Changing Ways

Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

"Robin! Get up honey!" My dads voice wakes me up the next morning. I groan, and drag myself out of bed. The sun is just breaking through the morning clouds, and there is a foggy haze off in the distance. I can hear the nickering of our quarter horses, and the yelling of some ranch hands.

"I'm coming!" I yell, and throw on some clean, but slightly wrinkled clothes. I bound down the stairs, and leap into a chair. "When are we goin to the SPCA?" My mom forks a few pieces of bacon onto my plate, and I grab a red bowl and fill it with fruit salad that consists if apple, nectarine, orange, plum and peaches.

"How about around three?" Mom suggests, and settles down at the table with her own bowl full of fruit. Three o'clock would give me enough time to work Wren and some of the other quarter horses. Then I might be able to work with Rene.

"That sounds perfect." I decide. When I finish up breakfast, I put my plate in a sink full of warm, soapy water, and then give it a wash. I put the plate in the drying rack, and wipe my hands on a fluffy dish cloth.

"You going out riding now?" Mom asks, as I slide on my ice green windbreaker. It's a little chilly out today.

"Yeah. I wanted to ride Wren, then maybe work with some of the three year olds. Dad also said I can choose one of the yearlings to break in, and show. I want to choose today." I say, and snag a carrot from the crisper in the fridge. A few months ago, my dad said that I could choose one of this years yearlings to break in, train and if all goes well, show. Dad also says that if I do a well enough job, he'll give me the horse. That would be amazing, since even though I love Wren and ride her all the time, she's not mine. None of the horses are. I reckon it's about time I get my own horse. Kaya has her Hanoverian, so why can't I have my own? I'm only a few years younger than her.

"Well choose carefully. We got a good crop of yearlings." Mom says, and says and clears away the plates from the table.

"Robin! Hold up!" Dad's voice calls, just as I shut the door. I swing it back open.

"Yeah?"

"Wait till I'm with you until you choose the yearling alright? I don't want you to get your mind set on one I'm not to sure you should have."

"That all?" I ask, hopping up and down on one foot. This is something I do when I'm impatient. Dad takes note of this, and nods. I jump back outside, and pull on my leather riding boots (and notice they feel a little tight), then head out to the main barn, and grab Wren's halter. She's in her stall today, so I don't have to go outside and catch her. "Hello Wren," I rub her neck, and slip on her halter. She nudges my chest, and sniffs the large pocket on my jacket. "What? You smell something good in there?" I smile, and pull out the carrot. I break off a chunk, and hold it out flat on my palm. She lips it up, and I smile again when I feel her velvety muzzle brush my hand. Since I am going to work with a bunch of other horses, I slide the rest of the carrot back into my pocket.

Kaya and Dad did the feedings this morning, so I can ride right away. I brush her buckskin coat thoroughly so it's shiny, then grab my tack. She doesn't protest as I swing the saddle up onto her back, and doesn't pin her ears back when I tighten the cinch. I slip on the bridle, then put my Ovation riding helmet on my head, and do up the buckle underneath.

"What do you want to do today, Wren?" I don't really feel like doing a trail course again today, and nothing else is at the top of my list of stuff to do with Wren. So I decide to just take her out on a trail ride. It's been a while since I've just ridden pleasure. I hop up into the saddle, and take the reins in my hands. I turn Wren towards the forest, and push her into a smooth collected trot. I post the smooth strides, taking everything in.

The forest full of evergreens of every shade of green. Little wild animals scamper across the path, but they don't spook Wren. Wren's pretty much bomb-proof, a saying meaning that nothing spooks her. Its supposed to mean that she wouldn't spook if a bomb was set off underneath her. However, that isn't truth, no horse is truly bombproof.

We cross an azure blue creek full of spawning coho. Wren carefully places her hoofs around them. Soon we reach a large, grassy meadow. The grass is so green it almost hurts my eyes. The ground is flat. I push Wren into a lope, and I smile widely. The saddle is where I live, my true home. Wren pricks her ears forward, and moves into a steady gallop. I give her her head, and let her choose the speed she wants. After about five minutes, I slow Wren back down to a trot, and turn her back towards home. It's getting super hot out, and I've been riding for an hour now. I don't want to push Wren to much.

I think that riding a horse is an experience that cannot be missed. To sit upon the broad back of an equine creature, and to share a bond with such a beautiful and powerful animal is one of a kind. The feeling you get when you ease your horse into an effortless canter is extraordinary. Galloping on sandy beaches, with the wind in your face is magical. The soaring feeling of popping over a two foot jump takes your breathe away. To canter and gallop bareback, without a bridle and shoes, is the most fun I've ever had.

Horses are my safe haven. My saviors. My best friends. The only things that truly understand me. They are the only think that I truly understand. Horses are my escape from the outside world. When all seems wrong...they make it right.