More Horsey Adventures

After finding out that the old grey mare still remembered all the tricks of a professional cutting horse career, I was better prepared for further riding experiences. I was soon riding her several times a week. Maybe it would be more accurate to say she allowed me to ride her several times a week. I was obviously not in full control of much, other than the oat bucket. After a few more brush-offs, I learned to keep her away from low-hanging trees, and I like to think she enjoyed having something to do other than stand around looking at the cows.

One especially warm Saturday, I was getting a bit bored and decided it would be a great day for a ride. It took some time and effort to coax her away from the shady spot she’d found for herself behind the barn, where she stood placidly brushing away flies with her tail.

Once I got the bridle on, which she often resisted quite strenuously, by the way, she resigned herself to the fact that this darn kid was gonna take her for another spin. Bribery with oats eventually won out in the end, and I led her once more toward the gas barrel in the middle of the yard to aid in my mounting efforts.

As usual in the summer months, I was barefoot. Just as I was about to climb onto the barrel, the mare took a little step sideways and planted her hoof directly on my bare foot. That in itself wouldn’t have been too bad since she didn’t have horseshoes on, but while I thumped ineffectually on her shoulder to get her to remove her hoof, she did a bit of a manoeuvre much like someone putting out a cigarette with a twisting motion of their heel.

That’s when I discovered there was indeed a pain worse than dropping a board on my toe. The twisting motion tore the nail off my big toe and didn’t do the rest of my foot much good either. I imagine the nearest neighbour, half a mile away, heard me quite plainly as I voiced my discomfort. Let’s just say it didn’t take me long to decide against horseback riding for the rest of that day, and in fact for a couple of weeks after that.

Despite the unpleasant experience, I wasn’t put off of horseback riding and continued to enjoy it over the next few years as the opportunity arose. This included a day camp that I attended a couple of years later at Hidden Valley Lake near Austin, Manitoba. Riding lessons were a daily activity, but even that involved riding a horse at full gallop across a grassy meadow, and the horse stumbling and causing me to fly over its head. The ground was much harder than it looked.

If anyone has any horsey stories from their youth to share, we’d love to hear from you.