Читать книгу National Geographic Kids Chapters: Danger on the Mountain: True Stories of Extreme Adventures! - Kitson Jazynka - Страница 6

Skittish horses kick up dirt in their corral. (Photo Credit p1.1.1)

The pounding of horses’ hooves was like thunder in my ears. I knew I was in trouble when the frothy white foam from my horse’s mouth flew back and hit me in the face. I clung to his sweaty neck as he sprinted. I felt completely out of control.

This had all been my dad’s idea. My family was on a six-week, cross-country trip out West. My dad had been talking about doing this trip my whole life. When we left the Ohio, U.S.A., suburbs, I had no idea what was ahead, but I couldn’t wait. I loved the idea of journeying into the unknown.

So far, the trip had been amazing. We had searched for grizzly bears in Yellowstone National Park. We had raced go-karts in Wisconsin, visited Mount Rushmore in South Dakota, and hiked in the Grand Canyon in Arizona. Now we were in Nevada.

On this day, my dad wanted to take my brothers and me horseback riding in the foothills of the gigantic, snow-capped Sierra Nevada mountains.

I followed my brothers out of the RV and headed toward a dusty, run-down barn. But my excitement turned into something else as soon as I saw the horses.

Did You Know?

Yellowstone National Park is an animal-lover’s dream. It’s home to 67 species of mammals, 285 bird species, and 6 kinds of reptiles.

Right away, I could tell that the horses weren’t well cared for. They were dirty and skittish. They tossed their heads as if they were afraid.

The man getting the horses ready dropped heavy western saddles on their backs. The horses sidestepped and snorted. He yelled at them to stand still while he tightened the saddles to keep them from slipping. We mounted up. But the horses wouldn’t move.

The man smacked them to make them walk out of the corral. I had a sick feeling in my stomach for the animals.

But once we left the corral, I started to feel something else. I loved the powerful feeling of riding a horse. My body fell into a rhythm with the horse’s motion as he walked forward. I gripped the cracked leather reins that rested across his neck, and I looked out toward the mountains. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment.

As soon as we got away from the barn, my horse threw his head up and walked faster through the lush prairie. The other horses walked a little faster, too. I wondered if the horses had planned an escape.

Did You Know?

A horse can run about the same speed cars drive—25 to 30 miles an hour (40.2 to 48.2 km/h).

Then my horse leaped forward. I lurched back. Now we were trotting, one-two, one-two, one-two, faster and faster. I bounced hard with each quick step and yelled for him to stop.

But the horse didn’t stop. He lowered his head and charged across the meadow like a runaway train. I held my breath and struggled to balance as the horse plunged forward. We skimmed over rocks and wove around bushes and logs. I dug my fingers into his tangled mane as I clung to his neck.

The other horses raced, too. My dad held on to my little brother David’s shirt as he dangled off the side of the horse they shared. David screamed and cried.

Eventually, the horses got tired. Somehow, we got back to the barn without falling off or killing ourselves.

My brothers and my dad got off and said they never wanted to ride horses again. But I loved the rush of tearing across that open range. I also really, really wished I could have helped those horses. I could feel their misery. This crazy ride left a strong impression on me as a kid.

Today, I’m a biologist (sounds like bye-OL-uh-jist). Ever since I was a kid, I have loved outdoor adventure. And I’ve always wanted to make a positive impact on the world.

I founded an organization called Adventure Scientists. We match extreme outdoor athletes (like hikers, paddlers, and skiers) with information-hungry scientists who need data samples from hard-to-reach places all over the world.

(Photo Credit p1.1.2)

I once hiked for 520 miles (837 km) in the Northern Rocky Mountains to study wild animals like wolverines, moose, mountain lions, and grizzly bears. I collected information to help protect those species and their wild homes, but I also became part of the ecosystem (sounds like EE-koh-sis-tum) myself. If you see a wild animal, you can think like a biologist, too. Imagine yourself as the animal. View the world from the animal’s eyes. Ask yourself questions about how the animal might act or how it finds food.

Even though I grew up in the suburbs, I saw beauty in nature and animals all around me. I had a few wild “pets” at home, like the chipmunk that lived under our garage. I called him Chippy.

I loved Chippy. I’d sit and wait for him to show up. Then I’d watch him run around. There was a stray cat I used to watch for, too. I called him Mr. Whiskers.

Looking back, I realize it was my connection with animals that started me on the path to become a biologist, and to start Adventure Scientists. As a kid, I thought a lot about how animals survived despite the challenges of their environments.

I had struggles in my own environment, too. I got in trouble a lot. That summer of our trip out West, I spent a lot of time in the bathroom of the RV. That’s where my parents made me sit if I was harassing my brothers too much.

I saw a lot of Yellowstone National Park through the bathroom window, including animals like bison, elk, and eagles. I really wanted to see a grizzly bear on that trip, but we never did.

When I got back home and started the eighth grade, life was hard then, too. I made fun of other kids. As a result, I didn’t have many friends. I was usually the kid people’s parents didn’t want their kid to be friends with. That made school tough.

But outdoors, things were different. I always felt more comfortable outdoors than indoors. So I became an explorer.