A memoir: Evil Dwells... part 3: more of "when" posted 12/7/2006 3:11:01 PM | 6 kudos what's this?     report abuse tagged: horses, riding, fear

redtigr

On this day in mid-summer; I had packed a lunch and set off early to avoid the worst of the afternoon heat. Goose and I took the usual route, crossing the lower “forty” without incident, and proceeding to the catchpen. No cattle were pastured there at that time, and both gates were propped open. By the time we had slowly climbed to the wire farmgate in the hedgerow, Goose was wet with sweat. I hoped when we got onto the ridge we might find some air moving, but if anything the atmosphere there was even more oppressive. We crossed the fallow acreage in steamy stillness, headed into the woods to seek relief, and continued on our way, happy just to be out of the sun.

I don’t remember where we went that day, but by mid-morning it was too hot to enjoy the outing, and I decided to head on home. As we emerged from the shadowed woods into the bright sunlight of that abandoned hundred acre field, there was not a cloud to be seen. The sky was that deep flat blue of summer that made it look as if we were inside a giant colored glass bowl, shimmering and dissolving away at the horizon as if melting in the heat waves rising off the earth.

About twenty yards out of the shelter of trees, I felt a gust of hot air blow over us. Suddenly we were amidst buffeting winds that roiled the hedgerows and clumps of grass, kicking dust up into little cyclones here and there along the ground. I remember thinking what a typical summer day it was – the kind of day you’d expect a thunderstorm by late afternoon… and then suddenly everything felt wrong. I became hyper-aware - of the wind, the heat, the sun, the dust – and our position out in that field. The eerie sensation up my back was magnified tenfold. Something... something palpable played over me… and then seemed to fix upon me. It was as if I had come to the terrible attention of something or someone that meant me harm. There was no thought but that I needed to get away from that horrible place. The Goose - feeling me go rigid with terror - began to dance in place, preparing for flight.

I tried to force myself to relax my muscles, somehow certain that if we ran, the unknown “something” would become an identifiable reality. I didn’t want to know; I just wanted to get away from there. Goose kept flicking his ears back toward me and I realized that I was muttering quietly to myself to calm down, and to him: “walk, walk… there’s a good boy… walk... just walk…” And slowly, slowly we crossed that field with my calm voice belying taut awareness, and the eyes of that something focused upon us, following our progress. The worst moment was when we reached the farmgate in the hedgerow. Just the previous week, the final splint had been removed from my right ring finger, broken in two places in a freak accident. I had not regained full strength in the hand and though I felt it impossible to open and re-close this gate without dismounting, I had to try. I slipped the wire off the top of the gatepost and struggled to lift the post free of the bottom wire. With pressure from one leg, I urged Goose to pivot around the post and through the opening as I held the freed post with one hand. I knew I’d never be able to pull it tight enough to force it into the bottom loop of wire, but I managed to pull it far enough to slip the loop over the top. I was beginning to believe we might have eluded whatever it was, but as I began to “come down” from the experience, I seemed to turn into a puddle of jello. Goose took this as permission to race for home.

I barely had the wherewithal to stay on board as we plummeted down the hill at a full out-of-control gallop. It’s dangerous to gallop downhill, and you should never gallop home as it can teach a horse to become a barn sour runaway – and you have to walk a hot horse until he cools down. I tried vainly to pull him up as we headed toward the first of the catchpen gates. At the last second, ‘ol Goose seemed to realize he’d never make the turn. He set his forelegs, leaned back and tried to stop - but it was too late. We slid through the gate, Goose crashing sideways into the fence and going down. I was thrown into the branches of some small trees adjacent to the fenceline. I clung there, suspended for a full second or two over my scrambling, struggling horse – and then I dropped like proverbial lead just as he regained his feet and lurched aside.

.... to be continued... stay with me, now.....

Copy & paste to friend: (Click inside box; Ctrl + C to copy; Ctrl + V to paste)

Blogs by redtigr: It's what you make of it... ... there is no other hand... An open letter, or blog, for FrumiousB... I need a man... no, really! Straw into gold: signs for 2007... This is the last time... 500 miles... misc. travelin' notes... Take two of these and don't call me... a bit of debris A memoir: Evil Dwells... part 6: conclusions.. A memoir: Evil Dwells... part 5: what.. A memoir: Evil Dwells... part 4: what.. A memoir: Evil Dwells... part 3: more of "when" A memoir: Evil Dwells.... part 2: when A memoir: Evil Dwells.... part 1: where December, one quarter to full... ... half an ounce of prevention.... ...he smiled with his eyes "Look at Me"..... no, please listen...... where have all my kudos gone.... silly email received today.... An edited, but shameless repost: Baggage and Experience musings on winter .. or Parabolic Trajectories With a Twist..... ...Toto_2 A Personal Soapbox (get up here, mailorderannie)....