Thursday, March 13, 2014

A story about horses, part six

            I remember the first time I feared riding a horse. I don't remember how old I was, but I would have been in middle school. So somewhere between eleven and thirteen, probably. The horse was Talana, my mother's mare who had been in training for several years at my sister's house. Talana was not having a great day that day. She did not want to be tied to the trailer for grooming and tacking up, and broke her nice English bridle by pulling back from the trailer. We put a different bridle on her, and took her to a field to ride around.
            The grown-ups failed us this time. They did not supervise correctly, and they set us up to have difficulties. N one was there to tell H. not to tie Talana by her bridle (the grown-ups were in the house), and no one was there to tell me what to do when she began to back up, step by determined step, a look of defiance in her eye (H. went back to the barn to get something, leaving me alone with the horses). H. was only a year older than me.
            The field that was available to ride in, the only available field, was next to a stallion's field. There was a sturdy fence between, with an electric tape across the top, but the stallion was flirting with Talana from the start. He was strutting his stuff and talking to her, and showing off his lovely tail in the wind. She wanted to go talk to him, but we wanted to ride around. Again, in a saddle, I felt as though I could not tell Talana what I wanted her to do, and she paid me no mind. She did not turn and make a circle when I asked her to, and did not "Whoa!" when I asked her to, instead picking up her pace to a trot and then a canter. She whisked us up the field to the fence and halted just where she wanted to, out of reach of the electric wire. She put her head up and gave that stallion her best "You can't get me, Na-na-na-naaa!" strut. I clung on for dear life as H. shouted instructions at me.
            I never felt in danger of falling off, but I did feel threatened by the stallion. I did not know if he or Talana might try to jump the fence, or what might happen then. I did not want to be in the way if that happened. So once Talana stopped, I hopped right off of her and led her out of the field. And I declared quite firmly that I was done for the day. No one could convince me otherwise, because I did not feel safe.
            After that, I avoided opportunities I would otherwise have leaped at to ride Talana. I wanted to ride Mark, but I did not trust Talana. I felt like I did not know her. I felt like no one was in control of the situation, and I did not like that one bit. It was not fun. I swore up and down that I was not afraid, but I was.
            Eventually, I did ride Talana again. But I would say that I never had a good experience with her under saddle. I have had good experiences with her on the ground, and I remember sitting on her when I was quite small. It was never Talana's fault. It was always the grown-ups, who were supposed to know what to do, who set us up to fail. Talana's saddle, my mother insisted, "fit her perfectly," but she was referring to herself, not the horse. She seemed to think that having the saddle fit the person was enough, but that saddle pinched Talana's back. It took an attempted riding lesson with our friend and farrier for me to find out that Talana would never be happy with me or anyone sitting on her in that saddle. He said that the saddle pinched her right under where my thighs were, which was why she always bucked a little and pinned her ears when trotting. Without the saddle or a person on her, she trotted beautifully for him. He also found that her mouth was hard. The farrier was able to get her to respond better, but he said, "You should not ride this horse. She needs gentle re-training. She has been yanked around too much for you to ride right now, but if I spent a little time with her, she would make a lovely pony for you." He never got the chance to spend that time with her.
            After this lesson, I was not afraid anymore. I understood why Talana was so grouchy, and it was not my fault nor hers. But around this time, my mother became very nervous around the horses. I did not ride again for several years.

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