The Geldings

We had our first ride on the new horses on March 5, 2007, allowing them a month to acclimate to their new home. Worth, of course, was with us on Crazy Alice; our friend Mike joined along on Sunday. It was a chilly day with a blustery wind and we decided to ride into Tennessee. After a frisky start in our pasture, the horses settled down as we crossed over Buck Mountain. The day was perfect to test their demeanor, which proved to be satisfactory. The trail goes along some pretty high ridges where the wind is always worse, but the horses handled themselves quite well.

After our first ride, Danny decided to call his horse “Cadillac” because he was such a smooth ride. (I can’t help but call him “Punkin” because of his over-sized head and orangish color.) It took me a while to settle on “Dooly” for mine, representing the county in Georgia from which I came.
A perk to my new job is that I am always home when Danny has a rare day off. He had been wanting to go to an equipment sale in Tennessee and decided to do so on March 8. Worth and I decided we would enjoy the blue sky and go for one of our solo rides, usually discussing some of our struggles in life. We went again on the same trail to Tennessee and had a splendid time. A few days and rides later, I decided to enjoy yet another amazing blue sky and take Dooly for a short ride. On March 13, I experienced my first horse wreck!

Mac, the horse trader, had his farmhands ride Dooly several times prior to when we picked the horses up to bring home. He reported that he liked to “kick out” when starting to lope. I asked Danny what that meant, and he said that he probably liked to buck a little and resist the run. I more clearly understood the term that day! We were on our way back from a pleasant ride when Dooly illustrated his lovely habit. I was trying to make him walk up the road to his barn mates, but he had another idea in mind. We were rounding the first uphill curve when he simultaneously kicked out his back legs, therefore tossing me into the ditch. I thought I fell off because the saddle was loose, so I tightened it and remounted. Four more steps uphill and he started to run again, and kick out again. I jerked the left rein hard, trying to cut him to the left. His response to that maneuver was not to stop but to twist his body as he kicked his back legs. The twisting motion in conjunction with the kicking resulted in a catapult toss of me over his head onto our freshly scraped gravel road. My fall was broken by my face and right forearm. When I came to my senses, I realized Dooly had fled uphill to the barn, leaving me a nice walk home. It was one of the first times I walked our road without having to stop for breath. I was furious, stomping most of the way, arriving to see him standing at the barn gate. I gave him a few slaps of the reins, but not many for I was uncertain if he realized why I was punishing him. I tied him to a tree with his saddle still on as I cleaned myself up and tended to my scratches.
The soreness and bruises set in within hours. After work, Worth came by to check on me after hearing the news of my first crash. With a giggle, he said I’d be okay. My ribs were very bruised for a couple weeks, diminishing a few of my chores with my limited mobility. Luckily, I happened to have purple eyeshadow to make my eyes match making my bruise less noticeable. The road rash on my face faded quickly but the pain in my right hand took time to subside.
I confessed to one person, my brother, about my accident, trying to keep it from my mother who tends to worry more than necessary about me. She discovered my secret on Easter Sunday. While eating a fine brotherhood breakfast at the sunrise service, a friend of the family who has horses came up to me exclaiming that my face sure did heal well after she’d heard it took the brunt of my horse wreck! My mom was not very pleased with her little girl. News apparently travels through cotton fields as quickly as it does down Elk River!

A couple weeks after the wreck, I felt up to riding again. We were going back on the same trail yet again, when Dooly kicked me all the way up our pasture. All the guys got a good laugh as I held on with all my might. After a few more kicks, I traded horses with Danny so he could teach Dooly some manners. I started riding him again a couple months later, so far so good. I still see his legs kick out when he’s sprinting across the pasture, but I am determined to break him of the habit one day.