It was the first day in the two months that we had been gone that we saw rain. Coincidentally, it was also the day that we had planned to go horseback riding. My mom decided to stay behind because she didn’t want to ride in the rain, but my dad, my brother, and I bundled up, and hopped in a car. We drove to a little restaurant that google maps said was the horse ranch, turned around, decided that turning around wasn’t going to get us to the ranch, turned back, and drove on from the little restaurant. We finally got to a field with four or so horses in a stable. We pulled up into the muddy grass, just as a tall man in a cowboy hat came jogging up to us. He introduced himself as Tomo. The rain had become a drizzle by then so none of us were worried about riding in the rain. Tomo introduced us to his stable hands, all 14 or 15, who were internshipping for the summer, and got to ride the horses in return for doing the chores.
We spent half an hour or so deciding which horse to pick, discussing trail rides, and how long we wanted to ride for. We decided that two and a half hours would be enough, and all saddled up. My horse was named Zena, dad’s was Grete, and Griffin’s was Socole. My horse was tall and a dark brown, and Tomo told us that she was the “queen”, of the group. Dad’s horse was a little short, a chestnut color with a white strip on her forehead and some white dots on her hooves. Griffin’s horse was so short, she looked like a pony covered in little grey specks.
We had been riding for about thirty minutes when the first attack happened. Zena struck. Apparently Zena was used to being in front, and a leader. She was upset because Tomo placed her in the back of the line. The order was Tomo, Griffin, Dad, and then me. Zena was being a little bit stubborn, and she wouldn’t listen to any of my commands, I had to be very firm with her to get even the tiniest bit of movement. She got more and more irritable, when suddenly… she bit Grete, dad’s horse! Right in the butt. So naturally, Grete kicked her leg out and hit Zena, and Zena wasn’t too happy about that. Zena decided she was fed up with being in a line, and started to trot ahead in front of Tomo, which didn’t please the cowboy. He yelled at her and wrapped her on the butt, and she fell back into line.
An hour or so later, we were heading back to the ranch, and Zena was in the back again. This time, Socole was in front of her. Socole was tiny, and she wasn’t as big as a threat to Zena as Grete was, so Zena thought that made it okay to bite Socole. Zena continued to bite Socole about every five seconds as if saying, “come on let's bolt!”. But Socole actually listened to Tomo, and wouldn’t move out of line, and by then I had gotten used to Zena’s little tricks, so I could keep her in line. But now I had to stop her from gnawing off a chunk of my brother’s horse’s butt.
Finally, Tomo said that the horses could let off some steam and we could trot, but only trot, because it had started to rain again. We had just started to pick up the pace when in front of me I see Grete, dad’s horse, stop. Then, she bucked, and dad flew off of the side of Grete, onto his back. Grete cantered away to a more secluded part of a field next to us and started to graze, apparently done with trail riding. Dad wasn’t hurt and wasn’t upset at all, but was laughing because the whole time he had been talking about how he used to vault, which means doing gymnastics on horseback. Obviously, vaulting doesn’t prepare you enough for 37 or so years later riding stubborn horses. After that fun encounter, it started coming down. It was so so wet and cold, and we still had half an hour left. By the time we got back to the ranch, we smelled, looked awful, and were freezing. But the entertainment the last two hours had presented us with was so worth it.
I really enjoy that story.
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