About 10 years ago, my mom moved to the Northwoods of Wisconsin. In one of my early visits, we tried some of the tourist activities in her area. One of them was horseback riding. Our trail guide wanted to match us up with appropriate horses, so she asked each of us in turn, “Have you ever ridden a horse before?” My mom had owned a few horses while she was growing up and was an adept rider. The guide presented her a docile-looking white mare. “This is Snowflake.” My mom mounted her horse, and then it was my turn. “Have you ever ridden a horse before?” “Yes, once, 20 years ago.” I didn’t mention the sobbing in terror part as my horse started descending a ravine. The guide led a young, alert horse toward me and introduced us. “This is Rebel.” Okay, wait a minute. You’re giving the completely inexperienced rider a horse with a behavior problem? That’s an interesting strategy.
Rebel treated the ride as a lunch buffet. As she waded through the thicket at the edges of the forest, I spent the whole ride redirecting her toward the path, tugging on the reins as her head dropped toward the ferns as heavily as a bucket of water, urging her to move and follow the rest of the horse train. The method to counteract many of her behavioral issues seemed the same. “Kick her!” the guides yelled from the front of the line. “Harder!” I wanted to go horseback riding because I liked animals. I had no desire to kick a horse in the stomach.
Over the years, I went on a couple other rides. I got used to the guides handing off a horse with a word of warning. “She’s slow,” they’d caution, or “She’s lazy.” Or it would be the opposite- a sprightly horse would get antsy being stuck behind an older, slower-paced model, and try to cut in line. As I struggled to get my horses under control, I’d jealously watch as other riders placidly gazed at the scenery and joked with the trail guides.
On a later trail ride in Wisconsin, also with my mom, I was unexpectedly assigned a well-behaved horse. Finally! I would get to experience a trail ride how it was meant to be! I was ready for a fun and relaxing time. I wasn’t expecting… boredom. Sitting on a horse who plodded forward in a straight line struck me as dull and uninspired. I was so used to being busy the entire time, working to keep the horse in line, on the trail, in check. Here, nothing was happening. It was like being on a walk in the woods, except that I wasn’t even walking; I wasn’t doing anything. All those years, I thought I was getting the short end of the stick, when it turns out that I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.