I don’t know a thing about horses

"I don’t know how or why it happened, and there is this insistent logical and organized side of me that wants to know."
“I don’t know how or why it happened, and there is this insistent logical and organized side of me that wants to know.”

by Sandi Martinez

I approached quietly – my footsteps light, and careful – I nearly tip-toed toward her.  And then I stopped, inches from her. Mind you, I don’t know a thing about horses. But she stood there; alone, shrouded by a mysterious stance, her eyes wide and brown, they took me in as if I was equally mysterious and even remotely interesting.

I don’t know how or why it happened, and there is this insistent logical and organized side of me that wants to know. But she doesn’t seem to care how or why I came upon her, or even why she asked me to stop and say hello; she just cares that I did stop. I soaked her in as if she was a ‘poor’ horse in need. How did I even know, much less think, she was in a state of desperation or pity for that matter? Well… it’s simple; I don’t know a thing about horses.

And because of this, the entire strange invitation from her stunned me, because why me? What could I give her that her owners wouldn’t give her?  How would I even know what to do for her? I wondered: Were there books, or resources out there about these kinds of strange connections with horses? Do you have to be a special person – a mirrored specimen of a horse, to attract a horse? Do you have to smell a certain way, or the color of your car needs to stand out somehow? Does your voice have to be soothing, or have a certain way about you, in order to be liked by a horse? Should you have excellent horsemen/women skills to handle a horse at any time? The questions continued.

The only thing I could do is stop and visit and say hello. But saying hello wasn’t enough. I found out by a neighbor whom extended a hand out to me full of apple treats from a bag, (‘you can get them at Wal-Mart’, he said.) and stated casually, that horses really enjoy them. He showed me how to hold out my hand so that the horse wouldn’t bite off my fingers… somehow, I couldn’t imagine her doing that, since she leaned into me, and let me touch her.

I feel a bit off-kilter to say, it was really the other way around. I allowed her to lean into me, and to feel her powerful muscles, supple, and yet firm, to melt into the palm of my hands. I allowed her to brush her muzzle against my face, and even kiss me. I allowed her to stand next to me, and share a small space of everything I don’t share with just anyone, mostly human. Did she know this about me instinctively?  Did she feel a calling to break me? Did she know that she would never need to use a whip, or any other commonly used tool, but rather a softness, and kindness that only a horse could pull off?

I’ve tried hard to use words to describe such a sweet and endearing experience, but in the end, I’m hoping some of you can chime in, and help me… RMSAAM wants to hear your first-time experiences when you first fell in love with a horse!

 

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