When i was 13 my 6 year old mare “annie” fell with me in a reining class. I fell to the ground with her on top of me. An older gentelmen came to the arena, along with other competitors, to see if i was ok. they had to approch annie and me quietly because they didn’t want her to get up. She laid their very still so that she wouldn’t hurt me. the man that came and got her said later on that he had to take my feet out of the stirrups and pull annie up. [private]While he was trying to get her off me he said she would not stop nickering softley.
The gentelman took her back to the barn and the whole time annie would stop, and look back at me lying on the ground unconcious. the ambulance had to come get me, but it all turned out to be fine.[/private]

Post from: Horse Stories | Horse2Heart – Great Horse Stories

It’s windier than I thought it would be today. The waves from the beach seem to stretch their icy fingers towards me, the grassy field not providing much protection from the coldness. Cantering along, the pounding of Meppen’s hooves on the hardened ground fills my ears, a deafening entrancing rhythm. My breath is lost in the layers of wind, making my beating heart seem an effortless miracle.

I shiver; the bitterness of the ocean shore grips the very frame of my body, seeping in through the weave of my thin shirt. Goose bumps ripple across my chapped skin and an amazing charge of energy surges through me. The jolt travels and seems to escape through my eyes, making them bulge wide and take in everything. For a brief moment I understand how small I am in the world. The land, water, and sky spill out all around me.

This powerful horse guiding me around the field suddenly shrinks in his enormous proportions, seeming just as miniscule as I am in the world that turns all around us. I take in the expanse of sky, the ever-changing backdrop of the setting. I see the tall blades of wheat growing outside the field, swaying with the strong wind, mesmerizing in their soft motion. I’m able to experience the endless sheets of ocean that stretch beyond the horizon. The gray-blue water stretches out from the rocky cragged dunes on the beach. The sharp edges of the rocks are worn away by time: now blending into the murky water, covered only by a few sparse trees their roots clutching desperately to the ground, fighting to stay intact.
The grass that grows so deep below me stretches up towards Meppen’s knees, allowing me to feel connected to the roots of the land, making me feel grounded.

As we round the corner, we move away from the beach, distancing ourselves from the roar of the white-capped waves. I look up towards the road that lies on the other side of the ancient stonewall and watch the stream of traffic that passes by. Riding up towards the edges of the field I hear the cars whisking people away. They move according to a different rhythm, one intruded upon by music, and loud engines.

The rotations of the tires have no choice but to follow the straight guidelines of the black tar. A large, old farm truck comes up alongside Meppen and me: cramped by the narrow boundaries it seems to bulge out beyond the steamrolled, flat surface.
We travel parallel to the cars, on our own path, untouched by the treads of tires or the impressions of construction. I urge Meppen on, encouraging him to lead the way. I close my calf around his barrel; he hesitates, cautiously picking his way around the branches strewn across our path.

I force my heels down, pushing against the bleached white rubber of my stirrup irons and lighten my seat in the saddle. Meppen moves forward and I can feel the muscles working beneath his sleek black coat.

We turn another corner, our backs now turned to the manufactured facades of the cars, and head again towards the water. Rushing towards the horizon the merging of the sea and sky blur and the raw emotion of adrenaline, the genuine excitement and naïve happiness people bury under layers of protective fear is drawn out of me; filtering into the environment all around me.

I sacrifice my fears and vulnerability to the world and they are carried away with the swirling wind. I am empowered, bound to my horse, and our progression into the future.

Meppen’s ears perk forward, the tips pointing towards what lies ahead of us. Our travels around the winding path of the field send us into the future, a marked route that stretches out before me. We still pass the same landmarks each time we circle the field: abandoned hedge jumps and wooden fence posts, the decrepit remains of a past that came before us.

I am able to remember and revel in the past only for brief glimpses. Then from my elevated perch atop my horse I am led beyond those forgotten memories. I am carried away traveling in the only direction that life allows, forward. My ride on this fall afternoon engraves another set of memories into the field.

I am able to place my eyes in the sky and look down at myself from a new perspective. I see myself, a young girl making revolutions around the field, growing up. The dried mud becomes imprinted with my horse’s hooves, documented evidence of our experiences, the lessons learned, the relationships formed. My life becomes woven into the fibers of the field, the rest of the world soars around my refuge above the ocean trapped in the expanses of time.

Post from: Horse Stories | Horse2Heart – Great Horse Stories

It was a warm, sunny day day, and our farrier, Craig, had just come to shoe several horses. Lily stood like a charm as she received her set of shoes. However, she wanted me to rub her head, and sort of leaned into me, which I found surprising, but I was excited. She loves me!

After Craig finished up, I saddled Lily to go meet my friends Seth and Jon, we were going to go riding together. Lily had been a little gimpy on Tuesday after our ride, so we were not going to do anything strenuous. We started down the road, putting my farrier’s red truck, the rest of the horses in the pasture and Lily’s pen behind us. Lily wanted to go into the ditch, and I was becoming quite frustrated with her. At one point as Lily went down into the ditch and went through some mud, she became a little spooked and gladly got back onto the gravel road.

About three-fourths of the way down the mile stretch she went down into the ditch again, and to my horror, dropped to her knees. After I scrambled off, she laid down.

“Lily,” I said, looking at her and pulling on the reins, trying to get her up. What if she’s colicing? She needs to get up! Lily, please! God, please let her be all right. Help me! She started make strange grunting sounds, and it looked as though she had gone into a seizure within the minutes I had been standing there. By now, I had tears streaming down my face. I looked up and down the road, but no cars. I finally decided to leave her, and run for help. It was a difficult decision to make.

I started to run but I couldn’t run the full three-fourths of a mile in my cowboy boots, and frustratingly slowed to a walk. I need to get there faster, I can’t be walking. When thoughts like those popped into my head, I forced myself to start picking up speed. I saw the white fence of the pasture. Instead of going all the way around which would take a longer time, I went into the ditch by the pasture and stood at the startlingly white fence which was guarded by an electric fence. Is the electric fence turned on? I wondered, and raised my finger up hesitantly, taking it back a couple times before I touched it. It wasn’t, so I climbed between the boards and started for the barn. Spanky, one of the yearlings in the pasture and a major pest(in a good, friendly way), whom always wanted to be petted, came up to me.

“Not now Spanky,” I said angrily, but he started to follow me. I whirled around and tried to scare him off. I don’t remember if I hit him, or just waved my arms at him, but he went off with a little buck of protest. The other horses had started to follow too, and I hoped they wouldn’t get too frisky, or it could mean trouble. The part of the pasture where I was going through was mucky and muddy from the raised river, which had been up to this high part of the pasture. I plodded through it, climbed through the fence once again, and headed for the barn.

I reached the barn, and faced a surprised Linda (she owned the farm where I boarded), and Craig, the farrier.

“It’s Lily,” I sputtered, trying to catch my breath. I was red-faced, out of breath, and crying.

Linda asked in surprise, “What?”

“She’s in the ditch, lying down! I don’t know what happened.”

Craig stayed with the horse he was shoeing, which I believe was Booker, Linda’s lanky chestnut. Linda and I rushed toward her husband Charles and we headed for his gray Ford. I was still crying and very upset when we started for the gravel road where Lily was.

At first, I couldn’t see her, and I was hoping that she had gotten up and wandered somewhere, hoping that she was okay. But, when we got over the crest of the little hill, there she was, not moving. We got out of the truck in disbelief, and walked towards her.

As Lidna looked at and examined Lily, she said the worst words that could ever be said to a horse owner. “She’s dead.”

Tears started coming again. My first horse. I didn’t even have her very long. Lily, what happened? Lily!

Charles started to take the saddle off, but she was lying on her left side, so he had to undo the cinch from the right side, and it was difficult for him to get the stirrup out from underneath her. She was limp.

We went back, dazed, Linda’s arm around my shoulders. I was still crying.

To make a long, sad story short, we think from what the vet thought, that Lily had died of a brain aneurysm or a heart attack at the age of thirteen.

Lily became my first horse at Easter time. My Grandma thought of the name Lily, like “Easter Lily”. I wasn’t too fond of the name, and debated with myself on names. I had wanted to name her Boston. As I look back and noticed when I made the final decision on a barn name, it fit her perfectly. It took awhile to for me to be able to ride by that spot where Lily died, and not fear the horse I was riding was going to go into the ditch too…and die. And if I heard a horse making a grunting sound, as Lily did while she was dying, it scared me.

My family and I felt that she was trying to protect me. First, by going into the ditch, instead of falling on the hard, unforgiving gravel, and secondly, she went down on her knees first, instead of falling on her side. I truly believe with all my heart, that she was trying to protect me. It has been nearly 7 months on the 18th of December. I now have a new horse, Bailey, a four-year-old bay Quarter Horse mare. Lily was my first horse and she will always hold a special place in my heart. Ever since I began riding at the age or six, I have wanted my own horse. And I got her. Although her life was short-lived, it was very special.

Post from: Horse Stories | Horse2Heart – Great Horse Stories

I made the mistake with my very first horse. I overfed him, thinking I was loving him. We rode all the time, and he was really getting fit. He started to ran off with me, and I started to get nervous about taking him out on the trail, so, I sold him. The new owner had no problems, and I couldn’t figure why. I was in my early 20’s, and had him so pumped up with grain, he had energy to burn. Since then I have seen this same behavior in too many owners.
Then, I bought my first thorobred, who was off the track.

I loved him at first sight. He was beautiful, and I knew I could make him look even better.
I worked him daily, to just keep him calm. I did not want a repeat of my past experiences.
We worked like a hunter, quietly jumping an in-and out of solid fences, only 18′ apart, 3′6″ and 3″9″, without missing a step. A friend watched from the sidelines on his palomino.
We went for a trail-ride this sunny day in the spring. We walked on the cut-out roadbed, by the new community college. My friend walked up onto the side of the road, about two foot higher than the cut out road bed. He turned to me, and said, “Let’s see what he can do”. Of course, I said NO! My horse was really going great, and I did not need to sprint or gallop. He was doing just fine.
Of course he started to prod me, “Oh come on, let him run, it would be good for him”. After five minutes of saying ‘no’, I got curious.

I had never sat on a racehorse, and I bet it was a real thrill, so I decided I would give it a try.
All I did, was to squeeze his sides, lean forward, and make a kiss sound, and he took off from a stand still. He was so quick, I had to hold the mane. Once we were running, I felt like we were traveling on glass. The wind, and the smoothness of his strides. I felt like I was on an ice-boat. I was awestruck!
Then, I looked ahead. This roadbed, cane to an end, at the road where cars were traveling right and left. I realized I had to stop my horse.
I picked up the reins to quietly slow him down. There was no response other than that ’speed’. I realized I better stop him, before I got to that road crossing. I started to put my feet forward, and I began to pull my horse to a stop, but again, no response, still running full out! I tried to turn him to get off that road-bed, but he wouldn’t turn.
His neck muscles were like a railroad track. His neck was like steel, it wouldn’t bend.

I had to do something, and do it fast, the road was getting close, and fast. I put two hands on the right rein, and leaned back, with all my body weight. Slowly, the horse began to turn, and not too soon. We were about 75-100 feet from that road, and he was still running strong. I kept that hold on him, for my life, I thought. I kept trying to turn him onto a circle. I was afraid to let his head go, because we would be OFF,–to the races again.
This horse was solid! Running as strong as he could, and I somehow managed to keep turning him. We circled in huge circles that would have covered two city blocks, in this huge field.
I circled until I had him in a small enough circle, that I got him dizzy, and he stopped -slamming all four feet hard on the ground, with a huge ‘SNORT and BLOW’.

I got off him faster than ever, and tried to hold him in a small circle. I couldn’t believe this was the same horse. He was almost terror stricken, but it was with excitement!
I tried to calm him, but really just held on to him, keeping him in a tight circle, as I slowly walked with him in that circle. I knew I would loose him, if he decided to take off without me.
My heart was beating so hard. I knew I had a near miss. Then, here comes my ’so-called’ friend! He just went “Phew! Boy, can he run!” I told him that if he did anything other than walk I would ‘kill him’, and that wasn’t funny. It was not worth the thrill.

I walked beside this horse until he settled a alittle. I figured it would be okay when we got to the trails in the woods.
I could finally mount, and made it clear, that we would not even jog ONE STEP! As we approached the woods, I saw that the road bed next to the trail was pushed into the entrance to the trail. We had to walk along the woods edge to find a place to get onto the trail again. Believe me, I knew to not bend forward at all. I quietly walked over a very small roll of dirt.

I stayed straight up, knowing better. There was a small branck with a fine twig, that would hit me right in the eye. I ONLY took my hand to lift that twig, and I did NOT lower my head more than two inches.
My horse took that as a signal to take off again, right into the woods, full out! I dodged trees, and twigs and branches, and tried to turn him back on the trail, as I could not fight the trees, and my horse too.
I somehow got him back onto the trail. I tried to stop him. Again, his neck was like railroad tracks. The trees were going past so fast, I just resolved myself to going the distance, hoping he would tire out, sooner or later.
Then it happened! Up ahead, a near dead pine tree had previously fallen across the trail.

I was in real trouble!
I knew I had no place for a dismount. The trees were too close on the left and right, as we flew past them. That tree was coming up fast! It was covered with broken branches and some branches with needles. I had no time to think, so I just sat low, with my feet forward, and my elbows down, my head off to the side. I hung on to his mane to save myself from being whipped off when and if he swiftly turned.
I didn’t know if he would jump that tree (it would have been over 6 foot high), or if he would just slam on the brakes and finally stop. I knew he could also slam to a stop, and quickly turn, either left or right, so I just layed there, and tried to just stay locked on him, no matter what he did.
BAM! We HIT!
The next thing I knew, I was sitting on my butt on the ground! My knees were propped.

I saw my horse running with the stirrups flipping all around. I thought, “well, there goes my new saddle” I was so glad to be off.
What happened? He DUCKED! The tree knocked me off! My horse just stopped for a split second, then went UNDER that tree.
My head HIT THAT TREE, –HARD! That was the BAM I heard.
I sat there numb! Something was running down my face. I looked to the ground, and saw blood splats, as large or larger than a silver dollar. Splat! Splat!
I put my hand to my head, and felt this warm wet. My entire face was now covered with blood.
I looked at my forearm. It was cut about eight inches, from front to inside. There was yellow puffy stuff. That was ‘fat’. I was amazed!
I sat there numb, and in near dis-belief, but my horse was gone, and I was sitting there covered with blood.
My (X) friend, finally caught up with me. He quickly dismounted. I showed him my arm, to show him that ‘fat’.

He shrugged, and said, “cover that thing up”. He took his shirt off and wrapped it around my arm. He helped me to my feet, and we walked back on the trail, and found a car passing. They saw me, and helped get me to the nearest doctor, where I had a concussion, 150 stitches, and I was out of work for six weeks!
My horse ran, I was told, for 45 minutes. He ran through the campus, right up behind four students, who heard him, and they dove right and left, as the horse ran right through them, down that sidewalk.
My horse ran, until he couldn’t run anymore.

A state trooper grabbed him, and someone got him back to the stable, while I was getting patched up.
The rest of this story is also difficult. My horse was traumatized for a long time. My nerves were bad, and I learned to ride him anyway, without letting him go faster than a canter. He really got rough, and I had to really ride my best. He taught me balance, and communication, when things were really bad. I eventually had to put him down, fearing he would hurt someone. He tried many times to hurt me, by kicking at my head. Such a bad ending to what should have been wonderful, and all because I ‘listened’ to someone ‘prodding me’ to do what I knew better, to not do.

Post from: Horse Stories | Horse2Heart – Great Horse Stories

It was pouring outside. I pulled the hood on my sweatshirt up and zipped my leather jacket. Jeff already had the kids in the car and was waiting for me. I trudged through the mud, which was already a couple of inches deep, up to the barn.

Indy, my little green broke Saddlebred colt, stood inside warm and dry.

“What a day we picked to do this, huh?” I stroked his nose, then saddled him up. I had just sold him to a friend a few days ago, and had scheduled today to ride him the seven miles to his new home. I didn’t really know the back way, but I knew of it, and I was sure it was a lot safer route to go. For one, the roads were all dirt, so traffic wouldn’t be speeding by. Besides, the back way might even be shorter. Jeff was going to follow me in the car and bring me back home.

I gave Indy a final pat, and mounted. We rode out of the barn up to the car.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jeff wanted to know.

“Well, we’ve come this far,” I joked. “Let’s go.”
The ride began wet, but well. We had gone almost a mile. Now was the time to decide for sure if I wanted to go the front way or not. The rain poured around us, running down my legs and his. A car roared up to the stop. Indy jumped a little, causing him to slide in the mud. I patted his shoulder, and decided the back way, while unknown, was definitely safer.

We turned east onto the old dirt road, and Jeff followed along behind us with his flashers on. At least no cars would come up from behind and hit us, I thought grimly. Indy kept his pace slow with his head down, and I talked to him. Was this to keep him or me company, I wondered. We had to go another mile or so down the road before our turn, and suddenly Indy stopped. He threw his head up, and spun around the other way. Surprised that we weren’t both laying in the mud over that one, I stopped. We were now facing Jeff. I waved, then turned Indy back the way we were supposed to go.

“What’s the matter, Indy?” I asked him soothingly. Finally it dawned on me. He had never seen a bridge before, and here we were, getting ready to cross a big one. I encouraged him for several minutes, but he just kept spinning in the mud. A car pulled up behind Jeff, and I waved him on past us.

“Now look, buddy,” I explained in my most reasonable voice. “Your feet are already muddy. See? Mine have been washed clean.”

This logic failed to work. However, I refused to get off and give in to this tantrum, well deserved though it may have been. Many circles later, we made it across the bridge. Indy was tense and tired, and the rain had not let up. At least he wouldn’t overheat in this weather, I thought. I brought him to a stop and hopped down to the ground. I hugged him and soothed him, then walked back to the car. Jeff had the thermos, and he poured me a cup of coffee. After a short break, we were off. Indy was calmer, and while we were both soaked, we were in good spirits. Only about five miles left.

I never knew that a horse would get upset when confronted by a cow. We were going along at a good pace, considering the mud, when we took an abrupt sideways detour. Once again, I thanked the powers that be that we weren’t lying in the mud. I could see nothing wrong, no bridge, nothing strange at all. Indy was shaking. His nostrils were flared and his eyes were so wide I could see white all around. I looked in the direction he was staring. There, before us stood a cow, placidly watching us. I started laughing. He had to be kidding. He was not. We were going no closer to the cow than we already were. Instead of starting an argument and going in circles, I decided to dismount and lead him past the terrifying bovine, careful to use my body to block his view. Thankfully it was over in a few minutes. I remounted, turned him to look at the cow, then rode on. I noticed he went quite a bit faster for quite some time after this.

It was still pouring, but at least we had turned onto Rd 17. Only a little longer. The rain was driving harder, and Indy was starting to sweat. The mud we were now slogging through was at least eight inches deep. I was concerned about Jeff. There was no way he would make it through that in a Subaru at the speed he was going. I turned around in the saddle. Jeff had stopped before the bog.

“I’ll back up and gun it through, then I’ll meet you on the other side,” he yelled over the rain.

Poor Indy. How much more could the little guy take. I dismounted into mud well up my shins, and led him off the road. There was a barbed wire fence on one side, and the road on the other. I was afraid he’d hit the fence if he spooked, so we stayed a lot closer to the road than I would have liked. I held his reins in my left hand and draped my right arm over his withers, then stood looking with him. Jeff had already backed way up, and when he saw we were ready he gunned it. At first, I thought for sure he would get stuck, but no, he careened by us, mud flying everywhere, over the hill and out of sight. In the meantime, Indy and I had gotten a massive mud bath, and were both coated with thick, gooey mud. Surprisingly, he hardly flinched. I guess this was no worse than anything else that had happened to him today.

I remounted, and we rode on several yards before we finally spotted Jeff. He was about a half mile up the road waiting. The rain had started breaking up, and on higher ground, the going was a lot easier. Another few miles further, and the road was almost completely dry. I encouraged Indy into a trot, and away we went. A car drove past us, then stopped. It was my friend Mez. He’d come out looking for us worried when we were so late. We rode the rest of the way to his house, and for the final time that day I dismounted. I unsaddled Indy, brushed him down, and gave him a hug.

“Here you are,” I said handing Mez the reins. “He was green when you bought him, but he’s come a long way since then.”

Post from: Horse Stories | Horse2Heart – Great Horse Stories

The Ride On My Thoroughbred  | A Scary Horse Story

By: Rose Foreman

I made the mistake with my very first horse. I overfed him, thinking I was loving him. We rode all the time, and he was really getting fit. He started to run off with me, and I started to get nervous about taking him out on the trail, so, I sold him. The new owner had no problems, and I couldn’t figure why. I was in my early 20’s, and had him so pumped up with grain, he had energy to burn. Since then I have seen this same behavior in too many owners.

Then, I bought my first Thoroughbred, who was off the track. I loved him at first sight. He was beautiful, and I knew I could make him look even better.

I worked him daily, to just keep him calm. I did not want a repeat of my past experiences.
We worked like a hunter, quietly jumping an in-and out of solid fences, only 18′ apart, 3′6″ and 3″9″, without missing a step. A friend watched from the sidelines on his palomino.
We went for a trail-ride this sunny day in the spring. We walked on the cut-out roadbed, by the new community college. My friend walked up onto the side of the road, about two foot higher than the cut out road bed. He turned to me, and said, “Let’s see what he can do”. Of course, I said NO! My horse was really going great, and I did not need to sprint or gallop. He was doing just fine.

Of course he started to prod me, “Oh come on, let him run, it would be good for him”. After five minutes of saying ‘no’, I got curious.

I had never sat on a racehorse, and I bet it was a real thrill, so I decided I would give it a try.
All I did, was to squeeze his sides, lean forward, and make a kiss sound, and he took off from a stand still. He was so quick, I had to hold the mane. Once we were running, I felt like we were traveling on glass. The wind, and the smoothness of his strides. I felt like I was on an ice-boat. I was awestruck!
Then, I looked ahead. This roadbed, came to an end, at the road where cars were traveling right and left. I realized I had to stop my horse.

I picked up the reins to quietly slow him down. There was no response other than that ’speed’. I realized I better stop him, before I got to that road crossing. I started to put my feet forward, and I began to pull my horse to a stop, but again, no response, still running full out! I tried to turn him to get off that road-bed, but he wouldn’t turn.

His neck muscles were like a railroad track. His neck was like steel, it wouldn’t bend. I had to do something, and do it fast, the road was getting close, and fast. I put two hands on the right rein, and leaned back, with all my body weight. Slowly, the horse began to turn, and not too soon. We were about 75-100 feet from that road, and he was still running strong. I kept that hold on him, for my life, I thought. I kept trying to turn him onto a circle. I was afraid to let his head go, because we would be OFF,–to the races again.

This horse was solid! Running as strong as he could, and I somehow managed to keep turning him. We circled in huge circles that would have covered two city blocks, in this huge field.
I circled until I had him in a small enough circle, that I got him dizzy, and he stopped -slamming all four feet hard on the ground, with a huge ‘SNORT and BLOW’. I got off him faster than ever, and tried to hold him in a small circle. I couldn’t believe this was the same horse. He was almost terror stricken, but it was with excitement!

I tried to calm him, but really just held on to him, keeping him in a tight circle, as I slowly walked with him in that circle. I knew I would loose him, if he decided to take off without me.
My heart was beating so hard. I knew I had a near miss. Then, here comes my ’so-called’ friend! He just went “Phew! Boy, can he run!” I told him that if he did anything other than walk I would ‘kill him’, and that wasn’t funny. It was not worth the thrill. I walked beside this horse until he settled a alittle. I figured it would be okay when we got to the trails in the woods.

I could finally mount, and made it clear, that we would not even jog ONE STEP! As we approached the woods, I saw that the road bed next to the trail was pushed into the entrance to the trail. We had to walk along the woods edge to find a place to get onto the trail again. Believe me, I knew to not bend forward at all. I quietly walked over a very small roll of dirt. I stayed straight up, knowing better. There was a small branch with a fine twig, that would hit me right in the eye. I ONLY took my hand to lift that twig, and I did NOT lower my head more than two inches.

My horse took that as a signal to take off again, right into the woods, full out! I dodged trees, and twigs and branches, and tried to turn him back on the trail, as I could not fight the trees, and my horse too.
I somehow got him back onto the trail. I tried to stop him. Again, his neck was like railroad tracks. The trees were going past so fast, I just resolved myself to going the distance, hoping he would tire out, sooner or later.

Then it happened! Up ahead, a near dead pine tree had previously fallen across the trail. I was in real trouble! I knew I had no place for a dismount. The trees were too close on the left and right, as we flew past them. That tree was coming up fast! It was covered with broken branches and some branches with needles. I had no time to think, so I just sat low, with my feet forward, and my elbows down, my head off to the side. I hung on to his mane to save myself from being whipped off when and if he swiftly turned.
I didn’t know if he would jump that tree (it would have been over 6 foot high), or if he would just slam on the brakes and finally stop. I knew he could also slam to a stop, and quickly turn, either left or right, so I just layed there, and tried to just stay locked on him, no matter what he did.
BAM! We HIT!
The next thing I knew, I was sitting on my butt on the ground! My knees were propped. I saw my horse running with the stirrups flipping all around. I thought, “well, there goes my new saddle” I was so glad to be off.
What happened? He DUCKED! The tree knocked me off! My horse just stopped for a split second, then went UNDER that tree.

My head HIT THAT TREE, –HARD! That was the BAM I heard.
I sat there numb! Something was running down my face. I looked to the ground, and saw blood splats, as large or larger than a silver dollar. Splat! Splat!
I put my hand to my head, and felt this warm wet. My entire face was now covered with blood.
I looked at my forearm. It was cut about eight inches, from front to inside. There was yellow puffy stuff. That was ‘fat’. I was amazed!

I sat there numb, and in near dis-belief, but my horse was gone, and I was sitting there covered with blood.
My (X) friend, finally caught up with me. He quickly dismounted. I showed him my arm, to show him that ‘fat’. He shrugged, and said, “cover that thing up”. He took his shirt off and wrapped it around my arm. He helped me to my feet, and we walked back on the trail, and found a car passing. They saw me, and helped get me to the nearest doctor, where I had a concussion, 150 stitches, and I was out of work for six weeks!
My horse ran, I was told, for 45 minutes. He ran through the campus, right up behind four students, who heard him, and they dove right and left, as the horse ran right through them, down that sidewalk.
My horse ran, until he couldn’t run anymore. A state trooper grabbed him, and someone got him back to the stable, while I was getting patched up.

The rest of this story is also difficult. My horse was traumatized for a long time. My nerves were bad, and I learned to ride him anyway, without letting him go faster than a canter. He really got rough, and I had to really ride my best. He taught me balance, and communication, when things were really bad. I eventually had to put him down, fearing he would hurt someone. He tried many times to hurt me, by kicking at my head. Such a bad ending to what should have been wonderful, and all because I ‘listened’ to someone ‘prodding me’ to do what I knew better, to not do.

Rose Foreman

Post from: Horse Stories | Horse2Heart – Great Horse Stories