The parent’s 1-year-old pony was falling behind us and we trotted side by side, and then the pony started hopping around, kicking its hind legs up in the air, and with every pump would let out the tight little fart, at least 6 or 7 times. It cracked me up. Then we decided I’d try the more “polite” horse: the thing was wild, it ran off at a speed that made me want to shit myself. I pulled back on the reigns as hard as I could, but the horse kept going until we reached the border of the property. Thank god there was a stream there; the horse finally stopped, and I let out a scream of grievous injury averted.
The horses were such strong sensitive creatures, the newborn took to me quick, and actually nudged my arm to hug and hold him some more. It was touching, and grounding, a sense of calm. Tomorrow, Ando and I will ride horses together up to Lake Gogi, high in the mountains near the Azeri border.