One summer day my sister, Caterina, my mother and I hauled our horses to Bullard’s Beach for a trail ride. I brought my black barrel mare, Kahlua, a Quarter Horse with a little Thoroughbred blood (though at times she'd be so nervous you'd think she had a lot). She loved to run, her favorite part of a barrel race was the mad dash home and it wasn't uncommon for her to speed up when asked to slow down. I hadn't owned her for a long time, but her distrust of humans was already apparent to me. I was hoping this beach ride would help her settle down and show her that she could relax, that she didn't always have to be fidgeting, fighting, and dancing around in anticipation.
As I rode her out onto the beach, there was a slight breeze, salty with an exhilarating chill. Kahlua snorted and tossed her head. I gave her a little rein and she began trotting across the damp sand, her iron shod hooves leaving little crescents in her wake. Caterina was on her big Paint gelding, Teko, pulled up beside me and we trotted ahead. My mom and Mo, her gray Arab mare, lagged behind. Kahlua stepped onto the sand that glistened where a wave had been a moment before. The wave made a low whooshing sound as it receded back into the sea. Another wave rolled up onto the sand in its place. She lowered her head, and snorted at the churning water then backed away. I let her investigate this strange new thing, and after a few moments of dancing back and forth with the rippling sea, she stepped into the water. We trotted in the shallow waves, her hooves plunking into the sea foam and splashing it up onto my boots.
Then, Kahlua shied. A wave had caught her unaware and she jumped away at an angle and threw herself off balance. I could feel her panic, scrambling to recover. She landed on my leg with a thud and then she lurched up as the wave soaked me. I got up to catch her. She was clearly shaken, nervous, trotting around with her reins dangling dangerously close to her hooves. I tried to reach her, but it was too late. Her reins-- one continuous piece of leather-- touched the ground and she stepped through them with her left leg. I watched in horror as she reared up and flipped over backwards, a thousand pounds of horse thrashing madly and flinging sand all over. She righted herself and began hopping wildly on three legs with her neck arched down to her knee. She ripped her head violently side-to-side, causing the metal buckles to clank and the leather to stretch, but the bridle did not give way.
"Be careful!'', my mom yelled out to me. Caterina kept Teko calm and a safe distance away. I knew horses had been known to break their necks struggling like this. “Easy girl, It's OK, just let me help you, OK? Whoa now. . .'' I kept talking to her in a soothing voice, masking my own fear, to calm her. Even if horses can't understand what you are saying, they sometimes act like it. She stopped thrashing as I approached. Her eyes were wide, nostrils trembling; she looked like a coiled spring that could snap at any moment. I slowly crept toward her keeping my body away from her legs in case she panicked. I was worried she might start struggling again and crush me. I kept talking to her—“Easy girl, whoa, easy. . .'' I reached out and stroked her neck; it was taut with fear but she stayed perfectly still for me for once in her life. I couldn't release the reins. I couldn't pull the bridle over her head because of the pressure on it. “Easy girl. You’re being a good girl.'' She waited in a strain, kneeling in the sand, her leg still bizarrely attached to her face, as I worked the leather through the buckle. I was thrilled in a strange way. Terrified for her, but thrilled with her for trusting me.
I gently pulled at the buckle near her cheek. The bridle fell from her face; she was free, and I stepped back. She lurched forward and took off running. She seemed rattled, but to my relief, uninjured. I shook the sand from the bridle and walked toward her. She was flying through the sand leaving deep hoof prints like little craters. For a moment I thought she would lead me on a chase, but she turned around and trotted back toward me and placed her head into my hands, ready to go home.
http://ultimatehorsesite.com/fun/stories.html
By Annamaria Tadlock (Written for a college class)
