I have a new friend.

This is Killian. He is six years old, nearly 17 hands, and being trained to ride the hunt. As he was "mine" for the weekend, he taught me a few things, mainly, tolerance. If my rusty, awkward commands frustrated him he never once let it show. If I suspected him of being skittish when really I was the skittish one, he sucked it up. When it took me three tries to nudge his bit into place he never rolled his eyes.

We bonded along fields of corn, in pine forests, trotting up steep rocky hills and cantering up the grassy ones. In the ring we kept our distance from "a kicker", did not startle at "a bucker", practiced a working walk and a sitting trot. I love a perfect gentleman.

We shared apples, crackerjacks, maple sugar, carrots and a few starlight mints, this guy has a sweet tooth! He and his buddy, Rocco nudged a fence rail down one night, escaping to where the grass was, well, greener! We found them grazing Sunday morning, not far from our kitchen door, patiently waiting to be tacked up, ridden and rewarded with love.