Personal Narrative : Flying On A Horse

I watched as the flashes of orange lights from cars raced past me through the city, and knew there were no signs of any possibilities that there would be a place to keep a horse. I lived in northern Virginia near Washington D.C., where the city was filled with gigantic, tall office buildings with gray and gloomy windows. I could smell the gasoline and smoke coming from the cars’ exhaust. I felt the cool breeze as cars whipped past me, and the air tasted like millions of littered cigarettes on the side of the road. However, there were some horse stables, but they were far away, and the payment required for horseback riding lessons was a ridiculously large price. Of course, that never stopped me from continuously asking

fun with and enjoy your horse. To start you should have your horse groomed and in the cross ties.

After the grown-ups had gone to bed, Tommy and I shifted the Buick into neutral, pushed it down the driveway and out of earshot, started the engine and toured the neighborhood. The sheer difficulty of horsemanship can be illustrated by what happened to Tommy and me next. Nothing. We maneuvered the car home, turned it off and rolled it back up the driveway. (We were raised in the blessedly flat Midwest.) During our foray the Buick’s speedometer reached 30. But 30 miles per hour is a full gallop on a horse. Delete what you’ve seen of horse riding in movies. Possibly a kid who’d never been on a horse could ride at a gallop without killing himself. Possibly one of the Jonas Brothers could land an F-14 on a carrier deck.

I took a deep breath as I walked my horse into the Greeley Stampede Arena. I told myself just to "relax." I loped a circle around the arena to make sure that my horse was warmed up and ready to go. He was ready but I was starting to get nervous. I stopped in front of the roping box to put my piggin' string in my mouth. I looked at my calf in the chute to make sure that it was number 33, which was one of the best calves out of the whole set. It was, and I was ready to ride into the box and rope my calf, or attempt to rope my calf. I began to get more nervous, more nervous than I ever had been at a rodeo.

Leading the horse to the adjoining pasture, Jackson buttoned his coat, put on his gloves, pulled his stocking hat over his ears and put his cowboy hat over the top Since it was March and there was still a good bit of snow on the ground, he didn’t intend to go far, it was too cold for that. All he wanted was to get the feel of the horse and see how well he responded to him as a rider. For his first ride, he already had quite the audience on the other side of the fence. He mounted the horse and had quite the audience on the other side of the fence for his first ride. Taking the reins, he mounted his horse and queued him into a walk using his voice and legs. Once they were going he put the horse through his paces, first at a trot and then a full

There is a trail down the road in Delaware where I enjoy taking my dog for a walk. It is a beautiful, five-mile loop traversing cornfields, thick patches of forest, steep hills and flowing streams; a wonderful place to escape the hustle and bustle of the suburban lifestyle and spend some time amongst the peacefulness of nature. It is not a complete escape, however, for I am not the only person that knows of the trail- it seems to also be a favorite of horseback riders. Often times I will encounter a rider or two at some point during my walk and, without fail, I will be in awe of the size and majesty of the horse. What an incredible, gentle beast it is. Standing next to a horse, you cannot help but gawk at the bulging, toned muscles and long, agile legs. It is truly an athlete with a rare combination of strength and speed. Yet, they are gentle and kind and have therefore been joined at the hip with humans; today, nearly all horses have been domesticated. So I find myself

“The horses are approaching the starting gate for the first race of the day,” Johnson’s voice booms from a mile away, and we runners eye each other a bit, maybe do a little last stretching.

Seven nights ago I arrived at Red Dillon’s homestead. Before sleeping that night I dined on a bowl of red chili and a cup of coffee while Red Dillon went over the agreement, he made with the agent from the reservation. After Red finished reviewing the agreement he urged me to have some more food to prepare for tomorrow's bronc riding lesson. That next day I only managed to ride two horses and before being thrown five times, but I learned how to ride with skill. Each horse has a pattern and I can gauge their pattern to find my timing and rhythm to control the broncs. By the end of the week I managed to ride two horses in succession to a complete standstill and I felt accomplished, although Red immediately set up the corral after

Everybody’s eyes were on me as if I was the only living thing for miles. Silence filled the air of the huge coliseum, so quiet that you could hear breathes of each individual. There were hundreds of people sitting in the stands. Even better there were thousands of people watching on the live web cam. It was a cool October morning, and the sun was shining brightly. I woke up and could hear the birds chirping, like they were sending me a sign that it was going to be a great day. The sun was not strong enough to beat the brisk air which was blowing. I had not slept well that night, nor any night that week actually. After all I was about to be showing at the largest single breed horse show in the world, the Quarter Horse Congress. I had been practicing that entire year for this very moment. I literally suffered through blood, sweat, and tears. Nothing in the entire world could stop me at this point. Even if there was a zombie apocalypse, I would slay them all just to have this very

The abuse that the Tennessee Walking horses are forced to endure is completely unnecessary. Soring techniques are used to achieve an extremely unnatural gait. This desired gait is the

The clip clop of hooves echoed through the desert. Fear pulsed through my veins. The horse was massive, weighing in at over two tons and easily buck me off where I could easily be trampled be the others behind me. I quickly cleared my head of that idea. Starting to get accustomed to the relatively straight and flat trail I began to loosen up.The trail began at first being primarily flat, but then came the ditch. This ditch had taken me by surprise as my fear was just beginning to truly diminish. As the ditch was mainly soft sand my horse had no traction and quickly sped down the hill. What comes down must come up. As my horse slowly climbed the steep embankment I began to saddle ever closer to being bucked off. Thankfully, I never fell off, barely. The trail was mainly flat with few sharp turns after that. Now that it was smooth again and that I started to get comfortable with my horse I had my first opportunity to take in the view. It was no Grand Canyon, but it was exceptional enough for me. Natures reign became more apparent as we progressed down the trail and an abundance of wildlife came to view. I was about to be taken by surprise again. After about ten minutes of smooth riding we reached a gait. The guide told me to go through the gate and the others would follow. Now it was only me and Quiggly, no one to help if anything went awry. I took it slow and steady and thankfully he followed suit. After

I approached the spirited horse with confidence because I was experienced with these types of shows in which all the riders are assigned a random horse to ride. I could sense his tension as soon as I was in the saddle. He furiously pawed the ground and shifted his weight around. Before I knew it, we entered the arena. Almost immediately he began prancing like a deer around the ring, my fear growing with every misstep he took. I desperately looked to my coach for advice, but there was nothing she could do. It was between him and me and he knew he was in control. The spectators lining the outside of the arena fell into an eerie silence each time we passed by. I was masquerading, pretending I had him under control while the situation continued to worsen. In my mind years passed before the judge finally called for all of the riders to line up in the middle of the arena. As we turned to line up, he stopped. I convinced him to take one reluctant step forward before he reared up onto his hind legs. He rose up higher and higher, turning into a skyscraper towering over all others in the arena. Then, everything went quiet. I frantically grabbed for his white mane, trying to maintain my balance, but to no avail. We both fell backwards, all two thousand pounds of his body crushing

Applying my leg, we stepped into the trot. I felt the movement of the trot through my knees and into my heels. It was nice to have such a smooth movement to follow.

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

The ideal time to ride came rolling around at approximately six o’clock, when a chilly breeze picked up. Unprepared and starting to shiver, my older sister notified us that she was going to grab her coat from the house. She left my younger sister and I to deal with the horses which was easy, or so we thought that it was. Assuming that it was going to be an effortless task, I took my attention gradually away from the horses, and commenced a conversation with my sister. Totally forgetting about what I was supposed to be doing, I did not perceive that Dexter spooked and pulled back on the board that he was attached to. Turning around and seeing him rear up on his hind feet, shocked me and I froze. My mind went blank for a second, and when it came back, Dexter was darting so rapidly you would assume a bear was chasing him. I could see the fear in his eyes. He was terrified of the post he was dragging behind him. Not knowing what to do, I immediately yelled at the top of my lungs for my older sister. Never in my life has my heart beated so fast. Freaking out, panicking, stressing out, I attempted to grab Dexter’s lead rope, but him being a thoroughbred caused an issue. He was too quick for me to even get near him. I knew I had to something to calm him down, I didn’t want him to get hurt. This horse means the world to my sister, and I want to slow him down