Walk, Trot, Canter
Maggie took the saddle off first. She had worked Jazz hard in the arena that afternoon. Walk, trot, canter. Halt.
Reverse direction. Unwind rider and horse.
Balanced effort.
Walk, trot, canter. Halt.
Maggie was tired, but invigorated, too. Jazz transitioned from trot to canter. He didn’t toss his head. He didn’t kick his back legs out.
He heard and felt what she had asked. He complied.
A year? Had it been a full year since the lessons started?
An accomplished rider makes it appear effortless — as if the horse is doing all of the work. That’s never the case, on horseback or playing the piano or skiing. There is skill — hard earned through practice.
To get a horse to canter takes effort of both rider’s body and mind. A dance of will between rider and horse ensues. Today, Maggie put all of the pieces together. Jazz was gloriously receptive.
It was like flying.
And for this gift of accomplishment, Maggie treated Jazz to a tender rub down and brushing. Mane and tail combed free of tangles. Hooves picked, removing muck and debris.
Maggie offered Jazz a peppermint, or two. Oh, who’s counting? Today he got four.
Four peppermints.
A small reward for the gift of a canter.
Walk, trot, canter.
Halt.
When Jazz was back in his stall, his head reached over the rail searching for — what else? More peppermints.
Maggie gave his ears a scratch and whispered softly, “Thank you Jazzy. Thank you for taking me flying.”
