Heavenly gaits, gaits of gold, Glide Ride - all these terms refer to a gaited horse's smooth gaits. Smooth isn't the word for it - its like a magic carpet ride. When Zephyr hits his "sweet spot" I feel as if his feet are barely skimming the ground. Its pure heaven. I come home "high" just as if I've taken some illegal drug. When he's good, he's very, very good. It doesn't always happen that way, but when it does, I walk in the clouds for days afterward. Like a good chocolate fix (and any woman understands what that's all about) I feel the endorphins kicking in. If you've never ridden a Tennessee Walker, you haven't lived (literally!) There is no bounce. Imagine riding a horse with no bounce! Its hard to picture until you actually experience it. Having this gorgeous spotted creature is beyond all my wild and crazy dreams of my youth. And he's mine - all mine! When we go down the road, people stop and stare. We actually stop them in their tracks! His head is held high, his action is so animated because he was shown in the past (I'm assuming) and he looks so proud of himself as that white tail with red stripe in it flows behind him, along with his red/gold long, thick mane that shimmers in the late afternoon sun.


But boy can he be a handful sometimes. He starts snorting fire and dancing around like a young stallion. He forgets he's a gelding! Then everything becomes something to spook at, and he leaps sideways and sometimes whirls around in the opposite direction for fear the "horse eating monster" is going to come crawling out from under that bush at any second. 16 hands tall and 1200 lbs. of equine, and I'm no match for his awesome power. He has me at his mercy at these moments, every time I ride him. Maybe that's part of the intrique. To think I'm in the driver's seat on this huge beast is a gigantic rush - and its almost more than I can bear at times. The fear creeps under my skin and spreads across my belly. I quiver and shake on the inside, never knowing what might set him off. So far, he has never bucked, reared or bolted on me. He's as close to perfection as I've ever seen in a horse - both in conformation and temperament. But to think he could so easily kill or seriously injure me within a second or two at any time is humbling, to say the least. Am I crazy? Taking chances like this? Horseback riding is rated the most dangerous of any sport - even above motorcycle riding! And fearful, retiring little me perched up on his back, braving the great outdoors where just about anything is capable of happening in a moment's notice. Yet I fear so much else that has to do with the world. Doesn't make sense.