Horses Aren’t Meant to Be Ridden
I went horseback riding for my birthday last week. Words literally cannot describe the experience… It was so exhilarating, it felt bad.
First of all, I will never ever underestimate Clint Eastwood and all the other cowboys we know and love from our childhoods. It’s amazing how laborious riding on the back of another living, breathing creature can feel. A day later my body felt like I had just biked a marathon across the state, completely out of shape. My butt hurt. My girl parts hurt. My side hurt because my saddle wasn’t put on on right. My upper thigh still hurts.
Now I know that if I tried it a couple more times like a professional or a more seasoned rider, I wouldn’t be so sore. On the bright side, besides the soreness, riding a horse through the woods, up and down hills, and across creeks, felt quite freeing. The forest floor was moist from the rain so it was blanketed by this beautiful rich, dark blend of warm and neutral colors. The sun was out so the sky was completely blue, free of clouds. The canopy of the forest dangling peacefully above our heads was lush and green, with orange and yellow leaves sprinkled here and there, marking the first few weeks of a 21st century fall.What can I say? It was gorgeous.
The land was so lovely that it almost felt wrong being there. The horses, my God, the horses were so grand and majestic, it felt wrong mounting them. I felt so conflicted after leaving the farm I Googled “Is horseback riding animal abuse?” I’m not sure what triggered that thought to cross my mind, but it did. Before starting on the trail we were all instructed on the basics of guiding our horses, which involved various gripping and pulling techniques to cause the horse to move as you wanted him or her to move. While equestrian experts and enthusiasts swear the horse feels no pain, I just can’t bring myself to believe that yanking (even if it’s only slightly) on a bridle feels good to them. As for riding, one article I read said that horses actually enjoy being mounted.
How do we know it feels good? I mean, I was sore as hell, and though I don’t necessarily think the horse is sore from being ridden however many times a day, is there a possibility she’d enjoy it? I don’t think so. Before college I wanted to be a vet but math and science aren’t exactly my strong suit so I opted for business instead. I don’t know much about zoology, but there is no way that anything relishes the act of being ridden by 100+ lbs creatures.
Think of it this way: imagine having to tote a chihuahua in a baby carrier on your back, strapped on by a chimpanzee, everyday. It doesn’t sound like much, and if you like dogs, it probably doesn’t sound that bad. But imagine not having the option to refuse because you’re physically unable to even tell the chimpanzee “Hey dude, I just don’t feel like having a chihuahua ride on my back today.” And because you and the chimpanzee don’t speak the same language, and after years of evolution he ultimately thinks he’s superior, he just assumes you’re cool with it.
I promise I’m not a misanthrope or an over zealous cynic. I’m also not trying to compare the human species to that of a chimpanzee. I was born a human so I, of course, appreciate life and humanity. But 2020’s got me rethinking life as I know it. I just can’t help but wonder how a species can, at times, be so inconceivably narcissistic (and this includes me because I rode the horse, and somewhat liked it) to believe that nature is actually content with us constantly abusing her.
While I am very thankful for the air that I breathe and the birds in the sky, I still drive my car daily, contributing to the emission of carbon dioxide and greenhouse gases into the atmosphere. I feel shame to see the trees chopped down in my rural hometown for yet another subdivision or apartment complex to go up, but knowing that babies are being born everyday so the development of new homes is inevitable. I wonder, is it all avoidable?
Without cars we’d all still be riding horses, wearing down their backs with our weight and heavy saddles. Without a roof over our heads we’d be at the mercy of the elements. I can’t imagine a life without all the amenities that I’ve become accustomed to. But it doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad.
I often wonder, if people are as intelligent as we’ve always thought ourselves to be, then why can’t we find a way to live on the Earth for free? Why does She have to pay such a high price for us to take such advantage of Her? Can’t we use our complex brains to find a way to squeeze our lifestyles into the great Circle of Life without destroying it completely?
Like I said, I’m not a zoologist, but I know that we are one of the few animals that need more than food and water to survive. We need love and fellowship, and a bit of modern entertainment here and there, to thrive. I would be a liar if I said I’d happily adopt the lifestyle of a caveman if it became a worldwide mandate to do so. But I am more than convinced that humans live the (often times) advantaged lifestyles that we do by choice; without consequence and without accountability. If we can invent the plane and the automobile then we can use the magnificent technology that we have now to create something even greater, but at a lesser cost to the environment.
One more thing, then I’m done ranting: there’s this independent film I watched recently, based on a true story, called Puncture. Skipping over all the outside details, it’s essentially about a nurse who’s accidentally pricked by a contaminated needle on the job and contracts HIV. Advocating for the safety of other healthcare workers, she pitches a safety needle invented by a friend of hers to two lawyers. Both lawyers are tested to their limits trying to sway a corrupt system that refuses to address an issue that could the lives of many because it’d be too expensive to manufacture…or so they said. Whatever the case, this needle could save lives but it’d also be an incredible ‘financial’ inconvenience if it became a thing. I say all this to say, there’s always a more optimal choice, we just have to want to choose it.
When you turn down the static and stop and smell the roses, we’re living on a gold mine, and not in the monetary sense. The Earth is a gem that we fail to allow to simply be beautiful. We just take from Her and wear Her on our fingers because we can and because that’s what we’ve always done. It just doesn’t seem fair. I’m not a scientist and I’m not God, so what right do I have to dictate whats right or wrong?
All I’m saying is, I just don’t believe that a horse — such a marvelous thing — is meant to be ridden.
