by
Isaac Sanford
(age 10)
When I began horse lessons, I was only six years old. I gazed at the thirteen horses. Among them was Pistole Pete, the pony. The teacher that own Pistole let me get used to him. I got used to the barn smell which was a mixture of sweet hay and horse poops. I got to pat Pistole and brushed his mane and tail. I saw that he was a brown pony and when I touched him he was as soft as velvet.
My next lesson was sunny and I led him to the riding pen. I heard him nicker and neigh. After that, I learned to use a crop. It's sort of like a whip but it has a little piece of leather at the bottom. Instead of whipping the horse, you tap it lightly to make it go. I like my horse lessons.
(assignment for lesson #1 - Observations)
If you are between the ages of 4-12,
(or know someone who likes to write stories)
I would like to post your story here.
Send me an email. I'd love to read your story!
Signed,
Wiggles the Polliwog
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