Otherwise known as You Shoulda Known Better.
So y’all know I have this gorgeous arab-saddlebred, Kona, right?
(I am thoroughly convinced that she’s actually a National Show Horse, but have been unsuccessful in finding her history – just thought I’d throw that out there for all you riders who might know of a NSH horse with a weird scar)
Knowing fully that she she can play the arab card at any chosen moment, I usually try new things with care.
And since Mr. Daddy hasn’t yet allowed me to replace my treeless saddle (he calls it a deathtrap for some reason…?!?), I hopped onto my girl bareback just before sunset today.
I know I’m not the only chick who rides an arab in just a halter and leadrope, right? Or else y’all aren’t admitting how many times you end up with some unplanned maneuvers?
So the girl decides to head toward the front pasture. Except that it was a pain climbing onto her bareback and I wasn’t about to dismount to open the gate to let her in.
Seeing her eagerly approach the fence, then line herself perfectly with the latch made me reconsider.
You’re saying it already, aren’t you? GET OFF THE HORSE RACH, GET OFF THE HORSE.
A sudden burst of illogical bravado and I carefully inched sideways and downward to unlatch that puppy while clinging to her back. (Well, as Bill calls it, I made a fist with my butt cheek. And that phrase makes me laugh out loud every time I see it in print).
I spoke nonstop to her in my calm and firm don’t you dare voice.
And all was well… she didn’t move an inch.
I gave the gate a shove. And well, that gate is BIG.
Something like this:
And as I shoved, the gate budged a mere foot.
I saw Kona’s ears prick forward, and somehow I just knew.
My impatient little mare decided that she was going to push her way through. Which would have been fine, except for a silly little habit of wanting to get through any tight space as quickly as possible, then turn around and look at it.
Yep, you called it.
She squeezed through in two seconds flat, then set another speed record as she spun around to look at the gate.
We have a name for that when we ask for it, it’s “aaaand REVERSE”.
Other people call it a spin.
Whatever the case, I didn’t ask for it.
But what ensued was similar to this particular “emergency dismount”:
Except I broke my fall by bouncing off the top of the gate with my ribcage. Then somehow scraping my entire calf up on the rest of the way down.
I’ll spare you the pictures – let’s just say that the bruises to my leg are nowhere near the bruises to my ego.
Mr. Daddy: “Don’t try to open gates bareback”.