Most people who know me associate my outdoor passions with birds, feeders, binoculars, and perhaps the occasional muddy pair of hiking boots. Horses, however, were never really part of that picture. 

In fact, for most of my life I had what I’d politely describe as a healthy respect for horses — which is really just a nice way of saying I was a little bit afraid of them.

That fear goes back to a moment in my teenage years. I was helping bring a horse into its paddock when things went a little sideways. The horse knocked me over in a rather decisive fashion, leaving me flat on the ground wondering what exactly had just happened. The horse trotted off quite happily, while I was left with a lasting impression that these were very large animals capable of rearranging a young man’s perspective in a matter of seconds.

From that day forward, I admired horses — preferably from a safe distance.

But as I approached my 60th birthday, I found myself thinking about fears, comfort zones, and the things we tell ourselves we’ll “maybe try someday.” I decided it might be time to revisit that teenage encounter and see if I could make peace with these magnificent creatures.

So, just before turning 60, I signed up for horseback riding lessons.

Now, if you had told my teenage self that one day I’d voluntarily climb onto the back of a 1,200-pound animal and ask it politely to walk around a ring, I might have questioned your judgment.

But here we are.

What surprised me most was how quickly the fear began to fade once I started learning. Horses, it turns out, are wonderfully perceptive animals. They read body language better than most humans I know. If you’re tense, they know it. If you relax and communicate clearly, they respond in kind.

In many ways, learning to ride has reminded me of birdwatching.

When you’re observing birds, patience is everything. You slow down. You watch. You learn the subtle signals — a flick of a tail, a change in posture, a shift in movement through the trees. Horses require that same kind of attention. They are constantly communicating if you’re willing to pay attention.

And much like identifying birds, every lesson seems to bring a new discovery.

Over the past months I’ve gradually become comfortable doing all the things that once felt intimidating — grooming, saddling, and caring for a variety of horses. Each one has its own personality. Some are calm and steady, others a little more energetic, a bit like the difference between a relaxed chickadee and a very enthusiastic blue jay.

One unexpected bonus of spending time around the stables has been the birdlife. Early morning lessons often come with a soundtrack of swallows darting through the barns, red-winged blackbirds calling from nearby fields, and the occasional hawk circling overhead.

It’s a reminder that no matter where we spend time outdoors, the birds are always part of the story.

So now, approaching 60, I can happily say that I’m no longer the fellow nervously keeping his distance from horses. Instead, I’m the one happily brushing them down, tightening the saddle, and heading out for another lesson.

It’s proof that sometimes the best way to deal with a fear is simply to climb aboard.

By Paul Oliver, Founder of Urban Nature Store