“I kind of like it,” he said. “It’s like seeing things for the first time through their eyes.”
I was silent for a moment, pondering the wisdom of that statement as we slid down a very steep, sandy incline. Positive thinking. That's what he chose. Joyful anticipation over frustration. He shared his horse’s keen awareness of surroundings instead of getting annoyed or angry.
Single file now, we continued along the path with the Chilcotin River roaring beside us - down a twisty, rocky trail above the river and into willow and poplar. My mare, still bug-eyed, moved in jerky steps - start, stop, start - as I urged her into the trees with my legs, directing her head with my hands and periodically taking a hand off the reins to brush branches to the side. When we came to a little boggy stream across the trail, she balked.
"Okay, girl," I said. "It's pretty scary. I'll get some help." I asked my friend to take the lead and my little mare followed.
If I really pay attention, riding a youngster really is like seeing the world a little differently - through my horse's eyes. I really look at that rock that I have ridden my so many times. I notice for the first time that , with the light low inn the sky, it could be a cougar crouching in the underbrush. That burnt tree stump might be a black bear. And the way the grass sways in the wind could mean some wild thing is hiding there. I, too, approach each bend in the trail with anticipation of what is around the corner. Maybe I even flinch a little when an eagle flies over. My old familiar world is fresh and new again - through the eyes of a two-year-old filly.