ANECDOTE | ANIMAL ADVOCACY | EDUCATION
Why I Stopped Riding My Horse
“When you hit the dirt, get straight back on, or you’ll never get on again.” These were the wise and somewhat threatening words of my instructor at a time when I was just getting the hang of riding and, at the same time, the hang of falling off.
At the age of 18, earning good money in a part time job, I could finally afford the four-legged obsession I’d had since I was a child. Weekly lessons and unpaid labour at the local stables meant I was in the saddle many times a week, fulfilling the dirty, sweaty, hairy dream of the horse mad girl.
This dream also involved a hell of a lot of falls, but these were just as meaningful as the time I spent in the saddle. While I was originally terrified of falling, after many months of lessons I gained a huge amount of confidence, and soon put a lot of stock into fearlessness.
Crutches, concussions and broken bones became badges of honour. But as I got older, something had to change. My back constantly hurt and the physio bill started to add up. My horse obsession was still strong as ever, but if I was to continue it safely, I needed to stay in the saddle as much as possible.
Rehabilitating Fly
In 2006, when I met Fly — a lovely yet troubled Australian Stock Horse gelding — I was faced with a conundrum. He was a beautiful, sensitive and intelligent fellow, with a willingness to do whatever was asked of him. But his caring owner wanted to find him a new home with an understanding rider because he often bucked violently, seemingly for no reason. I didn’t care that he bucked. I was fearless, and this stunning boy was the horse of my dreams, so I took him on, even though I knew falls were likely in our future.
I spent six months rehabilitating Fly with bodywork (including massage and physiotherapy) and a lot of “natural” training. The vet and equine physio identified a number of physical problems — asymmetric vertebrae, a club foot, an old soft tissue injury on his right flank, and a benign melanoma growing right under the saddle that may have been like an iceberg, with just the top protruding and a much larger mass under the skin.
But rehabilitation seemed to work, and we had six fantastic years of trail riding and careening around the arena having lots of fun. I was always prepped with my body protector and emergency one-rein stop — just in case. But they were never needed. We had a long, buck-free run of fun and adventure and me staying firmly in the saddle.
Fear of falling
One unremarkable day, mid-slow trot around the arena, Fly suddenly started to buck violently again, over and over until I lost my balance and hit the dirt. He kept bucking his way around the arena at full pelt, and by the time he stopped, he was shaking and drenched in sweat, a look of terror in his eyes. I had no idea what had caused this behaviour, but I realised something might still be wrong with him, whether physically or psychologically.
This event felt like a tragedy. The relationship we’d built had seemingly fallen to pieces in a single afternoon. With the words of my old instructor in mind, I got straight back on. But after so many years safely in the saddle I now had a new fear of falling that fought hoof and nail with the trust I’d once had in this horse.
The trust issues became fatal. The bucking continued, and I knew Fly was now translating my fear into his own. More bodywork found nothing new, so I persisted for another six months, changing my saddle, buying supplements and upgrading my old body protector to an air vest. But along with my growing anxiety I started to lose motivation, given I also had my quiet Quarter Horse Chester to ride, who would sooner fall asleep than buck. So I decided to hang up my stirrup leathers and stop riding Fly.
Life after riding
What do you do with an “unrideable” horse? Drawing on our years of natural training, Fly and I continued to build our relationship on the ground. He loves agility, liberty, clicker training and jumping, and receives lots of rewards like licorice, carrots and pellets. I love seeing how his brain works as he judges the strides to a jump on his own, balancing himself for the perfect takeoff and landing. I enjoy watching him stretch out into extended trot and canter in the arena, floating on air without my weight on his back. And I love observing his relationship with his BFF Chester as they race around the paddocks, splash in the dam on hot days and snuggle in the stable together when it’s cold and wet.
I really miss the good times we had in the saddle, but I don’t miss strapping on the air vest, worried about falling with my physio’s number on speed dial. Maybe I’ve lost my fearlessness, but all these years later Fly and I are still a team, working and playing together, as we will for as long as we’re still able.
If you’d like to read more of my writing about horses, you can check out this recent article and my website, which includes links to my academic articles on the subject.
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Dr. Nikki Savvides is an Australian author whose writing focuses on animal advocacy and environmentalism. She’s passionate about improving the welfare and conservation of different animal species, and has studied captive elephants in Thailand for over a decade. Nikki holds a PhD in Cultural Studies focused on the ethical potential of volunteer tourism involving animals.
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