One sweet fall morning, alike any other morning I sat in the wide window watching the wind swift through the branches of the great Maple tree; the one that awaits the winter calling on my front lawn. Something new approached the house, a flea-bitten grey pony, being ridden by a stout lady, that I once knew.
I rushed out the back door; there were billions of imaginative ideas lingering through my small mind, whether this new creature was for me, or just a long forgotten visitor. I was soon to find out. Wide eyed and grinning I walked to this sweet pony that stood in my backyard.
"Torrey!" the lady turned around and caught my attention. "What do you think?" she asked.
"Of what?" I quickly replied.
"Nevada!" She exclaimed, seeming so proud to have this little gelding embraced with her.
"He's gorgeous, what is he?" I remarked with great naivety.
"Well only one of the finest mustangs that the BLM has captured." Little did I know, this pony was soon going to be mine. I had previously taken lessons, and to my belief I was quite the rider. With the setup of riding at my home I had a very difficult time. My first ride was a courageous one. I hopped on my new pony and began circles. The circles I created were small and "oval-like" and I had a very small amount of control over the pony, Nevada.
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Nevada - grazing in her field.
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He took advantage of my lack of riding skill and took off at a full on gallop towards the opposite side of the paddock. This once sweet, innocent pony had turned into a freight train. He wanted me face first, in the ground, eating dirt. His strides were long and heavy. I reached forward and grabbed his thick flowing mane and "held on for dear life". I could feel the beat of his hooves onto the weather beaten ground; I could sense his big eyes striving for more speed. The charge was at its fullest when we were about 50 yards from the crisp wooden fence. He suddenly turned and came to a complete halt, the sudden jolt threw me from his back, sent me flying through the air, and I smacked on the cold wood fence.
I climbed to my feet, a bit sore, but very determined. I remounted, my mind was set on straightening out the conceited brat, and the battle had just begun. I returned to my circle and attempted to continue my ride. Once again, I found myself face first on the ground, eating dirt... This continued, and by the fourth fall, I gave up.
For the next couple months I spent long days in the saddle. I was overwhelmed with joy, I finally had my own horse. Nevada settled in to our home quickly, he made friends with Cinnamon and Rock, enjoyed the fresh grass, and was a great companion to me. As years passed by our bond grew very strong, we went through several trainers, and I sadly out grew my darling pony. Every day I visit Nevada in the barn I still look deep in to his vast brown eyes and I see the young steed that I mounted so long ago.
I will never forget the day that this angel entered my life. I'm sitting in the same window as I was years ago, staring out at the great maple tree in my front lawn, pondering the many memories and times I shared with him. If I stare long enough, I can almost see the image of a small flea-bitten grey pony walking towards my home. I think back to the day, so many years ago, that I ran outside, my small, imaginative mind over flowing with thoughts, and I now know ... I received a gift, an angel, my mustang wonder pony, Nevada.
Torrey
