Today I rode a horse into the woods. He has not been tacked up since October. He was jittery and tense, strong in my hands and ultra-sensitive to my leg. He has gone a bit wild, this winter, whereas I've gone the opposite. I have drawn into the comforts of my warm home. I haven't been out in the woods on horseback all winter because I am comfortable indoors, and, to be honest, I'm afraid of what I might encounter. Horses don't like to see moose -- first their ears prick in the direction of the animal, before I can even see it. Then they stop completely and stand stalk still, their head up, eyes wide, nostrils flaring, all of the senses trying to determine the exact cause for alarm. Their bodies tense. By the time the moose is visible, they've already decided their instincts were correct, and they usually choose that favourite response of theirs: flight. And I happen to know there's a moose and her calf living somewhere near my house. Plus what sounds in the night like hundreds of coyotes.
Nevertheless: today, my horse and I went into the woods. First we rode out onto the frozen lake. Right to the middle of it, where we stood and looked at the expanse of white running southeast until it blurred into the blue-grey treeline and curved around the bend out of sight. I have never stood in the centre of a frozen lake before. Now I can't imagine why not. Afterwards, we turned back into the forest and followed a trail worn down in the snow by paw prints. I can't be sure it wasn't made that way by our own dogs, but I'm fairly certain this was a well-travelled coyote route, as I often hear them howling from this direction. Eventually it fizzled out, so we had to blaze our own trail through the bare, spindly bushes. We finally emerged into the big field, where we had to wade through three-foot snowdrifts. I am lucky to own a horse so large as Sebastian. I always know he'll make it through.
Afterwards, I was sore. My back, shoulders and arms ache from the effort it takes to hold back an excited horse for an hour's romp through wilderness and countryside. But it felt good. Familiar. I know he will be more manageable each time I ride him. By spring we'll be galloping unconcerned through our back pasture. Down the lane that winds through meadow and forest, all the way to the lake.
For now, this afternoon was just one resolution achieved.
Frozen lakes are cool! It's a place you could never stand in the summer. Usually...I've heard you talk about how that lake lacks water, so maybe you could stand in it if you really wanted. :|
ReplyDeleteYeah, it's only a couple of feet deep. Unfortunately, I would sink into the mud and die, though! Once I rode too close to the edge and Sebastian sunk up to his knees/hocks! So you couldn't walk out to the middle, which is too bad.
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