I'm trying something new, called writing about myself/Rush from a more fictional approach. This is the result. It was a lot easier to write than being straightforward, and also a lot more fun, so I think I might stick with it.
"Really? I mean, really? It's a little mini pony, Rush. It's not
going to eat you." I twisted my lips together in an annoyed grimace,
turned her around, and walked past the miniature horse for the 16th
time. Like all the others, she shied sideways and kept a nervous eye on
it well after we had passed the pony.
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.