Drinkers of the Wind

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The same wind blows on us all; the winds of disaster, opportunity and change. Therefore, it is not the blowing of the wind, but the setting of the sails that will determine our direction in life. ~ Jim Rohn

Horses love the wind. There’s just no two ways about it, and there’s a reason the Bedouins call horses, in particular the Arabian horse, drinkers of the wind. They also say that God blew his breath on the southerly wind and created the horse from it. So it’s no wonder then, that when the wind picks up on a crispy spring day and ruffles their manes, tails and forelocks, even the feathery hair growing out of their ears, horses will get a certain mischievous look in their eye and be on the look out for any excuse to exercise their gymnastic abilities. Riders and handlers beware, because anything goes on a windy day.

The wind speaks to them in mysterious ways, or so they like to tell me in defense of any previous, unscheduled explosive behavior that had me hanging from a thread or meeting the ground head first. The wind speaks to them in the sighing of the trees; through a dancing leaf, a feather, a plastic bag. A waving branch, a fluttering fern, a shifting shadow dancing on the ground; all these and many more are great inspirations for any number of antics. It is as if the wind itself enters their bloodstream and whips it into a frenzy of joie de vivre. They lift their heads and snort into the assaulting breeze, breathing so deeply their eyes roll back in their head and they have to shake it off, this massive intake of ethereal delight reveling in the simple joy of feeling alive.