Obviously we were getting nowhere. I couldn't continue riding because the pasture the pony was in shared a fence with the outdoor arena, and she was focusing on everything but me. This was not how I had wanted my first ride in three days to go.
Frustrated, I gave her a loose rein and walked out of the ring, up towards the barn. We had only been hacking for 15 minutes, not nearly enough time to hop off and call it quits if I wanted her to stay in relatively good shape. I tossed the idea of going on a trail through my mind. She hadn't been on one before, not a real one, and she could be spooky at times. But on the other hand she was always more relaxed wandering around the property than in the ring.
Hoping I hadn't made some giant mistake, I turned her down the trail head and we marched off through the forested tunnel. I had no idea where we were going, I figured that once we hit a fork in the trail I'd just turn around and come straight back.
Cobwebs were strewn across the trail at my height; obviously nobody had ridden this trail in a while. The first time I ran into one I did a panicky dance, scrambling to brush the elusive web off of my face. Rush stopped after I dropped the reins and craned her head around to watch me as I fidgeted. "Sorry girl," I laughed, then took to riding with one arm stretched out in front of my face.
We wandered down the path for a few minutes; Rush was relaxed, I was a little less so. The worst thing she did was keep stopping to smell poop. I ended up having to do some interesting acrobatic contortions to avoid thorny blackberry brambles dangling dangerously from overhead. When it became obvious that Rush could care less about being out on the trail, I slid the reins through my hands and let her walk on the buckle.
My stomach growled, and I was instantly reminded that I hadn't eaten since breakfast. It was at least three by now. I glanced surreptitiously around, then halted Rush and reached out to pick a blackberry. It was tart and firm, warm from sitting in the sun. At first there was a flash of guilt; these haven't been washed! Who knows what you're eating? But I pushed it aside quickly, and greedily grabbed more from the brambles. Rush fidgeted anxiously, taking a few steps backwards before I cued her forward.
The rest of the trail was a repeat of the first five minutes, with me stopping every minute or so to madly brush cobwebs from my face or to pop a few blackberries in my mouth. Rush was obviously not concerned with the fact that we were on a trail; she was alert but relaxed and walked with a swaying tempo down the trail. A fallen branch lay across the path; she knocked her back legs into it and snorted in annoyance, but didn't scoot off. In the ring she would have had a fit.
The trail dumped us out onto a crossroads of gravel pathways extending in all directions. She had been tender footed on the gravel earlier in the week, stumbling and daintily picking her way through, so I was apprehensive about continuing onward. While I deliberated she took matters into her own hands and marched forward. I figured if she started having problems we'd just turn around.
She picked her way through, sounder than before but not entirely comfortable. We walked for a minute or two until we reached a housing development and the gravel road turned into pavement. Walking on pavement, potentially getting lost, and having only the scenery of a housing development? No thanks. I turned her around and we marched back to our forested trail. The way back was much smoother, mainly in part to me having already collected all the spiderwebs.
Jordan had finished with her lesson by the time I got back on the property, and we chatted briefly as I walked back to Rush's pasture. At first I felt self-conscious- had she seen Rush spooking at the mini? Did she think I was a bad rider? Our conversation quieted, but did not quell, those deep-seated fears.
"How was your ride?" was her innocuous conversation starter, the go to question in the horse world when you don't know someone very well.
"It was good! She doesn't like that mini down by the ring very much, though." I didn't mention that we hadn't worked through it as thoroughly as I would have liked.
"A lot of horses don't like her, must be something about the size. I had a mare once who was terrified of her- wouldn't go within a 20 foot radius. Then one day she got over it and started treating the mini as a foal. I guess it brought out her protective instinct."
This made me feel a little better. Rush had always been nervous around minis, but there had never been one on the same property as her so it had never been an issue. Maybe she would grow out of it. Maybe one day in the far off future I could ride in the outdoor ring without having my horse leap sideways because DEAR LORD IT MIGHT EAT ME. That must be what they think, right? I can't imagine them being afraid of miniature horses because minis might, I don't know, walk under them. That doesn't seem very frightening.
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