Horse

I gave up horseback riding at a young age.

By experience, I know it is difficult for a 6 year old to ride large farm horses. If you can get on the beast, your legs will be sticking straight out to the side. Much like doing the splits. Come to think of it, it is the splits. This means the only thing you are hanging on to is a handful of horse hair. Which, of course, the horse does not encourage. Gripping with the legs is a fantasy. All this amounts to a position no human adult can attain. Well, maybe in a yoga class. As far as I knew, yoga had not been invented yet. Maybe some adult saw us and had a light bulb type idea. The name a derivative of “yoooo” “gaaaaa” that hurts!

It was a warm spring day. My friend Eddie and I were trying to think of something to do, it being Saturday. No school to keep us occupied. Eddie lived just down the road on the next farm. We were also the same age and in the same kindergarten class at school. We were considered by our other class mates to be best friends. Many times the idea of that classification was stretched to the limits. On this day we were at Eddie's place trying to come up with something exciting to do. Much Later in life I came to understand Eddie was a child on the wild side. If there was some mischief to get into, not only would he find it but add a little embellishment to it. We had already played “army”, shot every chicken in sight and bombed the pigs to the point they were mighty nervous. The bombs of course, were clumps of dry dirt with some pig poo mixed in, tossed in such a manner as to “explode” on or near the pigs. You may not be aware but pigs are, in general, a clean animal. They do not appreciate their own poo tossed at them. Being clean was not so much a part of our daily lives.

“Lets play cowboy” said Eddie.

“We don't have any horses” said I.

We thought hard some more. Finally Eddie said “I got it! We can ride Pa's horses! They’re just taking up space in the barn. He's not using them. He bought a tractor. Pa will appreciate the fact we're willing to give them some exercise.”

I sat mulling that over for a second or two. “Works for me” I said.

We ran to the barn to get the horses.

'Get the horses' may have been a bit ambitious. These horses were farm working types. Big, broad, not the smaller riding types. We found them inside munching on hay. Ever though they were in the barn, the horses were free to roam out into the pasture. Not having any type of halter or other gear used to control the animals, and not knowing how to use them if we did, we climbed up on the manger. We climbed along side them, leaned over and scampered on. Each on a different one. We both were scared. Now what? The horses turned their heads, looked at us as if we were flies, used their tails to swat at us, and went back to munching hay. About then we noticed how high we were off the ground. Did I mention these were big horses? What were we? Four feet tall & 65 lbs?

Oh my gosh! The horses moved! They wanted to go outside!

And out they went. With us precariously perch on top.

Not having any way to control the beast, they went where they wanted and they wanted to go to the mud hole. At a trot. With us on top, bouncing like a couple of rubber balls, with legs sticking straight out to the sides. They stopped at the mud hole. One at a time, we fell off right into the mud. The horses laughed, the cows clapped, and it was a couple of days before the pigs stopped grinning.

By the time I got home, I quit horseback riding, studying to be a cowboy and was never fond of horses or pigs again.