The Gypsy Horse

Fair warning: Bella was not mine in truth. She was ‘mine’ in the sense that every volunteer at the Riding for the Disabled Association stables I went to had a horse that they worked with. But I loved her. She was a red bay gypsy cob and was sold to the stable when she was pregnant.

I volunteered at the stables every Sunday morning, which meant that I got to ride the horses as a warmup. The first time I got onto Bella, I was a confident rider for a teenager who’d never owned a horse of their own. Or I thought I was. She soon proved that I was not remotely confident enough for her. She was fine while we were walking around the arena. Then I asked her to trot.

She interpreted this request as one to run. So run she did. I was much too close to the action to know for certain, but I’d imagine it looked quite impressive as she suddenly burst into a flat run along the long side of the arena. It was so unexpected and so fast that I thought she meant to jump the fence at the end. That was a terrifying thought, and I only had a second to register it and prepare myself.

Except she didn’t jump. She turned at the absolute last minute. I was so prepared for the jump that I couldn’t adapt to the turn quick enough. I went flying over her head and landed on the fence. That was the end of that day’s volunteering for me. And a drive to the hospital with me on her birthday for mum. She was thrilled. No serious injuries that were noticed at the time.

I didn’t give up on the volunteering just because I’d been thrown, of course. I’m not a quitter. Besides, I had a lot of good friends at the RDA by this point. So the next week I was there again. Thankfully, there were no accidents that week. Bella had a unique sense of timing.

Time rolled on, and Bella was retired from being ridden due to her pregnancy. She was still ‘my’ horse though, so I still took care of her. One frosty morning, I was leading her from the field into the stables to give her a brush down and a warm feed when she stood on my foot. She was a very heavy horse, and at the time was just three days from giving birth.

Another trip to hospital. Again, no serious injuries, although the base of the nail of my big toe was snapped, losing me the nail for a few weeks. That Sunday, my parents were holding a party to celebrate their wedding anniversary. The trip to hospital didn’t stop the party, but it definitely put a strain on the preparations.

I absolutely adored Bella’s foal. Our group called the filly Donna, although from memory the poor foal had other names given to her by the other groups. She was a sturdy little piebald, and I still hold that she would have been the perfect RDA horse if we’d just been willing to put in some effort. That decision was far above my head, and she was sold not long after being weaned.

Bella was back working. By this point, she was much steadier. She understood the commands and was usually content to be the calm work horse we needed her to be. Valentine’s day does not often fall on a Sunday, but it did that year. That year, we also took the horses out for a cross country ride, instead of using the arena. It was the volunteers who were riding, but I can’t remember now if it was before or after the rides we were all there to help with had happened.

It was a new route, and there was a very sharp turning from a wooded area into a large field. I was, of course, riding Bella. We were at the back of the line, and Bella panicked when she couldn’t see the others anymore. She leapt into a canter, speeding past the rest of the line and up the slope of a small hill. I still think I might have been able to get her back under control if a woman hadn’t been walking their dogs off-leash. Quite naturally, they started barking at the sudden appearance of an out-of-control horse, and that was enough. Bella was already panicking. I had already lost any semblance of control. And the others were still back at the wooded area, stunned by this sudden disaster.

I lost my seat completely as Bella charged down the hill. I remember a split second where I was certain that she was going to kick my head. Then I had rolled clear. I will be forever grateful for the fact that in our group we had a woman who had worked with and ridden all her life. She caught Bella before she could charge out onto the road. That would have been horrendous. Along with being entirely my fault.

For me, it was a trudging walk back to the stable with a winded horse, since it was determined that me riding her again just then wasn’t sensible.

One Valentine’s Day trip to hospital later, and my very understanding and long suffering mum gave me an ultimatum. She wouldn’t stop me from volunteering, because my parents have always been incredibly supportive of things I want to do. But from then on, if a date had even a possible connection to something that she wanted to do, I was not to work with Bella.

I continued to volunteer with the RDA until I went to university. I now tell people that I started volunteering for the horses, but I stayed for the people. Some of the best friendships I had as a teenager came from the riders. I’ve lost touch with them all now, but I remember them very fondly. I’m not sure mum has ever forgiven Bella for my blunders, though!