My grandpa used to say,
As a little girl, I fondly remembered my grandfather regaling me with stories about his best friend, Antonio. He and Antonio went everywhere together in the old country as it was coined back then. They were best buds, and they always knew what the other was thinking. Antonio couldn’t speak words, but his body language and gestures spoke volumes. My grandfather always spoke kindly to him, and he often talked to his best friend about his dreams and problems. You see, Antonio was my Pop Pop’s horse. They spent many a long day together working hard in the field as my grandfather came from humble beginnings. His parents were farmers. School wasn’t a priority, surviving was.
Grandpa used to say, “I hope one day that you get a chance to own a horse like Antonio. Make sure you treat him with respect, and he will be yours forever. Speak to him. He’ll hear you. Become one with your partner and the bond is unbreakable.”
Filled with curiosity, I peered into my grandfather’s kind eyes and asked, “What happened to Antonio?”
Tears clouded Grandpa’s eyes. He was experience difficulty with his emotions and making a great effort in order to do something, but the burden was just too heavy for him to overcome. He did answer me because Grandpa always answered me.
“Survival happened. There was no work. I had a young family. I left my village and went to find work in America. I said my goodbyes to Antonio. Many years later I received a letter from a distant cousin that Antonio died.”
Through his memorable stories my grandfather passed on to me the love and respect of horses. Many years later when I least expected it I met Majeco, and he became my best buddy and partner for many years. I always remembered my grandfather’s beloved wise words that saved me from disaster more than once. Majeco was my magic on the trail. Thus the name,
Trail Magic and his true escapades
I loved riding Majeco in the woods. His power always exhilarated me. Quietness stirred that early July evening as light melted away gradually welcoming the dusk, we were just two souls becoming one. The feeling was mutual that one steamy, muggy, July evening, Magic and I were rocking and rolling down the trail as he scoured the woods for threats. The solace we felt that evening blanketed us with comfort. And, at any given time in the forest, comfort can turn to fear. And, that evening was no exception.
Majeco froze. He stopped breathing. He alerted, and I panicked. I followed his line of vision. Dread enveloped me. Danger was lurking on the trail, a bear eating by the trail about fifty yards from us.
From the other world my grandfather’s words resonated: “Trust your instincts. Trust your partner.”
I really did trust Majeco. He was always attentive to potential danger. He reacted by taking six lumbering steps backwards, turned around, and we were off in a flash. Pummeling down the trail my foot slipped out of the stirrup. I called out.
“Slow up. I need to get my foot back into the stirrup.”
Frantic emotions consumed me, but Majeco did kick it down a notch, and I regained my balance. We’re at a full gallop when I heard jaw popping low grumbling sounds skulking from behind. Twigs and branches snapped and crunched in our mad dash to safety. The bear was behind us, but where?
I silently pray. “Please God make the bear go the other way!”
Majeco’s steady pace never faltered as we got closer to the housing area and only then he slowed. As of one breath, we let out a sigh of relief as we entered the refuge of the barnyard.
Thank-God for my guardian angel.
The forest harbors danger in the most unlikely places. One alluring fall afternoon, my friend and I were riding in silent contentment. We noticed the havoc the hurricanes caused when they ripped through Florida that year. We weaved through decayed debris, stepped over felled trees and crossed small lakes created by Mother Nature’s wrath. We approached one particular body of water; one Majeco had crossed numerous times, not this time. The more I urged, the more stubborn he got. I just sat there on Majeco’s back as the pace of my heart quickened with frustration. Majeco’s agitation grew stronger. His head held high, widened nostrils, stiff stance, and a raised tail, he snorted and pawed.
He may as well have said, “Hey something is not right here!” He shook his head violently with an adamant.
“Not happening!” and then he sat down like a dog with me on his back.
My friend said, “Wow, he never refuses you; there has to be a good reason. And, did you teach him that trick?”
I responded with a, “Not hardly!”
My fists clenched the reins as my grandfather’s words echoed. “Always trust your horse’s instincts.”
“You win Majeco,” I said.
Majeco got up and took the lead. He led us through some soft marsh, through large puddles where we watered our horses. The steep inclines looked like fun, so both horses ran up and gaited back down. Majeco didn’t even hesitate at the power lines. He was so full of excitement and energy. He hopped three times using only his back legs and snorted. I knew exactly what he was going to do.
I yelled to my friend. “We’re galloping up. Hold on!” And of course, we gaited right back down the other side.
“Majeco is having the time of his life,” my friend said. “But, do you think he’s heading back?”
Majeco turned left. “He is now,” I said.
“How does he do that?”
“Not really sure,” I said. “He really likes to play with people.”
“Is he done playing?”
“Yep! We’re going back now. I know where we are. Sometimes I just allow him to have his play time.”
We rode in silence for a while just being contented with each other’s company and enjoying our ride. As we came back to that spot where Majeco refused to enter the water, my friend pointed and said: “Look in the water.”
A water moccasin was basking in the sun close to the surface of the water.
Thank-God again for my guardian angel!
The scorching sun blazed, but Majeco and I kept our pace at a fast clip that sweltering August morning in the forest. We came to a log, one that Majeco had jumped over on numerous occasions. His body tensed. My heart thumped.
Now what, I thought.
Majeco loved to jump; he would not budge. With a heavy heart, I dismounted and tried leading him over; that didn’t work. I tried bribing him with treats; that didn’t work. Forty-five minutes later I was drenched in sweat, and Majeco had enough of fun in the sun games. He turned himself around and walked thirty yards in the opposite direction.
“Please God don’t let him leave!” I prayed out loud.
As if is on cue, he turned his head and transfixed me with a penetrating gaze. His unwavering eyes said, “We’re going this way, NOW!”
That powerful word trust reminded me of my grandfather and all that he was. I inhaled deeply as I walked to him. He stood graciously as I mounted.
“You go Majeco. I trust you.”
We were off as a hawk soared overhead with a rattler. I petted him, grateful that he puts up with such a dense and stubborn partner at times, but he does keep me safe.
The ground shook. The sky blasted us with a downpour.
“OMG, what’s next, Majeco? He answered me by picking up the pace.
Soaked, I looked up as the blackness clutched the forest. In a whim, Mother Nature transformed the mood of the forest from bright sunshine to dark and dangerous, but that’s Florida.
My grandfather was with me in spirit that day. I heard, “Respect and trust your partner. He will keep you safe.”
Bending down hugging and petting him, I whispered in his ear. “Let’s get to safety; we’re in this together.”
Another explosive crackle. My heart leaped, Majeco kept moving, kept focused and never flinched. Twenty minutes later soaked to the skin, we found a lean-to where we waited out the storm. I thought it unusual that we’ve passed this spot on numerous occasions, and this was the first I saw this structure.
Majeco and I went beyond simply love and companionship; this connection was dramatically important for our survival. Patience and trust = a success formula. I definitely took a leap of faith that day as one little horse became my guardian angel. Since then, I have become a passionate advocate for human and animal bonding.
I believe with all my heart this quote by Winston Churchill. “There is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a person.”
Majeco and I found each other at a time of great need. He’s given me his heart and soul. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner. And, I’m so lucky that I still have him. Obviously, at the age of 31, he’s retired from distance riding. Majeco always loved being the center of attention, especially at the rides, and now he loves being pampered.