Horseback riding, to my surprise, came as natural to me as breathing. Horses never intimidated me, in fact I felt quite connected with the intelligent animals. I would fine myself visiting them during my common hour, walking up and down through the barn to be greeted by the plethora of colorful horses that recognized me by now. They expectantly walked over to their stall gate and leaned their heads over the railing, waiting for their routine pets from me. When I would pet one, the horse’s horizontal-pupil eyes would gaze at me, twitching its ears in delight. Occasionally, it would make a funny face or do something silly to try to stir a reaction in me. It worked, as I would always giggle to the horse’s pleasure as it returned to lowering its head, wanting to be pet some more. They are as curious about us as we are about them.
The horses probably recognized me from riding them, under the instruction of my instructor, Brian. His bold, extremely open personality brought a sense of fear into the horses that the horses never felt from me. He even demonstrated his presence on a misbehaving horse, which stood still in place and straightened up when Brain walked by. I was confused on whether it was acceptable to strike fear into an animal, or for the animal to trust you and gain respect that way. Brain’s way worked fine, it seemed, but I could never bring myself to making the horse intimidated by me. “If you don’t take charge, the horse will,” Brain warned me once as I was getting off the saddle of a stubborn horse. “You got to show them who is boss, or they’re gonna do what they please!”
I thought about his words, but never took any heed to them. I loved horses so much that I began to underestimate the fierce power of the seemly obedient animal. One day during my weekly lesson, I noticed the horses I was accustomed to riding had been already out for the day. Having no other choice, I was left with a horse named “Thunder,” who was quite new to the barn. I went to Thunder’s stall and discovered that the height of the horse was much larger than the ones I rode in the past. His sheen, obsidian coat shined in the small amount of sunlight that entered the stall as his large, heterochromia eyes looked upon me. I saddled the horse as normal and brought Thunder outside. After mounting him, I felt Thunders powerful stride in his steps. For some reason, I felt afraid. Thunder was a strong horse, and was quite smart, too, for he looked over his shoulder at me. He sensed my fear and at that very moment, I knew I was screwed.
“Okay, Katie, let’s get a post-trot goin’!” Brain shouted, urging me to start riding. Thunder started walking around the rink on his own, which I didn’t look into too much at first, since all the horses were so accustomed to the rink that they know better now. I started shortening the reigns, preparing to make him trot, and that was when Thunder wanted to mess with me. He thrashed his head forward, pulling on the reigns and almost sending me flying over him. Used to this from the other horses, I dismissed it and regained my composure. He repeated this process, steering off on his own into the middle of the rink.
“Katie! What you doin’? Get that horse back to the rails!” Brain shouted again, getting impatient with his cherished student. Brain always saw a lot of potential in me – he even told the Equestrian team and my own parents that. I was left feeling like I couldn’t disappoint Brian, even though I was still quite a beginner in my own way.
I tried steering Thunder back to the railing, speaking loudly so Brain could hear me from across the rink. “I’m trying, Brian! He isn’t listening to me!”
“Well, what I tell ya? Show that horse whose boss! You got your crop, don’t ya? Give him a smack and put him in line!” I looked down at my crop, which was a leather stick used to command the horses to run. The crop was barely felt by the horse, and in the past I had to hit horses a few times for them to realize that I was smacking them to begin with. I raised the crop and tapped Thunder on the shoulder. No response. I tried it a few more times, my swings getting a little harder with each hit, but still no avail. “Oh….Katie you better hit harder than that if you want the horse to feel anything! You think if I whacked you like that, you’d feel anything? You’re being girly!”
Wanting to prove Brian wrong, that I was capable of commanding this horse, I did what he asked. I raised the crop over my head, which Thunder noticed. Thunder looked over his shoulder at me again, his one-blue eye glaring at me as if he was saying, “Oh, you better not.” I looked at him and gave him a whack.
Thunder, infuriated, bucked his back legs into the air. I never rode a bucking horse before, so my instinct was to remain calm and keep steering Thunder to the railing. He trashed his head forward, trying to flip me over from the front, but I refused to fall of. It wasn’t out of pride or anything; I just knew I was safer on the horse than off it at this point. After a minute or so of him doing this, he was more irritated with me. He cantered, galloping full speed across the rink. I bounced helplessly around the saddle, pulling back on the reigns to try to slow Thunder down. Thunder remained headstrong as he jumped over the fence, successfully sending me falling off the horse. As I fell a few feet off the horse, I witnessed the massive animal complete his jump and gallop into the parking lot.
At that point, I must have blacked out due to the fact that I woke up in a hospital, my arm adorned in a cast. A doctor told me that I had landed on my arm, breaking it and knocking the wind out of me. The impact of my head landing on the ground so viciously also caused me to faint. There were many cards beside my bed, all having the words “Get well soon” in some way or another on them. I picked up the one from Brian, who mentioned in the card that Thunder was taken out of the barn and was sent off to become a western horse, instead of the English ones the barn has (in other words, he’d become a rodeo horse.)
I never saw Thunder again after that, but I still ride under Brian’s instruction. The experience taught me how to handle the horse’s better without sacrificing their affection towards me.