After brushing Ruby without incident, I took her out to the ring, still shaky from knowing I’d almost gotten hurt through my ignorance. Ruby was very perky, alternately sniffing the sand and snorting excitedly about the new surroundings. I elbowed her shoulder a couple of times to keep her a safe distance from me, as I’d learned with leading Spruce around. We made it halfway around the ring before she decided she wanted to be ahead of me instead of trailing behind, sniffing at the ground. I sped up to keep up with her, so she sped up to stay ahead.
“Turn around and walk back the other way,” my mentor instructed, so I did. I turned right, Ruby on the outside of the turn, and walked her back the way we’d come from. We got maybe eight paces before she was in front of me again.
“Turn again!” intoned my mentor. We turned. Five paces.
“Turn!” Five more paces, this time with vigor. I was beginning to get that panicky, out-of-control feeling I got with Spruce when he’d begin getting too upset to pay attention to me. Ruby wasn’t upset, she was excited, but I still felt the same tightness rise in my chest. I was already on edge, and the now-frantic pacing and sharp turns only heightened my anxiety.
“Turn!” I obeyed, though I felt I was going to explode with nerves, and then the horse beside me did explode.
Ruby reared up and struck me on the arm with the side of her hoof as she flailed her front feet in the air, shaking her head in frustration. I let go of the lead rope and shut my eyes, ducking out of strike range. When I opened them again, she was standing a few feet away, snorting at me.
“What the hell are you doing?” Ruby’s stance seemed to ask me, perplexed. She was no longer exploding. She stood calm and still but with the most puzzled look on her face. She snorted again.
My mentor reached me and grabbed my shoulder, asking if I was alright. I assured her I was just startled. My arm would bruise, but my puffy winter coat and the angle of the blow meant Ruby hadn’t done any real damage. After all, she hadn’t flailed hooves around with the intent to harm.
My mentor told me to sit on the fence while she led Ruby around the sand ring a few laps. I watched as she performed the same maneuver I’d been attempting, though with assurance and will that I couldn’t have mustered. She jerked on the lead rope at the beginning of each turn, telling the young mare who was in charge. Ruby acquiesced and led quietly after a few minutes. I cried again, a combination of adrenaline and failure turning into tears. The logical part of my brain knew that I was just inexperienced. Still, the part that was connected to repeated words like “wimp” and “doing it wrong” twisted it into a message that would continuously chase around and around in my head in various situations over the next few years “you’re not good for horses.”
– from the upcoming memoir, Standing in a Field With Horses by Maeve Birch
Release date: November 13th, 2022!
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