Rolling

I had switched over to a new barn in time to take part in their summer camps. While most of the students attending the camp were new there as well, we were allowed to pick our horses for the week. Our basis for choosing was solely off of their trot in from the paddock to their stall as an instructor shouted out the horse’s name. It was nothing more than a blur of a horse running into a room before we were turning our attention to the next one. My attention stopped with Screech though, and I had decided right then and there that we would be spending the week together.

I probably should have thought twice about that.

Screech was a chestnut, Quarter Horse gelding. That’s all I knew about him going in. It was only after we were paired up for the week that I discovered this gelding had the mindset of a stallion and he was eager to capture the new mare’s, Destiny’s, attention.

The First Fall

The first fall is an inevitable milestone for any serious rider. It’s something you try not to think about but you always know it is going to happen. It has to happen.

My first fall was off of a flea bitten gray horse named Cotton. Well, technically he was a pony since he fell just under 14.2 hands, but he was taller than me which made him a horse in my book. Now cute “little” Cotton had a secret habit: He would hold in all the air he could when people put his saddle on so it wouldn’t be as tight on his stomach.

Clever not-quite-a-horse-horse.

I didn’t notice Cotton’s scheme until it was too late to do anything about it.

Picking Hooves

There are many things we do in a barn that anyone would be disgusted to do in any other context. Picking hooves is certainly one of these things. You go up to this big animal, run your hand down its leg, push your weight against theirs, squeeze their tendons down by their hooves, and wait for them to give you their foot. Then you pick. With the hoof in one hand and the pick in the other you start cleaning. Digging really, looking for anything that might be hurting the horse. There is poop followed by more poop followed by mud followed by poop again and you must keep going

First Impressions

“You have got to be kidding me,” I said to myself, staring at the huge horse in the stall in front of me. Why would I get paired with this horse? This horse was made for giants. Sure, I was tall for a girl but I definitely wasn’t tall enough for this horse. I stared at the big, gray horse against the far wall of the stall. I could hear the clap of his teeth as he crushed the grains in his mouth –an easy task. No way, no how. And Bandit? What kind of name is Bandit anyway? Does he steal things? I shook my head at him from the safety of the barn aisle.