The Log

The Log

Last week, we had a very windy day.  Ellen and I rode at the barn the following morning because it was raining.  Kevin came out to the barn later when the rain had stopped and took Starry on a trail ride by himself.  He didn't get very far before he had to turn around and go back home.  There was a large tree that had fallen across the trail.

Ellen and I rode the following morning.  It was very cold, so we decided to ride only up to the fallen tree so we could take a look at it.

It was a very large log, and it was too high for a short-legged pony like Cole to step over it--but we didn't have to.  There was enough space between the end of the log and the stump to walk right through--particularly with a short-legged pony like Cole.  Ellen agreed she could do it with Dante, too.  It didn't matter, though.  We were cold and wanted to head home.

We told Kevin that we could have gotten past the fallen tree, but he said that Starry was too big.  It is true, Starry is huge compared to our horses.

The following evening, I was supposed to ride with Kevin.  It had been sunny all day, and it promised to be a lovely evening ride.  While we were tacking up, a couple of our friends came back from a ride.  We asked if the log was still across the trail, and it was--but they were able to pass through the opening.  Kevin was aghast!  Their horses are large like Starry. 

Just as we started to ride down the driveway, the weather turned completely overcast.  Was it really the same day as it was when we walked into the barn?  

We suddenly had much less time for our ride.  We do have to walk along the street for a few minutes to get home, and we certainly didn't want to do that in the dark.  We decided to turn at the log again.  Kevin hadn't planned to go any further, anyway.  He said that no way would he ride his horse through such a narrow opening.

We rode up to the log.  I was in the lead, so I double checked--yes, I could get Cole through if we had time.  Kevin didn't think he could do it with Starry.  It didn't matter.  We were going home.

The following morning, Ellen rode with us.  I didn't know what I should do--should I ride on with Ellen or go back with Kevin?

Ellen was in the lead, followed by me and Kevin was behind us.  There was a lot of space between all of us.  I didn't know what Ellen was going to do, and I was a little surprised that she didn't even hesitate--she rode right through.  At that moment, I decided I would follow her--and maybe we would catch Kevin on the way home.  Starry is a very slow walker.

I had no trouble at all.

I looked back, and there was Starry and Kevin ambling down the paved all-purpose trail that runs parallel to the bridle trail.  There is a short path between the two paths right before the log, but I knew from memory that there was no good way to get back to the trail.  I told Kevin that, but he had to go look for himself.  We just decided to ride on.  He would figure it out on his own.  Sure enough, we saw him turn around and head back to where he came from.  He gave up and was heading back home.

A few minutes later, I turned back and there was Starry behind us.  Kevin was laughing.  He said he had no trouble going through the opening.  All along, he never rode close enough to take a look at it.  When he did, he found out that he could easily ride Starry right through--and he did.

So the moral of the story isn't "look before you leap." but rather, "look before you don't leap."  

We saw the guys from the park heading down the trail towards the tree before we even got back to the barn.  The log would no longer be a problem--not that it ever was.