As a young girl, I used to wander up to a field at the edge of our suburban neighborhood and climb the fence to feed the horses grazing inside. I knew that I was not supposed to go into the pasture, but the lure of those captivating animals was too compelling. The horses were mostly inquisitive and friendly, ambling up to me to accept my proffered handful of grass. But one day, a horse lowered its head, pinned back its ears, and barreled towards me. I panicked and ran, but not before it turned and deftly kicked me in the head.
I hurried home and confessed to my mother that I was injured and bleeding. My mother took one look behind my ear and quickly drove me to the emergency room. A solemn doctor stitched the gaping wound and told me how lucky I was: the blow could have damaged my inner ear and permanently affected my balance.
It was not the last time that my passion for these mostly gentle giants would result in injury. My parents paid for me to take riding lessons when I was nine or ten and bought me my first horse soon after. They were resigned to the knowledge that the sport carried an element of risk, but other than insisting I wear a helmet, they evidenced little concern for my safety.
I had only one serious fall, when I was about ten years old. The mare I was riding sensed my ineptitude, took the bit in her mouth, and bolted back to the barn at breakneck speed. I was terrified, and I bailed off, foolishly believing that it was safer hitting the hard-packed ground at a gallop than clinging on. The fall knocked the wind out of me, and I was rushed to the hospital as I could not draw a breath. It was a daunting experience, but it never entered my mind to stop riding.
I became an adept and self-assured equestrian with practice, but I was put through my paces along the way. My first horse, a temperamental bay gelding, would test me by trying to throw me, but I learned to hang on gaining the aplomb of a rodeo rider. Bucking, lunging, and shying away were techniques that challenged me, but they dissipated over time as my equine authority blossomed with trust and certainty. Later, my mother bought me a chestnut filly less than a year old, and I broke her myself. “Breaking” is a misnomer; it is a gradual and gentle process of building increasing levels of confidence between animal and human.
I had my share of exciting escapades with horses other than my own. One irritable equine tried to scrape me off his back by running underneath low-hanging tree limbs. The most creative move came from a dappled gray mare that determined the only way to get rid of me was to drop down on all fours and roll over. Luckily, I was able to kick free of the stirrups and jump out of the saddle onto the ground before the roll started.
Horses rarely kick people they know and trust unless they are startled. I took a solid strike to the outside of my knee as a teenager from a grumpy gelding that did not know me very well. I drove home from the stable and limped into the house. I told my mother that I had been kicked and that I thought I had a broken bone. Mom looked up from her sewing project, shrugged her shoulders, and indicated that I should make my own decision about whether I needed medical care. Instead of going to urgent care, I went to the drug store and rented some crutches. I hobbled around for a few days, and then cast them aside.
Horses are captivating but emotional creatures. I have been thrown off, kicked at, stepped on, bitten a few times, and trampled once or twice. I accepted the physical wounds with aplomb; it never dampened my enthusiasm. Riding was the consummate activity for me; it was the only thing I knew I excelled at. Looking into horses’ limpid eyes, kissing their velvety muzzles, and, occasionally, crying into their sleek necks was more emotionally rewarding than anything else I did.
My youthful devotion to horses has served me well throughout my life, at least metaphorically. As the saying goes, when life tries to buck you off, just hold on tighter. And if you get thrown off, you need to dust yourself off and get back up into the saddle again.