He Zigged, I Zagged

You can guess the result.

I rode Poco bareback in the round pen. It was a little too wet to do anything but walk, so we toodled around the back 2.5 acres for awhile. We crossed the dry creek bed where it flattens, up through the trees to end the ride. He spooked hard right at something I could not see or hear, and I came off his left side.

Have you ever seen Roadrunner cartoons where Wile E. Coyote goes off the end of a cliff and hangs there for a second before dropping to the bottom? It was like that. He went right and I stayed where I was. I didn't fight coming off. I don't think I even had a chance to. I didn't want him flailing around amongst all the trees, in any case. The ground was still soft from all the rain, and I'm grateful to have landed on my left side, the opposite of my fall back in May.


The worst part of coming off is knowing that whether you feel like it or not, you have to get back on. Poco was standing with Jaz over by the hitching post — home base, as it were. If I could have stayed on, he only went a few dozen yards. I had to walk him back over to the round pen, because that's where the mounting block is. Just as well. We walked a couple laps and called it good. I tucked the reins under the bareback pad and he walked with me back over to the hitching post off lead. I really like that he does that.

I can still count on one hand the times I've prematurely parted ways with a horse. That was three. I'm sure there will be more.

And I'm grateful for every ounce of fat on this old carcass. I'm bruised, but it's not bad at all. Thanks to my friend, Rose, for turning me on to Arnica Montana, a homeopathic remedy for trauma, bruising, and muscle aches.

When I told Mike about it (he was asleep when it happened), he made some comment about being thrown. I told him I wasn't thrown, I came off. There's a difference. He asked if I was okay and if I had worn a helmet. Yes. Then he asked, "So what should I put on your tombstone?" I said, "She died doing what she loved." He said, "How about, 'At least he didn't throw me.'" Love ya, hon.