At my last lesson, I was semi-responsible for letting David*out of the pasture and into the riding ring. I was trying to put Stalker out to pasture for the evening and wound up letting the gate stay open too long. This enabled David to make a run for it and wind up in the ring. He was fairly easily caught and returned to the pasture but I felt kinda dumb because keeping Davidin had been the whole point. David doesn’t make anything easier on anyone because he hangs out right by the gate. He’s not like a cat, which one can pick up (usually) and put down in a place of one’s choosing.
So I was in the pasture with David, trying to turn Stalker loose and also shut the fence. And when David went thundering past me, I swore a blue streak in front of the younger generation at the stable (Sorry kids!) and I was scared. I shrank out of the way, although I’m sure there was no expectation that I somehow stop David with my entire will and being.
I’ve thought quite a bit about this during the day and I realized that I’m kinda scared of horses when I’m down on the ground with them. This is a theme that has re-occurred during the last two years.
I know I was scared when I went to look at the Enourmous Halflinger a couple of weeks ago. And Phylliss used to scare the dickens out of me with her snorting, half-kicks, and pinned-back ears. And once when there was some whinnying and squealing at my first stable, I assumed a position face up against the stall door, back to the noise, in an attempt to preserve my vitals. I thought again how scared I was just watching the Irritable Mare back in the spring as she tore around and around the indoor arena at the Empire.
Do I need to spend time hanging out in the pasture and let the horses mill about me?
I’m not sure what to do about this.
*I have an excellent friend who finds it hilarious when horses have names like “David” or “Phylliss.” She says if she ever owns her own boat, she’ll name it “Steve.”