“The outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man.” Ronald Reagan
 
I’ve been a city guy all my life, but on occasion, I have had the opportunity to ride a horse. As a kid, I always loved westerns, especially Hopalong Cassidy and The Lone Ranger. The tiny bit of horse riding I’d done was enjoyable, but not particularly interesting.

Then one of colleagues at an office where I was employed invited me to his home in the country, where we’d go riding. He lived next to the family homestead. Dan had horses, and his dad had horses. He gave me directions and told me to come out about 11 a.m. on a Saturday. I was eager for the opportunity, but acknowledged something obvious to Dan.

“I’m heavy,” I said. “I have an image from an old cartoon looping through my head. The Rotundo Brother gets on a small horse, and the horse’s legs immediately all splay out, with the hapless horse on his belly and chest in the dust. I’d love to do it, if you think you have a strong horse that can handle my bulk.”

“Don’t worry,” he replied, “I’ve got just the horse for you.”

Saturday morning came, and I arrived promptly on time. There were quite a few horses out in a pasture, and they would need to be encouraged to come over and be saddled. Dan’s friend was there, and his ninth grade nephew. The friend had arrived with his horse, in a trailer. The horses in the pasture were called over to the fence with soft, encouraging voices – and with apples. I’d like to think that the gentle vocal encouragement, and the opportunity to meet new people was all that was needed, and that the apples were just a bonus. Whatever the case, horses came. The ones selected patiently allowed the saddles and harnesses with bits and reins to be put in place. They didn’t appear to mind at all.

Dan encouraged me to pat and rub the horse I would be riding, and to speak to her in a gentle tone. He thought this would help form a connection that would benefit us both. I did as he suggested, and it worked for me. I liked her a lot. I told myself it was mutual.

Her name was Threeway. Interesting name, I thought. Dan noted my puzzled look when he told me the name. “I’m not sure what you’re thinking,” he said, with a smile. “There were three Amish men that chipped in together to buy her. They put in equal shares, and owned her in partnership. That’s how she got the name. I don’t think it ever occurred to them that the name might seem a bit odd.”

Threeway was half Quarter horse and half Percheron. She definitely took after the draft horse side of the family. She seemed enormously tall, compared to all the other horses, and very sturdy and well-muscled. Dan said she weighed 1300 pounds. Once I saw her, my concern about her being flattened by my more than ample physique totally dissipated. She was, in my unschooled opinion, a beautiful horse. She was dappled gray, and carried herself, I thought, with the regal air of specialness.

Threeway had a colt, only recently weaned. Dan told me that the little one (the huge little one) would follow the mama horse as we went for our ride. We don’t have to worry, or use a lead; he’d follow along wherever Threeway went. The foal scampered around – coltishly – never getting too distant from Threeway and me. He was dappled gray also, and a beautiful animal as well. He wasn’t directed by a rider or a lead, and explored the area as he wished, without ever getting too far away. Having him along added to the experience.

Besides the excellent equine and primate company, we were in beautiful surroundings. We went through mixed hardwood and conifer forests, and meadows. Dan knew where we were going, but it wasn’t an obvious trail. At one point we came to a small creek. “Encourage the horses to cross the creek. They may be hesitant, but will accept direction if the rider seems in charge.” Threeway went down the bank, into, through and out of the creek, and up the bank on the other side. The colt followed. Dan’s nephew’s horse balked. Dan got off his horse, walked over, took the bridle, and encouraged the horse to follow the route through the creek. The horse appeared not to really want to do it – but did.

We’d been out perhaps two hours, and started to head back to Dan’s place. This took us to a gravel road. Dan and his friend ran their horses a bit. Threeway got frisky and ran also (perhaps sensing the proximity to the comforts of home). I found myself on the back of a huge horse, galloping. Threeway was not as fast as the other horses, but seemed plenty fast enough for me. I thought about reining her in, but then decided I liked the sensation, and let her run for a while.

Returning to Dan’s place, we unsaddled and brushed the horses, gave them some treats, and turned them out in the pasture, where there was a water trough and they could be unencumbered with riders – though I like to think that Threeway enjoyed her new acquaintance as much as I did her.