Ariel’s First Ride - Maybe?
Ariel was born in 2022 and signifies a lot to me personally: the end of my last relationship. It was a very serious relationship, the kind that you thought was going to be forever but in which situations, behaviors, and attitudes come to light that show how perilous it would be for you to stay. A story for another time, this story is about Ariel and how, unbeknownst to her, she carried the light for all that was good to hope for.
I guess it would make sense that she turned a golden palomino, sunny like a warm day or a smile from a best friend you haven’t seen for a while. I say “turned” as if she wasn’t born that way, but we were all convinced that she was a redheaded, fiery sorrel - so much so that we named her “Ariel” off of the Little Mermaid.
One year ago, almost on the dot, Ariel started walking off in our daily runs on the country roads. Nervous, I had the vet out, and after a few weeks of pokes, proddings and other things, he told me to bring her in for x-rays.
“Her hock is fractured!” He exclaimed in a way that I’ll never forget. What did that mean? Did I have to put her down? So many questions flashed through my head, to which he answered a tentative, “here’s the game plan…” for the rest of summer. No extra monies to be spent on her, stunt her growth the best we can and limit her activity. The positive? The fracture hock was already starting to fuse on it’s own meaning there was a chance for a life as more than just a broodmare.
Bored out of my mind, I had saddled her a handful of times in the winter, but yesterday, after a few hours spent crying about not having a single horse to ride in almost one full year as Train Wreck hurt her hips in May of 2023, I got a wild hare.
I threw the burlap bags of pop cans on her saddle and sent her around the round pen. Mind you, this was the first time she had been saddled since January and it was only once in that month. A little lookie, but otherwise unconcerned, she handled it like a champ.
Remembering the words of Mustang Bobby in regards to “just sit on them” whenever you’re done so that they accustom you on their back as a reward for being done, I tentatively swung over her back.
Totally fine.
Leaving my feet out of the stirrups so I could make a quick exit if needed, I sat on her back. If she wanted to walk around, I let her, gently leading her nose in a big arc and using my outside leg on her shoulder (a cue she has never had) to take a big crossover step with that outside foot in a forward momentum circle following her nose.
An absolute champ, even when my mom rolled in with the pickup and trailer loaded down with a tractor, parking it right next to the round pen, I was exceptionally pleased with her. Does this count as our first ride? Even though I didn’t have a bridle on her? Even though we didn’t move out with purpose?
I think it does… to an extent. The joy I felt just walking around on her back was cathartic for my horse abused soul.