I've been doing a lot of thinking lately - one of the topics, of course, has been Hannah, and how she came to the mental outlook that she has regarding people. I found out some information recently that explained the aggression that I've seen pop up from time to time. She hasn't shown a LOT of aggression, but I've heard horror stories of more in her past, so her potential for Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde has been something I've thought a lot about. Why she's that way, if horses that are mistreated can ever REALLY forgive us humans for our poor behavior. And I've thought a lot about trying to see things from her viewpoint, although that's probably speculation at best.
And recently I've had a LOT of time TO think. About 10 days ago, in a freakish accident, I crushed the outside of my right knee and found myself in the hospital having my knee reconstructed with metal and grafting materials.
It was stupid, I blame myself, I wasn't really concentrating, I thought about not riding at all that morning, maybe I should have listened to that inner voice! But Hannah had just had a chiropractic adjustment the day before and I felt it was important to get her out and work her stretched long and low, at least for 20-30 minutes, to help her adjust to being back in alignment. So, I talked myself into tacking up, it was brisk for the SE in July, abnormally brisk. I'm not sure why, maybe Hannah just felt different because she had just been adjusted, maybe it was the cooler temps, maybe something else entirely, but she shied and as I was in the rising phase of posting trot and she was stretched down, there was little holding me in the saddle. I knew I was going to come off. I thought it would be more embarrassing than anything else. I figured this would be one of those silly "emergency dismounts", I'd swing down on my feet and that would be the end of that. I did manage to land on my left leg without incident, but when the right swung down, I hit the ground hard with the inside of my right foot and bent my knee out to the side. I heard it crack and the pain was intense enough that I hung on to Hannah's neck wondering if I was going to pass out. I didn't pass out, and for some reason, I was sure it wasn't broken.
I found myself standing in my riding arena, hanging on to Hannah's neck, with my right knee collapsing if I tried to put any weight on it. I was at least 500 feet from the barn, and 4 times that distance from a phone and no one was home but me. All the horses were in stalls but Hannah. So, I did the only thing I could think of in my shocky state which was to use Hannah as a crutch. She stood like a rock next to me, didn't move away or try to face me, which would have left me in the dirt. She just let me stand at her shoulder with my right arm over her neck. And when I asked her to take a step, she moved one foot and stopped, and waited until I asked her to step again. One step at a time, she helped me back to the barn, where I had a folding stool I could use as a crutch. She let me take off her tack and turn her out with her foal, Rae. When I untacked her and set her free, she turned to look at me with an expression like she wasn't sure I was OK... Should she leave me there or not?
I think back on this and I'm filled with awe for this horse. I have had horses for 40 years and in that time, I don't think I can name one that I think would have been so calm in a crisis or so intuitive about what was the right thing to do. Maybe this is just her nature? Maybe, maybe not. But every horse I've ever had would have shied and wouldn't have immediately stopped if I came off, they would have continued in their own world of what frightened them for long enough to topple me with a shattered knee standing on one leg with my head swimming. Even a step or two would have been enough to leave me in the dirt. But she must have stopped immediately. Beyond that, I don't think I've had a horse that would be so deliberate in taking one step at a time and not leave me behind. And I've had a number of them that if I leaned on their neck like I did with Hannah, they would have reacted in some way. Maybe moved away from the pressure, or something. Anything other than standing like a rock was too much movement for me that day. Just about anything she did could have left me in a crumpled mass, crawling back to the barn, dragging my bumb knee. Yet I stayed upright. And she patiently helped me get back to the barn.
And somehow, when it happened, I knew I was going to get back to the barn, and I trusted that Hannah would be there for me. Don't ask me how I knew that, I just did. How did she know what I wanted when I've never asked her to let me lean on her and hop along before? I'm constantly amazed by this horse. Can we ever really know what we are made of (or our animals) until we face a crisis? If you had asked me what she would have done, I never would have predicted she would be so dedicated to stay with me when she certainly didn't HAVE to.
Is this all a big accident that she did exactly the right thing when I asked her to? Or was this her way of showing me that her heart is bigger than most humans that have owned her in the past? Or something in between? For now, I'm trying to recover what I'm being told is a slow to heal injury, that could have me off my feet completely for up to 12 weeks. Hannah's back out in the pasture, being a Mom, her dressage career once again, on hold. But I'm still in awe of her, I see her flaws clearly, she's not the prettiest, best moving mare on the planet. But could I really ask for more from a horse than she's already given me? Seriously.
