Chapter 7

Chapter 7
My nagging about Winnie got on Willie’s nerves. Finally, one day, she saddled up Winnie, just to shut me up. She thought that if I just saw the reality of this horse, I would abandon the idea. She rode Winnie and I rode Starlight. That seemed simple enough.


The ride was short. Winnie was excitable and just wanted to run. Willie was so worn out from Winnie’s constant pull on the reigns; she got off and walked the last block to home. There was just no controlling that horse.


Winnie was all lathered up from a short walk around the block. She strained continuously, against the reigns. It was such a struggle just to hold this horse down to a gentle walk. The fact is, I never did witness a gentle walk, with this horse.


No one had ever succeeded in getting a bit in Winnie’s mouth and resorted to using a hackamore. Usually a bit is used to apply pressure to the horses tongue, for control. A hackamore pinches from both sides of the nose, blocking off the wind. Sometimes, it’s the only way to control a horse as stubborn as Winnie was.


Winnie was wild about running. That’s all she wanted to do. No matter how hard and long the rider pulled back on those reigns, Winnie pushed to run. It was a non-stop battle just to hold her at a walk, which usually turned into a sideways canter.


This, of course, was no laughing matter. Winnie was one massive hunk of horseflesh. She stood 16 hands high and weighed over 1200 pounds. She was one big horse with muscles to go with it. She was, without a doubt, a beauty to behold. Winnie was tall enough, that to reach the stirrup, we had to find something to climb up onto. Don’t you know, Winnie took advantage of that, more than once.


Sometimes, she would stand there patiently, just until a foot pushed weight onto the saddle. Before the rider could get a good seat, she was off and running, taking her one chance to take control.


Sometimes, out of pure orneriness, she would wait just until that first foot was in the stirrup, then side step, leaving the rider stretched out in mid-air, doing the splits.


It was never a point of her not being trained but more like a mischievous child pulling a prank.
Winnie was a sweet and loving horse but she had one problem. She just didn’t understand a relaxing walk. To ride Winnie, was to fight her every step of the way or let her take her head and run. We joked that Winnie had two gears: Stop and Go.


I asked Willie, one day, “How can she keep going that way when she isn’t getting any air?”Willie shrugged her shoulders and said, “I have no idea. Sometimes I think she has a reserve tank, somewhere”.


It took several days for Willie to finally relinquished and let me mount Winnie. What a ride. Now I understood what Willie had tried to tell me. I was worn out just from holding back, all the way.
While riding along the highway, if Winnie saw another horse even a mile ahead of us, she had to pass that horse. She was blind to anything but passing that other horse. Truly, she was insane. I couldn’t help but imagine her on the track.


As time went by, Winnie became ‘my’ horse. There was a great friendship between us and we even spent time, out in the pasture, playing tag. Of course, when she tagged me, it was painful, as she would reach out and nip me in the rear. I learned that tight jeans were safer than loose pants.


It started when one day, I took both horses out to the pasture, to let them mow down the grass and spend time romping. As Winnie passed through the gate, I slapped her hard on the rump. She in turn, tossed her head, snorted, whipped around and came after me. I, of course, ran. She chased after me and nipped me on the seat of the pants, then suddenly jerked around and pretended to run from me. I chased after her and slapped her on the rump then ran off in the opposite direction. We had a new game. I remember a few times when I had to hide my jeans from my mother. She would have had a fit, to see the rip.


Winnie and I grew closer, and I began to understand how she thought and acted under different circumstances. It seemed to me, this was the most intelligent horse in the world. In fact, both horses had personality to spare.


Starlight scuffed his leg on something. We never did figure out how it happened. We dressed and bandaged his leg. Winnie spent the next few days, sniffing at his leg and then hanging her head over his neck. It was as though, she sympathized and was trying to comfort him.


Others told me things like, “Oh, Judy. You sure can read a lot into a horse!” To which I would reply, “It’s not my imagination. I see it with my own eyes. You never pay attention, do you?”


Most of the summer was spent with Willie and me off on adventures by horseback: sometimes riding down to the river. Sometimes we went riding all around the area, collecting other girls and their horses, to join the crowd.


One particular day, we had ridden the 2 miles to our friend’s house to invite her to come along. She had a gorgeous Buckskin stallion.


The last thing on our minds was that Winnie was in heat so we were in for quite an eventful afternoon. Imagine how embarrassed a bunch of teenaged girls were, when the stallion mounted Winnie with me on her. I screamed, “Hey! Get off me! Hey! Hey!” as a horse hoof knocked against the back of my head.


There’s nothing like a bunch of silly girls. It took three mountings, to convince us this was not the day for a ride with the neighbor. To make matters worse, these scenes all took place in full view of rush hour traffic, traveling down the highway.


One of the girls, at our school, had a Shetland pony that she insisted no one could ride. We got into an argument one day, about the possibility of a Shetland pony being such a twit. I said, “Are you kidding me? I mean, you’re feet are still on the ground! What’s so impossible about that?” Everybody was laughing and so you know, I had to take my turn at it.


The next day, after school, the bet was on. I only had $2 but I put it up for grabs, if I couldn’t ride that tiny little pony. About five of us girls, all went straight to Shelly’s back yard, where she kept this little pony. He sure looked docile enough.


With nothing more than a bridle, I straddled that pony. Both my feet were on the ground, I still had clearance between his back and me. I just stood there a second and then turned to say something to the girls, when all of a sudden I was face down on the ground, 3 feet in front of this little pony. “How did that happen?”


I got up, dusted myself off and turned around to stare at that ‘short piece of nothing’, grazing off a patch of grass. “What the….” Naturally, you know how it goes; I had to run that one through again, if for no other reason than to find out what had happened the first time.


I straddled that little stinker again. Both feet were still firmly on the ground. I slowly lowered my weight onto this pony’s back. Just as I was seated, that little power-packed dynamo, raised up his rear so hard, it jet propelled me out and over his head again. A third try and I gave up the $2 and walked away, scratching my head.