To Horse, To Horse

Horses and I do not have a great history, even though I love them and think they are one of the most beautiful and useful creatures on earth. It's just that horses and I never had much of a meeting of the minds.

My first contact with one was when Bobby, a neighbor kid, brought his new pony over to our house to show it off. His father owned a garage in town and had lots of money to spend on the latest things for his children. So this day Bobby was leading it on a rope and came into our yard to show it off. (I think he was afraid to ride it.) In awe, we stood around, trying to pet it. When Bobby decided we'd had enough, he pulled the rope to lead it away. The horse's next step was right on my foot! I screamed, the horse took off and took Bobby with it on a very unexpected involuntary run right through our neighbor Pansy's garden. There were no broken bones, but there were lots of messed up beans and sweet peas.

That long-ago episode was forgotten by the time I was dating Red. He and I decided to rent a couple of horses at a trail-riding place in Millbury. Friends had recommended it as a great thing to do. We signed up and I was given a nicely broken-in filly, Daisy. Red decided on a larger horse, Tuffy, which the owner certified as "quite energetic but manageable."

We were soon off down a nice smooth trail towards the mountain. It was a beautiful day, the trail was picturesque, and though I was not trained for cantering or galloping, my horse went along very smoothly, but slowly. Very slowly! And Red's horse followed, very slowly, behind mine. This did not please Red, who kept urging big Tuffy to pass around me. Nothing doing! Big Tuffy wanted to follow Daisy, his nose to Daisy's tail, and he did, very very slowly, all the way back to the stable. We didn't go riding again for a while.

Years later, on a family vacation trip to Ticonderoga, Elaine suggested the whole family rent horses and ride. We agreed and Elaine, an experienced rider,took off full tilt down the trail. I don't recall how Red made out, but my horse wanted nothing to do with the trail--he preferred the ditch with its nice tall green grass. I don't know how long the horse and I stood, with the horse's head and two front feet down in that ditch. I believe it was most of the time the others were gone down the trail and back!

Some years later, Mom told me that Bobby had bought a small farm with horses, out near the mountain. He apparently had little knowledge of farm life. Someone had called the animal authorities, and an investigation found Bobby's horses standing in accumulated manure so deep their heads were down and their hind feet up in the air. The horses were removed because of "neglect."

I guess horses and I will never see eye to eye, but then again, neither will they and Bobby.