The Barn Horse

The Barn Horse

When I was a kid my maternal grandparents used to take my sister and me horse-back riding. It was fun. It was a contributing factor to my well-rounded education during my youth. We would go to one of the many riding ranches near my grandparents' house in Kansas. Since I would not get the same horse every time, I learned that horses have different personalities just like people.

Some horses like to go fast and some do not. Some respond quickly to commands and some will only follow the horse in front of them like those cartoon elephants that grab the tail of the leading elephant with their trunk and just keep moving. Some are fat and some are feisty. But worst of all is the "barn horse."

My grandparents taught me a lot about horses; feeding, combing, saddling, etc. I never understood why a horse would be so submissive. A small horse is big compared to a human. They have big teeth and sharp hooves. If they decided to do so they could attack and stomp you to death, but they don't. And if you are riding them and they decide they want to go their own way, they can. There is nothing you can do about it. The barn horse knows this.

The wrangler said, "This is your horse. His name is Tony." I was ten years old and I had ridden many horses so a climbed aboard. I sat on Tony, an old palomino with a slightly swayed back, and I waited patiently for the others in our group to saddle up. The lead wrangler waved his arm forward and we all started away in single file.

As we went along it was impossible to make Tony to keep up. We started off third in line and a half hour later we were last; sixth. I could try to kick him a little but his speed never changed. The trailed curved around and we headed back. Tony's pace quickened. We were fifth, fourth, third... Tony broke into a full gallop. I pulled back on the reins, to no avail. As we passed him, I could hear the wrangler yell, "WHOA!" But it didn't stop Tony! Luckily, I was a good enough rider. I put most of my weight on my feet in the stirrups, bent my head over his neck, held on tight, and enjoyed the ride. He made the trip back to the barn in record time and stopped at the hitching post as if all was normal. It was exciting while it lasted.

I am a barn horse. I leave the house only because I have to. I go to work slowly and deliberately and race home the moment it's done. Everything I do and everywhere I go, I can't wait to turn for home and run. I should probably change my name to Tony.

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