Slightly Off the Mark: saddle barn

Showing posts with label saddle barn. Show all posts

Horses, Hats, and Road Apples

I'm not going to be posting this weekend, due to circumstances ... well, not beyond my control. Suffice it to say I'll be busy with the real world, and will give you a full report later.

So, since this is my mid-week photo blog, I decided to go with:

That's right, the 250th anniversary of patriotic horses. No, actually horses in general, and the ones who work up at the Pokagon State Park Saddle Barn in particular. That's where Emily works, in addition to all the time she spends keeping me under control.

I went through all my photos of horses, and narrowed it down to about sixty for a blog that usually has no more than 6-7 pictures. So, I think you can count on seeing more horses in the future.

This photo is over ten years old now, but it's one of my favorite ones of her leading a trail ride. I try not to be obtrusive, and she'll say something to the other riders along the lines of, "He's not creepy, he's my husband". Which doesn't guarantee I'm not creepy, of course.

I just realized, she's not wearing her hat. She almost always has one on, for sun and spider web protection.

The horses get washed ... then they roll again. Emily hates the day right after a rain storm, because even the whitest of horses is guaranteed to be ground colored.

I have to admit, I don't remember most of their names even though whenever I stop by I try to spend a few minutes with each of them. This makes more sense when you realize I also don't remember most human names. I'm also not very good at faces--of either kind.

"I'm ... BatHorse."

Actually it's a screen to keep bugs out of their faces, although I don't have a working knowledge on when they're used, and on whom. I have, however, noticed this horse being shadowed by a robin.

And yes, visitors have been known to ask if the horse is blind. He is not. Or she is not. One of those.

Here's what the actual saddle barn looks like, as the last horse goes in to end the day. They're closed on Tuesdays and Thursdays (except for the occasional special event). The rest of the days the first trail goes out at 10 a.m., and the last one at 5 p.m., barring bad weather or excessive heat.

So, do I ever ride the horses? From time to time, but Emily is usually too busy to take a photo of me. In this case it was kind of a test run for the horse she rode, so she and I were the only ones on the trail.

Ah--there's Emily's hat! Along with some nice, fresh, road apples. Yum.

If various places get too sore for riding, you can always look up our books:

· Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

· Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/search?attributes.contributorId=13727646

· Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4898846.Mark_R_Hunter

· Blog: https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/

· Website: http://www.markrhunter.com/

· Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ozma914/

· Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarkRHunter914

· Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/markrhunter/

· Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarkRHunter

· Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@MarkRHunter

· Substack: https://substack.com/@markrhunter

· Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ozma914

· Audible: https://www.audible.com/search?searchAuthor=Mark+R.+Hunter&ref_pageloadid=4C1TS2KZGoOjloaJ&pf

Remember: You can’t get saddled by too many books.

Avoiding the Kick Zone

Emily works at a saddle barn, guiding trails at Pokagon State Park here in Indiana. Emily is, shall we say, height challenged. I don't believe it's PC to say "short" anymore. But one thing I've learned from watching her work is that she knows how to get much bigger animals to do what she wants.

She knows how to get me to do what she wants too, but at least I don't have to wear a bridal. Well, except that one time.

I've learned a lot about horses from talking to her and watching her work. Horses are even a large part of my mystery/humor/supernatural novel We Love Trouble, which I hope you all get to read someday. She'll have to be listed in the book as "technical consultant".

Did you stick your tongue out at me, young man? Um, young horse?

That's why I know about the Kick Zone.

If you walk behind a horse, you either want to be right behind it, or drop back about a mile and a half. If you're close, but far enough away that the horse can wind up for a kick, you might soon find yourself landing in a tree.

You don't want to be in the Kick Zone.

Earlier this year I drove to Pokagon to pick up Emily. It gave me a chance to introduce myself to the new mule, who Emily described as "rather large". The Saddle barn had two mules. Freddy, who had his own Facebook and Instagram accounts before he passed, was normal sized. for a mule. The other one I hadn't seen yet, but as I walked up to her I imagined what Freddy said at first sight:

"It's a giant! Mulezilla!"

That's Molly with Emily, and no, this is not a trick of perspective.

Molly is the tallest equine animal in the Midwest. Horses and mules are usually measured by hands, but Molly is eight legs tall. Petting her was like trying to put out a forest fire: It's hard to tell where to start. It takes Emily five steps to get into her saddle, with the first step involving the word "trampoline" and the last step being to put on a high-altitude oxygen mask.

I'm just sayin', big mule.

After we got to know each other, Emily untied Molly and led her toward the barn, past me, which is okay because I'm to her side as she goes by. But that was when something spooked her. The mule, I mean, not Emily. The animals know better than to pull away from Emily, but the plastic bag, or crunched leaf, or perceived insult made her swing her back side around until it was aimed at me. The mule, not Emily.

I was in the Kick Zone.

There's only one thing to do: Flee. I backpedaled, reaching approximately warp 9 in half a second. Even the USS Enterprise can't reach that speed by going backward, but I did. Of course, the Enterprise might accidentally back into the Klingons, and I'd hate to fill out that road rage report.

Directly behind me was the end of the hitching line. It was a plastic pipe, maybe four inches in diameter, with the end aimed right at the small of my back like a police battering ram. Only less fun.

Molly with the offending railing end.

I did not scream when I backed into it at Warp 9, which, as you'll remember, is very fast. I did say something, which I'll just code as "Klingon! Oh, Klingon!"

I said "Klingon" several times.

The moral of this story is "situational awareness". It's also that you should keep ibuprofen, ice, and that green stuff from the chiropractor close by at all times. The chiropractor should also be close by.

Molly never kicked. I suppose her mind was on whatever spooked her: a candy wrapper, a passing mosquito, maybe the realization that Lost will never make sense. The hitching post just laughed off the incident. I drove us home with no problems, although it took several people to pry me out of the car and carry me to the couch. I'm now working on the outline of a novel about evil hitching posts that attack the unwary, and I'm calling it "Post Ghosts". M. Night Shymalan already has the movie rights.

Yes, horses do appear in some of my books, specifically the Storm Chaser series. Find them all here: