By Nicole A. Musmanno
The other day while riding I got to thinking, why do I do this to myself? The next day, during the course of a conversation with a friend, she started to cry as she discussed the difficult decision she was currently grappling with concerning having to possibly euthanize her older horses. Again, why do we do this ourselves? On the drive home, my thoughts turned to the question I have often asked but never seem to answer. Actually that is not true, I answer it but it is always the same answer, because I love it. I LOVE horses.
But what does that mean?
Throughout the years when I meet people and they find out I ride and own horses the common response is, “Oh I love horses.” Either that or they say, “I’m scared of horses. I fell off one once.”
Once?…. I lost count.
Which brings me back to the original question of, Why do I do this to myself? Why love a creature that at any given moment can kill, toss, trample, cripple, break and humble me? To say it is because I love it/them is not quite enough for me. People say they love horses. Pretty much every little girl LOVES horses. But what is it to love a horse? I have decided horses are very easy to fall in love with; it is even harder to stay in love with horses.
Many people start riding as children and stop right about college. While they still love horses, life has moved past that point in time in their lives. Then there are those like me, I fell in love before I knew there even was such a phrase. I blame my parents, of course. They took me to a horse farm when I was about eighteen months or two years old. I met a black pony named Streaker who licked my face from chin to cowlick in one huge swipe. That was it, I was in love. Before I ever rode, I already had my first fall.
Literally and figuratively I had my first fall. At the same barn, while out in the field with the horses, my sister screamed and startled them. I had been standing petting a very docile paint horse when my sister decided to let loose her horrifying, high pitched child falsetto. The paint horse went from docile to dangerous in the blink of an eye. I do not remember all the details but what I do remember was running away, the horse chasing me, I tripped, I fell and he went right over top of me. A perfect imprint of his hoof stood out, middle back, on my bright blue windbreaker. My mother was frantic, I was fine. I think I was about three.
By four years old I was riding. By six we had an off the track race horse, then a Morgan, then another Morgan, then foals, etc. We learned a lot of hard lessons very quickly, and some lessons we learned over time. But one lesson I have not yet quite learned, the why of it all.
Given the fact I have been trampled, kicked, lost track of my falls, in debt well beyond my means, put my parents in debt and have spent more time crying over horses then any relationship in my entire life, why do I do it? I would not stay in a marriage this risky or tumultuous. And yet, I would end a marriage for a horse. I stressed relationships with people closest to me over horses. I turned myself inside out over horses and in so doing I have turned others inside out over horses. I spent sleepless nights pondering, What if I try… when I have an injured horse or a training issue. My veterinary skills are quite honed and I am not a vet.
So why?
Like I said before, horses are easy to fall in love with. They are much harder to stay in love with and yet I work at nothing harder than my relationship with my horses. If my relationship with them is good then all else falls into place. I even sleep better when I am in regular work (thus the horses are in regular work). I suffer insomnia otherwise. Life moves forward and everything else seems easier. I am more capable of handling it when things are not going well, when stresses blindside me or when I know I have disappointed someone. Because I have them. I have them to ground me, teach me, humble me, knock me in the dirt and dust myself off because I deserved that one. I know the pain, emotional and physical, that comes with horses. But then, I guess that comes with love.
Did I just answer my question?
