There are no words.
I feel like a huge chunk of my heart has broken off and it can never be fixed.
It’s like losing a member of our family, but not just any relative, it’s like losing the heart of our family. Taffy was, undeniably the heart of my family.
Taffy was like the parent who you knew would always love and
nurture you and never abandon you.
He was the brother who inspired you but called you out on your mistakes.
He was the life-long friend who always had time to listen to you, who was
always there when you needed him and never let you down.
He was the partner you needed no words to talk to, who was always honest and
never judged.
Taffy was my first pony.
I’d had a 6 month lease on one of my riding instructors ponies, “Bretley” but I was now 10 years old and I was ready for my own pony to learn from, to train and to continue my riding passion with.
Phil Orchard purchased Taffy for us whilst we were away on a family holiday. The day we got back, we went straight to the stables to meet him. It was dusk and the light was fading. He was already out in the “35 acres” with the other ponies when we arrived. He was almost black, with the faintest of grey flecks throughout his body with the exception of his rump which had a thicker, fuller coat and was white and round like the moon. I had been reading a book at school called “midnight magic” that was about a pony and the moment I saw him I knew he would be my “midnight magic”.
His blue roan colour varied season by season, at times he was almost black with the faintest of grey flecks through his body which gave him an almost blue colour. Some winters he was almost white with black splotches that looked more like an appaloosa pony and when you clipped his coat in winter you were never sure if you were going to find a contrasting white, grey or black area!
He has a small white star on his forehead which was only visible when his impressive bufont forelock was trimmed enough to show it. The grey colouring of his coat gave him a refined look even in his youth and had the added effect that as he aged well into his thirties, he never looked old in any way.
When I got him in 1993, we were both 10 years old. A welsh section b pony, about 13.2 hands tall. He had a cheeky face and a disliking for being caught. There was many a day when I come back from the field, head collar in hand, crying after trying and failing to catch him in from the field. Phil was never one to mince her words, and told me to get back out there and keep trying “that pony came from a place where he was unappreciated and unloved, all he needs is for you to love him!”
I gradually got better at catching Taffy but he already had a new trick up his sleeve, one that involved waiting until I’d come through the first gate into the “clover field” (all the fields at Stone Dean had the best names) and then pulling away from me and running off with either his rope in tow, or, when I managed to hang on, me skiing along the grass behind him. But I never forgot Phil’s words and I loved him with all my might and very soon, he decided I might just be worth loving back.
Taffy also had a bit of a reputation for being a Houdini! He
could escape from any stable or corral even if it had a safety kick lock at the
bottom. One day, on arriving at the stables it transpired that Taffy had
decided he didn’t want to stay in the stable overnight over something as
insignificant as a bruised sole and let himself out his stable and proceeded to
pull out all of Phil’s pansies from her beautiful pots and hanging baskets and I
was told I would not be doing any riding until I had repotted and replanted
them all in their correct containers. But, my days at Stone Dean where some of
the fondest and happiest memories of my life.
All day, all weekend we’d be at the stables. When we weren’t riding, jumping in the fields, cantering through the bottom woods, we were grooming, washing, braiding, cleaning hooves, cleaning tack, feeding, mucking, rag-worting, the days were always full and usually with my best friend Victoria Phillips and her pony “Bretley” (the same pony I had leased for 6 months prior to getting Taffy).
When we were 12 and finishing middle school we had our big
exam called “The 12 Plus”.
If you passed it meant you got to go to a grammar or “high” school and if you
failed you went to secondary school. On the day of my 12 plus exams my lucky
charm was a photo of me riding Taffy in the Clover field jumping the upright
barrels. Victoria and I had agreed on the day we got our results that if we
passed we’d go for a victory gallop in the 35 acres to celebrate and if we
failed we would still go for a gallop together on our ponies to remind us what
was really important.
Taffy and I loved jumping the best. We would hack to the local “South Bucks Riding Club” shows at Grove Farm, be there the whole day doing 2 or 3 jumping classes and probably a few extra clear round practises too, before riding home again at the end of the day. I cannot remember a single time when Taffy had a pole. We were always clear and always in the jump off and rarely came home with anything less than a second place rosette.
When it was jump off time, we had a secret signal. As the stewards rang the bell to start, I’d give Taffy a light tap with my crop on his shoulder and then he knew it was jump off time. I only had to look at the next fence and Taffy was already going there and sorting out his stride. He’d take strides out horse sized related distances and turn on sixpence on the landing side to cut the corner to the next fence.
When we lined up for our placings, if, by some chance, someone had been faster than us and we’d come in second, Taffy would try to overtake the first placed horse on the lap of honour, sure there must have been some mistake as he felt it was his right, to lead every lap of honour, which, most of the time, it was!
We’d take part in all the schooling days. Taffy was usually the only pony in his group and we usually ended up giving the proper horses a lead over the gigantic ski jump or over the open hedge. Taffy would have tried to jump the moon if I’d have asked him to.
The spring was filled with open shows, the summer was eventing and gymkhana (of which Taffy won the chase me Charlie one year being the only pony to clear 4”1’!) and the autumn was for hunter trials.
We became so well known on the local circuit that people who’d seen us arrive would ask the secretary which classes we were entered in and then switch classes to give themselves a better chance!
Taffy and I affiliated to “the British Showjumping Society” or BSJA as it was called then. We would travel a lot further to go to the BSJA shows but by far our favourite venue was Smith’s Lawn which took place in Windsor Great Park, on the outskirts of Windsor Castle. There were three senior rings where I would often see my idols from the Showjumping world competing, and one ring for juniors (under 16’s). Sometimes there were even some carriage driving horses nearby or a polo match taking place across the driveway.
Taffy though retained his cheeky streak! He had an uncanny ability to nip out the side of the trailer ramp as you were loading, he’d turn his shoulder away from you and you had no chance of holding on. It was his most favourite trick and he only ever did it on the way home from the show, never quite ready to call it a day. One of my most embarrassing memories was 12 year old me sprinting as fast as my tiny legs would carry me, trying to catch up with my naughty little pony, fully kitted out in travel rug, travel boots, tail guard and head collar and lead rope flying in the wind behind him, desperately trying to catch my pony who had decided he was going to participate in his first polo match and bringing the entire match to a stand still.
We were often against some very experienced partnerships with very, very expensive ponies but Taffy was quite literally, priceless and we almost always beat them all in our classes of “British Novice” and “Discovery”. When we quickly achieved our 4 double clears in the British Novice we qualified for one of approximately 6, regional British Novice finals. Our closest was in Norfolk so we set off for the long drive, not really sure what to expect.
When we arrived, the increase in the fence size was drastic and I wasn’t even sure if Taffy was going to be able to make it over the first round, let alone when they put them up in the second and third round (at a regional you had to jump 2 clear rounds of increasing size to get to the jump off) and there were over 80 other competitors in my class, with only the top 3 qualifying to go to the National finals in Staffordshire. Mum helped me tack up and get changed and Dad polished my boots and picked out Taffy’s feet before we went in. For the first time in my life I felt Taffy stretching to reach the back pole of the oxers but in his usual style, he never touched a pole. By the time we got to the jump off there were less than 20 competitors remaining. We cut every corner and jumped every fence on the angle to come home with a second placing and a ticket to the nationals.
We didn’t do as well at the finals sadly as I made a stupid mistake and went flying over Taffy’s ears in style, but whilst I was riding, someone approached my Dad and offered him £8,000 to take my Taffy home with them from the show. After the class Dad told me what had happened and my heart sank as I knew, £8,000 was a lot of money to my family, especially for a cast off pony we’d paid little over £1,000 for. When I asked Dad how he had responded he told me, in these exact words “I told him, Taffy is a part of our family, and we would never sell him”. It was at that exact moment that I realised I had the greatest parents in the world.
Many years later the quote got repeated and Dad added that he would sell one of his daughter before he sold Taffy!
When I went to high School, we were on the school riding team although there was only 4 of us and I was the only one on a pony, which meant I had to compete on the senior team with the horses.
I remember vividly at a team event at Stoneleigh Park where the rain was non-stop and torrential and the course was almost two feet deep in mud and getting deeper with each subsequent competitor. I looked on at my team mates screwing giant metal studs into their horses shoes and had no idea what they were doing as I’d never seen or heard of putting studs in before. All the teams who jumped clear in the first round had to select one combination to represent them in the jump off. Taffy and I were selected and despite the waterlogged conditions and no studs, Taffy delivered another perfect clear. We also fulfilled another of my childhood dreams by getting to compete at the world famous All England Showjumping Course at Hickstead, home to the Hickstead Derby. All competitors got to ride around the main arena in their lap of honour at the end, and I actually got to ride past the most famous of fences I’d watched on TV such as the “Devils Dyke” and the infamous “Hickstead Derby Bank”.
After school, when Taffy lived up the road from Stone Dean in “the station field” I would get off the bus outside his field, and ride him down the road to the stables in my uniform, in a headcollar and sat on top of his mud coated New Zealand rug to get an extra ride in after school.
When we were about to leave on a 2 week family holiday, I would wake up at 4 am, sneak out the house and ride my bike down to the field to give Taffy an extra carrot and a kiss goodbye and tell him I’d be back in a few weeks but that I’d miss him every day I was away. Then I cycled home, climbed back into bed and my parents were none the wiser.
When I eventually grew too big for Taffy he went on to be my middle sister’, Natalie’s pony. He always had a cheeky streak and Natalie has a few scars to prove it and on more than one occasion ditched Natalie in the wood and cantered back to his stable with Natalie running for dear life after Taffy, terrified that I would never forgive her! Natalie enjoyed several seasons competing with Taffy, usually dressed in my hand me down show gear that was still slightly too big for her.
Chloe, my youngest sister was only 3 years old when Taffy came in to our lives and she cannot remember life before him. She got a jump start on riding being the youngest (I didn’t get my first riding lesson until I was 8) and she had already been competing on her little palamino pony “Indie” before she was big enough to take on Taffy. There was a brief period when Chloe and Natalie were actually competing against each other on Indie and Taffy respectively!
Taffy was never the type of pony who was sad or sorry, apart from the odd bruised sole I don’t think he had a day of lameness in his life until last year. We had many happy years together at Widmer Stables in Seer Green with Taffy, Frosty and Donald and then later my ex-racehorse Guinness. Minnie Smith, Elanor McFarmlane and Sasha Dawson-smith all enjoyed the experience they got from leasing Taffy (although he always remained in our care) and all three will accredit Taffy with being instrumental in their lives for teaching them so much and giving them a lifelong passion for horses.
When my son Joshua was big enough, he learnt to ride on
Taffy. Jodie Maile gave him his first riding lesson on Taffy on the lunge and
taught him how to do a rising trot. It wasn't long before Joshua was trotting around the arena by himself. Even though Taffy was a very extroverted pony with a lot of "go", he always took the best care of Joshua, who'd he'd watched grown up from a baby.
Joshua even did his first show with Taffy at the Chalfont Heights Riding Club open show where they took part in the "Handsomest pony" class and the "Pony the judge would most like to take home" class which, they of course won :-)
Christmas Day was always one of my most favourite days of the year and as our family life revolved around horses, so too did Christmas Day. After breakfast, the whole family would head to the stables to take care of the horses and it was the one day a year when my Dad joined us on a ride. Kitted out in thermals, hi-viz and occasonaly some tinsel and a pair of antlers, we went on a family hack together.
When my parents retired and immigrated to Southern France with my youngest sister Chloe, Taffy went with them, with Chloe’s horse Beanie and Natalie’s horse Frosty also.
Eventually they purchased land adjacent to their house, built beautiful stables and were finally able to fulfil our dream of having the horses at home.
He fell completely in love with Chloe’s plus 17 hand grey mare Beanie and they were always turned out together and stabled next to each other.
When I married and moved to Los Angeles with my husband, my rising 2 year old “Peroni” went to live with them in France also. Taffy was still being ridden around the French countryside almost daily and Chloe rode Taffy to teach Peroni to “pony” out on trail. When I backed Peroni, Chloe and Taffy accompanied us on our first trail rides. He was the never-ending teacher.
One of my most favourite things about Taffy was that he was always aware of the ability of his rider. He took care of me more times than I can count when I was young, and was the angelic schoolmaster for my young son Joshua, and yet, when one of us now grown up girls rode him on a hack around the French countryside, he conveniently lost all brakes and speed control and often wouldn’t stop galloping for several miles, jumping ditches between fields until he decided it was time to slow down!
Chloe took the best care of Taffy his entire life. He was treated like the royalty he was. His mane was always trimmed and tidy, his blankets and saddle cloths and tack routinely cleaned. In the winter his coat was clipped and his legs always wrapped to prevent against mud fever when we was in the fields. He still retained his ability to catch us out occasionally when we were bringing him in from the field and would make a sneaky dash to get the lead rope from our hands and take off either to find a few mouthfuls of extra long grass or to flatten some of the neighbours crops!
Last year, at the age of 35, Taffy, being his usual Taffy self, whilst refusing to walk and cantering on the spot on the road home, slipped and dislocated his hip. The vet said it would never go back in and that he would never be ridden again but he may come back enough to enjoy being turned out in the field at a walk. Taffy obviously had other idea. During his recuperation, whilst in a smaller section of field to encourage Taffy to be sensible, Chloe called me to tell me he wasn’t being a very good patient but by about the 5th canter circle he looked almost sound!
We never rode him again but he lived a life of absolute pampered luxury. A huge grassy field with his girlfriend in the day, an immaculate comfy bed in his stable beside Beanie at night. He had up to three layers under his New Zealand blanket in the coldest of snowy months in France, and the lightest of quality fly sheets and mask to keep him unirritated in the summer months. When it was too hot to be out in the sun, he happily basked in the breeze of his fan in front of his open stable door.
Sadly, in August 2020, Taffy reinjured his dislocated hip, and without the supporting muscle he had before, he was in too much pain for us to watch him suffer through the recuperation again....
Every significant horse in my life had a special song than represented our time together. Taffy and my song was always “I’ll be there” by the Jackson 5. In my mind it was always me singing to him that no matter what, I would be there for him. Now looking back, I realise there was never a time when he wasn’t there for me too and he truly did fill my heart “with joy and laughter”.
My Guinness and Mum’s horse Hero were never actually at Stone Dean Farm with Frosty, Donald, Yoko and Indie, where my riding path began and where I first met Taffy, but in my mind this is where they have all gone to wait for us at the end of the rainbow bridge. Much alike Black Beauty reminiscing about being back in his youth, running and playing with his friends in the green pastures at Birtwick Park, I’m sure that Taffy, who is the oldest and undoubtedly wisest of our horses has gone to join our others who we’ve had to say goodbye to in our lifetimes. Donald was my first horse and he had all the character and nobility in the world, Guinness was my heart horse and my soul mate of horses. And yet somehow saying goodbye to Taffy is even harder.
I’m grateful that Mum and Dad, Natalie and Chloe were all with him, but simultaneously heartbroken that I couldn’t be there by his side. He was never the most cuddly of ponies and his reputation was too important to him to let you cuddle him in public or in front of other horses, but behind the closed door of his stable he might occasionally let you have a snuggle. I had a heart-breaking conversation with Chloe before, where I told her she had to be strong and not matter how painful it felt, and how much she wanted to break down, she needed to be strong for Taffy and be with him until the end.
On Saturday 15th August, in the arms of my sisters Natalie and Chloe and my mother, they gently lowered him into the shaving of his stall. Chloe held him and whispered to him that I loved him and that I was with him, even from the other side of the world, he was in my heart.
I genuinely thought he would be in our lives until his fifties. Aside from his less than perfect teeth he was still the picture of health. I never really accepted that someday this day would come. I’ve known him longer than my husband, he’s lived more than twice the lifetime that my son has so far, and I owe him everything. I am the person I am today because of Taffy and there will never ever be another like him. The pony with a true heart of gold.
Rest in peace my Midnight Magic. You were so increibly loved by so many and there will never be another like you but I pray we meet again, in this lifetime or the next. x
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