Yesterday, Estee and I went out with Mom, Bill, and a friend of theirs, Dawn, for a three-hour tour...well, ride around Olive Ridge. Estee was super excited to get to go out and play and was her usual spitfire self for the first hour or so, then she calmed right down.
Just after an hour into our ride, I was riding, typically, with my feet out of the stirrups (they just get in the way, really), enjoying the ride, looking at the scenery and having a grand ole time in the sunshine. Not Estes the Ninja Horse, though. Out of nowhere she half-reared and struck out with her left foreleg. Then it was over. She didn't spook or shy away from anything. She just kicked the shit out of some imaginary ghostie. In the process of her being an equine BA (bad a**), I managed to slam both thighs down on the pommel of the saddle. Ouch. Glad she killed whatever it was she set out to kill and didn't feel the need to go after the ghostie any more.
The rest of the ride was uneventful, including the picnic at one of the meadows on Olive Ridge, but I have to tell you, I am S-O-R-E today from the long ride without stirrups and I'm waiting for the colors to develop on my thighs from the pommel.