That’s how the saying goes, a picture’s worth a thousand words. With horses, I think it could be far more than that. Pause to think about what’s behind each photo of every horse and rider… I don’t just mean the crinkling peppermint wrappers or antics intended to get the ears up. I mean think about how many setbacks preceded that smile up centerline, or how many training challenges led up to that blue ribbon, how the stars had to align to get that Olympian on that podium or how long that little girl saved up her pennies to make a childhood dream come true… it’s astonishing.
When Beau was officially retired early this summer, I asked my friend to take his photo for me. I wanted to remember him like he was in that moment, still strong and dappled with a show horse shine. I was also searching for small spots of happiness in the middle of the devastation I felt at having to retire him, and it was nice to have a fun day to look forward to amidst the endless sea of stall rest boredom for him and for me.
Just like anything with horses, nothing goes according to plan. The day arrived and so did severe thunderstorms. We picked a rain date and it looked like it was going to be a perfect day to hang out outside with my friend and my horse. Things slowly started to go awry, starting with a last minute patient forcing me to be at work earlier than I planned then some last minute massages scheduled that afternoon, forcing my hair up into a hat instead of staying around my shoulders in a well behaved mess.
If only that’s where the snafus ended… But with horses, the real catastrophes don’t begin until you get to the barn. I said hello to my handsome friend and took him out of his stall to be groomed and doused in fly spray before going outside. I should have noticed the “crazy eyes” right away but I was distracted trying to get us both cleaned up in time. With one eye on the clock, I took him outside for a quick grass snack, as was our daily routine, and that’s when the day really unraveled.
Our first stop was the patch of the dirt he liked to lick since he was selenium-deficient without access to pasture. The second stop was his favorite spot to snack, the side of a rain ditch where the mower can’t reach and the grass grows extra tall and lush. Approximately two seconds after plunging his head into the daisies he was either A) stung by a bee or B) possessed by demons. In less than a heartbeat, he was airborne, transformed into the equine kite I’d become so well-acquainted with during his time on stall rest. But this time, instead of coming back to Earth, he fired out behind him with both hindlegs, catching me in the wrist and the arm as I pulled the lead rope back, trying to steady him. As luck would have it, he kicked me in the hand holding his lead rope, thereby freeing himself to continue his rampage without me. This horse, who is supposed to ONLY WALK, took off galloping TOWARDS THE ROAD. All my adrenaline and all my half marathon training could not get me to the driveway fast enough. I watched with horror as a car approached but luckily stopped. He stopped too, starting at it, leadrope dangling from his face. I continued running towards him as the passengers began getting out of the car with the intention of grabbing him for me. He thought about that for a half a second, then wheeled, galloping back down towards me before realizing his bad leg kind of hurt then he calmly stopped himself, waiting for me to rescue him.
So, in a nutshell, that was the day these photos were taken. One/both of us almost died, then I gently picked bits of gravel and dirt out of my bleeding arm before putting on a dress and little ankle boots. I unfurled my crumpled hair from under my baseball hat and forced myself into a state of composure before Anita arrived. But you would never know this if I didn’t tell you. In these photos are just smiles and silliness, like it usually is when Beau and I are side by side.
Like every photo of a horse and human, the moment captured is so much more than that moment. When I look at them, I see more than that moment, that day. I see each and every day that lead us to that moment. I see the years of hard work and training, I see the trust that was cultivated through the time we spent together, and I see the bond that was tested through these last nine months–the hardest thing we’ve ever gone through together–his harrowing journey of trying to survive stall rest.
His personality, my unwavering admiration of this goofball, the beauty of spending an evening outdoors…. it’s all captured here so beautifully. Even when things go awry, as they somehow always do, being beside my horse is unfailingly wonderful. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again–Beau is my wise (albeit kind of weird) teacher, keeping me grounded in the beauty of the present moment and showing me how to roll with the punches (and/or kicks).
