Derina Pyles
Horse Sense
Traveler and I had been invited to go on a beach trail ride by a new group of riders I had recently joined up with. Previous experience had made me apprehensive, to say the least. I had joined several groups in the past but hadn’t really connected with anyone enough to stay in touch. Typically, personalities didn’t match up, whether it was me or Traveler’s. But mainly it was all about the riding styles. As with any group, horse people can be wonderful, caring, and supportive with one another. On the flip side, horse people can also be know-it-alls and opinionated and gossipy. The verdict was still out on what kind of group this was, but I had a feeling I was getting ready to find out.
“Can you please pull yourself together and walk in a straight line, Traveler?”
“I’m really trying, Hay-Woman, but these waves coming in and out are making me dizzy. My eyes are crossing, and I feel a little queasy.”
“I didn’t know a horses’ eyes could cross since they are on opposite sides of your head,” I barked, immediately regretting my harsh tone. My friend was struggling, and all I was worried about was how this group was going to view me as a rider.
“I’m sorry, friend. Let’s take a break over here near these sand dunes.” I dismounted and led him slowly through the deep sand. “I should have prepared you more. I should have come down here yesterday and led you around before our ride today. I should have not been in such a hurry to ride with this group.”
“Coulda, woulda, shoulda,” Traveler said matter-of-factly. “You didn’t know I was going to react this way. Stop being so hard on yourself. Let me rest here a minute, and I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He closed his eyes, but his body was still slightly swaying from the motion sickness.
“Okay, I’ll shut up and let you rest.” As I stood quietly reflecting on my choices, both good and bad, up to this point in our ride, a couple of the group’s riders noticed I had stopped and approached us.
A large fellow on a robust draft horse spoke first, “What’s wrong with the little fella?” Traveler opened one glaring eye to see who had spoken. At 16 hands tall, he was not used to being called little. Even though, by this horse’s size, he was.
“The waves coming in and out has made him a little seasick. This is our first time riding on the beach. You guys go catch up. As soon as he’s feeling better, I’ll be along. Don’t let me hold you up.”
“Nonsense,” the other rider, a small older lady riding a Haflinger spoke up. “You’re new to the group. We’re not leaving you. Besides, everyone else here has ridden these beaches and trails and knows where to go. We don’t want you to get lost.” Her tone was firm but caring. “My horse, Charlie here.” She patted him on the neck. “He did the very same thing on our first ride on the beach.” Charlie looked at me with soft eyes. “It took him the whole weekend to get over it, but once he did, he’s been just fine ever since.”
“Oh, that’s good to know. I figured I would give him a little longer to gather himself and then try again.”
“That sounds like a plan,” the big guy said as he pulled a water bottle from his saddle bag. “I was getting thirsty anyway, and this will give me a chance to water me and my horse.” He chuckled. He dismounted and poured some water into his cupped hand, which his horse began to slurp up.
“Shew, me too,” the older lady said, as she wiped her brow. “Every year I say this will be my last year coming here. I’m getting old and me and Charlie can’t keep up like we used to. This will give us a chance for a much-needed break.”
Traveler looked up at me and, without saying a word, we both knew we had found new friends.
