Goodbye Horses

This isn’t about airplanes, but people who share an irrational passion for something as costly and inefficient as General Aviation might appreciate a story about horses.

Today our two horses – Taboo and Paige – were hauled away on a trailer to their new homes in northwest Pennsylvania. Paige will go to a woman who has a farm and has been taking lessons and has always wanted her own horse. Taboo will be going back home to Carol from whom we bought her ten years ago.

I wasn’t there to help load them – which is just as well. It hasn’t hit me yet that they’re gone, but it probably will in the morning when I go out to the barn to feed them and let them out as I have every day for the last six years. The barn will be empty, the pasture will get overgrown, and the smell of horse manure will slowly dissipate.

I haven’t been able to ride much the last couple of years. Taboo developed arthritis in her hip, and was no longer up for the long trail rides in the woods and fields on the hills behind the house. I tried a few times, but she was in pain with each step. So she and my son’s horse Paige became lawn ornaments, happily munching grass and getting fat and living the perfect horse life – no work, plenty of food, and no pesky people making demands.

Horses are not like dogs – they don’t run up to you and wag their tails and seem happy to see you. In fact, most horses would rather be left alone, and accept a bit and bridle somewhat reluctantly. They pretend to not notice you when you’re in their space, and are devoid of any overt affection (contrary to the movies). And unlike dogs, every horse has the capacity to do serious harm to frail tiny humans – even unintentional acts can cause injury or even death.

Horses communicate in subtle ways that are nearly imperceptible, and yet can read human body language better than people. The same relatively tiny brain that shrieks “RUN!” at the sight of a plastic bag blowing in the wind will sense your mood and react accordingly. I learned early not to expect a good ride when I was all amped up after a hard day.

Horses require an amazing amount of human labor – daily mucking of stalls, filling and carrying water, loading and moving bales of hay, shavings, fifty pound bags of feed, putting up and maintain fence, filling in groundhog holes, removing noxious plants – which does not include the actual labor on the horse – brushing, trimming, picking, cleaning, bandaging. Couple the labor with the costs for all the support materials and the investment is significant.

Of course they provided free lawn mowing across three acres, but were selective in which grass was mowed close and which was left to grow to shaggy heights (horses are perpetual 2-year olds – always eat candy first). Many times I wish I could have hitched up both horses to help me drag trees I cut down, or piles of cut firewood across the snow. But driving a team is another skill that horses need to be trained to do. Add to the training the cost of the hitch and pretty soon you just end up letting them watch as you haul the firewood up the hill one load at a time.

I learned to ride when I was in my forties, and unlike the loose-limbed 12-year-old neophytes at the training barn, I needed extra help in getting my heels down. I never planned on competing, and was perfectly happy when I had enough proficiency to saddle up and head out onto the trails. I learned to control the horse by thought, and Taboo was more than happy not to have her sides kicked or her mouth pulled. The snaffle bit became an extension of sight – where I looked, we went. When I thought, “Let’s pick up the pace...” she’d trot. And when I leaned forward a bit and gave her some rein, she knew it was time to let it rip.

Taboo is a well-built American Quarter Horse – compact and strong and fast. I’ve ridden motorcycles practically my entire life and currently ride a FZ1 (140+ hp liter bike) and I am not exaggerating when I say that this horse accelerated faster than any machine. We would go from a stand to gone in two strides. The wind, the silence, the movement, and the feeling of a thousand pounds of animal straining to get there as fast as possible was truly intoxicating.

Paige is an older horse – we bought her so my son could learn to ride and to give Taboo company after we let Mickey go (a strong-willed, badly trained gelding that was more work than fun). Nathaniel took lessons and enjoyed riding, but it never got to him as it did to me. After a couple of seasons Paige wasn’t doing much either.

I’m old enough to know about life’s seasons and change and all that stuff. And both horses are going to better homes – our barn was a converted garage, our pasture only three acres, and no one had time anymore to work with or ride the horses.

But after you’ve had a connection with such a beautiful, powerful, sensitive animal, it’s hard to think life will ever be as full and complete, no matter how many machines you try to replace it with.