|Not without precedent|
I came out Thusday after work. It was hot enough that changing into stretchy pants didn't sound like fun, but cool enough that I did want to check and see how he was feeling. I pulled his wraps off, threw a bridle on, grabbed my helmet and hopped on bareback.
Or at least, I tried to.
My leg was halfway over his back when the turnout horse galloped STRAIGHT AT US and the wind picked up. Cuna took off leaping and bucking through the barn area. I stayed semi-on for about three jumps and was unceremoniously deposited in gravel right in front of some guys doing work on the barn. Cuna made a few more leaps, then stopped to eat grass.
Guess I sort of deserved that.
I walked up to Cuna and caught him after convincing him that I hadn't, in fact, fallen from the sky and it was ok to let me close. Of course everyone in the immediate barn area had seen him rocketing around and they all came running because it was sooooo not a Cuna thing to do.
I was deemed "too unwell to jog" so my trainer jogged Cuna out. He looked oddles better than Wednesday (ya think?), but still not sound. She handed him back to me as I spit dirt and sand out.
"He's old and smart enough that he didn't learn anything from this, right?" I asked.
"Yep," said my trainer.
"Good. I still don't want to change and put tack on."
|The rascally rapscallion!|
Yes folks, I just got bucked off my lame geriatric horse.