The first time I met him I thought he was extremely handsome. He had brown hair and even browner eyes that gazed deep into mine. He wasn't too tall but, wow, was he lean.
The second time I saw him, I was thrilled because I knew we were going to get close. Really close. I was so excited I could hardly contain my emotions. That's when I learned his name, Fred. Fred was a horse. Now Fred may not have been the most colorful of horses names, but I didn't care.
It was a beautiful early fall day and we had been invited to the family farm for a wiener roast, hay ride, bonfire and yes, horse back riding. How long had it been since I had been on a horse? Oh, probably about 20 years, but I wasn't counting. I loved to ride horses and I wasn't passing up on the opportunity.
My nephew accompanied me on a beautiful palomino, who had a bit of an attitude, and I rode Fred. We followed a path down through the woods, the horses walking at their own pace. The air was fresh and crisp, the leaves on the trees were starting to change from green to gold, it just could not have been any more perfect.
We came into a small valley and then rode to the top of a hill. The view from there was breathtaking. There was a ridge of forest all around us and below, a corn field waiting for harvest. As I was taking in all the sights, sitting atop Fred, my ancient Indian roots stirred. I could see myself, many moons ago, sitting on my faithful steed, taking in all that Mother Nature provided. I figured too, my steed probably would have had a name more like "Walking Wind", yes, that sounded good. We stayed for a while longer and then decided to head back, that's when the fun began.
I'm sure that all experienced horse owners, riders, know this one important fact....horses like to go home, and I was about to learn Fred had two speeds, fast and faster. As we headed on our way, Fred took off in a full gallop straight down the hill. The last thing I heard my nephew say was "Hang on!"
Down the hill we went and the corn field was getting closer by the second. The thought of running through those dried corn stalks didn't sound too appealing, if you've never done that, let me assure you, it hurts, but on the other hand, if I had to bail at least I'd have something to cushion my fall. Since my feet had already come out of the stirrups, and I'd lost hold of the reins, bailing wasn't going to be too hard. Gripping the saddle horn for all it was worth, I braced myself for the corn. What happened next was pure horse magic.
Just as I'm convincing myself I can take the wrath of the corn, Fred performed a miracle, he turned right. He didn't just curve right, he turned on a dime right. I'm still in the saddle, a miracle in itself, and now we are on an open field road. If I thought Fred was running fast down the hill, he was on a true mission now.
Have you ever seen a dog shake a stuffed animal? Well, that's what I looked like. My legs were flying around like windmills and the only body part that was actually on the horse were my hands, with their white-knuckled death grip on the saddle horn. At this time I had a moment of enlightenment, a voice spoke to me. It said, "If you fall off of this horse, YOU ARE GOING TO DIE!" I'm pretty sure it was my voice, but I knew it was speaking the truth.
I also knew another truth, the field road, that was going by in a blur, ended at a gravel road. There was another turn coming up and I knew I'd never make that one. I finally manged to get my legs under control and gripped the saddle as tightly as I could with my knees. Another miracle happened at this point, though it wasn't in my favor, Fred suddenly went faster. This was like flying, he was stretched out in a full blown 'the gates of Hell are right behind you' gallop. I had only two options left, either get Fred to stop or die.
The only thing going for me now was the fact that the reins were one piece instead of two. I literally laid down on Fred's neck and began to inch my hands down each side of the reins until I could reach no further. I had maybe 50 yards to go before I was going to be singing "Knock, knock, knocking on Heaven's door" and I pulled those reins back hard with every ounce of strength I had left.
This was certainly a day of miracles because at this time another one happened, Fred stopped....in two hops. Yes, he could turn on a dime and stop on one too. What kept me from flying over the top of his head must have been divine intervention but there I was, still in the saddle and even better....I was ALIVE! Fred seemed fine to stand there catching his breath and I was just glad to be breathing. I looked behind me and my nephew was coming around the bend. He gave me a slight grin and I said to him, "Didn't expect me to still be on him, did ya?" I knew why he was taking his time, he was sure he was going to find his beloved auntie in a crumpled heap. It was at this time I learned Fred was a barrel racing horse, hence the instant stop and full throttle.
That all happened on a Sunday afternoon. By Friday of that week I could still barely walk. I knew the true meaning of having your butt kicked up between your shoulder blades and I'm sure I was two inches shorter than I had been the week before. Would I do it again? Maybe, women have this odd way of forgetting about things, like childbirth, we forget that it hurts. But the next horse I ride may be the one on the merry-go-round.
No comments:
Post a Comment