SALTY OF SLEEPY CREEK STABLES

SALTY OF SLEEPY CREEK STABLES

Christmas time & mango mischief

Meet Salty, the cheeky pony from Sleepy Creek Stables. His adventures will adorn the pages of HorseVibes, and remind all of us why we love our little ponies – even when they’re naughty.

I’m not sure that Santa is likely to visit me this year. Some of the locals around here might argue that my name won’t make it on to his ‘nice’ list.

I don’t think that it’s really a fair thing though, because after all, what happened last Christmas Eve was NOT my fault. Well, not entirely anyway. And the lessons I MAY have taught the rest of the crew weren’t really my fault either. I didn’t expect them to be used again. And again. And again. Throughout the year. In fact, pretty much on a weekly basis ever since, especially by Blackie and Prince who (and I have to say, it was rather surprising, even to me) were remarkably quick to pick up the knack of unlatching the paddock gates and leading each other, together with the rest of the Sleepy Creek Riding School crew, down the garden path. Quite literally. Having careened down the driveway, catching the scent of freedom in the night air, our happy little herd (consisting of seven riding school ponies of various ages and sizes) galloped merrily down the bitumen road. Even my older friends took time out to have a bit of a kick and play, their arthritic joints, wisdom and experience, that ordinarily would have made them too staid and sensible to embark on such an adventure, forgotten and left behind in the paddock.

But as we were making our way down the road, something caught my attention. I could smell them before I could see them. My favourite fruit tree of all at this time you humans call Christmas – the mango! There, stretching out before me, beckoning me to come closer, was a sea of the sweet fruits, lying so temptingly on the ground (okay, a little too mushy, looking back, I can see that now). I thought I’d found heaven. Or, at the very least, I thought, all my Christmases had come at once! I couldn’t resist stopping for a mouthful. Or a few mouthfuls. Actually, I’ll confess, I ate quite a few of them.

The thought that I would end up paying for it with a massive pain in the belly never entered my head, I have to say. I took my time, wanting to savour the full experience of consuming 19 overripe mangos until (the aptly named) Mischief, decided I needed a hurry up and reminded me that I needed to catch up to the rest of the gang by taking a rather large chunk out of my rump with his teeth. But oh, it was so worth it.

And so we continued on, through another gate and down another driveway. We were entering the neighbour’s yard that they maintained with careful precision. Not a blade of grass was out of place, not a leaf permitted to remain on the ground for long

enough to mark the immaculate carpet of manicured lawn. I know this because they were yelling things along these lines at my Vertical Food Suppliers a few hours later, on Christmas morning.

Biscuit, Snowflake and Taffy needed a toilet stop and some grass to restock their energy before going any further. The meticulous lawn of the neighbouring front yard seemed the perfect place for a pitstop. The short, soft grass was lovely on our backs, some of us choosing to lie down for a good roll, while others took the opportunity to have a munch on the fresh, moist and tender green stems.

It was about then, that we heard the sounds of quick footsteps and voices approaching, the jingling of halters and lead ropes and most importantly, the unmistakable rattle of the feed bucket, which, to our experienced ears, sounded like it might be of interest to us. The Food Suppliers were quite upset with us for embarking on our little adventure. I truly don’t understand why. Or why they felt the need to continually remind us, after the event that, as a horse owner there is nothing quite like the terror that follows being woken in the middle of the night by the sound of galloping hooves clattering on bitumen. Nothing. Or so they said, anyway. To my mind, at least being out in the moonlight at midnight on Christmas Eve, they had a possible chance to spot Santa and his sleigh!

Funnily enough though, I’m told that the fact that we decided to make our break for freedom on Christmas Eve, probably saved us from meeting a nasty fate in the neighbours mulching machine. Despite the substantial damage (which I gather The Food Suppliers are still paying for) it did give the neighbours a lovely story to tell their small children when they arose at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning to find hoofprints, dug up turf and manure all over their yard. Santa’s reindeer had visited! Oh, the joy! The excitement! This Santa evidence, of course, was found only hours after we’d been captured, escorted and padlocked into our respective paddocks and yards.

I must admit though, I somewhat regret indulging in my midnight snack. It wasn’t fun having the vet stick a tube down my throat to give me the medicine I needed to make the pain go away. It’s not the best way to spend Christmas morning and, the rumour is going around, I’m going to be doing have to give a few kids some extra riding lessons to work off the bill!

But stick a few mangos in front of me, and you never know, I might just forget the pain. Here’s hoping you all have a very mango Christmas and no nasty tummy-aches.