Real life: the taming of a shrewish mare

One of my favourite things to do is to visit the field where Tara, my bad-tempered chestnut hunter is retired because there, I know, I will find like-minded company. We are two obstreperous mares together. Never happy to concede defeat on the smallest of issues where a long, arduous battle might get us absolutely nowhere, we are two of a kind.

When I bought her more than ten years ago, the friend who spotted her in Horse and Hound and went with me to try her out warned me: ‘You’re quite alike. I’m not sure if that will always be a good thing.’

She was right. Tara could handstand with her back legs so high in the air that her tail flicked over my head and brushed my face. Various practitioners of horse physiotherapy were brought in, along with vets who did blood tests, but the conclusion was always the same. There was nothing wrong with her physically. She just liked to make things difficult.

Once I got the hang of the bucking, we got along just fine because if there is one thing I understand it’s picking a fight with the world. She is the closest thing I have found to a soul mate and I think she feels the same way about me. It was always going to be difficult for one of us when the other found a man. It happened like this.

Being a dominant mare, Tara runs a paddock with a rod of iron, like the top dog in a category-A prison. When she retired, it was difficult to find a companion mare robust enough to withstand her appetite for confrontation and, as it is received wisdom to always put mares with mares, I had not even thought of a gelding.