Demon, fly like the wind!

I'd like to share with you one of the most exhilarating joys I've experienced. I feel privileged to have had such an adventure. I only hope I can tell my story well enough for you to enjoy it as well.


Since my pony was young and foolish like I, we made a perfect team for such a stunt!

Just sitting atop an animal with such beauty and strength is amazing. To be unfettered by the comparatively slow human legs I was born with makes me feel as if I'm flying. Getting in rhythm with the movements of the horse, you can almost believe it's a part of yourself. The effortless rocking of it's wide back pulls you forward as you watch the massive muscles in the shoulders rippling. It's mane flies back, waving like a flag over a conquered land. For a time you are more than you were. You are part of a history so noble and free that your heart can barely comprehend the enormity of it. You are there because this creature allows you to be. It shares with you the joy of running with the wind.



I have always loved animals. From the time I can remember I had pets of one sort or another. I had dogs, and cats, and rabbits, and a snake. I had a baby raccoon, and fish and a bird. Yet as much as I enjoyed them, I had always wanted a horse.

My first memory of riding a horse was when I was about 4. I clung to the saddle as tight as I could not out of fear of falling, but to resist any who might try to pull me off before I'd had my fill. I leaned forward and smelled the neck of the horse, ran my hands along it's sleek neck and knew that some day I would own one. There was never any question of if; it was simply when.

When I turned 12, my parents had gotten tired of my begging and told me if I were to have a horse I'd have to buy it myself and pay for its keep. Rather than the stumbling block they expected this to be, this became my incentive to work long hard hours at any job I could find. I babysat 6 days a week, picked cucumbers till my fingers bled, helped clean up debris from a flood. No job was too difficult with my goal in mind. Toward the end of summer I finally had enough money that I approached my parents and announced I was buying a horse.

Never one to go back on his word, my Father shrugged his shoulders and took me around the countryside looking at a variety of horses for sale. When I saw Demon for the first time I knew I had to have him.
His one blue eye stared out at me as if challenging me to try to best him. His spotted body was red and white. His long tail dragged the ground and he had a fire in him that spoke to me.

By winter, Demon and I had become great friends. He would hear me coming and pace the fence waiting for a glimpse of me. He enjoyed our rides as much as I did, even though there was ice and snow to trudge through and the going was a bit slow.
One particular day we were both feeling the constraints of winter pulling us down. We had gone for rides, but had been cautious, fearing a slip and a fall would be more than we'd bargained for. Demon was frisky, tossing his head and prancing, and begging me to let him go... just this once. I held him back till we got off the road, then neither of us could stand it anymore. Once we reached the field, Demon was bursting to break into a canter. His trot broken every few strides by the gathering and tucking of both hind feet; we crossed the field this way, testing it out for icy patches and both wanting more. Finally we reached the end and turned around. Looking that half mile back, we both knew we were finally going to let go and fly.
I tapped Demon lightly with my heels and off we went. Snow flying in a trail behind us like a hurricane in a powder keg. Faster and faster we went until our hearts were singing and we both knew there was nothing in the world we'd rather be doing.
Since the field was flat, the snow had drifted in places and Demon had to hop to make it through. So up he'd jump like a reindeer ready for liftoff, with me firmly planted and just along for the ride. I let him have his way, and he turned, running again in the other direction. Back and forth we flew with a joy that few have known. Finally winded, he slowed then stopped; his sides heaving, nostrils flared and steam rising off his flanks.
He shook his head as if to say "This is what I was born to do!" and stomped in the snow before trotting back to the barn.
On cold winter nights if I step out into the moonlight and close my eyes, I can imagine myself back in the saddle. I can smell the warmth of Demon and remember how it felt to fly.