Pure Air and Fire...

I promised weeks ago that I'd post some pictures of my horse Squire, and at last I've got around to digging out some photographs that I can web-mount.  Those of you who remember my earlier posts on various horse-related art topics like Joseph Crawhall's hunting paintings, the Elgin Marbles and the Vix Krater will probably realise that Squire bore a strange resemblance to a) Classical Greek Equine sculpture (it's all in the ewe-neck) and b) 'Traditional' light hunter-type horses (the kind of horse which died in its thousands during the Great War...)

Squire was a poseur.  And this is he, in true poseur mode, during a Best Turned Out class.  He was flaunting a double-bridle - God knows how he managed to carry all that ironmongery and still look flamboyant, but he obviously thought he was the Bees-Knees.

He was the darling of the riding-school when I first set eyes on him, and being fifteen and rather impressionable, I fell in love (no, not in the Catherine the Great sense!!).  The words which summed up how I felt at the time are best summed up in Shakespeare's Henry V:-

'He is pure air and fire; and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him, but only in patient stillness while his rider mounts him. He is indeed a horse, and all other jades you may call beasts.'

Oh, how appropriate.  Though sadly, 'patient stillness' was never one of Squire's qualities...

When I heard he was for sale I was beside myself with despair.  I was a student at the time: my poor, long-suffering parents agreed to buy him, 'so long as I worked hard at my studies'.  There was no problem with that.  He was my muse - I composed many essays, stories, novels and parts of my thesis while touring the countryside in his company.

In his time, he was a fine horse.  He had a pleasant nature and was quite an extrovert, which served him well in showing classes.  He couldn't jump (or rather, I couldn't jump!) and he was too impatient for dressage.  But when he did come out with a ribbon, he was very pleased, as you can see:-

 

Sadly, our partnership was not a particularly long one.  I 'd had him just four years when he started going lame in one of his front legs,  I called the vet into to see him.  I arrived slightly late for my appointment, and she was early, so she'd already got started with the diagnosis.  When dealing with such problems, the procedure is to block off progressive areas of the hoof and leg until the source of the lameness is found.  When I came into the yard, Squire's heel was covered with blood from the first injection.  But he was trotting sound and the vet was grinning ear to ear.  She'd solved the problem within a couple of minutes.  All she wanted was a couple of X-rays to confirm her suspicions..
 

I knew the implications of this as well as she did.  I made the mistake of going home and listening to some music while I waited for the result of the X-rays.  I was into 'The Doors at the time' - I listened to The End and started blubbing.  My fears were realised when Squire was diagnosed with  navicular disease, a degenerative bone problem which causes increasing lameness.  I managed it successfully for a couple of years (though it cost a small fortune), but he was forced to retire from competitions  and a few years later he was too lame to ride.  I can't really blame the navicular - he had ringbone as well (a bony growth on the pastern joint) and it was this that eventually killed him.  As Indiana Jones would say, 'It's not the years, honey.  It's the mileage.'

I lost Squire in the autumn of 1996 - it's hard to believe that these photos were taken twenty two years ago. 

I've never had another horse.  With my chosen profession I can't afford it.  Though to be honest I'm not sure I could cope with the heartache all over again.  I probably ruined my career for him - I was offered a chance to do postgraduate research at Cambridge and turned it down because I couldn't bear to leave my horse.  A foolish decision?  Undoubtedly.  But I don't regret it for a minute, 

Here's Squire and myself doing our best impression of Joseph Crawhall's 'The Whipper-In':-
 

 

And this is Squire in relaxed mode at the Glasgow Vet School Rodeo:-

I shall end with another quote from that same speech in Henry V: 

'When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk. He trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.'

Thank you, Squire.  I like to think you've joined the equine ancestors, and that you're spending eternity galloping along (without a limp) in the company of warriors and heroes!

Pure Air and Fire...

I promised weeks ago that I'd post some pictures of my horse Squire, and at last I've got around to digging out some photographs that I can web-mount.  Those of you who remember my earlier posts on various horse-related art topics like Joseph Crawhall's hunting paintings, the Elgin Marbles and the Vix Krater will probably realise that Squire bore a strange resemblance to a) Classical Greek Equine sculpture (it's all in the ewe-neck) and b) 'Traditional' light hunter-type horses (the kind of horse which died in its thousands during the Great War...)

Squire was a poseur.  And this is he, in true poseur mode, during a Best Turned Out class.  He was flaunting a double-bridle - God knows how he managed to carry all that ironmongery and still look flamboyant, but he obviously thought he was the Bees-Knees.

He was the darling of the riding-school when I first set eyes on him, and being fifteen and rather impressionable, I fell in love (no, not in the Catherine the Great sense!!).  The words which summed up how I felt at the time are best summed up in Shakespeare's Henry V:-

'He is pure air and fire; and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him, but only in patient stillness while his rider mounts him. He is indeed a horse, and all other jades you may call beasts.'

Oh, how appropriate.  Though sadly, 'patient stillness' was never one of Squire's qualities...

When I heard he was for sale I was beside myself with despair.  I was a student at the time: my poor, long-suffering parents agreed to buy him, 'so long as I worked hard at my studies'.  There was no problem with that.  He was my muse - I composed many essays, stories, novels and parts of my thesis while touring the countryside in his company.

In his time, he was a fine horse.  He had a pleasant nature and was quite an extrovert, which served him well in showing classes.  He couldn't jump (or rather, I couldn't jump!) and he was too impatient for dressage.  But when he did come out with a ribbon, he was very pleased, as you can see:-

 

Sadly, our partnership was not a particularly long one.  I 'd had him just four years when he started going lame in one of his front legs,  I called the vet into to see him.  I arrived slightly late for my appointment, and she was early, so she'd already got started with the diagnosis.  When dealing with such problems, the procedure is to block off progressive areas of the hoof and leg until the source of the lameness is found.  When I came into the yard, Squire's heel was covered with blood from the first injection.  But he was trotting sound and the vet was grinning ear to ear.  She'd solved the problem within a couple of minutes.  All she wanted was a couple of X-rays to confirm her suspicions..
 

I knew the implications of this as well as she did.  I made the mistake of going home and listening to some music while I waited for the result of the X-rays.  I was into 'The Doors at the time' - I listened to The End and started blubbing.  My fears were realised when Squire was diagnosed with  navicular disease, a degenerative bone problem which causes increasing lameness.  I managed it successfully for a couple of years (though it cost a small fortune), but he was forced to retire from competitions  and a few years later he was too lame to ride.  I can't really blame the navicular - he had ringbone as well (a bony growth on the pastern joint) and it was this that eventually killed him.  As Indiana Jones would say, 'It's not the years, honey.  It's the mileage.'

I lost Squire in the autumn of 1996 - it's hard to believe that these photos were taken twenty two years ago. 

I've never had another horse.  With my chosen profession I can't afford it.  Though to be honest I'm not sure I could cope with the heartache all over again.  I probably ruined my career for him - I was offered a chance to do postgraduate research at Cambridge and turned it down because I couldn't bear to leave my horse.  A foolish decision?  Undoubtedly.  But I don't regret it for a minute, 

Here's Squire and myself doing our best impression of Joseph Crawhall's 'The Whipper-In':-
 

 

And this is Squire in relaxed mode at the Glasgow Vet School Rodeo:-

I shall end with another quote from that same speech in Henry V: 

'When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk. He trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.'

Thank you, Squire.  I like to think you've joined the equine ancestors, and that you're spending eternity galloping along (without a limp) in the company of warriors and heroes!