MONTY….. as told by Bridget

I first met Monty last summer when a vague acquaintance asked me if I would have a look at a horse that had all but been abandoned at the livery yard she owned.  She knew I was looking for a hacking horse until Sugar was backed and thought he would be perfect for me.

The first time I set eyes on him, he was in a stable totally alone surrounded by very pretty hanging baskets.  He was in a full weave trance, front legs splayed out and rocking from one foot to the other.  He was an enormous 17.2 ID x TB flea-bitten grey with very black almond eyes.  He was extremely thin - very prominent back/tail bone, protruding ribs and starry coat. He had virtually no back end where he had used his muscle for maintenance and he was covered in what looked like black marker pen streaks mostly on the back half of his body which I later found out were scars caused by a whip he also had a massive area of raised scar tissue on his forehead.  He made me cry just looking at him.

His owner had told the yard owner that she was willing to put him out on long term loan.  I told the yard owner that the best thing she could get his owner to do was to have him shot as I wasn’t willing to waste my time and resources getting him back to health only for the owner to sell him on to goodness knows where.  The yard owner was horrified by my suggestion and phoned the owner - who hadn’t bothered to turn up - to ask her what she wanted to do.  The owner said that she would gift him to me along with all his tack and rugs.  I agreed, said that I would take him and needed to have the necessary paperwork by that afternoon.  I desperately wanted to get him out of that stable and start feeding him!!

For the next two weeks I travelled a round trip of 32 miles up to the yard three times a day to feed Monty - a total of 96 miles a day!  He was put out in his tiny sectioned off piece of grassless paddock with horses next to him but unable to touch or reach them.  Needless to say, he wasn’t put back into that stable.  Monty needed feeding before I could load him and expect him to travel the 16 miles back home with me.  So I fed him adlib haylage, alfalfa and sugarbeet.  Apart from feeding him & pooh picking, I left him alone and didn‘t even attempt to touch him.  He was very sceptical and exceptionally aggressive around his food.  His walk was appalling and such was the muscle wastage that his back end swayed when he walked which had the effect of making him look drunk and like he would fall over with the next step.

The big day came when I decided he was probably strong enough to stay on the lorry and that 92 miles a day had to stop!  My friend and I took her lorry up to the yard to get Monty.  I walked into his field, where he was munching away on a pile of haylage almost as high as he was, carrying his headcollar.   Big Mistake!  He bit me - hard!   He was eating and I wasn’t allowed anywhere near his food, and it turned out I wasn’t allowed anywhere near his head!  Too bad.  He had to come with me and get on the lorry.  I put his head collar on anyway, and took him back along the track to the waiting lorry.  As we turned the corner he saw the lorry, stopped dead, threw his head as high in the air as he could - which, let me tell you was miles - and tried to take off.  After hours of painstaking patient clicker, pressure on/off  c/r I got him to the top of the lorry ramp and there we stayed.  No way was he going through that hole into the lorry.   I told him how brave he was, backed him down the ramp and back into his miserable little section of non-existent grass.

We came again two days later armed with sedative paste.  He took one look at the syringe and his head disappeared up into the clouds again, neither would he eat it disguised in any way, but in the end I managed to give him some with the aid of click/reward.  After an hour, we tried the lorry again.  He was fairly sedated and his back end sway was even more pronounced, but the outcome was the same and he was not going in the lorry.  I could either have him shot or walk him home.  I decided to give him his last chance and walk him.  We set off in the next half hour and ended up walking a little over 16 miles, around roundabouts, along a busy bypass and through a major town before we finally arrived at our destination 7 hours later.  Monty walked and walked and walked.  He didn’t want to stop, he didn’t question leaving the old yard, he didn’t bat an eyelid at the traffic, lorries, people, traffic lights, noise, prams, cows and even one incident of road rage where a driver stopped on a hill and told us to walk in the field.  He just kept moving.  We tried to stop him a couple of times for a rest and to graze, but he carried on walking.  His rear left hind turned out almost 90 degrees with every step which was horrific to watch and very worrying.

We finally got Monty home in the rapidly fading light.  I gave him some painkiller, fed him and left him in the field with his future companions next door.

The next day the farrier came to take off his shoes.  They had obviously been on him a fairly long time as taking them off proved to be fairly painful and caused him to rear up in protest.  More painkiller, more food - this carried on for the next 10 days.  When he could walk without hobbling on ALL of his feet, I introduced him to his future herd mates.  My quirky little Hackney X rescue, baby Welsh A rescue and a retired calm big ID X.  For all his posturing, and threatening behaviour Monty started off bottom and remained bottom of the herd for several weeks.

It wasn’t the best time of the year to try and put weight onto a skinny, lacklustre TB as we were coming into winter.  My horses also live on a track system where they have no access to grass.  However, I fed him 5 times a day and put him in a stable at night with a bale of hay to keep him going.  He was fine in the stable as the rest of the horses were shut in the large yard overnight and denied access to the track so they could keep him company.  This arrangement worked very well and Monty restricted his weaving to imminent meal times only.

Over the following few months, we settled down into a routine and he started to mellow a little.  He stopped trying to bite me in half everytime I fed him.  He was very, very anxious about me touching him anywhere and hated to be groomed.  He had to be rugged and in the beginning he could not tolerate me that close to him to fasten up his rug.  He tail swished, bit (or tried to) swung his head at me, pinned his ears back, kicked and stamped his back legs.  Over time, he learnt to tolerate having his rug put on and satisfied his anxiety with crib biting anything within reach while his rug was being fastened.

He learnt to have a headcollar put on and fastened without throwing his head into the air in panic.  He learnt that the click noise with my tongue meant a polo was coming his way.  He learnt the meaning of pressure and, more importantly release.  He became less anxious.  He allowed me to wash his nose after he had it stuck in a sticky Horselyx!  He moved up a step in the herd dynamics and was able to move the little Section A.  He even attempted to move Sugar and was successful, but only sometimes.  He put on weight.  I started taking him out for walks.

After Christmas I decided to ride him.  Short little walks for a look about and to slowly start building up some lost muscle.

I tried so hard to find hoof boots to fit him.  His feet were all different sizes and the left hind that twisted out so badly was a whole size smaller than the others!  I had my farrier back and put shoes on him.  He was fine with the farrier and fine with the shoes.  He didn’t have particularly good feet and seemed happier with shoes on.  I left him with his new shoes for another week.

A grey cold day, no wind or rain, but bone chilling cold.  I got the tack out and walked to the yard.  Monty looked up, pinned his ears back, swished his tail and walked off….obviously not loving the riding then!!!  I didn’t go riding that day as I spent the next 3 days clicker training him to put his head down and open his mouth for the bit.  He turned out to be a remarkably quick learner and soon pricked his ears in my direction when he heard the bridle.  Putting the saddle on was allowed, surprisingly, but NOT the girth.  More clicker, more patient repetitions and we were tacked up.  Another week of tacking up reinforcing, untacking and leaving him alone followed.  Finally I tacked him up one day and led him out of the yard to the mounting block.  I stood on top of the mounting block ready to put my foot in the stirrup and for the very first time, got my first moment of unease.  He wasn’t doing anything, he stood still and seemingly calm.  I took a deep breath and put my foot in the stirrup before lowering myself very gently onto that very bony back.  He was fine, I let my breath out and asked him to move off.  He was fine.  We walked up the road in the direction I had been taking him for walks.  He plodded, nodding his head and was calm.  I was not expecting this and felt pleased, his rehabilitation was going to be easy.  I could gently walk around the trails showing him how nice life could be and slowly get him back to health.  We walked a little farther and turned up a quiet lane.  We had gone less than a mile.  A few more yards, I thought and then we shall go home.  Monty finally exploded.  He reared, spun, chucked his head almost vertical and took off back the way we had come.  There was nothing I could do to stop him, except stay on, stay calm and try to slow him down before the main road.  We did manage to walk in the end, albeit very, very fast with his back arched like a cat, but we did walk home.  Poor Monty and stupid human.  Fancy thinking he would just happily leave all his new mates!