top of my voice. If it had been anything but strong, stoic little Arwen we would still have been trying to dig her out of the clay. But she put down her hindlegs until she found solid ground, coiled up her big (fat) haunches and launched her way out. By the grace of God, we found ourselves on the safety of the bank. I was much to terrified and grateful to do anything except hug her wet neck and tremble; Arwen took a few seconds to get her breath back and then nearly catapulted me off by putting her head down to start grazing. Thank God for tough little Nooitgedachters.

She was as sound as a brass bell all the way home and we shall never, ever be swimming in that particular dam ever again ever, but it did start the year off with a shock. I foresee some trouble trying to get her to go into water complexes again, unfortunately, but I’m sure the brave little grey mare, my King and I will overcome that as well, eventually.

My heart rate had just started to slow down when Exavior came in for supper with his superorbital fossae (temples, to you and me) all swollen up (a typical symptom of the dreaded African horse sickness). His appetite was good, manner perky, mucus membranes nice and pink, capillary refill time normal, temperature slightly elevated at 38.4 degrees Celsius. We came to the conclusion that he was either reacting to a bug bite or to his vaccine, which is known for causing the mild swelling and fever in youngsters. Today the swelling is unchanged but his temperature is down to a dead normal 36.8 degrees. God willing, he’s just being a daft sensitive baby warmblood.

What a way to start the year. Thanks, ponykins.