It was very fortunate for my sister and me that we lived on some acreage in a rural area. This allowed us a lot of opportunity for healthy outdoor play. Granted some of this healthy play involved skinned knees, bruises and insect bites, but you have to take the bad with the good in these instances. The best thing about where we lived is when the need to have a horse became overwhelming in us, at least the issue of having enough room for a horse was not on the table. Convincing our parents that horse ownership was essential was however a daunting task.
We were avid horseback riding fans which was frustrating because we were not often offered the opportunity to ride. This made us act like raging maniacs whenever the slightest chance of being near horses was available. My sister however was the one who 'got us' a horse of our very own. She did it by acting very mature and offering a point by point plan of horse ownership to my parents. Never before had she gone after a goal more relentlessly than this one. Every objection they voiced she calmly and in a matter of fact way countered with a solution. I think they gave in due to the shock of seeing her so rational. My sister was many things, talented, intelligent, and vocal, but she was also prone to hystrionics and overly dramatic displays. Seeing her rationally and logically approach a problem without all the emotional whirlwind of her usual character broke their minds and they gave in. "Okay," they said, "you can get a horse."
So we went horse shopping, which amounted to us looking in the classifieds of the local paper. Our one drawback was that we had only $100 to spend, so we were looking for a very special horse. A very, very cheap horse. We found one by the second week of our quest. It seems this rancher had his old saddle horse available for sale. He no longer wanted to use her for work as she was 22 years old and sway back He liked the idea of her going to some kids to live out the rest of her life taking it easy with us.
He arrived with her in the back of an open topped trailer. As soon as he got out she began to back up into the rope that covered the end of the trailer. She knew how to work and was ready to get out of that trailer and down to business. She was a lovely light buckskin, tan body with black legs, mane and tail. She was very tall at 16 hands, but that was not the only size to her. She had a huge rounded 'grass' belly and was quite swayback. Her name was Daisy. Once out of the trailer Daisy set to grazing right away. She was totally unconcerned about us and was the most placid creature I had ever met.
We loved her from the moment we first saw her. The rancher took the time to teach us how to saddle and bridle her and then we set off for our first ride with my sister in front and me behind. Heaven can only hope to hold such magic as that moment for us. After our first ride we took off her tack, combed her and fed her and introduced her to her stable which was located in the shed at the back of the barn.
Thus our life with Daisy began. She was very patient with us and would let us do practically anything. She was so calm I could handle her easily by myself even though I was only 10 years old and skinny as a rail. One of my favorite things to do was to 'Indian' mount her. This meant she was bare backed and I would reach up to her mane and swing myself sideways up onto her back. The thing was with her being 16 hands high most times I would only make it up about half way. I would then struggle clinging to her neck as I worked my way up onto her back. My mother watched me from the window as I did this once and she said Daisy would just plant her feet wide and wait very patiently while I clambered my non-athletic way onto her. She would only move once I was securely on her back.
However, when we were in the saddle, Daisy was not as careful with us. Once we were riding in one of the many empty fields that surrounded our land. The field was overgrown with tall weeds and there were narrow pathways the horses could travel on. My sister was riding up front and I was on back. My sister decided to bring Daisy up to a trot, which was one of my most dreaded gaits since it would bounce me up and down like a sack of potatoes. My seat was actually behind the saddle since the back of the western saddle had a hard ridge. As Daisy began to trot she veered ever so slightly to the left. I was clinging to the waist of my sister and began to tilt to the right. Since I was behind the saddle there was nothing for me to push against to right myself. My feet were not in the stirrups and with my arms around my sister my tilt began to pull her sideways as well. In slow motion, but inexorably we slid out of the saddle. As we began to fall, my foot made contact with Daisy's flank and she leaped forward, hastening our plummet to the earth. We fell hard with my sister landing slightly on top of me.
Daisy took off and ran back to the barn without a care in the world for us. In her mind if we were so incompetent we fell out of the saddle it wasn't her fault, so she didn't have to stick around. My sister was up immediately and yelling at me. "Why did you pull me off? What is wrong with you? If you are going to fall then just let go and don't bring me with you!" All though her diatribe I just sat there gasping for air. This was my first experience with the 'wind' being knocked out of me, which is a very descriptive way of saying I could not breathe. I sat there just trying to inhale for what seemed like several minutes until my body began to work again. My sister did not wait around for me or pay me any attention. She ran after Daisy. After a while I was able to stand and walk and thankfully breathe. My sister never let me live it down and always brought up how I kicked Daisy in the flanks. "You could have at least not kicked poor Daisy when you were being such a klutz," she would chastise me about a million times a day.
Daisy didn't hold it against me and continued to be as patient and loving with me as long as she wasn't wearing a saddle. In her mind saddles meant work and work had special rules. When I was in the saddle I was her boss and I had to act like the boss. When I was bareback we were friends and friends get treated differently than bosses. I learned a lot from Daisy. I learned how to clean a horses hooves. How to make them breathe out by bumping their side when you saddle them so you can get the strap tight enough. I learned from her example that when weird things are happening it is best just to plant your feet and be patient. I learned that when you are working hard and things go wrong and the boss just leaves then the best thing for you to do is just head home. It will all sort itself out.
P.S. The picture at the top is not Daisy but looks remarkably like her. I was unable to find my pictures of her yet and will have to update this when I find them. Just add a huge belly and several more inches to the height of that horse and you will have the spitting image of Daisy.
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