Why Do I Like Horse Movies?

I like horse movies. I'm not talking about home videos shot by people who 'love' horses, but rather movies like Seabiscuit, Hiladgo, Flicka, Spirit, and yes, even Dreamer. Hell, I even like movies where horses play a lesser role, like Silverado, Open Range, and Dances With Wolves. I admit, I have not watched a lot of horse movies, but the ones I have seen, I get wrapped up in. I am not certain where my love of these beasts came from, however.

When I was eight years old, I was nearly trampled to death by a horse. It's a funny story now, but it sparked a healthy fear of horses in my heart. We were living in a small farming town in southern Saskatchewan, and one of my new found friends invited me to her place to visit for the day. "Her place" was a farm, complete with all sorts of animals Old Macdonald would have taken in, including a horse and a Shetland pony. I loved horses, having never spent any time with them aside from one ride on an Appaloosa when I was six, and one sad turn on a downtrodden pony at the fair when I was about the same age. Yet when I indicated to my friend that I loved horses she set about to get me a ride on the pony. Apparently the horse was in heat, or something (like I knew what THAT meant, at eight).

Now, I don't know if you know this, but sometimes, horses have a companion, another animal to keep them company, for various reasons. Anyone who has spent any time around horses will know this. I did not. The pony my friend sat me on, with no saddle or reins, was an equine companion to that in-heat horse in the pasture. My friend took the rope that was attached to the pony's halter, and led us to the gate that led to the farmyard. Sadly, it was also the gate that ultimately led to the pasture.

Once through the gate, two things happened simultaneously. She dropped the lead to close the gate, and the pony took off at what can only be described as light speed towards the pasture. Oh yeah, a third thing happened as well. I found out that I did not love horses. Horses are incredibly powerful animals with sharp hooves that can crush a human skull when trampling over anything and everything to get to the object of their interest. To be clear, I was not the object of the pony's interest, the horse in the pasture was.

Have you ever ridden a horse when it is galloping at full speed? Ever tried it bareback? How about sans reins? I can say that I have, and I even lived to tell about it. In all fairness, I did not ride it bareback. I ended up - rather quickly - under its neck, arms and legs clutched desperately to prevent the death I knew would be inevitable if I let go. Shetland pony or not,those hooves would have wrecked me.

In my memory, I did not scream. I think I was terrified I would spook the pony more, and visions of it rearing up and shaking me loose kept any and all screams lodged in my throat (which is where my heart was in those moments). However, I freely admit I cried like the eight year old girl I was.

When the pony neared the horse, I had a new concern. My friend had told me that horses in heat were dangerous. I did not like being hot either, so I empathized with the horse's irritation. However, being in close proximity to a hot and angry horse that was perhaps three times bigger than the beast that had just about murdered me was akin to jumping from the frying pan into the blast furnace. As soon as the pony held still for half a second, I let go, got my feet set under me, and ran faster and harder than I have probably ever run in my life.

I don't even want to imagine the sight I made, crying and careening across that pasture. I do know I cleared the fence like a professional athlete, and promptly collapsed on the ground in a shattered heap. After that, things are hazy, but it seemed like Dad was there to pick me up about two minutes later.

And thus ended my first solo horseback ride. It also ended my visits to my farm friends' homes. I was actually okay with that.

Farms have an odour to them I never really got used to.