My First Embarrassing Moment Around Horses
Photo: The author and her first pony
It was the summer after 4th grade, and I could barely eat my lunch as I eagerly waited for the arrival of my first pony. I would get up from my chair and look out the living room window to see if the truck and trailer were pulling into our driveway. Having to wait was torture!
My three siblings finished their lunches and went outside to play - not caring the least that a pony was on his way - leaving me, my mom, and maternal grandmother at the dining room table. I checked out the window for what seemed like the 80th time and finally shreaked, “He’s here!” I bunny-hopped in place when I saw the truck and trailer pass by the driveway (a common occurrence for most drivers new to our address). I knew they would turn around in the grade school’s driveway up the road, where they would have room to do so, and return.
“Settle down, or I’ll send him right back,” Mom said to me, stern and unsmiling.
I slithered into my chair and did the best I could to dampen my excitement at getting a pony, something I had begged to have for years. My dream was finally coming true, and I had to act like a robot? Someone who was unfeeling? I remember doing my best not to react to anything - I wasn’t going to jeopardize having to send back something so precious to me that hadn’t even been delivered yet. (I never understood her behavior then. She loved animals and horses too. I never thought to ask her why she’d been like that on that day when I was older.)
Once the truck and trailer pulled into the driveway, the friendly driver in a light-colored cowboy hat got out and greeted my mom (my dad was in Colorado for a high school visit). His wife got out of the passenger side and joined him. As the driver talked, he walked around to slide back the bolts that kept the 2-horse trailer’s door/ramp up. I tried desperately to get a peek at my new Shetland pony, but I couldn’t see him over the open sides of the trailer because he was too short. The trailer ramp landed with a thwump! on the gravel, and the cowboy man walked inside to untie my pony.
Photos: The author and her first pony
Peanuts was a typical Shetland - about 10 hands high, liver-brown with a flaxen mane and tail, and a sweet disposition. I was smitten with him the second he was backed down from the trailer. The cowboy man led Peanuts over to a large elm tree, where we had his water bucket, neon-blue salt lick, and a place to tie him up to. The cowboy man’s wife stood nearby, while he chatted away to Mom, asking her, “Does your daughter know how to ride?”
“No,” Mom said.
Of course I knew how to ride! Well, mostly through reading lots of horse books and feeding grass to the pastured horses and ponies from the side of the road that lived in our area, and let’s not forget about the pony ride at the county fair. Didn’t these count? “I do, too!” I contradicted her. “I’ve ridden America.” (America was my best friend’s pony and, technically, I’d been on him once - led around their paddock by her dad. Still, I was on the back of a pony . . . riding).
“Well, you’ve got a nice little pony here to learn on.” The cowboy man still held onto the lead rope. “Do you want to get on him now?”
“Sure!” I went over, patted Peanuts’ neck, and was ready to mount up. I swung my right leg over his rump and up onto his back as high as I could. Just as I was pushing off the ground with my left foot (and with plenty of oomph to get on, I might add), Mom grabbed me and unnecessarily lifted me up and off of the ground. Not only did I clear Peanuts’ back, but I landed - hands and head first - in an ungraceful heap on the ground on his other side. I was NOT happy with my Mom. How embarrassing!
“They say you’re a rider the first time you fall off a horse.” The cowboy man grinned at me. “Guess you’re one now.”
I think I had to actually be sitting ON his back to claim I’d fallen off, not pushed over his back. Still, I had to soothe my 10-year-old, bruised ego. Who wants to look foolish in front of others? After I dusted myself off, I came around to Peanuts’ mounting side and got on all by myself. The cowboy man led me around for a while before saying they had to go. I slid off and took my pony over to his new spot. I stayed with him for hours. I was so delighted that this beautiful pony was mine to take care of.
I have fallen off of a handful of other horses in the many years I’ve ridden, but none as graceless as my first time mounting Peanuts. I learned to tuck and roll for safety in the event I was launched off a horse. I was fortunate to get back on every time I fell or was bucked off, something every horse rider needs to always be grateful for. There’s always that next ride to look forward to.
