Tag: beyond the saddle

Creative Nonfiction, Creative Writing, horses

Creative Nonfiction: The First Fall

Kyle Freelander

The first fall is an inevitable milestone for any serious rider. It’s something you try not to think about but you always know it is going to happen. It has to happen.

My first fall was off of a flea bitten gray horse named Cotton. Well, technically he was a pony since he fell just under 14.2 hands, but he was taller than me which made him a horse in my book. Now cute “little” Cotton had a secret habit: He would hold in all the air he could when people put his saddle on so it wouldn’t be as tight on his stomach.

Clever not-quite-a-horse-horse.

I didn’t notice Cotton’s scheme until it was too late to do anything about it.

We had made it through the pleasant group trail ride and had managed to make it back to the outdoor ring where we were supposed to cool down before calling it a day. Cotton and I were happily trotting to the far end of the ring to claim our space on the track without a care in the world.

But we never made it.

Read the rest on my horse blog, Beyond the Saddle and share the story of your first fall below!
Creative Nonfiction, horses

Creative Nonfiction: Close the barn door!

kylefreelander

There was a lot I was willing to overlook when it came to Maddie, the new ex-racehorse at the barn that I would be helping to train. She was a chestnut Quarter horse/ Thoroughbred mix who needed someone to help her adapt to her new life as a lesson horse, and I was thrilled to get back into the realm of training that I had been somewhat sidetracked from when we switched lesson barns.

I was so excited for this change of pace, that I was willing to overlook the fact that she had bit my instructor in the stall one time (and the fact that my instructor felt that it was okay to hide that information from me), I forgave Maddie for the times her flight instincts kicked in on a trail ride for no apparent reason as she took off at a gallop up a hill while I did everything I could to stay in the saddle (luckily I did not fall), and I pretended to be okay after she took off again on that same trail ride, racing straight for the trees. I was more than willing to overlook all of it. After all, it was part of her training process and I was always up for a challenge. However, there are just some things your mother will not let you overlook.

Close the Barn Door!

My mom didn’t always go to our lessons. Usually our dad took us as he would go to work earlier in the morning (and, therefore get off work earlier) and he didn’t mind being around horses the way my mother did (to this day she remains “not a horse person” …or dog person for that matter, but that’s a story for a different time). So already with my mother tucked into the corner of the ring (in reflection, I don’t know why my instructor thought that this was a good spot for a chair or for my mother), this day was already set up to be special.

That day there were five of us in the ring on horses, plus my instructor who stood in the middle of the ring and my mother seated in the corner with her back against the fence (whyyyy?). In the center of the ring, a small jump had been set up on the diagonal. The five of us formed a line in the corner next to my mother’s corner and took turns heading to the jump, sailing over it, and returning to the line to wait our next task. I was at the end of the line per my instructor’s request. While I had jumped Maddie before, she was still somewhat green when it came to jumping since, you know, racehorses don’t do much jumping.

When it was our turn, we headed towards the jump. I was calm and collected knowing we had done a similar jump before and we hadn’t really had problems in the ring. Sure, she had problems out on the trail and with my instructor in the stall, but in the ring we had been pretty solid. Maddie was always one to keep you on your toes though, and that day was not any different.

Read the rest on my other blog Beyond the Saddle!

horse barn

Creative Nonfiction, horses

Creative Nonfiction: First Impressions

kylefreelander

“You have got to be kidding me,” I said to myself, staring at the huge horse in the stall in front of me. Why would I get paired with this horse? This horse was made for giants. Sure, I was tall for a girl but I definitely wasn’t tall enough for this horse. I stared at the big, gray horse against the far wall of the stall. I could hear the clap of his teeth as he crushed the grains in his mouth –an easy task. No way, no how. And Bandit? What kind of name is Bandit anyway? Does he steal things? I shook my head at him from the safety of the barn aisle.

The sound of other stall doors opening and closing died down as the rest of the campers entered their stalls and got to the task of meeting and grooming their horses. I remained where I was, grooming box in hand. It was just fifteen minutes ago that I was learning what all of these brushes were called, how to use them, and, even more importantly, how to interact around a horse. I knew not to go under a horse, but Bandit was tall enough that this looked like a viable option. That idea scared me. I shouldn’t be able to fit under a horse’s belly without playing a challenging game of limbo. I had also learned that if you had to pass behind a horse, you should pass as close to the horse’s back legs as possible so, if they were to kick, you would not get hurt as badly in the process. Something about that just wasn’t encouraging.

horseback riding

Bandit continued to stand there big and gray, eating his breakfast. I stood in the aisle blonde, small, and terrified wondering why my parents let my older sister, Lauren, talk them into this. I remained there, scared of all of the possibilities, until one of the counselors approached me. “What’s wrong?” She asked, peeking her head into Bandit’s stall.

I was never one to say I was afraid. I was the girl who would put on a brave face and just do it, but this was something different. “He’s just so big,” I said, continuing to stare at him.

“Yeah, he is,” the counselor nodded in agreement as she pulled her dark hair into a ponytail. “But he’s a gentle giant. Trust me. He’s literally the sweetest horse in here.”

I looked at her and back to Bandit. How was that possible?

Read the rest on my horsey blog, Beyond the Saddle! (Psssttt! Share your horse story with me here to have a chance at being featured on Beyond the Saddle)