HORSE OF MY HEART

(continuation of yesterday's essay)

Wesley drove away and I looked at this animal, caked with dried sweat from his earlier adventure. His tail was a solid matt. He had mud clinging to his knees.

First thing I did is give him a bath. I spent an hour and a half on his tail alone, working the tangles out with ShowShine. I wanted to give him some time to get used to the place before I tried to ride him. When Wesley left, it was with these parting words:

"Now remember, don't ride him without a helmet. And a curb bit, and a metal tie-down, to keep him from rearing. And only ride him western."

Sure, that would be the safest. However, he was my horse now, and I wanted him on my terms. My terms were trust and love. The first two weeks I spent just grooming him, walking him around the place, and working on his issue with his hooves. I used positive reinforcement to get him to accept having his feet handled, and had gotten to a point where I could hold his hooves between my legs, like the farrier would, for as long as I wanted, and knock on the edges, the way the farrier's hammer would when shoeing him.

Finally, after these two weeks, I had a dream in which I rode him, and I woke and went straight to the barn to try it, again, on my terms. I brought my english saddle. The english saddle has less safety features and more body contact alone with the horse, and leaves the rider a little more vulnerable. I also brought my own bridle, fitted with a snaffle bit. The snaffle is much gentler in the horse's mouth than a curb, and plus allows one to either rein the horse directly (with two hands), or neck rein (one hand). It gives a softer connection with the delicate edges of the horse's mouth.

This first ride, I also did not wear my helmet. I wanted complete trust between us, and therefore I had to trust him completely. He did not let me down. It was a beautiful ride. We walked, trotted, and cantered in circles along the fenceline of small grassy paddock. I was so proud that our connection had remained intact, and happy that I was finally riding my very own horse, the first and only horse I have ever owned.

He was completely responsive and trusting, although a bit rusty in arena manners. As far as I knew, he had only been ridden on the trail. He had never learned lead changes or lateral work, but I could remedy that. And I did.

I kept him at this first barn for more than half a year. I came out to visit him every day, because I was responsible for cleaning his stall and feeding him in the evenings. When he would see me approaching his stall, he would nicker for me, a tone that horses reserve when they see something they have affection for (usually used in regards to people, especially ones bearing food, and a horse's own offspring).

I rode him almost daily, and bathed him often. His coat became slick and shiny. Sometimes I would have a lot of studying to do, but I would bring it with me to the barn, put his halter on, and lead him to a shady area with a lot of grass where he could graze while I read my textbooks and sometimes paused to look at him. I trusted him enough to just let the lead rope rest over his withers while he grazed, comfortable in the fact that he would rather be here with me than, say, running off towards the feeder to the main highway just in front of his barn.

I chose a farrier for him that would work only in gentle methods, and never hit him, but yet never let him get away with silliness, either. The first time they (a husband and wife team) worked on him, it took them an hour just to trim his hooves. He didn't need shoes out here, and luckily for all of us, he had slow growing, tough hooves that could be trimmed just every three months instead of every six weeks.

By the time I left that town about a year and a half later, that couple could trim him in the fifteen minutes typical of most horses, without any foolish business on his part, or drugs. He had been ridden english, western, and bareback. Often times I would be done riding him in the saddle, and just lean over and uncinch it, slide back behind the end of it, pull it off his back and lean it on the fence, and scoot forward them to ride him around bareback, without him even moving a muscle. There were times maybe people at the barn were just goofing off with their horses, or I just wanted a quick ride, and I would tie the end of his lead line to his halter, jump on his bare back, and go. Sometimes I fooled around and rode backwards, or just laid across his back while he grazed in the pasture.

I also took him over fences, over poles lying on the ground, galloped him along the race track, and took him over the hunt course in the middle. He was a trooper, always did everything I asked and more. He learned some complicated arena moves, like sidepassing and flying lead changes. I put all my friends up on his back, most of them with little experience, but no trouble riding him at all.

But right when we were about to move from College Station to Colorado, we had an incident that likely changed things forever between us, although maybe neither of us had any idea what its implications were for the future. More on that later.