I drove past Terri HallƵs place and ventured about half a mile up the holler before I turned around in the driveway of a house perched at the top of a hill.
My phone rang.
ƵHey, you missed me,Ƶ Terri said. ƵI think I saw your car go by slowly a minute ago.Ƶ
ƵYeah, that was me,Ƶ I said. ƵI can get lost in a 7-11. IƵve already turned around. IƵm coming back.Ƶ
Terri described her mailbox for me to look for on my way back.
ƵItƵs going to be a tight turn at that angle, but I believe in you,Ƶ she said.
I got it right the second time, parked my car at the house and then walked over to the small barn. Terri was waiting for me, along with two horses, Sangria and Margarita.
Terri and I shook hands. Then, she walked me through the barn to the corral on the other side. Sangria and Margarita came up to the fence line that separated the outdoors from the inside. They were curious and wanted to meet me.
ƵTheyƵre friendly,Ƶ she said.
Terri put out a hand and touched one of the horses by the side of her head. Encouraged, I stroked the long nose of the other horse.
They were beautiful.
I had seen horses before, of course. IƵve seen them at state and county fairs, penned in stalls. I remember horses waiting on the other side of a fence adjoining Lost Caverns in Lewisburg.
TheyƵd watched me eat an apple IƵd bought at a gas station and let me get close enough to share half.
IƵd tried to pet the horses on Blennerhassett Island. They werenƵt having any of it, but I also didnƵt have an apple.
I marveled at the soft, dark eyes of TerriƵs horses and wondered how they saw me. I wanted them to like me.
The two horses looked at me for a good minute and then maybe decided they didnƵt need to linger if I didnƵt have a snack. They sauntered off, leaving Terri and me to talk.
The last time I was on a horse, I was barely 5 years old. My grandparents owned a farm in central Virginia. They grew everything from tobacco to corn to soybeans, kept chickens and cows and bought a pony named Maggie and her colt, Rosco.
Rosco had been a bonus animal. Unbeknownst to my grandfather (and maybe the man who sold him the pony), Maggie had been pregnant at the time of purchase.
My grandfather used to lead us around the yard on Maggie. Rosco didnƵt think much of children, had no interest in being saddled and once kicked me when I happened to drift behind him.
We stuck with Maggie, who was very gentle and didnƵt seem to mind my sister and me occasionally sitting on her back.
Pictures were taken and shoved in photo albums, but my grandparents didnƵt keep the ponies for more than a couple of years. Keeping ponies was an expense and extra work. My family and I didnƵt visit often enough to really make it worth all the effort. So, the two ponies went to another farm a few miles away where they would be better looked after.
I havenƵt been on a horse since, unless you count the big, plastic-and-metal ones that go Ƶround and Ƶround.
I met Terri through Honey May, a mutual friend, whoƵd ridden horses when she lived in California as a teenager, kind of fallen away from it as an adult and had more recently rediscovered her love for the activity.
SheƵd asked me whether IƵd be interested in learning about horses, horseback riding and even the horse-rescue efforts of Heart of Phoenix.
I couldnƵt pass it up. IƵve wanted to learn how to ride a horse since my second Clint Eastwood movie (the first one was ƵEvery Which Way But Loose,Ƶ which featured an orangutan, but no horses), but the opportunity never really presented itself.
Learning to ride a horse seems complicated, particularly if you didnƵt already have a horse Ƶ and I donƵt have one sitting around the house.
Someone like me wouldnƵt usually have a horse. Horses both new and used are expensive. Free horses are rare. Nobody leaves boxes of colts on the doorstep of the humane society. No one sits in the parking lot at Walmart with a travel trailer and a sign that reads, ƵFree to good home.Ƶ
Terri promised that if I put in the time, I could learn to ride Ƶ at least, I could learn enough to get started. It wouldnƵt be enough to pull off old west style train robberies or escape bandits, but I might be OK on a trail, in the company of other riders.
She said she would also teach me a few other things about horses and horse care along the way.
ƵThe first thing you need to know about horses is they arenƵt like you and me,Ƶ Terri said. ƵWeƵre predators. TheyƵre prey animals, which means they see things very differently.Ƶ
They have the same list of needs as people, but the order isnƵt exactly the same. They value safety and security above all.
ƵTheyƵre also not like you see in the movies or on TV,Ƶ she said. ƵThey whinny and sigh and snort a lot on TV. They donƵt do that much in real life.Ƶ
Terri pointed to her two horses, who stood off to the side in the shade. Neither had made a sound since IƵd arrived.
Prey animals are quiet. They need to stay silent to avoid attracting the attention of predators. Horses in a herd are always on the lookout, checking in different directions and somehow passing along the information to the others.
How they do that, I donƵt quite understand.
Terri retrieved a halter, and we took Sangria for a walk around the corral. After a lap, she let me try it.
Terri told me to give her a couple of feet of slack Ƶ to not let the rope to be too tense.
ƵHorses are claustrophobic,Ƶ she explained. ƵThey donƵt like being hedged in.Ƶ
This makes sense. IƵve never seen a horse working a desk job.
We went back to the stable and to SangriaƵs stall. Margarita, maybe out of habit, found her way to the neighboring stall and then peed.
Terri yelled over, ƵThatƵs not a urinal, Rita.Ƶ
She shook her head. The horse didnƵt care. Margarita wasnƵt going to clean it up.
Terri brought out hand brushes, like scrub brushes. The bristles of one were stiff. The other brush had softer bristles. She showed me how to groom Sangria, first loosening the dirt and dust that clung to her skin and then using the softer brush to smooth her coat.
ƵI do something like this with my dog,Ƶ I explained.
ƵHorses love it just as much,Ƶ Terri said.
Maybe, I thought, but Sangria didnƵt flop on her back.
Terri showed me how to move around a horse, especially the much-feared back end. Temperament and trust between horse and human play a part, but also keeping contact with the animal and kind of telegraphing movements help keep people from being kicked.
I was cautious around TerriƵs horses, but not really nervous. Mostly, I was just in awe.
