Facing the elephant

There’s all this stuff I want to write about. Even if nobody ever read this, I’d want to remember it, talk about it. But life is like this moving sidewalk on steroids, and things whip past before you have a moment to touch them.

This is what I wanted to write on Saturday: WOO HOOOOOOO!!!! And I wanted to write that because I had a wonderful ride on my pony. This has been a horse month. Ever since the terrible windy day, it’s been Horse Problem Solving Month, which may be interesting only to me, but to me it’s been VERY interesting.

The first part has to do with walking my spooky horses down that lane past Bob Boardman’s long horn cattle and all the scary houses. I figured, if I walked them down there enough times, the mystery would wear off for them.

Zion

And it did. Mostly. My colt, Hickory or Tiger or Junior or Get OUT of There (so many names to choose from), got a little nervous when this adorable tiny brown calf ran straight up the side of a twelve foot pile of manure and peered down at us over the barbed wire (yes, the country is interesting). Evidently, finding himself dwarfed by a calf was difficult for my colt to take.

But my horse mentor – who NEVER has time for me, what with her three children and her husband and her own ten horses (can you imagine the selfishness?) – made FUN of me because I was WALKING the horses down there and not riding. Nevermind the point was to make them safer for riding, so that I would not someday find myself flying across Center Street on a panicked horse and becoming far more closely acquainted than I have ever desired to be with anybody’s front bumper.

So I had to start riding. And really, the weather has been nice. Weird, but nice. It’s kinda sad, though, to be riding around and around your little arena all by yourself. Well, yeah – there’s the horse, but horses don’t talk much.

And I talk – a lot. It would be nice, I think, to be able to say something like, “Well – how was your hay today? Too dry, you think?” And as we canter around the corner, Zion might say, “Oh, that little touch of cheat grass really spices it up, though.” And I’d say, “What do you think of that little Arab filly of Stan’s across the fence?” And he’ say, “What does it matter to me? I’ve been fixed.” And then, as he rounded the north western barrel, I would blush a little at my small indiscretion.

The elephant in the room down at the barn was the colt who has only been ridden three times. One long time, two tiny, timid, short times. Why would one keep a colt, honestly, unless one intended to ride him? Unless I really got him to be a house pet. Which it’s possible I actually did. No, though. He was to be the grandchild pony. The adorable copy of his mother, who is the coolest pony on the planet. Not a Shetland, tiny pony – a nice little-horse size pony. Just the size, I could actually reach the stirrup with my foot – without having to go contortionist and red in the face.

My “pony”

Things did not work out quite that way. But he is lovely, and very good natured. And so it devolved upon me to tame him and train him, and eventually, to make him safe and ride-able. I took my first strides in that direction by making Geneva ride him for the first time (which I’ve already written about). But that was a long time ago. November last. And there was a long, saddle-less winter between that glorious day and now. Now, being my responsibility.

So last week, after warming up by riding first Zion, then Sophie down the lane, and then riding around and around the arena on saddled horses, and then naked horses, I worked up the courage to ride my lovely colt. But first I fed him (so he’d be full and sleepy), then I put him in the horse jail (so nobody could mess with him), then I tacked him up and left him tied (so he’d remember what all those clothes felt like), then I tied everybody else up (so that they couldn’t come out and chase us) and put electric fence tape across the front of the open barn (so he couldn’t run into the barn and sheer off my head in the process).

Then we spent a while on the long lead, remembering that I am the boss, and he is the horse – backing and circling and disengaging the hindquarters (which has nothing to do with packing him in a small suitcase).

After all that, I got on his back. Swung sweetly into the saddle. Steeled myself. Squeezed my legs against his side and OFF WE . . . walked. He is not a fire-in-the-feet horse. He’s a why-do-I-have-to-do-this horse. We walked all around the arena. Walked and walked and sometimes just lifted our feet and let the earth turn slowly beneath us. I talked to him about trotting, and he said, “You mean, like this?” – taking two or three trotting steps. Then went back to his snoozing.

It was good. It wasn’t scary. It was . . . boring.

So the next day, we tried again, and this time, I got a little trot out of him. A little more. But I’m a polite person. A breakable person. Not inclined to push a point far enough that it pushes back. Is that the same as a “push-over?” I think it might be.

For some insane reason, I didn’t just sort of drift off on my good intentions and find myself doing other things. Instead, I went again the next morning, refining my prep, and just as I was about to get up there in the saddle for another nap, my neighbor – who is a real horse guy – came by. I can’t explain Stan. He’s wonderful; he can do anything. But he’s horrible, with one of those senses of humor that leave you dead and buried under a cross-walk in Milwaukee. That morning, I poured my heart out to him, and he talked me through a few things, and darned if I didn’t feel better and braver. I got up there, asked for a trot, and I got one. Not real long, but longer. No bucking. No messing around. Just a happy little trot.

And I felt like I was flying. I was wonderful. He was wonderful. All of the scary things in the ENTIRE WORLD went away. It was Heaven come at last, and nothing could ever hurt me again.

And that’s why I wanted to write WAAAAA – HOOOOOOOO.

But I never got a chance. Till tonight. So I’m saying it now.

Because it still feels good.

….to be continued