Day 7: Never have I ever... driven draft horses

Ithaca is home to the multi-talented, all-around awesome husband and wife team Kirk and Jen, two of my most unique friends. Kirk, a farrier who hails from South Dakota, and Jen, a doctor of veterinary medicine and fabulous chef, live together with two dogs, four horses, and a cat and on 100 acres of their own beautiful Arcadia. 

I was thrilled that a visit to the their compound would coincide with this blog project; a weekend with Kirk and Jen is a welcome departure from our urban (or suburban) norms. Their home is heated entirely from one wood-burning stove. The wood is felled from their own land. Jen bakes bread from scratch. Kirk taps his maple trees, and makes homemade syrup. They raise pigs in the spring, and enjoy bacon all winter. During this particular visit, we enjoyed a delicious White Chicken Chili....except the dish wasn't made with chicken. Try wild pheasant. And Jen shot it herself on a recent hunting trip. 

Saturday morning meant fresh coffee and some of their delicious homemade bacon, followed by an outing to 'the barn', the newest addition to their dominion. This barn is another unbelievable feat: made from wood that was felled and milled by Kirk himself. He built the whole barn, too. Every nail. 
I know. Being around them does make me feel utterly useless, too. I was proud of assembling an Ikea dresser?!

Bob, Pete, the Barn, and the Rig

Kirk harnessed up two of their four horses, Pete and Bob, a Clydesdale and Percheron. He hitched the wagon, and we all piled on top of the hay bale seats. We were off. A few minutes into the ride, he passed me the reins, and I guided the horses from my position. I held the reins with both hands, trying to steady. Whoa Nelly,  this was tough. 

Within moments, Pete was out in front of Bob. The horses had detected my inexperienced hands and lapsed out of sync, like devilish children with a babysitter. I tried to correct this imperceptible problem, but it only got worse. Kirk told me to stop the horses. I pulled gently on the reins and said "Whoa". They came back into alignment.
"Let's start them going again," he said. Turning forward, he called "Waalllk", as I gave a gentle jolt on the reins. They started going forward.  
"Did my rein motion get them started?" I asked Kirk. 
"Nope, not really."

I did not have the talent or experience for this task. I asked Kirk how I was doing. "Well you're driving them," he said, "...but not well." Gotta love Kirk. Man of few words. 

I began to get a little freaked out as the open path started to disappear into a tiny trail. The wagon's weight is huge and burdensome on the horses, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to handle navigating the tightly wooded section up ahead. I didn't trust myself, and I think the horses sensed that. Since "never have I ever been in a wagon accident" is not at the top of my to-do-for-blog list, I decided to relinquish the reins back to Kirk and enjoy the ride. 

Holding the reins

Kirk guided us through the snowy woods with effortless ease. The horses respected him entirely. He used the occasional "Gee" or "Haw" to maneuver Bob and Pete left or right, over some treacherous terrain that left us clutching on to each other, giggling. I paid close attention to his voice commands and hand motions, because I would love to try my hand with these beautiful horses again sometime. Next time without four of my heckling friends watching. (see photo right of heckler #3) 

Results: The wagon ride was thoroughly enjoyable... as a passenger. I felt like a smiling pixelated bot from Oregon Trail as we traversed Kirk and Jen's beautiful land. No one suffered Dysentary. And I think everyone in the wagon felt more secure with the Horse Whisperer holding the reins. But yes, I did technically drive two draft horses and a wagon. Briefly. 

Status: FAIL.