I feel sorry for horses.

May 25, 2002

I feel sorry for horses. I’ve never really reconciled my feelings towards the beautiful beasts. They establish such a huge presence if ever you’re near them. Its not just the size alone that does this. Their interstellar shape and aloof attitude make them seem alien to some of this species...so weirdly gorgeous. They are the extreme end of that head shape. The giraffe and the deer seem to state themselves a little less. Today the cast and crew rode these creatures through the spectacular desert north of Scottsdale Arizona. During the early hours or morning they somnambulated along trails built for such a purpose . Old horses, sleepy horses and generally genteel horses carried the city slickers through the dusty painted and prickly scenery. We escaped the harshest heat by riding them single file so early in the day. Train I ride sixteen horses long. My horse was a twenty year old “big black” horse named Whiskey. I say “big black” because that is as close as I get to knowing his breed. After setting my six foot, one hundred and seventy pound frame on him I patted his neck and apologized. I think he liked that. Why have people convinced themselves that horses don’t mind being ridden? We talked a lot as we ambled along the path and he figured out pretty quickly who was in control. After a fashion he just did what he wanted to do and I loved him for it. He never did anything I didn’t like. He knew me so quickly. The guide was a classically weathered gent who had spent most of his time as an ex-CIA tracker. I feel he had a pretty good handle on matching the personality of the horse to the rider. He said, “you’re going to like ol’ Whiskey. Just keep your heals down in the stirrups and keep him back from the horse in front”. At first I felt this illustrated a skittish nature but I quickly learned it just meant Whiskey was going to do it his way and he needed a rider that liked that. I explained to Whiskey that I trusted him to get me back in one piece and to just do what I knew he’d done a million times. Whiskey and I definitely understood each other and I think all the other members of my posse had similar experiences. When I got off I felt like I wanted to spend more time with him...just looking at him and talking to him. I get the horse thing now but I feel like I’d rather watch them run around and occasionally ask them if they mind taking me for a spin. If they seem like they’re tired or mellow then we can just hang out instead. I feel sorry for the ones who’s caretakers don’t feel the way I feel.