Wild Bill and Lessons in Humility
Well, after replying quickly to your thread asking whether a 6ft4 man weighing 240lbs living in Vermont could find a horse to ride, I began to wonder whether you had realised what you had set in motion. Noticeably the ladies had flocked to answer your post. There had been 31 posts and 356 viewers on a new thread over a matter of hours. You had not even mentioned your age, that you had the pecs of Brad Pitt, the smile of Robert Redford and the lankey horse rider frame of Clint Eastwood. You had merely casually mentioned your height and weight. Usually more modest men do have a tendency to stand aside for a man of your stature. You big guys look down on us short male mortals I suspect you are not used to the occasional taste of humility. Well I think before you take another step you ought to stop and think about where you are heading when you think of horses.
For a start a young kid born on a cattle farm, who has been used to horses since he was a toddler will be able to ride better than you ever can, however much effort you put into learning how to ride. A young lad, maybe 10 or 14 will spring up onto your horse and make it do things you never thought possible. In the event you’ll look on with a bright smile but inside you’ll be green with envy. Then one day you will look at the average male jockey and note how small and slim he is. By your standards he will be a nine stone weakling but he will be able to ride the fastest of thorobreds. By becoming horsey, you will have thrown away the advantages of physique which nature gave you. Your strength doesn’t count when dealing with horses; it is your guile and experience which matter.
When eventually you acquire your own horse, no doubt you’ll find it a stable down at the nearest livery yard. Suddenly it will come home to you that this horsey world is female dominated. You could well be the only man on the yard. The women aged from 8 to 68 will all stare at you, not because you are tall but because you are male. They will seek to find out who you are, where you came from and how good a horseman you are. At the beginning they will judge you by the condition of your horse but sooner or later they’ll get to judge you by your riding performance in the training arena. On that occasion you will be representing the male species and you simply must give a good show. Your tack must be clean, your horse must shine and the horse must go on the bit. Your legs and hands must be still; you must sit bolt upright with your heels down. However even if you do well on your own horse then one of those kind ladies will bring out her mare for a short test of your skills. She’ll tack it up and lead it over, with the words : “why don’t you try my horse“. She wants to test your mettle and you must come through with flying colours. That horse for sure will be no pushover and it will have been carefully chosen to test your capability. You will be judged by all on the yard by that one ride. Even the ladies who aren’t present will know all about the trial before night falls, especially if you come off. The jungle drums will rumble that night.
Now don’t think that any of these horsey ladies are likely to rush to invite you home for supper. No, they love their horses far more than the men in their loves. It is the horse that has its bed made each night and which is given a carefully measured bucket of feed. It is the horse that is bathed and groomed whenever it gets sweaty. The housework gets done only after the horse is safely tucked away. You could be lying in bed at home gasping for water suffering from pneumonia even the dreaded man flu but if at the same time the horse is even slightly lame, the Lady will be down at the yard calling for the vet.
This is a woman’s world. We men are only tolerated since it is recognised from time to time that we do have our uses. We can lift bags of horse feed and we aren’t frightened of spiders. Look in the mail order catalogue books, you will quickly notice that nearly all of the fashion models are female. It simply doesn’t matter what we men look like in our baggy jeans. Our panty line can show.
So what I am asking is just why have you picked this sport when all that looms ahead for you is humility? Maybe as yet in life because of your size you have not yet had to come to terms with being looked down on. Sand has never been kicked in your face. Why don’t you choose to do weightlifting or to play football or the other games where size matters? If you tell me it is because a 750 kilo 17 hand Shire cross gelding gave you a nudge and a lick then I’ll know instantly that you are love struck. It will do no good for me to tell you that loving horses is a sickness. You will not understand. So whatever you do, don’t buy a mare as they are even more devious than the lady riders.
I know all this for I have a beautiful dapple grey mare up in the barn myself. But I don’t have pecs.
Last edited by xxBarry Godden; 05-15-2010 at 02:50 PM.