"You must in all Airs follow the strength, spirit and disposition of the horse, and do nothing against nature; for art is but to set nature in order, and nothing else." – William Cavendish, 1st Duke of Newcastle

“We are in the outdoor today.”

My heart sinks. Peppa has been better but she is still unreliable and sometimes bolts. The railroad ties make for a pretty border but poor fence.

“Can we go in the indoor just for today? I’d like to live to see tomorrow,” I try bargaining.

My teacher shakes his head.

“I’m not dragging two rings at the end of the day.”

Dragging a ring over one horse is ridiculous.

“Okay.”

I drag my toes as we walk down to the outdoor. I really would rather not be outside.

“We need to talk about the frame,” He says.

Oh great. It is going to be one of these lessons.

“It doesn’t matter what tricks you can do when you don’t have the neck in the correct spot.”

I nod.

“Well, when I hold her on the bit I can’t get her to do all the lateral movements. The ride ends up being a fight over the bridle instead of her yielding her body to me.”

He searches for an answer for only a moment.

“You must not compromise. She is too early in her training. She must first be balanced on the bit, then she can go and do the lateral work.”

I glance at the horse pig. She is standing quietly while I put my helmet on. Her neck is level, her eyes bright and alert to her surroundings.

“Hear that, Peppa?” She did hear it.

I get on and we start walking.

“Right away. On the bit,” my trainer says to me.

I take a half halt. She ducks her head down and comes onto the bit.

“Now, stay there.”

Easier said than done.

We start a leg yield. As usual, the first leg yield begins with protest.

“EEeee!” I kick her soundly in the ribs. She cuts off and moves over.

“I am going to get you a placard to hang in the tackroom like they have at factories. Five days since last incident,” he calls from his chair.

I roll my eyes.

We start trotting.

“Rounder!”

I half halt, she pushes her neck up and grabs the rein. Her nose is now pointed at the sky.

I brace with my core and hold the reins, anchoring them to my back. She yanks harder and pulls my whole body forward. I slide my hand down one rein and pull her nose toward my knee. She reaches her face around farther than I asked and bites the top of my boot.

“OW!”

I slap her forehead and she lets go.

I look at my teacher. He looks like he sucked on a lemon.

She must hate me.

“What should I do?”

He points to the long side.

“Get back to work and carry on like it didn’t happen.”

We start trotting again.

“We are ditching the lateral work. Do ten meter circles every other letter. On the bit.” 

I push her around the turn with my hips. My outside rein catches her shoulder as my inside leg bends her ribs around the turn. 

“Eeee!” 

She doesn’t like bending. 

We proceed down the long side. 

The shapes are irregular. She sputters through the entrance, she pushes through the far side, sometimes she grabs the rein and I have to half halt strong to get her head back down. 

Intermittently, she squeals in disdain at my leg. 

I stop her by my trainer’s stool. 

“Do you think something is wrong with her that she squeals so much?” 

He shakes his head. 

“I think she has the most foul temper I’ve met in years. Stay in a circle near me and do some canter work.” 

I push her into the canter. 

“EEEeee!” 

This time, instead of grabbing the rein her heels kick up.

Well that is new. 

I’ve lost my outside stirrup, I pull on her to bring her back to the trot. 

Her neck dips down and she kicks out again. 

I’ve lost my balance. I can throw myself off now or be thrown off in a minute. 

I kick my other stirrup off and slide off the right side of her. 

Somehow, I land on my feet and fall onto the ground from there.

“EEEEee!!” 

She continues squealing as she bucks and then she takes off. The stirrups bounce on either side of the saddle as she gallops out of the outdoor and up towards the barn. 

A rush of adrenaline makes me light headed. I look at my trainer and start to laugh. It is coming straight from the recess of my belly. 

“There isn’t anything funny about this,” he says sourly. 

Somehow, that makes it funnier. 

Finally I choke out,

“I guess we had better reset that placard.”