I Do Not Dance

I find it to be a wholly undignified endeavor. However, if I did dance I most surely would have been dancing all over the woods yesterday. Yesterday was Star Fire's first ride in the woods. Star Fire's father is Manteo, one of my most beautiful Corolla stallions. Her mother is a Chincoteague/mustang cross that is one of the prettiest mares that we have raised.

Her owner is Sarah Lin, a long time little rider and one of my favorite distractions in this world. (e.g. When I got home from Lido's funeral I realized that someone had slipped a cherry tomato into my suit pocket. I soon learned that Sarah Lin did it because, as she put it, she "wanted you to have something to smile about.") She is one of the stars of the DVD on mustang training that we produced several years ago.

She made no bones about the fact that she was nervous to be taking Star Fire on her first trail ride. On the other hand, I tried my best to cover the extreme tension that I felt. From the very beginning, when she was only about 4 or 5 years old, Sarah Lin trusted me and did exactly what I told her to do when riding. I feel more responsible for her safety than I do with some of the other kids because of that. Were she to get hurt, chances are that the injury would occur while she was doing something exactly the way that I told her to.

We saddled Star Fire and slipped the hackamore over her head. She took the number two position and fell in behind me. I had not ridden Holland much this week and he was more wide open than usual. He was keyed up and ready to move out. (I suspect that his mood was affected by the enormous hole that was burning through my stomach as we set out.)

We took a short jog--no problem. We rode by some heavy lumbering equipment--no problem. I let Holland gait on out for about a half of a mile. As I looked behind me I could see the filly moving her hips a bit from side to side with her front legs extending as if to reach out as far as each limb could go. She had not inherited Manteo's gait, but instead had one much prettier--the long smooth step of Red Feather. Sarah Lin was grinning and the fire in my stomach had just about burned itself out.

We were on a long straight stretch of the path. I had enough of a lead on her so that if Star Fire bolted I would be able to spin Holland to the left to block her in. I wanted to try everything but I did not want anything to go bad to ruin this perfect start for this wonderful young horse. I gritted my teeth a bit and opened Holland up into a canter. To my surprise, Star Fire gaited faster and faster but did not break into a canter. She looked calm and as relaxed as a ten year old trail horse. Just then I heard Sarah Lin snap in a firm voice, "CANTER!"

And the wonderful little horse did. No crow hop. No hesitation. No fear.

This first ride lasted nearly two hours. Two hours of utterly problem free trail riding for the little horse. If I was the kind of person to do such things, I would probably still be doing one of those Irish River Dances this morning.

(This shot of of Sarah Lin on one of last year's long rides.)