Perhaps if there was only one wild horse, and it had been a bad year and it was rather weak and instead of being truly wild it was just a little bit peeved, perhaps it had just seen something stupid on fox news and so felt the need to complain about it but not actually do anything, then perhaps I might stand a chance.
Therefore:
""Mildly annoyed horses, who have not had much to eat
whit, perhaps, chronic fatigue syndrome, and been watching tv,
Possibly couldn't drag me away."
I was looking back at a few of my older posts (Or as I like to call it, accessing the cybernetic memory banks) and read my rant about the evilness of horses/unicorns and all equine life forms. It may have been a bit scathing. But far be it for anyone to accuse this news media of not giving both sides of the story, I decided recently to give horse kind the benefit of the doubt and try once again to be on cordial terms with said beasts of the field. The adventure occurring I shall chronicle shortly, but first a few facts:
- Once, I was thrown from a horse. So it's not like I'm horse racist or anything, I have reason to suspect that all horses, past, present or future, don't like having me on their backs. Who can blame them? Silly looking two legged creatures, I wouldn't let you on my back.
- Horses are big. Really big. Not big in an elephant way, kinda large and docile, in a strong way, no doubt, they can push over trees and shit, but in a compact, coiled, I-could-kick-your-kidneys-through-your-nose kind powerful while still being really big. Think of Bruce Lee. Now think of Bruce Lee with four legs. You are fucked.
- Horses apparently have a similar nature to that of cats, and also can tell if you are nervous. This results in an animal that doesn't really care if you are on it's back or not but probably has a short fuse for things that twitch and annoy them eg: said human passenger.
Alright. The tale.
Sunday morning, rain. Phone rings, Ellen (the pseudonym for my girlfriend, in Higlyflannable style) picks it up. We are to go horse riding. Now.
Neat. 3/4 of an hour later, we are in the middle of a paddock in the middle of nowhere which is inside a void and no one will hear me scream. I am introduced to the horse I will be riding, Mango (actual name, horses don't get pseudonyms) and I spen a small amount of time walking Mango round by her halter so as for her to get used to me. I spent most of that time talking to Mango, or rather pleading with Mango, and convincing her that I really wouldn't be that nice to eat.
So far so good. Up into saddle, complimented by Ellen's Aunt on my riding posture, but asked to keep only my toes in the stirrups, as, "she [Mango] isn't really a beginner's horse and if you fall and get your foot stuck in the stirrup, she'll just trample you to death, silly thing."
Please at this time go and re-familiarize your self with the horse facts. Silly or not, I wasn't too pleased about this predicament.
My horse was startled twice, both times managing to get me out of the saddle but not beneath the silly, murderous hooves. On our little hour long trek, Ellen said that when she looked at me I looked like I was trying to enter into a mediative state, all forceful deep breaths and weak smiles. This was true. I was trying to enter my cave and find my power animal. God help me if it turned out to be a horse. I may have been slightly less nervous if I was told how to operate the animal I was on, stop, start and turn for example, but after being told of my horses unsuitability for novices such as me I was reassured that it was ok because Mango would just follow old George, the gigantic old male horse Ellen was riding, which "I don't often let girls ride because he's so Gigantic that they can't control him. But Ellen's a good rider. Ellen, don't let George get a fright there, otherwise both you and Flan will be off!"
This proclamation was followed by a small chuckle.
So really, I cant blame Ellen for not giving me any advice, she was too busy just controlling old George so as our horses would throw us over a cliff like something very easily thrown and possibly trampled. We both managed it alright however, and lunch was well earned.
Slightly ironic that the scariest part of the endeavor was Ellen's aunts driving. On the way home, she showed us how the cruise control worked, in a downpour of rain, swerving in and out of traffic while cursing drivers going under exactly 100km an hour.
And, of course, I shall probably have to do this all again.
In other news: Apparently people have played some soccer. Well done them, I say.
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