December 2012

Dallas was teaching a lesson when I arrived at the barn a few days later for Woody’s first ride. I walked down the hallway to Woody’s stall and opened the door.

“Hi buddy, remember me?” Woody was pacing back and forth in front of the door that led to his turnout. “What’s wrong, good boy?” He kept pacing, walking back and forth as if I wasn’t there. I was scared to approach him. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” I felt an ache in my chest, Woody was clearly in distress.

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked Dallas as she joined us.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s pacing, all upset about something. Is he okay?” I couldn’t bear to see him upset.

Dallas looked in the stall and laughed. “He’s fine, he just wants to go outside. I don’t think he’s had turnout before. He’s like a kid who just had recess for the first time; he wants to go out.”

Relief washed over me. Woody wasn’t sad, he just wanted to be outside. I could understand that.

I watched as Dallas haltered him and led him to the crossties. “You get started brushing him, then clean his hooves, and I’ll be back.”

I took my time grooming Woody. Starting with his neck, I worked my way down his front legs, across his back and belly, and down his back legs. Then I switched brushes and gently rubbed his forehead, nose, and chin. When Dallas was ready, I led Woody down the hallway to the arena.

“I’m going to ride him in my bit,” she said.

In Idaho, Woody had been ridden in a bit with a horseshoe shape in the middle. Dallas’s bit was shaped the same way, but smaller. I watched as she held the bit to Woody’s mouth. “The danger with a smaller bit like this is an inexperienced rider may tug and tug order to get a response and the tongue will actually become less sensitive or go dead.”

That didn’t sound good. “How do I avoid doing that to Woody?”

“You’ll start in a snaffle instead of a shank bit, but eventually, you’ll be riding with your legs and body instead of your hands.”

I remembered Shane riding Woody with no bit at all. Right, got it. Not a chance.

In the arena, Dallas stepped into the saddle and started walking Woody around the arena. She talked to me through the headset while she rode. “There’s more spunk to him, more life than when I rode him in Idaho. Which is good.” They trotted fast, then slow, then fast again. Finally Dallas brought him to a lope. Woody picked up speed, stretching out, and slid to a stop in front of me.

After half an hour, Dallas turned to me. “Did you bring your riding boots?”

I felt a flutter of delight. “Yes!! They’re in the car, my helmet too.” I scurried out into the snow and back again. I was excited, but a little afraid of Woody. “I should just get on him?”

“Yep, you’ll be fine. Walk him around the arena few times to cool him down. Work on stopping and starting him,” Dallas said.

Each time Woody did something I asked, I rubbed his neck and told him he was a good boy. I thought I noticed Woody pulling to the left slightly, like a car with a low front tire. But that could have been me looking left, or having a short left rein or pushing Woody left with my legs. No doubt, that horse was very confused with me on his back; but I was very happy.