The beginnings

In order to tell the tale of Sofie I need to start with how I came to be her human. This involves talking about horses which are not Sofie, which will displease her highness I am sure. Never-the-less it is a necessary evil, so I shall begin.

My sister on Sam

Back in 1999, when I was a skinny awkward teenager Mr T (Tonto) arrived into my life somewhat unexpectedly. We were looking for a new pony for my older sister who had sadly lost her beloved Sam to grass sickness. We had asked for a six year old, green but broken, dark coloured native 14 hand ish pony. No white, def not a cob. We got a two year old, unbroken, mainly white (coloured), psychotic 15 hand, pikey cob. 

The wounderful Mr T

Needless to say we were disappointed. However my sister realised that this horrid cob was only going to go to meat if we did not take him, so the plan was for her to work on him until she leaves for university then sell him to a nice home. Two years passed, but no one would by him and by 2001 I found myself unwilling owner of one angry cob. Sixteen years later I still own Mr T and would not part with him for the world. He taught me everything I know about horses and I owe him so much. In 2010 he was diagnosed with ring bone, by 2012 it was clear that it was time to hang up our riding boots. He now lives a life of luxury in retirement. I see him most days for a cuddle and a groom.



Stu nice but dim

So I am now in a position where I spend all my money on a horse I can’t ride. I started to try and find ways I could stay in the saddle. For the first year I helped a friend break in highland ponies. He needed a small jocky, and I needed a ride. This worked fairly well until the point where we needed to sell the ponies. I got too attached to the hairy little buggers (highland ponies are very sneaky, they steal your heart when you least expect it). I particularly fell for a little pony named Stockey. I called him Stu nice but dim. He was the sweetest little horse but could be quite anxious. I had formed a real bond with him as had Mr T, and was desperate to buy him. I just didn’t have the money. Unfortunately, on our last ride, Stockey got spooked when I stupidly tried to carry a feed bucket whilst riding. He panicked and galloped headlong into a wire fence, catapulting me head-first into a road. I sustained a nasty concussion which took months to recover from. His legs were scared by the wire fence, but in reality we were both lucky. Stokey was sold to a nice home a few weeks later. I was heartbroken. I had also dented my confidence as well as my head. I tried sharing a horse for a few weeks to get my confidence back but we didn’t get on and it was too expensive for me. Things looked a bit bleak.

And then princess Sofie came into my life (finally she gets to the point I hear her saying). Sofie had been kicking (sometimes literally) around the yard I keep Tonto at for a few months. Her owners inherited her from a friends daughter. The daughter had got her from the RSPCA and adored her. Unfortunately she had health issues and so could not care for her, hence how she came to arrive at our yard. Sofie’s owners had hoped she would be nice and placid like the Haflinger they had ridden before. They had wanted to drive her. Sofie turned out to be anything but placid and was too opinionated for driving and riding. The net result was she was left in the field getting increasingly fat.

Sofie le Sofa when I first started loaning her

So here was me looking for a horse and Sofie looking for a rider.



I was a bit apprehensive about getting on her, after all she hadn’t been ridden regularly in months. I was told she was good in the school, providing you can catch her and keep her on the yard long enough to get the saddle on – she was a known hudini. Her favourite trick is to break the bailing twine and gallop full pelt back to her field. I managed to catch her after only a brief game of chase in the field and brought her in. She was in a bit of a state. Morbidly obese, the fat pads had fat pads on them. She was missing the front shoe, one nail still incrementally stuck out of her bare foot to signal the shoes demise. She also had a fair amount of sweet itch, her main and tail resembling a well-used bog-brush in places.

Post head injury I was not taking any chances and got my no-sense-of-self-preservation friend Smee to ride her in the school. My mistrust was miss-placed. She was very well behaved and woddeled around the ring with very little protest. After seeing that this hippo was friendly I decided to have a sit. A slight head shake indicated that she did have a little spirit, but really she was an angel. Stage two, new shoes and hacking.

I was still dubious about taking her on a hack, especially as no-one knew if she had ever hacked before. Once again Smee played guini-pig and rode her whilst I borrowed a friend’s horse. We decided to play do-or-die by taking her for a canter in open fields. I wanted to see her at her worst before committing to taking her on. Sofie clearly though open fields were better than the school which I think had bored her senseless. Still her excitement was nothing nasty. A bit of head shaking and a little buck. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Thinking back to it, at her weight I don’t think she could have managed much more than a head-shake or a buck even if she had wanted to. Luckily this hadn’t occurred to me at the time and I decided that yes, I was going to give this mare a go.