By: Sarah Chase

As most folks know that I'm an avid equestrian, I always get asked, "Do you ride English or Western?"   My answer is always, "I just ride."  This is to say, I tend to ride in the style that best suits the horse and situation.  While I grew up riding primarily English, I've never specialised.  I've tried everything from Polo to Skijoring ... ridden in every sort of saddle you can imagine - from a sheepskin throw to limited-edition Dressage saddles and all equally as comfortable as the next.  When faced with a pony with nice broad withers and jolly canter ... I'll even forget the saddle and happily enjoy a nice canter bareback.  

It all depends on the horse...

My first horse growing up was a smart, opinionated half-Arab gelding by the name of Black Night.  So named because he was, literally, black as night.  He was my tutor in all things horse.  Black Night was one of those "memorable" horses, the sort you may only encounter once in your life, if at all.  If there's anything "good" about my skills with horses, it's because of him.

At the age of about 25-years, it was decided that Black Night's age and condition meant he should consider "retiring."  Save for a few lessons with small children and old ladies (his two soft spots) ... he was free to rest and and do as he pleased. Well,  Black Night wasn't pleased.  He soon became rather bored, so my mum decided that she'd teach him to drive.  Having been ground driven in youth he took to it quickly and we were soon driving him all over the ring.  Feeling brave, my mum and I decided to venture him into town.  I walked at his head and mom sat in the cart as we headed him past the church, over the railroad tracks into the center of town.

Black Night's ear pricked up, his step was light and he eagerly stopped to be petted by the curious townsfolk.  Passing by the local ice cream shop, he paused to be petted by a little girl with a strawberry ice cream cone.  Or, I should say, he paused in order to seduce the child away from her ice cream so he could enjoy a free sample.  Turns out that for all these years, Black Night had been harbouring a secret love of strawberry ice cream.

From that day forward ... my mom happily drove him into town for his strawberry ice cream fix.  No horse was ever happier than Black Night when he heard the clerk behind the counter yell out, "Here comes Black Night, get that horse an ice cream cone!"

If there's a moral to this story, it's that whatever you do with horses, find out what's best for them, do what you can to make their lives better and happier and every once in awhile ... get them some ice cream.