Adventures with Atlas

Atlas, a magnificent Spanish Norman with a sturdy build and a coat as white as snow (when clean), had been residing at the barn for a couple of weeks when he decided it was time to embark on a daring escape. I guided him to the grooming stall, meticulously placing the saddle on his back. With that done, I proceeded to fit the bridle onto him, securing the halter around his neck while it remained attached to one of the cross ties.

However, Atlas had different plans in mind. He yearned to explore beyond the confines of the grooming stall and began edging towards the aisle. Attempting to coax him back inside, I hurriedly implored him to retreat, but his agility surprised me. Before I knew it, he found himself in the aisle, still tethered to the cross tie.

Alarmed by the thought of him dislodging the cross tie from the wooden wall, I swiftly released it and made every effort to encourage him to stay put or, at the very least, return to his stall. Yet, he persistently pulled us both into the aisle and embarked on a leisurely stroll. In the midst of the commotion, I inadvertently lost my grip on the halter, sending a wave of panic through me. In desperation, I called out for my trainer's assistance.

With measured steps, I cautiously approached Atlas as he remained tantalizingly out of reach, eventually venturing beyond the threshold of the barn. Kelsey and I valiantly attempted to retrieve Atlas on our own, but he continuously veered farther away. Pausing intermittently to graze on the lush grass, he tantalized me by eluding my grasp whenever I drew near with the lead rope, choosing instead to trot or canter away.

As we ventured further from the stables, drawing closer to the train tracks located at the rear of the property, our predicament grew increasingly precarious. In our time of need, three equestrians appeared, riding their horses, eager to lend a hand in corralling Atlas.

While the others remained outside, I retreated back into the barn to procure a tempting offering of grain. Equipped with the grain bucket, I hopped aboard the golf cart, accompanied by Shawn, the owner of the barn. Together, we joined the collective effort unfolding in the expansive back field.

Several times, the elusive Atlas nearly fell within our grasp. Just as someone would approach near enough to seize the halter, he would abruptly break into a trot, denying our capture once more.

Determined not to let him slip away, I positioned myself nearby and vigorously shook the grain bucket, piquing his curiosity. With a burst of speed, he charged toward me but halted abruptly, yielding to the allure of the grains spread before him. This unexpected pause provided Kelsey with a precious window of opportunity, allowing her to secure the lead rope around him. Thus, his escapade came to an end.

With Atlas now under control, Kelsey confidently mounted him, skillfully guiding him back to the barn, unhindered by the absence of a bridle. Relief washed over me as I witnessed their return. Following a few weeks of groundwork and establishing trust, I could once again groom him in the familiar grooming stall, secure in the knowledge that he had no intentions of embarking on another audacious adventure.