Flesh and Bones

I am made of flesh and bones. A horse reminded me of this yesterday.

Yesterday was the third day of surveying a 40 hectare land suitable, with some rehabilitation, for an organic farm. This morning I will be in discussions, not negotiations with a local prospective partner.

The quarter horse I was ride was pokey and reluctant to ascend or descend anything steep or rugged. As I was exerting more energy kicking this reluctant ride than I would hiking up and down the face of these hills I dismounted and lead the horse by the reins. After returning to the flat land at the base of the hill the owner of the horses suggested that I ride the grey gelding as it had more spirit. Several times Carlos took off at a reasonable pace and the grey quickly caught up.

On one occasion I lingered for a while, examining the topography, trying to figure out the best places to put in Tilapia ponds on the seasonal creeks. I moved the reins gently to the right, the reigns touched the left side of the horse's neck, I gave a little nudge with my feet to the ribs, no need to kick, just to let him know that the time for standing was done. He took off a rapid trot and then broke into a full gallop up the hill. Eight strides later we crested and started down, I passed Carlos; it was time to stop. I pulled up hard on the reins. Too hard I guess the horse skidded to a stop. My momentum was carrying me and I grabbed the horn which proceeded to take the saddle with me in the only way possible, by torquing the chest of this big boy. I had no desire to injure this horse and even less desire to roll down the hill with the horse on top of me so I threw my left leg back over the horse and down onto the scrub and sand, tucked and rolled. No contusions, but I bruised up a couple of ribs pretty well. I walked the rest of the day.