Baby's Birthday Escape

Last Sunday, May 8, I went to a local riding park with friends. On the way to the barn, I decided to take Madge along to celebrate her first birthday. She's been doing very well with her ponying, so I thought it was time to take her a little farther from home.

We arrived the park after an hour-long drive and I tacked up Maxine. Then, we were on our way.

We set off down the big hill toward the trail system. The trail we chose follows the east perimeter of the park. Reaching the end of the property to the north, we turned left and started up a very steep hill. This was a lean forward and grab the saddle kind of hill. I gave Maxine her head and let her find her way, trusting her to find the safest route.

Unfortunately, about halfway up the hill, Madge decided that she'd had enough. She planted her feet and pulled back. Not wanting to roll Maxine back down the hill, I let go of Madge's lead and promptly yelled, "SHIT!"

Madge relished her new-found freedom and set off down the hill at a gallop. Because the hill was so steep, I couldn't immediately set off after. Instead, I stopped a moment to assess the situation. After a quick survey of the setting, I settled on the various scenarios that I was likely about to face.

1. She'd turn around and come back.
   
2. She'd head back to the trailer and I'd meet her there.
3. She'd meet the cross fence, head up the next hill, and we'd catch her--eventually.
4. She'd meet the cross fence (which was barbed wire), not recognize it (because she's never been out in a barbed wire fence), and I'd spend the afternoon with wire cutters before dragging back an injured mule.

Prepared to deal with any of the four scenarios, however gloomy, I set off calmly down the grassy face of the hill we'd just climbed.

At the bottom of the hill, Madge saw the fence, rounded the corner, and came to a stop behind some trees. Her jet black body was hidden by the trees, but I could still see the red bareback pad I'd thrown on her for a little saddle training. I could tell by her reaction that loosing sight of the group took the wind out of her sails.

"WOOooo!" she hollered as she ran back up the other side of the next hill to the west. Fortunately, when she saw us, she stopped and started grazing.

As Max and I tip-toed down the hill--yes, Maxine actually has a "tip toe" command--I chirped, "Come, Madge!" I started teaching her this command when she was about two weeks old. I'd stand in one corner of her stall and call to her in a happy voice and she'd trot over for some lovin'

When Madge heard her name, her head popped in the air and she trotted over. I was so proud! Unfortunately, due to her relationship with Maxine "the babysitter," I couldn't get close enough to grab her lead from the saddle. After checking for a suitable mounting spot (there ain't no gettin' this hiney back into the saddle from the ground), I hopped off and walked up to Madge who stood still, waiting for some lovin'.

Crisis averted!

The rest of the ride went well. Maxine won my heart for putting up with it all, including Madge sometimes ponying with her head resting on Maxine's butt and the time when the rope got under her tail. Maxine hardy batted an eyelash. That's why she's still my best girl.

Photo: Maxine lets out a yawn after a long, hilly trail ride, while Madge tries to steal some attention.