Learning By Horse

My daughter is an equestrienne. She's only 8-years-old, but she has horses in her blood. If I didn't watch her come out of my body, I'd swear she was someone else's child. I was afraid of cows until I was 25, so you can imagine how I felt about horses.

Yet, oddly, my daughter's obsession has been an instrument of incredible teaching, and much learning, for me. Not only can I now tack up a horse --something I consider a great feat, since I didn't know the difference between a girth and a bridle two years ago-- but I can do so without any fear. In fact, I've found that I'm rather besotted with the creatures, even though I cannot ride one to save my life (well, perhaps only in the extreme need to save my life!).

My daughter has had some sad setbacks in her short equestrienne career: this Spring, the pony she had ridden nearly since she began riding died on the very day her lease on him was to begin. It was a huge shock that taught us colic can kill even a young horse. Then, the beautiful and strong white horse she ended-up leasing went lame after their first big eventing competition together. After weeks of X-rays, ultrasounds and other tests, the lameness expert pronounced the verdict: stall rest until Spring 2010, then perhaps surgery. Madeleine once again learned that even sound competition-level horses can have unexpected injuries that put them out of commission. The final blow came today, when she learned that her substitute horse for Quadrille (a sort of horse drill team) will probably need to be put down at the end of this week. Guss is a huge quarter horse, 19-years-old, and sweet as can be, but his arthritis is, quite literally, killing him. Madeleine took the news in a stoic manner; she is not overly close to Guss, but she looks upon him as the "grandfather" of the barn: a horse that stepped in so that she could ride with her team when her own horse went lame. For that reason, she wants to go to the barn this week to give him some treats, to say thank you, and to kiss him goodbye.

Some have asked why we don't just buy Madeleine her own horse and have done with the problems inherent to leasing. The answer is simple: we can't afford one. But really, it's more involved than that: we just don't know enough about horses yet to feel comfortable purchasing one.

But I am learning. And as my daughter passes through these difficult experiences, she is learning, too.

She is learning that horses are fragile, despite their great size. She is learning to be sensitive to their needs, to care for them, and to let go when it is time. She is learning to share horses with other riders, to not expect that she will always have the best mount, but that each one will teach her something she needs to know.

These are lessons that apply to so many other things in life. How lucky my daughter is that she's able to learn them from such graceful instructors, who ask nothing more from her than love and an occasional apple or muffin.

And how lucky I am to be learning alongside her -- life lessons I never imagined I would glean from an 8-year-old in a barn, but now I cannot imagine learning anywhere else.