Horses And Their Humans

The relationship between horses and humans is complex. We either love them, or we don’t. The love is passionate and encompassing. For many, it is an addiction which began in childhood when we read Black Beauty or Misty of Chincoteague. The money we spend on feed, bedding, vets, supplies and horseshoes isn’t inconsequential, and the time we shower on our equine pals each day adds up. No wonder husbands have been known to mutter, “You love the horses better than me.” 

Horses give us great pride in their achievements, but all riders understand that proverb, “Pride goeth before a fall.” With every step our horses take, possible embarrassment (if not humiliation) awaits us. 

The love triangle created by a horse, a mother and a child has even more potential for mortification. For example, about 24 years ago, I got my first horse. Although I hadn’t ridden for at least two decades and had never been a very good rider, I hopped on Jane, ready to show off my skills . When lazy old Jane began ambling down the driveway, I started hollering, “Help, help! She’s running away. I’m going to be killed. Stop her.” 

As my 10-year-old daughter Julia rescued me from the “runaway,” the disgust in her tone was palpable. “Gee, Mom. Pull back on the reins. Don’t you know anything?” Not really.

Carol Mattusch, who has lived in Clifton almost all her life, handled an awkward mother-daughter moment with great finesse. To this day, she’s still snickering quietly about it. Ginger, her first horse, had just stepped off the trailer. The handsome red roan was 15 hands tall, and little Carol was only 7 years old. Bravely, she faced that big horse. “As I stood in front of Ginger, the bridle in my hands” she related, “my mother asked testily, ‘Don't you know how to put the bridle on?’”

Not a person to mince words, Mattusch retorted, "I know how to do it, I just need to remember." Even today, she relishes the memory of that quick response. 

Riding is never dull. Several years ago, Clifton resident Martha Muirhead took her 3-year-old mare Magic for an excursion down the W & OD Trail near Vienna. This trail, which is 45 miles long and 100 feet wide, extends from Shirlington to Purcellville. Bicyclists, skateboarders, hikers, joggers, skaters and horses share it peacefully. 

During the ride, Muirhead patted herself on the back because she’d done such a good job of introducing the mare to the trail. Then it happened, the moment of embarrassment we all dread. 

An enormous recumbent bicycle hurtled down the trail straight towards Magic. Lying on his back in this “strange contraption,” a hefty man was propelling it energetically using hand pedals. The horse, according to Martha, “probably thought it was going to eat her, and she wasn't going to stick around to find out. She threw herself into a reverse gear that seemed as fast as a canter.” Away Magic flew on a backward ride her owner will remember always.

Staying on the horse is a major goal. Sue England, who lives near Popes Head Road and is an active member of the Clifton Horse Society, was riding with her friend Sandy. The gravel road in Clifton had two lanes, which were divided by bushes about five feet tall. Sue’s mare Lady tended to spook when he was surprised, and Sandy’s “big red gelding” was even livelier. The women were familiar with the road and with a noisy dog, who barked fiercely at the horses whenever they passed his house.

Sue was prepared, but, she said, “It all happened so fast. The dog came yelping out of the bushes, and Lady jumped sideways. I turned around to warn Sandy, but she wasn’t there. She was gone, as if she had been zapped from earth.”

Panicking, Sue wheeled Lady around, just in time to see Sandy pop up on the other side of the hedgerow. Like bread in a toaster, her horse sprang up next. “He had spooked and had flipped over the hedgerow,” England explained. “To this day, I have never seen anyone do anything like that, and the sight of Sandy and her gelding popping up from behind the hedgerow will always be in my memory.”

My worst memory of falling? Years ago, my daughter finished her show career with a 17.3 hand American Quarter Horse. I was trying to get off this mountain-high horse when my foot got stuck in the stirrup. I hung on Petey’s side for perhaps a minute while he stood there patiently. When I finally fell, I landed under him with the reins in my hand, but wrapped around my leg. Petey looked at me, wondering what I was doing. “Mom,” I could imagine him saying. “What are you doing? Get up and behave like a normal human being.” What a good boy!

Riders obviously have many memories of life with horses. Some are amusing in retrospect, and some perhaps are a little scary. Regardless, we remember our adventures with smiles on our faces because our addiction to horses is an almost all-consuming joy and challenge.