Stars in the bright blue sky

With O’Reiley just 15 minutes away, I thought for sure I’d get a lot of lessons on riding. I got a few here and there. But for the most part, I was learning more about the other end of the business.

The lessons were easy and well rehearsed. How to scoop up the poop, clean the water trough, catch the horse, buy, load and unload tons of hay, brushing, hoof picking, managing muddy pastures, etc. Lessons learned:
(1) tack is not reversible. The horse really looks funny and snorts at you when the halter is done wrong. Solution: Practice, practice practice.
(2) a horse will fill its lungs and inflate his torso so that your seemingly set saddle will eventually find itself upside down on its belly. Solution: let Melissa ride O’Reiley first.
(3) a horse that doesn’t want to be caught in open pasture, is a futile chase. Solution: operand conditioning; shake the grain bucket and think like a horse. One time, O’Reiley did not want to come to the barn because he was out socializing with the mules. I volunteered to get him. With halter in hand, I crossed the pasture and headed straight to the closest mule. I reached over the fence and offered him O’Reiley’s treat. I begged the gentle mule to be excused then headed to a now stunned horse. Caught him, haltered him and led him to the barn. Melissa said I was a natural.

Of course, after hours of labor, there were actual riding lessons. The biggest lesson, the hardest to learn, was not how to ride … it was how to fall. Riding lessons were a controlled exercise. Melissa was usually at the other end of the longe line while I practiced what she was telling me to do. To prepare for the eventual fall, all I had was this sage advice: (1) kick off the stirrups, (2) get away from the horse’s feet, etc. Finally, one is supposed to get back on the horse after a fall. How ridiculous is that?

All these lessons were rushing though my brain on my first un-tethered ride. I pointed O’Reiley towards the path. He kindly made me think I led him. We went down towards the creek, then up the rise towards his gossip fence. This is the same fence along which he races the mules. All was well until I tried to turn him for the barn. O’Reiley raised and turned his head to look at me squarely. He gave me one look as if to say, “Really?” “Really”, I thought, shaking the slack reins close to my chest. The next shake of the reins accelerated him towards a gallop. Perhaps I could get him to whoa, but not. Within the first two or three transitional gaits, I knew to rack up the falling advice and put it to good use.

I kicked off the stirrups and felt a launch sideways and upwards. In a moment I was on my back seeing stars in broad daylight. A quick self check and a slow rolling rise brought O’Reiley into view about 50 yards away. He had kept going but curved his head around to look at me like, “What are you doing down there?” I made it back to the barn after responding. “I’m OK!” to Melissa’s hail. To my horror I was told, “You gotta get back on!” I did, but very quickly got off. It was a lesson felt for the next two or three days.

A good fall is one which you can walk away from in one piece.

Engaged

Six months after we first met, Melissa and I were engaged. At once, we combined our incomes and expenses, our dreams and ambitions, and I adopted all the responsibilities of horse ownership. It was a given. Of course, our first move was to get O'Reilley from Corvallis to a leased pasture for two in Wilsonville.

After O'Reilley arrived at the 3.2 acre site and walked the fence, I cut him loose. He took off, neighing, arching his neck, raising his tail and galloping with the wind! "Free to run, free of a numbing stall, see me, hear me!" he seemed to exult. All this activity wrapped Melissa's smile from ear to ear. Both of their radiance so infectious. All the neighbors so admiring! Even the other horses about calling back, "Welcome Prince! Your Arabian DNA resonates with part of our own."

O'Reilley settled down quickly, making friends of the Appaloosa and the mules over the fence, posturing with the two geldings across the road and puzzling about the cows on the other. His best mate, a mule, he took to racing along 100 straight yards of shared fencing, . He seemed to enjoy encouraging the mule to try to beat him. This racing activity raised O'Reilley's status among the neighbors. Their quarter horses seemed timid compared to this "hot" Arabian.

The mule belonged to a veterinarian who one day turned off the electric fence charger for repairs. That day, the mule found a chance to pull an ace from behind his hairy ears. He knew that he could bust through the fence and race past where O'Reilley would normally begin to stop. Perhaps he felt the extra 100 yards to the fence could be won by him!

Not so! As the mule broke down the wire cross-fencing and ran for the property line, O'Reilley took off ... no stopping now! Whoops, slope towards the road, hard to stop, skipping on his hind legs. Too late, over the fence he jumps! Alarm, alarm! Raise all available hands! fast horse and mule loose on the road heading towards the golf course!

Neighbors gave chase, helped in the capture, fence repair and trailering from a mile down the road. They were both in the local papers the next day! The neighbors even stopped by to check on the condition of O'Reilley's scrapped left hind. Oh, they had stories to tell! They knew O'Reilley was fast. Now they knew the mule was too!

Thank goodness for finding a new home for O'Reilley in a horse friendly community!