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Harry Adventures: Of reins and pores

By Harry Funk photos Eleanor Bailey 4 min read

By Eleanor Bailey

Harry and the horse

A horse is a horse.

If you can continue singing that old TV theme song without skipping a beat, it might be a bit late in life for you to take your first-ever ride aboard Mr. Ed.

Or Ms. Liberty, as was the case for me recently inside the expansive barn of Bethel Park Stables.

The stately Belgian, all 1,450 pounds and 17-plus hands – that’s six feet from the ground up to fifth vertebra – of her, is registered as R.H. Majestic Liberty. She’s a horse with two names, as her owner, Jennifer Wright, calls her Jessie for short.

Jessie, meet Harry, who hasn’t done anything equestrian since riding a painted pony about the time “Spinning Wheel” was a big hit for Blood, Sweat & Tears.

Of the three of those fluids, I managed to avoid shedding blood and tears. As for the other one, Jessie provided me with quite the unanticipated workout.

That was with a major assist from Debbie Stranko, Bethel Park Stables’ first instructor. She gave me a lesson in the same manner she’s been teaching folks since the Carter administration, when it would have made more sense for the teenage me to venture onto a horse’s back.

Debbie assured me that I’m not a total anomaly, as she sees people continue to ride into their 60s and 70s. But my hunch is that the average age more resembles that of Jennifer’s daughter, Trinity, a Bethel Park High School student.

By Eleanor Bailey

Harry and R.H. Majestic Liberty, aka Jessie

My workout came mainly through Debbie’s frequent instructions for me to “kick” Jessie to prompt her to go forward. I put that term in quotes because my weak taps probably felt like mosquitoes flying into her, compared with the force used by riders who actually know what they’re doing.

“Now kick!” Debbie told me, assuring me the horse could take it.

“Ouch!” I responded, as my back, hips and thigh muscles moved in a manner to which they definitely weren’t accustomed.

Meanwhile, I was trying to get the hang of “steering” Jessie, guiding her to the left or right without pulling backward on the reins, which makes her stop. The theory might seem simple, but for an out-of-shape novice who’s huffing and puffing from all the exercise, it’s easier for the instructor to say than the schlub to do.

The majority of my lesson was as ostensibly simple: to have Jessie follow the rail, the groove countless horses’ hooves have worn into the barn’s dirt floor. Debbie instructed me to be as precise as possible, calling out “left” or “right” between each “kick!”

“Ouch!”

But I eventually got the hang of it, although I have the feeling that Jessie knew exactly where she was supposed to go and was having some fun with the big guy on the saddle before she started to make me look good.

By Eleanor Bailey

Jennifer Wright, Jessie’s owner, guides Harry and Jessie along.

The lesson wrapped up with Debbie telling me how to make Jessie speed up a little and trot, although it took Jennifer out there on the floor to actually encourage her to do so. Hey, I could see where turning that into a gallop would be exciting!

For someone else.

Then came my dismount, during which I threw a scare into everyone present with my total lack of grace and coordination. That’s the closest I came that evening to blood and/or tears.

With my feet back on the ground, I thanked Debbie for her patience, Jennifer and Trinity for lending me Jesse, and Bethel Park Stables owner Maureen O’Leary-Burr for her encouragement.

Maureen’s question: So, would you like to come back and try this again?

My answer: Of course, of course.

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