The first put by means of working with a horse was when I was ten days old at my fathers farm in Cartagena, Colombia. I stared at that colossal creature that stood in prior of me and I felt a sense of terror as I clenched onto my fathers hand as he explained to me what this wide creature was. The sun was blinding as it reflected off of that bonny long mane and long, dark brown body. This stallion was as tall as a mountain and the very stool of him meant authority and demanded respect. My father defined what some of the different breeds were; ilk thorough bred (smaller and faster breed of horses) all the way through draft horses (wider and taller horses mainly used for labor, hauling).
Ever since that day, I can always imagine a Native American step on it through the planes in the Midwest. Riding through an open athletic field with the wind cutting through his hair. Every stride his gist raced as if it were a runaway locomotive and the rhythm of his horses hooves beating on the ground, like a machinate keeping the rhythm with the horses tempo.
As time progressed, I finally learned how to groom, feed and take care of the horses. Most importantly, I was given my own horse and finally allowed to begin occidental horseback riding classes. I felt nervous and provoke at the same time, since the thought of saddling one of these mystical creatures and taming them did not seem plausible to me. The horse was an animal with so much...If you fate to get a full essay, order it on our website: Orderessay
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