A Two-in-Hand Close Call

What was I thinking?! A moment of panic flooded my senses as the reality of having a feisty Shetland pony in one hand and fiery-hot, still green, Andalusian-cross mare in the other. 

My rotation plan was a good one, on paper. It was to be Tonka, then Punkin, then both. Having committed to this plan, I was determined to follow through, despite its obvious lack of common sense.

It was simple, to the point of being close to dangerous, but by the time I figured that out, it was too late. 

Both horses had only been out once this year. Since then, the world has become fresh with all things spring. The horses, as usual, became infected with its freshness, causing an extra flush of heat to course through their veins. 

It may have been wiser to take them out on the “Stretch Our Legs” Loop or walk the road to the local campsite. Good ideas, however, often go disguised as boring until the more exciting idea proves itself to be a bad one. The dream is to one day run all my Port Clements errands by horse or bicycle. We have been working on this concept since we moved to the tiny island village, so I figured what the heck, why not jump right in. 

Tonka was, as usual, overly excited about going out and having the added benefit of both his best friends joining him made for an even spunkier pony than normal. His jiggy little jog barely contained his excitement as he bounced down the middle of the road. Punkin, also as usual for the season, was high-headed and extra alert to her surroundings. 

Horse O’clock was to be the shortest hour this day. Taxes will be due soon for the company and it’s my dull responsibility to see to them. There is also the added work of a heavier writing schedule this year, and of course my muggle job in HR. There are days when all three jobs consume too much of the horses’ time. Thankfully, this was one of those days and I had a fine excuse not to take this bad idea too far. 

Bouncing pony in one hand and flighty giraffe in the other. We made it a whole 350 meters. If I were to guess the amount of times I questioned my sanity in that 350-meter stretch of road I would not be able to. Time slowed, letting me linger in my lack of forethought. It was as if I had entered a black hole of bad ideas, only to become trapped in my decision, waiting for things to go terribly wrong. 

I turned the horses off the road and into the small pullover that wraps around a tall hedge of cedar trees. In an effort to encourage a little calm at the end of each lead, I lead them to a grassy spot to snack on the first of the season’s delicious treats. 

They munched the fresh spring grass together, not happily but together. Punkin, disturbed by sharing her grazing space, scowled at Tonka with the disapproving, pinned ears of an opinionated mare. Tonka being 21 years her senior and the only male role model in her life scowled back a reminder that he had raised her and he deserved that respect. Meanwhile, I found some comfort in the large cedars. If chaos were to explode from the horses, at least the trees blocked us from the road. 

The tiff was short and soon the deliciousness of the new spring grass eased their resentment as they grazed in peace. My nerves settled as I watched the grass work its magic on my overzealous herd. 

Not wanting to renter the black hole of bad ideas, I decided to take the sea-side trail home. Not only would it be a nice change, but it force us into a more deliberate walk with some decent communication. 

All my horses have been trained in harness. A skill I have never once regretted sharing with my quine walking partners. It allows me to continue a line of communication with them from the rear instead of the customary place at my side. 

Tonka, being the most skilled at leading the way, took up the front while Punkin hung back with me. Our mismatched string calmly wound its way around the tight corners of the ocean trail as we hugged the old-growth trees that line the path. The walk, with this new deliberate structure, was turning into something beautiful. We passed over the small wooden bridges, all taking turns to gaze at the sunlight sparkling off the ocean. We walked 350 meters towards home, then took the leg of the quaint little trail that delivers us to the spot across the road from our house. 

I asked for a whoa. Although I could tell there were no cars coming, I very deliberately turned my head right and then left before letting them know it was all clear. Clever creatures, horses are. They picked up on the carefulness of my actions and were present as we cautiously crossed the road. 

It was a short walk, but it was the perfect walk to start the season. I no longer regret the decision to jump right into my plan, but I did learn a very valuable lesson. Don’t try to go to town the first time out for the year.