Karma...The Good Kind

      Autumn, is about 17.2 hands tall at the withers, which is the highest point on a horse's back before it begins arching into their neck.  Each hand is equal to four inches which makes Autumn 70 inches or 5.8 feet tall at the withers.  When I am unable to find a knocked down tree, a boulder or the trunk of someone's car to climb onto in order to climb on to her back, I have make my ascent from sea level.  I don't bother trying to get on her from the ground unless I'm in a pair of jeans made with spandex, otherwise it's just not going to happen.  To get on, I have to lift my leg above my waist and wiggle my foot into the stirrup which is about level with my face.  I then grab a hunk of Autumn's mane and give it the old one-two-heave-ho and in an unintentional slow motion, I struggle my way into the saddle.  Autumn, and anyone else who may have witnessed it, seem a bit bewildered that I make it up there.  I always give Autumn a treat for standing there and putting up with the abuse.
     It was Saturday when and Cindy and I took the horses down to the river to go for ride.  The sky was a true blue, the river sparkled, birds sang, people fished, dogs chased balls into the water and cows napped in the green grass.  On the paved levy, people jogged, kids rode their bikes and moms pushed strollers.  It was a perfect day and everyone in town was enjoying it. 

Cindy and Syria lead the way in front of Autumn and I on the levy, past the cow pastures and the river.

     On our way up river, Autumn stopped to contribute to the scene.  She lifted up her tail and left a big pile of poop on the levy.  We continued our ride until we turned around.  On our way back, Autumn walked around her big road block of a poop she had left earlier. I pulled her to a stop.  I told Cindy to hold on.  I couldn't leave that giant meadow muffin on the path like that.  I jumped off Autumn, karate kicked the crap into the grass and did my hard-to-watch-but can't-look-away, climb back into the saddle.  Autumn walked ten steps before she stopped, lifted up her tail and left another land mind on the walkway.  Again, I slid off and kicked it into the grass.  A woman pushing her toddler in a stroller behind us, picked up the pace and headed full steam ahead at us.  I was bracing myself for a speech on kicking poop into the grass and not getting rid of it properly and she said, "That was so sweet of you! I have never in all the years I've been here seen any horse rider do that before.  Why did you do that?" 
   I told her that I felt bad leaving a big pile like that with everyone walking around with their kids and all.  She thanked me a few more times as she walked on.  It made scaling Mount Autumn, twice, in public, worth the effort to know that someone appreciated our gesture. 
     A few days later, at work at the veterinary hospital, we had an appointment for a few young bulls to get dehorned, vaccinated and castrated.  When the doctor was finished with the procedure, I went outside to begin cleaning up.  There was poop, horns and testicles, scattered, splattered and strewn about. Before I started scooping, spraying and scrubbing I asked the dairymen if they wanted to take the balls home with them.  They told me I could keep them and take home to fry up into some rocky mountain oysters. I thanked them and told them that I had just became a vegetarian.  They then did something totally unexpected, something I have never seen any of our cattle/dairy guys do at our office before.  They dragged over the trash can and proceeded to throw out every single testicle and horn.  Karma had boomeranged right back around to me.  As sweet as it was for a girl to kick a giant pile of horse crap off the road into the grass by the river it was just as sweet have some good guys pick up their bull's nuts and toss them in the trash can for a gal.

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Copyright (c) 2014 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com February 5, 2015