The Five Horses We Meet On Earth

This piece is from a book called "Horses in the Yard," by Joanne Friedman.

1. The Intro Horse.
We each came into horses in our own way, but it was always with a horse leading us. This might have been a friend's first pony, or perhaps it was a draft horse on a farm you once visited It might have been a real-life meeting, or an imaginary one. I was escorted to the party by The Black, Walter Farley's star horse in The Black Stallion series...

2. The Experimental Horse
Once you had crossed the line between "Damn, they're big!" and "Wow! Can I try that?" you found yourself face-to-face with the horse that would suffer through your early attempts at figuring out the whole horse experience ... wherever this horse came from, he probably didn't benefit from the encounter as much as you did...

3. The Connected Horse
The first horses we meet don't really connect with us, nor do we with them. Those are experiences in survival and tests of endurance. The Connected Horse is the first horse you truly bond with. This is the horse that sounds a chord that lives so deep in you that you might never have heard it otherwise...

4. The Challenger
Into each horseperson's life, a little challenge must fall. You'll have read that one final training book, bought yourself a clicker and heading rope, and there you'll stand, arms crossed, assessing the situation as if you actually knew what the situation was. It might be difficult to believe, as you are flying down the aisleway on the losing end of a braided cotton line, but you actually need this horse in your life...

5. Your Deepest Heart
There will come a time when you will look at yourself with a cold, appraising eye, and you'll have to be honest about your continued ability to deal with The Challenger and other difficult horses. At that point, you'll seek out the horse that will be your soul mate forever... You'll have bought him the most comfortable, best fitting equipment... Maybe you'll still go to shows and ride - brilliantly or barely - in the Alzheimer's class. Maybe you'll just stay home. Whatever you do, one day you'll realize that after all the money you spent on animal communicators and trainers, you only had to stop and listen and you would have clearly heard your horse's thoughts and desires...

My answers:

1. Stormy. I don't know much about him, other than he was a black horse named Stormy. He was one of those poor horses that walked circles in a traveling carnival that came to the parking lot of the Sunset Esplanade. For some reason I loved this horse, and would only ride him.

2. This would be Mars War Cloud. Between the ages of 7 and 13 my only chance to ride was two or three guided trail rides taken in various places during the summer. These two or three hours were my most highly anticipated and favorite hours of the entire year. One of my yearly rides was taken while my family had its annual camping trip at Cape Lookout, at a place called the Ark Animal Sanctuary. When I was about 12, I got matched with a chestnut named Mars. For some reason, on that hour ride it just clicked. He responded to my leg, was light in the mouth, and just seemed to understand what I wanted him to do, not just blindly follow the horse in front of him, like most trail riding outlet horses do. I loved this horse so much that I forced my dad to take me on a second ride before we went home, and the next year I went back and rode him again.

The story of Mars has a sad end for me. For reasons I can't quite remember, after I was 13 my family didn't go to Cape Lookout anymore, so by 2002 I hadn't been to the Ark in quite some time. I was shocked to see a segment on the evening news about how hundreds of animals had been confiscated from the Ark for neglect. I was shocked. From what I remember, when I was there it wasn't the terrible situation that the news said it was. Of course, you cannot get get a court order to confiscate animals without really good proof of abuse or neglect, so I believe it. Not to mention I was a kid when I rode there, so I really would have no idea how to condition score a horse, or what the proper standards were for hoof care and hygiene.

It was very unnerving for me, because I knew the family that owned and ran the sanctuary, and they loved all the animals. They took in everything, beyond their means. I specifically remember one of the daughters, Peggy, telling me how overfilled they were, but people would call them to take animals and tell them that the animal would be dead if they wouldn't take it (euthanized? starved? I'm not sure on the details but I think, at least for horses, it involved a bullet to the head), and they simply couldn't say no. I've given so much thought to what could have happened to the Ark, and what I believe happened is a simple case of a rescue not being able to say no, like Peggy told me. Eventually they had too many animals than they had money or people to care for, and they couldn't afford hay to feed the 100+ horses, or have people to clean stalls. And because of it, animals suffered.

Of course, this meant that Mars was probably among the confiscated horses. I pleaded with my mom to call the organization that was handling the rescue and ask about the chestnut geldings, and see if Mars was still alive, and if there was any way we could adopt him. Of course, my mom had the money, the car, everything except the desire to spend a lot of money and time indulging my horse dreams, so rescuing Mars was not in the picture. I don't know where he wound up; I'd like to assume that he was one of the horses confiscated and happily re-homed. For me, at about the same time I was about to go into a really rough time in high school. I feel like things would have been a lot different if I had a horse to devote myself to.

On a side note, this taught me that every rescuer MUST know their limits as to how many animals they can support, and never exceed that. They MUST have the ability to say no to animals that they can't care for. And they MUST realize that a humane death is sometimes a good thing. Animals have no sense of "am I going to live tomorrow," and a painless death by way of chemical euthanasia or a bullet to the right area of the skull by a competent person ensures that an animal does not suffer needlessly, and eventually have a long, painful death by cruel means (hello double-decker ride to Canada or Mexico!).

End regretful rant.

3. Lovebug. She was really the first horse that I fell in love with, and that convinced me that a life without horses is no life at all. Always steady, always lazy, Lovebug was the first horse that I fell off of, and she was sweet enough to stand still and not step on me, as I lay on the ground in a stupor. She taught me to post and was my first experience riding English. I'd ridden a lot before, but I just didn't bond with any horse before her. I loved this cribbing monster.And I might get to lease her this summer!

4. Definitely Andy. Which might be surprising, considering that he is my beloved first horse, but we've both come a long way in the past year.

When I started riding Andy regularly, about a year ago, it was a wild ride. I will say that I have improved a lot since then, thanks to almost daily rides through winter and spring term and some very helpful advice from my friend Katie, and now my lovely new trainer. But in January of 2009 I was getting back into shape after six months of no riding. I also lacked a lot of basic skills and knowledge, like knowing my correct diagonals or being able to tell what lead I was on. I had been pretty much only riding Lovebug, but for variety's sake I decided to ride Andy.

Oh boy, was that a wild ride! Andy had one speed then: FUCKING GO! And if he wasn't allowed to FUCKING GO, he would throw a hissy fit of evading the bit, half-rears, pulling back, and squirreling around. When I let him finally FUCKING GO, it was a battle to get him down to a reasonable canter rather than an all-out gallop, which is quite terrifying in a small area with slippery footing. To compound things, Andy's gaits are not for the faint of heart. His trot is big, and his canter is bigger, with this deep, rocky motion. Eventually, I ended up loving it, but at first it was incredibly hard to sit. Andy also liked to make sharp, unbalanced turns and quick stops that threw me forward. Needless to say, it scared the shit out of me, and I just barely stayed on.

Because I am a crazy person, I kept riding Andy. I worked damn hard to become a better rider. I worked on having a better seat, and most importantly, quieter hands, because the one thing that Andy would not tolerate was heavy hands. I stopped riding with a chair seat and crooked back. I pretended that his mouth was made of the most delicate china and focused instead on the cues that I could give him with my seat and legs. Finally, I had to ride him during a polo scrimmage. As I warmed up I was quaking in my boots and half-chaps, but as soon as the game started, a curious thing happened. I got so into the game that I forgot that Andy made me nervous. Without nerves, Andy and I clicked. He was turning on a dime, moving off my leg, and going and stopping at all the right times.

He quickly became my favorite horse to play on after that. It also helped that a lot of other people didn't want to ride him, which I understand. Some people (boys) on the team were very heavy-handed, and they never got past Andy's FUCKING GO/LET GO OF MY MOUTH stage. I realized that I got Andy after I played him in a chukker where he behaved like a doll. I handed him over to his next rider, and he threw a bitch fit, half-rearing, and darting uncontrollably around the arena. We were a team after that. I would take him out in the outdoor arena in the sunshine by myself have a ball, getting into the rhythm of his (almost!) extended trot. The day before he left for the summer, I rode him one last time in the sunshine, sobbing, because as far as I knew it was the last time I would ride him.

Looking back, I can understand why Andy was so crazy. He was stalled 24/7, with practically no turnout, thanks to the jackasses at the OSU Horse Center, in combination with high amounts of grain and lots of alfalfa. Any horse would be batshit nutty on those conditions, especially a Thoroughbred that's a known runaway. Now that Andy is at my barn he gets turned out all day in a 30 acre turnout, and he is one lazy cucumber. I found that when I work hard on transitions with him his stops becoming much less unseating, and lateral work has done wonders for his sharp turns. He still challenges me sometimes, but it is a good thing, and it makes me become a better rider and horsewoman.

5. ???? Maybe it is Andy, but I feel that now is too soon in my experience and in our relationship for me to be positive. Only time can tell, so I guess we'll see...

Unfortunately, since my last post I've been dealing with some mild lameness with Andy. My barn owner and I agree that the most likely culprit is a stone bruise, or something to that nature, from when the pasture was frozen rock solid. It's not too bad; just off in the trot. My first inclination was to call the vet right away, but BO and my farrier both advised me to watch and wait. So I've been waiting and watching. Finally, this last week I could tell that we had some improvement. I rode him very briefly in the arena, and while he was still off, he was markedly less uneven. On the left rein he seemed almost sound. So he's not better yet, but definitely on the road to recovery.

That little shit makes me worry so much! I was so upset when when I first noticed that he was off. So I had the farrier and BO look at him, and we found absolutely nothing. No hoof sensitivity, no obvious bruise, no swelling, heat, or sensitivity ANYWHERE. So here I am, worried to death as I brought him out to the pasture. Right after I took his halter off, he squealed, and broke right into a bucking canter, off to find his buddies. Obviously if he felt good enough to run and buck, he wasn't hurting too bad.

So for the past month, I've had a very big pet to take care of. Lame horses still need food, grooming, worming, and stall-cleaning. And the funny thing is, I really don't mind! Caring for animals has always been a pleasant task for me, even some of the icky stuff (like picking turds out of an automatic waterer. Really, Andy?) So my barn routine of late has been pretty relaxing- clean the stall, bring in Andy, feed and groom until he is puuuurty, rinse and repeat!