When Milton Adores Me
Awareness of the outside world. Strides for Equality Equestrians put up an Instagram post on microaggressions. Sometimes the motivation is active malice. Sometimes the motivation is cluelessness. Raises hand.
Find Your Header. Of all the lessons involved in driving, Milton has absorbed this one the best. A header is the person who stands in front of the horse, particularly while the driver gets in or out of the cart. Therefore, going to one’s header is frequently a sign that the drive is over.
Now, Milton is not my heart horse; I am not his heart human. This we know.
Milton does not like me fiddling with him. Let’s say we are tacking up. I cannot abide seeing the forelock in a mess under the bridle. Others are less meticulous. If I go over to smooth out this flaw in the order of the universe, Milton will turn to his rider, ‘Booooossss, she’s touching me!”
Milton and me, not mates.
When Milton is long-lining, when Milton is under saddle, when Milton is pulling a tire, I become the magnetic north of his existence. He knows where I am. He keeps track of my postion relative to his. As he passes by, he will pull toward me. He will stop near me. I have taken to sitting outside the ring amidst the underbrush in order to lessen the temptation. [Check-in]
‘That’s my header. I must go to my header. That is my job as a driving horse, to find my header.’
Nice try, Milton. Not fooling anyone. Get back to work.
Stay safe. Stay sane.