Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Twilight
Trail Riding a Bond
In chemistry a covalent bond is a bond in which two atoms share electrons, the strongest human bond is friendship. Friendship is the sharing of memories, experiences, even deep secrets. I am extremely lucky, I have friends who deal with me the quirky, moody, self-centered child. I have never had a closer bond with any fellow horseback rider than Margrith, she is a sparky, adrenaline addicted, opinionated firework who lights up my day, she is also caring, and protective and radiates a powerful determination. I have only know her for two years now, but it feels like I have know her for a lifetime.
However, before I meet Margrith I shared a peculiar friendship with Sarah, the beautiful, confident rider that I had gone to camp with. She and I started horse back riding together with Penelopy and Twilight, but not in the arena. We became explores and set out with our horses on trail rides.
It was like riding into a fairy tale. The roads were dusty and worn with travel, but there were hills of grass and sage brush, valleys choked with tall crocked trees bent in conversation with each other. There was a steep sandy track that took us up a dry angular crag, onto the side of a baron mountain. From its fortress we could see everything.
The trails were philosophical, and led us through many paths of life. On day while wandering we stumbled upon a marsh in the heart of a valley, a lily pad infested pool surrounded by bare wired and Autumn leaves fermenting in the heat. The pool had swollen over the fence and dripped into a small stream. Twilight and Penelopy snorted in alarm at the small ribbon of water, I finally convinced Twilight to tip-toe her way across the three inch wide brook, but Penelopy decided she would have to jump the three inch wide brook with a three foot wide leap. I watched as she caught Sarah by surprised as they flew over the stream clearing it and the surrounding mud with easy. Sarah and I stared at each other frightened looks reflected off one another and then burst into laughter, and jokes. We found an old abandoned camp site with a cow pen rusted and bent, forgotten in this small pocket in the mountains. It was ghostly, there was no sound, no other creatures but our caravan of four. We left the site wrapped in the sacred silents. A few days later we found a winding path that took us past elaborate houses with manicured bushes, and trees grown upside down. A farm with cattle that were covered in thick layers of curly brown fur, and a mansion that's drive way was lined with perfect blue spruce trees. To the west was the rich, to the east that abandoned cattle pen, two different forks in the road.
Beauty was not always part of our trail rides, in fact every trail ride began with a horror story and a hassle. In order to go on a trail ride we had to go through the entire length of the mountain pasture, which meant fighting off Carita's stamped ambushes, and Mateo's persistent insistence that he accompany his mother on our trail riding adventures.
The horror was the cattle farm right across the way. Its entrance was lined with cracked cow bones, from the sickly cattle the owners left to slowly starve and die. Two rusted trucks, lurked around the corner filled with harsh metal griding spikes in their beds, rusted with age or blood. When the wind blew it prowled through the skeletal structure of the truck allowing them to rasp and rattle. Chains hung from the fence line dyed with harsh copper streaks. Neither Sarah nor I could fathom the use of the chains. The cattle were mad creatures. They were penned up together in layers of their own feces, several had large oozing abscesses on their legs, or wounds turned black by infection. Hate had made them stark raving made. They would charge the fence when we rode by, I once saw a bull leap into the air in his eagerness to thrust his horns into our horses. We were scared of that place, scared of the death that seeped into every pore of the ground, and air and abandoned machines and creatures. It was a relief to get into the open air and ride into the flawless land.
Horses are the best therapy I have ever known, while riding Sarah and I would share secrets of our past, ones I am not willing to disclose. We cried together and confided everything with one another, our fears, our passionate hates, our irrational hopes.
We were a miss matched pair. She was popular, gorgeous, and had a boyfriend, who she rode with on occasion. I was an awkward, nerd, who only wistfully looked at the boys I liked and never had the gut to talk to.
Our conversation were not always serious, sometimes we would play. Two high school teenagers suddenly became a fair princess on her shire mare, escaping from a betrothed marriage, and a gypsy outcast or thief ranging the hills on her black gypsy pony. We would meet at the top of a hill, circle each other at a trot, throwing questions and answers at each other about our make believe pasts. It was great fun. She was the romantic and I was the sullen prickly stranger.
I remember the first day Twilight and I cantered together. Sarah and I were coming home through a thicket of trees, following a faint deer path, suddenly Twilight broke into a wild trot charging straight under one of the tree's low hanging branches, she fit under them perfectly, I did not. The branches dug into my back, and I felt the sharp pain of needle sharp wood piercing skin. I pulled Twilight up and sat up from my crouched position. Sarah rode up behind me. "Your bleeding!" she said. I reached my hand to feel my back, and when I looked at my fingers there was a long streak of dark scarlet blood trickling down them. I did not say anything. We'd better go back.
Sarah and I rode Penelope and Twilight at a fast trot back up the hill. Twilight went faster and faster, then suddenly the jarring two beat step changed into a jerky three beat step and then began to smooth out. Penelope jumped up onto the ridge next to us and began to canter as well. We looked over at each other, this moment was surreal, dreamlike in quality, we could not believe what was happening. Once we reached the crest of the hill Twilight returned to her trot as if nothing had happened. Sarah and I high-fived each other and we road back to the barn in high spirits, completely forgetting that I had bloody scratches etched into my back. The day had been perfect.
However, before I meet Margrith I shared a peculiar friendship with Sarah, the beautiful, confident rider that I had gone to camp with. She and I started horse back riding together with Penelopy and Twilight, but not in the arena. We became explores and set out with our horses on trail rides.
It was like riding into a fairy tale. The roads were dusty and worn with travel, but there were hills of grass and sage brush, valleys choked with tall crocked trees bent in conversation with each other. There was a steep sandy track that took us up a dry angular crag, onto the side of a baron mountain. From its fortress we could see everything.
The trails were philosophical, and led us through many paths of life. On day while wandering we stumbled upon a marsh in the heart of a valley, a lily pad infested pool surrounded by bare wired and Autumn leaves fermenting in the heat. The pool had swollen over the fence and dripped into a small stream. Twilight and Penelopy snorted in alarm at the small ribbon of water, I finally convinced Twilight to tip-toe her way across the three inch wide brook, but Penelopy decided she would have to jump the three inch wide brook with a three foot wide leap. I watched as she caught Sarah by surprised as they flew over the stream clearing it and the surrounding mud with easy. Sarah and I stared at each other frightened looks reflected off one another and then burst into laughter, and jokes. We found an old abandoned camp site with a cow pen rusted and bent, forgotten in this small pocket in the mountains. It was ghostly, there was no sound, no other creatures but our caravan of four. We left the site wrapped in the sacred silents. A few days later we found a winding path that took us past elaborate houses with manicured bushes, and trees grown upside down. A farm with cattle that were covered in thick layers of curly brown fur, and a mansion that's drive way was lined with perfect blue spruce trees. To the west was the rich, to the east that abandoned cattle pen, two different forks in the road.
Beauty was not always part of our trail rides, in fact every trail ride began with a horror story and a hassle. In order to go on a trail ride we had to go through the entire length of the mountain pasture, which meant fighting off Carita's stamped ambushes, and Mateo's persistent insistence that he accompany his mother on our trail riding adventures.
The horror was the cattle farm right across the way. Its entrance was lined with cracked cow bones, from the sickly cattle the owners left to slowly starve and die. Two rusted trucks, lurked around the corner filled with harsh metal griding spikes in their beds, rusted with age or blood. When the wind blew it prowled through the skeletal structure of the truck allowing them to rasp and rattle. Chains hung from the fence line dyed with harsh copper streaks. Neither Sarah nor I could fathom the use of the chains. The cattle were mad creatures. They were penned up together in layers of their own feces, several had large oozing abscesses on their legs, or wounds turned black by infection. Hate had made them stark raving made. They would charge the fence when we rode by, I once saw a bull leap into the air in his eagerness to thrust his horns into our horses. We were scared of that place, scared of the death that seeped into every pore of the ground, and air and abandoned machines and creatures. It was a relief to get into the open air and ride into the flawless land.
Horses are the best therapy I have ever known, while riding Sarah and I would share secrets of our past, ones I am not willing to disclose. We cried together and confided everything with one another, our fears, our passionate hates, our irrational hopes.
We were a miss matched pair. She was popular, gorgeous, and had a boyfriend, who she rode with on occasion. I was an awkward, nerd, who only wistfully looked at the boys I liked and never had the gut to talk to.
Our conversation were not always serious, sometimes we would play. Two high school teenagers suddenly became a fair princess on her shire mare, escaping from a betrothed marriage, and a gypsy outcast or thief ranging the hills on her black gypsy pony. We would meet at the top of a hill, circle each other at a trot, throwing questions and answers at each other about our make believe pasts. It was great fun. She was the romantic and I was the sullen prickly stranger.
I remember the first day Twilight and I cantered together. Sarah and I were coming home through a thicket of trees, following a faint deer path, suddenly Twilight broke into a wild trot charging straight under one of the tree's low hanging branches, she fit under them perfectly, I did not. The branches dug into my back, and I felt the sharp pain of needle sharp wood piercing skin. I pulled Twilight up and sat up from my crouched position. Sarah rode up behind me. "Your bleeding!" she said. I reached my hand to feel my back, and when I looked at my fingers there was a long streak of dark scarlet blood trickling down them. I did not say anything. We'd better go back.
Sarah and I rode Penelope and Twilight at a fast trot back up the hill. Twilight went faster and faster, then suddenly the jarring two beat step changed into a jerky three beat step and then began to smooth out. Penelope jumped up onto the ridge next to us and began to canter as well. We looked over at each other, this moment was surreal, dreamlike in quality, we could not believe what was happening. Once we reached the crest of the hill Twilight returned to her trot as if nothing had happened. Sarah and I high-fived each other and we road back to the barn in high spirits, completely forgetting that I had bloody scratches etched into my back. The day had been perfect.
Monday, September 20, 2010
The Riding War
It has been mentioned on several occasions that Twilight and I have a lot in common. This is a wonderful thing, but to much of a good thing can turn out to be a curse.
I am a very stubborn person, so is Twilight. As I grew more confident in riding Twilight I began to ride her bareback for the mountain pasture. I would halter her, walk her over to the side of a hill to give myself and edge, then ungracefully scramble onto her back. The rest of the herd would often stay put or gallop ahead. . .something I was not willing to do on Twilight.
She grew impatient with me, annoyed at my awkward scrambling, and giving me a ride for free. She viewed me as the dictator enjoying a ride on her back through the scenic beauty of the valley and giving her nothing in return.
Horses can not talk, but that does not mean they cannot communicate their intentions. Twilight began to run away from me. If she saw me jauntily waltzing down the hill, she would wait till I got close then break into a run and race up to the barn. I tried sneaking up on the heard, but there was not much to hide behind, (I would not be a successful thief). Twilight would spot me easily and languidly move into a flowing gallop. Laughing at me as a scrambled to try and catch her.
Once when I had managed to catch her she gave a small half buck that broke any hope I had of riding her bare back.
I grabbed a lunge whip and Twilight without her garnishes of a saddle and bridle, just her halter and lead rope. We struggled up the dirt road yanking against each other. I opened the gate to the spaces arena and slipped Twilight's halter off her head, she was completely free. This was a new experience for both of us, I had never free lunged a horse and Twilight had never grasped the idea of pure freedom. Go on! I said and clucked to her, Twilight shivered. This is new. . .what am I supposed to do? I flicked the end of the whip near her back haunches and she leaped forward into a elongated run.
I am a very stubborn person, so is Twilight. As I grew more confident in riding Twilight I began to ride her bareback for the mountain pasture. I would halter her, walk her over to the side of a hill to give myself and edge, then ungracefully scramble onto her back. The rest of the herd would often stay put or gallop ahead. . .something I was not willing to do on Twilight.
She grew impatient with me, annoyed at my awkward scrambling, and giving me a ride for free. She viewed me as the dictator enjoying a ride on her back through the scenic beauty of the valley and giving her nothing in return.
Horses can not talk, but that does not mean they cannot communicate their intentions. Twilight began to run away from me. If she saw me jauntily waltzing down the hill, she would wait till I got close then break into a run and race up to the barn. I tried sneaking up on the heard, but there was not much to hide behind, (I would not be a successful thief). Twilight would spot me easily and languidly move into a flowing gallop. Laughing at me as a scrambled to try and catch her.
Once when I had managed to catch her she gave a small half buck that broke any hope I had of riding her bare back.
The waring did not end there. Twilight would fight me during lessons. She would swing her head back and down, to fight the bit, fortified against any persuasion. She refused to back up, when I put pressure on her mouth she would chomp furiously at the bit, bobbing her head. I had never met a horse before that would not back. Even more disappointing was the fact I could not get Twilight to canter, she would trot faster and faster, like a standard bred trotter and refused to move into the canter. Gretchen tried her hand and making Twilight canter, but was unsuccessful.
Every ride was a hopeless tangle of hateful feelings and rough hands and mouths. Twilight tried to buck me off at the trot and I was so surprised, I just kept riding unsure of what to do. We were a clown show, jogging down the side of the arena constantly trying to gain the upper hand. It was horrible. 
Walking Twilight up to the arena took effort, imagine playing tug-a-war with a boulder, I couldn't win. I had to shuffle up the slope brimming with cylinder shaped apple treats and a long dressage crop whip to try and speed up the prolonged pauses that Twilight took along the way.
One day, I snapped I could not bear on more day of thrashing and fighting against each other. We need a break. I told Twilight, she shifted her head away becoming preoccupied with the granules of grain in the wood. I'm not talking to you.
I grabbed a lunge whip and Twilight without her garnishes of a saddle and bridle, just her halter and lead rope. We struggled up the dirt road yanking against each other. I opened the gate to the spaces arena and slipped Twilight's halter off her head, she was completely free. This was a new experience for both of us, I had never free lunged a horse and Twilight had never grasped the idea of pure freedom. Go on! I said and clucked to her, Twilight shivered. This is new. . .what am I supposed to do? I flicked the end of the whip near her back haunches and she leaped forward into a elongated run. It was breath taking. I had never seen Twilight so alive. She was in her element. Her head was high, and arched, crowned with a deep blue sky. Her mane flared and swirled around her neck, like fire black fire. Power drove her forward into a blur of movement. Hooves vibrating the ground when she fell from the sky and then extended back into it. It was like she was trying to fly. Her tail acted as a rudder, held in the air like a flag. When she slowed to a prancing trot she waved her tail in a sassy manner at me, cocking her aloft head in my general direction. Go on admit it, you did not think I had it in me. To be honest I did not know I could do this, but aren't I pretty? Did you know I could fly? Oh! It was fantastic! Did you know the wind talks to you when you move fast enough? It roared in my ears, and did you see me fly? I was suspended in mid-air. Look! Look! I'm still doing it. I'm so pret-ty, I'm so pret-ty. I'm sooo gorgeous! This adventure we had just shared together was a stepping stone, a turning point. Riding Twilight became a team effort, now we were starting to work together, now we were ready for a trail ride.
The Mountain Pasture
Twilight had now officially reached a healthy weight, thanks to an unlimited amount of alfalfa hay, the buttered food of the horse world, and a pocket full of apple treats from me every time I came to visit her. Her coat was healthy and shined with a red gloss when she was in direct sunlight. She and Mateo had more energy. There was not enough room for a curious mare and her pushy frisky colt in the stall and paddock, so they were moved to the mountain side pasture. This was a monumental changed for them, because now they had to learn to be part of a herd, after two and a half years of seclusion as a pair.
I was excited for both of them, especially Mateo, it would be beneficial for him to interact with other horses. Foals are not raised just by their dame, as they get older, experienced geldings and mares will teach them manners and how to mind their elders.
The pasture herd was made up of Adam, the undisputed leader. He was gentle but firm with the other horses, and was not a tyrant. He would usually let them wander where they pleased till during the day, but when the evening came and he heard the crunch of gravel under car tires,smelt the aroma of bales of hay being tossed, and felt the approaching shadow of dark and cold he would drive the horses up to the shelter of the half shack and keep them there till morning.
Elf, or Elfie was the brains of the group, she was a logical buckskin mare with tiger stripes on all four legs and a dark brown dorsal stripe along her spine. She was a professional western horse, and looked the part with the wide face and sturdy stocky legs. Elfie was always good natured and never caused any trouble, she remains to this day the only horse I have ever meet who enjoys a bath. If I sprayed the hose in their pasture Elfie would walk right under it and rotate herself till each side of her body was soaked through.
Penelope was the princess, the large overbearing princess. When I brought hay to the tire rubber feeders in their pasture, I had to carry a whip with me to flash at the hungry beast to keep her from tipping over the wheel barrow brimming with hay.
Carita was trouble, a wild card. Three years old a teenager in horse years. The red coat bay loved to stir up the herd. She would lag behind the rest and then suddenly break into a wild gallop driving the herd in front of her. She thought it was great fun, and would toss her head and leap over sage brush just for the adrenaline rush.
Mateo of course fell head over hooves for her. Tagging along like the adoring puppy, the more she spurned him and tried to kick at him, the more he followed her. Mateo's crush, was a tragic love story, he was unconditionally devoted to Carita, but she could never be his. Navarre, Mateo's father already had claims on the her. Once Carita turned five, she would become a brood mare, be bred to Navarre, and raise Mateo's half siblings.
Twilight became the overprotective mother, she hated Carita for threatening her son with kicks and bites, and would chase the red mare all over the pasture trying to sink her teeth into Carita's perfect hide. Carita was usually to fast for her. Every now and again Twilight would triumph by craftily cornering Carita against the fence, and thrashing her with her teeth.
The pasture made Twilight protective of Mateo, she would fight any horse in the herd, even if she had no hope of winning. If Penelope was to close to Mateo, Twilight would charge in between them, taking monstrous kicks and nips from Penelope in the attempt save her boy from some unknown danger. As the months went by she settled down into the incredibly watchful mother. She and Adam formed a partnership, a mutual agreement to take care of Mateo. Adam became a wonderful father figure, and would never harm Mateo. On countless occasions I would see Mateo, Twilight, and Adam, eating hay out of the same tire trough.
I started lounging in the mountain pasture when ever I had down time at the stable. Curl up in the belly of a tire trough and laugh as Twilight and Mateo would peak in at me and tickle my face and stomach with their inquisitive bewhiskered muzzles.
When I was alone at Bishops I was prohibited from riding Twilight, and I was alone quite often. On those days I would wander the slopes with the mountain pasture herd, staying close to Adam or Twilight and always watching Carita for signs of a stamped. Only once did I feel the terrifying thrill of six horse racing full speed past me, within touching distance of my hands. Becoming a two legged member of the herd is an experience I will never forget. I learned that horses make trails that they follow to get places, their movements are not scattered but very precise. Adam had three different grazing patches, one on the step crown of the mountain, a last resort he went to if the other two places were grazed to the bone. A ridge that was parallel to the barn, he took the mares and Mateo there when the weather seemed untrustworthy. And when the weather was sunny and the grass was long and fresh he would take them to the outskirts of the pasture to a wide sloping valley.
I remember the day that I knew I was a part of the herd. I had gone into the pasture to find Twilight for some one on one time, just a nice day of brushing and handling, an attempt to make her accustomed to the strokes of human hands. The parallel ridge was vacant, and so was the sloping valley. My eyes searched the mountain side, following the thread thin trails the horses used. The herd was on the mountain peak, grazing comfortable next to a steep drop that would leave them a broken screaming heap at the bottom. Determined I scurried up the incline, a treacherous path for a gangly, un-graceful teen. Once I reached the top I was meet with a surprised herd, Carita snorted at me, you scarred me, idiot.she seemed to say. Twilight literally rolled her eyes at me, Can't I eat in peace for twenty minutes? Without you or Mateo bothering me?! I tapped her lightly on the nose and slipped her halter around her head. As I lead her along the minuscule path towards the barn, I heard the familiar half muted rumble of racing hooves, a moment later the whole herd rushed to meet us, but instead of rushing past us in a chaotic run, they slowed down and took there places, walking with Twilight and I up to the barn, and staying there till we returned 30 minutes later. Now they were unwilling to go anywhere. Slouched next to the fence, and dozing under the half shelter, sagging against each other.
Mateo and I were restless, we wanted to go. I raced up the side of the hill, just to stretch my legs, and to my surprised Mateo followed. He shoved me with his nose and I leaped down again, sliding through the sand. Mateo squealed, and leaped down after me. Bucking and rearing with delight. We ran around, together like two sibling colts instead of a human and a horse. I had to be careful not to be struck by his wild legs, and chided him several times, he would crinkle his muzzle at me, showing his teeth and then we would bound away down the slope. We leaped wide bristling sage brush, and whirled around the small crooked trees that grew along the valley. Farther and farther we went, dancing around each other, till we reached the bottom of the hill.
Suddenly a lone thunder of hooves reached our ears, and we both looked up in unison to see a furious Adam bearing down on us. He scolded us, with a throaty neigh. Snaked his head back and forth at us with his round ears flat against his skull. Shaming two foolish youngsters for wandering so far away from the safety of the herd. He pushed Mateo with his head, and then circled back to get me. I was shocked, by how brutishly he treated me, giving me a heart shove in the back. He walked behind Mateo and I all the way back to the shelter, the two friends in shame.
But I was happy, bubbling over inside Adam and Mateo had not treated me as a rider, or even as a human, for one day I became a horse.
I was excited for both of them, especially Mateo, it would be beneficial for him to interact with other horses. Foals are not raised just by their dame, as they get older, experienced geldings and mares will teach them manners and how to mind their elders.
The pasture herd was made up of Adam, the undisputed leader. He was gentle but firm with the other horses, and was not a tyrant. He would usually let them wander where they pleased till during the day, but when the evening came and he heard the crunch of gravel under car tires,smelt the aroma of bales of hay being tossed, and felt the approaching shadow of dark and cold he would drive the horses up to the shelter of the half shack and keep them there till morning.
Elf, or Elfie was the brains of the group, she was a logical buckskin mare with tiger stripes on all four legs and a dark brown dorsal stripe along her spine. She was a professional western horse, and looked the part with the wide face and sturdy stocky legs. Elfie was always good natured and never caused any trouble, she remains to this day the only horse I have ever meet who enjoys a bath. If I sprayed the hose in their pasture Elfie would walk right under it and rotate herself till each side of her body was soaked through.
Penelope was the princess, the large overbearing princess. When I brought hay to the tire rubber feeders in their pasture, I had to carry a whip with me to flash at the hungry beast to keep her from tipping over the wheel barrow brimming with hay.
Carita was trouble, a wild card. Three years old a teenager in horse years. The red coat bay loved to stir up the herd. She would lag behind the rest and then suddenly break into a wild gallop driving the herd in front of her. She thought it was great fun, and would toss her head and leap over sage brush just for the adrenaline rush.
Mateo of course fell head over hooves for her. Tagging along like the adoring puppy, the more she spurned him and tried to kick at him, the more he followed her. Mateo's crush, was a tragic love story, he was unconditionally devoted to Carita, but she could never be his. Navarre, Mateo's father already had claims on the her. Once Carita turned five, she would become a brood mare, be bred to Navarre, and raise Mateo's half siblings.
Twilight became the overprotective mother, she hated Carita for threatening her son with kicks and bites, and would chase the red mare all over the pasture trying to sink her teeth into Carita's perfect hide. Carita was usually to fast for her. Every now and again Twilight would triumph by craftily cornering Carita against the fence, and thrashing her with her teeth.
The pasture made Twilight protective of Mateo, she would fight any horse in the herd, even if she had no hope of winning. If Penelope was to close to Mateo, Twilight would charge in between them, taking monstrous kicks and nips from Penelope in the attempt save her boy from some unknown danger. As the months went by she settled down into the incredibly watchful mother. She and Adam formed a partnership, a mutual agreement to take care of Mateo. Adam became a wonderful father figure, and would never harm Mateo. On countless occasions I would see Mateo, Twilight, and Adam, eating hay out of the same tire trough.
I started lounging in the mountain pasture when ever I had down time at the stable. Curl up in the belly of a tire trough and laugh as Twilight and Mateo would peak in at me and tickle my face and stomach with their inquisitive bewhiskered muzzles.
When I was alone at Bishops I was prohibited from riding Twilight, and I was alone quite often. On those days I would wander the slopes with the mountain pasture herd, staying close to Adam or Twilight and always watching Carita for signs of a stamped. Only once did I feel the terrifying thrill of six horse racing full speed past me, within touching distance of my hands. Becoming a two legged member of the herd is an experience I will never forget. I learned that horses make trails that they follow to get places, their movements are not scattered but very precise. Adam had three different grazing patches, one on the step crown of the mountain, a last resort he went to if the other two places were grazed to the bone. A ridge that was parallel to the barn, he took the mares and Mateo there when the weather seemed untrustworthy. And when the weather was sunny and the grass was long and fresh he would take them to the outskirts of the pasture to a wide sloping valley.
I remember the day that I knew I was a part of the herd. I had gone into the pasture to find Twilight for some one on one time, just a nice day of brushing and handling, an attempt to make her accustomed to the strokes of human hands. The parallel ridge was vacant, and so was the sloping valley. My eyes searched the mountain side, following the thread thin trails the horses used. The herd was on the mountain peak, grazing comfortable next to a steep drop that would leave them a broken screaming heap at the bottom. Determined I scurried up the incline, a treacherous path for a gangly, un-graceful teen. Once I reached the top I was meet with a surprised herd, Carita snorted at me, you scarred me, idiot.she seemed to say. Twilight literally rolled her eyes at me, Can't I eat in peace for twenty minutes? Without you or Mateo bothering me?! I tapped her lightly on the nose and slipped her halter around her head. As I lead her along the minuscule path towards the barn, I heard the familiar half muted rumble of racing hooves, a moment later the whole herd rushed to meet us, but instead of rushing past us in a chaotic run, they slowed down and took there places, walking with Twilight and I up to the barn, and staying there till we returned 30 minutes later. Now they were unwilling to go anywhere. Slouched next to the fence, and dozing under the half shelter, sagging against each other.
Mateo and I were restless, we wanted to go. I raced up the side of the hill, just to stretch my legs, and to my surprised Mateo followed. He shoved me with his nose and I leaped down again, sliding through the sand. Mateo squealed, and leaped down after me. Bucking and rearing with delight. We ran around, together like two sibling colts instead of a human and a horse. I had to be careful not to be struck by his wild legs, and chided him several times, he would crinkle his muzzle at me, showing his teeth and then we would bound away down the slope. We leaped wide bristling sage brush, and whirled around the small crooked trees that grew along the valley. Farther and farther we went, dancing around each other, till we reached the bottom of the hill.
Suddenly a lone thunder of hooves reached our ears, and we both looked up in unison to see a furious Adam bearing down on us. He scolded us, with a throaty neigh. Snaked his head back and forth at us with his round ears flat against his skull. Shaming two foolish youngsters for wandering so far away from the safety of the herd. He pushed Mateo with his head, and then circled back to get me. I was shocked, by how brutishly he treated me, giving me a heart shove in the back. He walked behind Mateo and I all the way back to the shelter, the two friends in shame.
But I was happy, bubbling over inside Adam and Mateo had not treated me as a rider, or even as a human, for one day I became a horse.
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