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Authors: Gigi Amateau
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shoulder. “We’ll just stay for a little while, until I know what to say to Poppa. I like the quiet. I like the trees and I like the sky. The mountain helps me think.” His mouth softened; I could feel it. “I learned that from Poppa.”
The sunshine cut in through the forest understory and shone down through the bare river birch onto us. I blew out to watch my breath spiral and swirl around in the last daylight.
Izzy stretched out on my back and let his legs dangle against my barrel. The two of us kept still and silent until the sun only glistened at our feet, on its way below Saddle Mountain, on the other side of Rockbridge County. Izzy slid down to lead us home. We passed an empty pine strand that Poppa had recently cleared for timber, then came to a grassy place on the side of hill.
“Come on, boy, this is a shortcut. We cross here and we’ll be back in your field in no time. Poppa showed me once.” Izzy scratched his head. “I think this is the way.”
I whinnied into the open and my own voice answered. I refused to go farther in the direction Izzy wanted. Izzy was wrong.
I squared up my feet and sunk them into the ground. Whether he knew it or not, Izzy needed me to get him home. A barred owl had already made its first surveying flight; soon there would be no sunlight left at all. I pulled on the lead rope to get Izzy to turn around.
“Mac!” Izzy shouted. He yanked too hard on the rope, snapping the chain to pull my head down. “Walk on!”
I refused. Izzy was leading us down deeper into the mountain base, away from home. I whinnied, again, and called out for help. No one called back to me. Not Molly. Not Job. I used all my strength until Izzy let go of the lead and gave in.
“All right,” said Izzy. “We’ll go your way.”
He climbed up onto my back. I whinnied every few minutes, but Izzy and I were alone, with darkness enclosing. Izzy started to shiver. He hadn’t any gloves on, but warmed his hands in my winter coat. I kept walking toward home, all the while whinnying for someone. Finally, I heard a reply, but it was not a whinny or a nicker.
It was Poppa.
I followed his voice, calling out our names without stopping, until I could see the light from the house, then the light from the barn. Poppa stood waiting just in the barn doorway. Izzy slid down and ran to him.
Poppa opened his arms. “Please, Izzy,” he said. “Believe me. You and our little herd are the reasons I am healthy and sober.”
Izzy rested his head on Poppa’s shoulder and nodded. “I was so scared without you,” he said. “I’m glad to be home.”
O ver the years, the bond between Poppa and Izzy grew stronger. Poppa needed his cane all the time now, but still he kept riding every day. Izzy did turn out to be like Charlotte in one way. By the time he was thirteen, he was as tall as Poppa and still growing.
I kept busy learning all I could from Molly and Job. After I’d been at Cedarmont for several years and had reached a good height and weight, Poppa gave me the conditioning and schooling that I needed to go with Izzy. Some days we built up my strength, power, and suppleness, and on others we worked to improve my focus, attention, and discipline. Poppa praised my gentle nature, and he never asked Izzy to win a ribbon or a trophy, only to ride in the mountains like he wanted. We had become a family. Poppa, Molly, Job, and I. And, we trusted in one another.
The first time Izzy took me out on the trail our trust was tested. I had learned how to listen and obey the aids from Izzy. His legs, seat, and hands were stronger than words. The reins and the bit even stronger. But, Poppa never taught how Izzy’s breath was an aid, too. This I learned on my own.
Early one August morning, while the air was cool but still muggy, we rode out with Poppa and Molly.
I often knew how Izzy wanted me to go, even before he asked. But, part of my job was to help him learn to use his aids correctly. Still, I should have taken
The sunshine cut in through the forest understory and shone down through the bare river birch onto us. I blew out to watch my breath spiral and swirl around in the last daylight.
Izzy stretched out on my back and let his legs dangle against my barrel. The two of us kept still and silent until the sun only glistened at our feet, on its way below Saddle Mountain, on the other side of Rockbridge County. Izzy slid down to lead us home. We passed an empty pine strand that Poppa had recently cleared for timber, then came to a grassy place on the side of hill.
“Come on, boy, this is a shortcut. We cross here and we’ll be back in your field in no time. Poppa showed me once.” Izzy scratched his head. “I think this is the way.”
I whinnied into the open and my own voice answered. I refused to go farther in the direction Izzy wanted. Izzy was wrong.
I squared up my feet and sunk them into the ground. Whether he knew it or not, Izzy needed me to get him home. A barred owl had already made its first surveying flight; soon there would be no sunlight left at all. I pulled on the lead rope to get Izzy to turn around.
“Mac!” Izzy shouted. He yanked too hard on the rope, snapping the chain to pull my head down. “Walk on!”
I refused. Izzy was leading us down deeper into the mountain base, away from home. I whinnied, again, and called out for help. No one called back to me. Not Molly. Not Job. I used all my strength until Izzy let go of the lead and gave in.
“All right,” said Izzy. “We’ll go your way.”
He climbed up onto my back. I whinnied every few minutes, but Izzy and I were alone, with darkness enclosing. Izzy started to shiver. He hadn’t any gloves on, but warmed his hands in my winter coat. I kept walking toward home, all the while whinnying for someone. Finally, I heard a reply, but it was not a whinny or a nicker.
It was Poppa.
I followed his voice, calling out our names without stopping, until I could see the light from the house, then the light from the barn. Poppa stood waiting just in the barn doorway. Izzy slid down and ran to him.
Poppa opened his arms. “Please, Izzy,” he said. “Believe me. You and our little herd are the reasons I am healthy and sober.”
Izzy rested his head on Poppa’s shoulder and nodded. “I was so scared without you,” he said. “I’m glad to be home.”
O ver the years, the bond between Poppa and Izzy grew stronger. Poppa needed his cane all the time now, but still he kept riding every day. Izzy did turn out to be like Charlotte in one way. By the time he was thirteen, he was as tall as Poppa and still growing.
I kept busy learning all I could from Molly and Job. After I’d been at Cedarmont for several years and had reached a good height and weight, Poppa gave me the conditioning and schooling that I needed to go with Izzy. Some days we built up my strength, power, and suppleness, and on others we worked to improve my focus, attention, and discipline. Poppa praised my gentle nature, and he never asked Izzy to win a ribbon or a trophy, only to ride in the mountains like he wanted. We had become a family. Poppa, Molly, Job, and I. And, we trusted in one another.
The first time Izzy took me out on the trail our trust was tested. I had learned how to listen and obey the aids from Izzy. His legs, seat, and hands were stronger than words. The reins and the bit even stronger. But, Poppa never taught how Izzy’s breath was an aid, too. This I learned on my own.
Early one August morning, while the air was cool but still muggy, we rode out with Poppa and Molly.
I often knew how Izzy wanted me to go, even before he asked. But, part of my job was to help him learn to use his aids correctly. Still, I should have taken
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