How I Could Have Died

It was a warm mid-september day and I was preparing to go horseback riding for the very first time. I was celebrating my bestfriend’s birthday with her family and a couple other friends. On the ride over you could feel the jitters in the air and the excitement to try something new. We arrived to Bobby’s Ranch in Westford MA and settled on petting some of the other animals. It was all very bizarre, almost movie-like. We joked around about rookie mistakes and wondered how many of us were going to fall under it’s trap. The ride was scheduled to be an hour long, through the woods and in an orderly fashion. I got on top of a platform and was instructed on how to get up on the saddle and how to use the reins to guide the horse. The birthday girl

I ran and ran till the shouts of the men died down. I swung the door of the stables with so much force the hinges all most came of. I sank to the floor and cried my eyes out, for today I had lost a best friend. I continued sobbing until the rustling and pattering of little feet could be heard. One of the puppies Lennie cared for was peeking from behind the hay. As I stared at the little guy, I remembered how excited Lennie was to care for the puppies. He even stayed in the barn with them to watch over them. I smiled as I reminded myself of the kind, caring person he was. All he wanted to do was to tend the rabbits. I still cannot believe I killed him, but Slim was right if I hadn’t done it he would have been killed by Curley, who wouldn’t have had any mercy on him. As much as I wish Lennie were alive right now, next to me, I know it's for the best. He couldn’t have gone on living like the way he was. He would live a life without ever remembering people important to him and he would have to move all the time because he couldn’t control his strength. I wouldn’t want a life like that for

I was patiently waiting while admiring my mooshum in his veteran’s uniform with his medals hanging off his blazer glissading in the sun, I was proud to be his granddaughter. While I was waiting I had spotted a horse coral to my right and was eager to go explore. I made a split decision knowing I was going to miss grand entry so I quickly ran to the coral hoping to ride one of the horses with no experience what’s so ever. I then hopped on the horse with a smile from ear to ear feeling proud and filled with

My favorite memory with my horse Shadow is when we qualified for state. It was really exciting to go down to the state fair and ride in the coliseum. The first year we went down to the state fair it wasn't the best year since it was our first time. This year we did much better and even got a ribbon. It's fun to do 4-H with my horse because I can ride them and compete. Last year my mom got a new horse named Tanner. Tanner was mom's shooting horse and mom said I couldn't ride him. When I started riding Tanner I wanted him to become my game horse like Shadow. When my mom had her accident at Two Harbours she couldn't ride anymore. Since then, Tanner has become my horse and I am working on training him to become become a game horse. I don't know what I would do without my horses. My mom said that when I got home from China and we got to the house, my mom went out to see one of her horses. I was little when we were there and I reached out and touched the horse. Since then I have had a connection with the

¨Hopefully I get a midget horse¨ I thought as we pulled into the ranch. As I opened the car door, I heard the thunderous THUMP THUMP of horses hooves. ¨Oh God¨ I thought as my stomach turned into a knotted ball. Soon we were greeted by one of the ranch hands and were taken to a dinky shed to get suited up and sign waivers. Then came saddling time. We were taken to the horse pen where we were greeted by the stench of horse manure. I spied out a smaller horse around five to six feet tall and hoped to get that one as my horse. Shure enough my grandma got that horse as she is the shortest. I spied out yet another horse on the shorter side and hoped to get that one. My turn to get saddled came next and sure enough, with my luck, I get the second

Every day I would lug myself out of my bed while my alarm clock flashed 5:30 AM in bright red. I would forage though my dresser for a pair of worn out Wranglers, which I would match with an old button down shirt. I would slink down the stairs and out into the garage where I kept my aged boots and hat. I would restlessly pull the black square-toed boots over my tried feet and position the old dusty brown cowgirl hat on my head before I made my way to the barn. When I got to the barn I would gather up the eight main horses and lead them into the barn three at a time, and into their stalls. While the horses were preoccupied with their morning grain and hay, I would try to groom the young, untamed horses without getting my face kicked in. Once, they finished their meal I would lead them out to the pulling fence that was made out of large log telephone poles. The pulling fence was the site where these young horses would learn some hard life lessons. When I had fed all the older horses I would move on to the north pasture and gather up the colts and yearlings. I would repeat the same feeding and grooming regimen with them. All in all before I had my own breakfast, I would have seventeen horses curried, fed and tethered to the fence of the

We left Garberville, CA at 5 a.m. We knew it would be a long haul ahead of us. I slept on the floorboard of the back seat of Holly’s truck for the first couple of hours. Holly was a funny outgoing and straight to the point person. Along with us were my Mom and Dad, Dylan(Holly’s husband) and there two kids Ashley and Clayton. Dylan was a tall red head that is always the life of the party. Ashley was a short dirty blonde girl that loves her horses. And Clayton, clayton was just like his dad a big built red hair with blue eyes and super outgoing. Finally were my parents. My Mom and Dad we both very active outgoing people who got along great with Dylan and Holly and their kids so we knew it was going to be a fun week in Winnemucca. We

It was just another beautiful day at the stables. I was 10 years old at the time. My younger sister Kelsey and I were scheduled to have our usual horse riding lesson that day. However, we were completely unaware that our ordinary afternoon would soon take a turn towards disaster. The lesson started with us warming up and taking turns going over a series of jumps. But in an instant, Kelsey’s horse spooked and suddenly my 6 year old sister was desperately clinging to a 1,000 pound mare that was galloping out of control. I watched the flurry of hoofs and sand in shock as my sister clung to the mane that clearly could not support her weight. Time seemed to slow down in that moment as I helplessly watched her slide from the saddle, to the front

It was a bright and crisp day in Texas. Nearby whips cracked and hooves crunched over the gravel path. I was sitting a top Bucky, a beautiful buckskin pony whom I loved. It was first competition since I sprained my back one year ago.

One terribly chilly night Daisy’s father went outside to check on the horse. This was his daily routine. He would refill the water, stock the food and brush the horse's mane. When he was around the horse, he always felt a sense of safety and warmth, but tonight things were different. He came upon the barn and he saw her. She was laying on the ground stiff. She was

In the dusk of a summer Saturday evening, a trickle of light streams through the overhead leaves. One particular horse poses beneath a canopy of towering Adirondack oaks, most of which are only rivaled by the antique racetrack in age. Only a few fans are all that remains of the crowd that adorned the grandstand the hour before, with dreams to witness history. The few that linger lean enthusiastically over the barn barricade that had once struggled to restrain the appreciative masses and masses, only for the opportunity to catch a glimpse of this particular thoroughbred in the distance. But this horse didn’t win today. Today’s victor grazed out of his stall rows down, seemingly unnoticed. The sky, once a brilliant blue, has turned darker with

As I bounced along in the saddle, holding onto Dogger as if my life depended on it, he pristinely sat perched upon the saddle with ease as if we weren’t galloping at lightning speed across the field. The wind blew across my face as I pondered how to tell Dr. Liveseys all that had happened that night. About midnight, while the moon was straight up above us, I could see the shadow of the other men who had accompanied Dogger in his rescuing of me and my mother. I looked to my right and recognized the shopkeeper Mr. Tressler; I gave him a friendly wave and he nodded in return. I looked over to my left and was surprised to see a chestnut colored horse carrying the newest inhabitant of our town, a man who had identified himself as Barry. I looked

The howling of coyotes, sound of heavy horse hooves on packed dirt, and the accelerated breathe of the horse and myself were the only sounds I could hear as we bolted through the meadow. As I tried to avoid every hole and uneven patch of ground, Marty, my horse, kept his eye on the predators through the trees. We trusted each other, took care of each other, and our bond was built on trust.

As the evening fell, the dark blue night rose up across the sky. I laid under the stars in my back yard, as I do every night with my dog Mabel. Mabel was approaching her old ages but she was a great listener. Usually I tell her about my day or fairy tales, tonight I told her about my mom. My mother passed away in a car accident when I was only a baby, she was the most loving person I knew and I miss her everyday, and sometimes it helps to talk about her. As I lay talking curled up next to mabel I could feel my eyes getting heavier and heavier as the warm summer breeze brushed past my face.

The sound of dogs barking were replaced by late night howls from coyotes. My backyard had turned from a flat slab of grass to a forest filled with countless hidden wonders. In no time my sister’s horse and a horse of my own had taken up residence in one of our barns. My five-year old self’s dreams of one day owning a pony had been fulfilled. That dream had been replaced with countless hours spent cleaning dirty stalls, feeding horses, baling hay, and of course riding. By age ten I could carry around hay bales easier than our neighbor’s two teenage boys.