The Look Of Eagles

I got a response that almost all the mares and fillies were still available. Only one had found a new home. They were all sound and healthy, most were at least track broke and they were all used to being handled. We set a date that I could come and take a look at them. I got a jolt when she told me the location of their farm...less than 10 minutes from where I would be boarding her! I tried to not get TOO excited, things could still fall apart very easily.

The next Saturday I made the drive out to view the seven Thoroughbreds. The groom that led me to their paddock chatted about how they were cared for, what their temperaments were...the normal stuff. I listened to what she was saying, took it with a grain of salt...she WAS trying to rehome them after all, she could have been willing to tell me they were all Grand Prix winners if it would seal the deal. I was more interested in watching the herd together. Granted most of the horses were in pretty decent shape but there were many signs of fighting...scrapes, bite marks...and an overall sense of unease from the entire herd. One gangly chestnut filly was obviously the lowest horse in the herd, she was skinnier than the others and 3 mares charged her repeatedly to chase her away, one even pinned her in the corner and tried to kick her. With each attack she just ran, she never defended herself, but she kept coming back...over and over again.

Quite a few of the mares caught my eye, including the gangly chestnut, but none of their personalities really meshed with what I was hoping to find. I wanted a partner, a horse I could feel some kind of connection with...I got none of that from any of the first 3 mares I looked at. One big stout dark bay mare was pretty friendly, she responded well to affection and handled easily enough. But there was no click, at best it would have been like a business relationship...she would do what I asked willingly, but there was no spark there. I turned her loose and started to head for the next mare when I literally froze on the spot. The hair on the back of my neck and arms stood up and I got chills.

I turned around and there she was. Standing off by herself now, the big chestnut filly was staring at me, head held high, ears perked...that lofty look of eagles only a Thoroughbred could have. Once she was certain that she had my attention, she waded her way through the rest of the mares, bravely passing the mare that had pinned her earlier. She never hesitated, she never swerved and she never took her eyes from mine. She walked right up and put her head over my shoulder. I reached up to scratch her on the neck and she pulled me in to her chest and hugged me.

Sometimes we don't get to choose our horses...sometimes the horse chooses us.

Everything Happens For A Reason

The ad was a sadly familiar sight these days. "Free to a good home, Thoroughbred mares and fillies. Seven to choose from!" With the dry summer and hay prices soaring, it seemed just about everyone was trying to thin their herds. The pictures with the ad didn't really show a whole lot...a band of mostly bay mares, dotted with the occasional chestnut, grazing in an open field.

I had tried so many times to get another horse, each time the quest ended in failure and I had all but given up. I'd been horseless for nearly 7 years....I had been in emotional turmoil for most of those years. I went through a phase where I was hopefully optimistic, when that failed I moved on to depression...every time someone mentioned "horse" or something that had to do with horses I wanted to burst into tears or scream in frustration...or both at the same time. As the years went by, the raw feeling wounds slowly numbed, however they never fully went away. I started feigning indifference every time one of my friends started talking about their horses. Every time I went to look at a potential equine, I locked away the hope, the pain and the frustration and tried to make the experience as business-like as possible to shield myself from the inevitable failure. We couldn't really afford a horse...but I just couldn't make myself stop. I felt that if I stopped trying, I would never get another horse and I just couldn't live with that.

I decided that I would compromise with myself. So maybe I couldn't have a horse of my own, but maybe I could help others with their horses. That way I would still be able to keep horses in my life and I would be giving people help at the same time! I placed an ad and sat at my laptop...anxiously waiting for replies. At the end of the day I had 13 responses from people who were interested in my help. Everything from lesson barns wanting help warming up their lesson horses to private owners that wanted their horses to get more attention. I met with most of them and finally settled on a quiet farm with only 2 horses. The owners were friendly and the barn and paddocks were in good repair. All in all, things were going well. I worked with their horses, making sure I kept my own emotions in check so that I wouldn't get too attached to them. About a month later, the farm owner looked at me and asked why I didn't have a horse of my own and when I told him that I just couldn't afford board for one he looked at me and said "Well hell, if that's the only reason, you can board here for nothing. Just keep working with mine in exchange for board!" Needless to say, I was just a little excited!

The next day I went in search of my next horse. Trying to keep costs down, I first scanned the "free to a good home" ads. I came across the above mentioned ad and asked if any of those mares or fillies were still available. After that, things just started falling into line...

Anybody Out There?

Wow...So much has happened in the past while. I haven't bothered to really blog since well, not many are reading it haha! I haven't forgotten about it, it just wasn't high on my list of things for a while. Don't worry, I have a new filly and I plan on blogging about her quite a bit since well, she just sort of insisted on coming home with me!

Saddling Up And Going For A Ride

Rose was one smart lookin' little horse. She shed out in the spring to a lovely red bay with metallic mahogany sheen to her coat, complete with dapples. Since she was too young to start riding yet, we took her everywhere and exposed her to as many things as we could. Trek a mile to the far pasture through creeks and uncertain footing? No problem! She splashed through water without a blink and scampered up rocky,slippery footing like a mountain goat. Squeeze yourself into a tiny, cramped, dark trailer? No problem! That little filly never had a problem loading and would walk right up into any trailer, any time, day or night! Did all this mean she was so quiet she would get bored and fall asleep or never gave us any kind of problems? Hell no, she was after all still a youngster and was known to spook at things and act up now and then. But I always got the feeling that when she spooked at something, it was only to see how WE would react and to see just what she could get away with.

Since she wasn't old enough to ride and nearly everyone at our farm showed, I was dying to get out there and show as well. We started in simple halter classes and moved on to showmanship once she got a little more experienced. She always did well, she always placed...maybe not always won but she was almost always in the top 3. It was a lot of fun but man was I itching to get up on her! When she turned 3 we introduced her to the bridle and she chewed at the snaffle bit for maybe 10 minutes then ignored it completely. We walked her around, took the bridle off, put it back on, and walked and trotted her around the arena for a bit until she was well used to it. Later that day I was grazing her in one of the smaller paddocks and I led her over close to the fence...can you see where this is going? I clambered up the fence and positioned myself next to my little horse. She watched me out of the corner of her eye but since there was nice green grass to munch on, she didn't move. I scratched her withers a bit then got up the nerve and leaned across her back. She snorted and gave a half-hearted buck, more out of surprise I think than anything else. I slid off and gave her a scratch, my way of apologizing for startling her. I never tried it again after that day, just longingly stared at that broad back of hers and tried to be patient...I wasn't the most patient of people in those days!  

Six months later my mother walked into my room and declared the horse should be old enough to be riding by now. Seems she was even more impatient than I was...of course her impatience was because she seemed to be paying for an object that wasn't being used to it's full potential, nevermind that it was too young to be used to it's full potential! We had bought a nice used western saddle from a tack sale the month before and I was dying to try it on her. Looking back I'm not really sure why we hadn't taken it out and gotten Rose accustomed to it before, I just remember it sitting in our basement for a month and that I used to go down and hop on it and pretend I was riding...I'm sure we've all done that at least once in our lives. I lugged the saddle upstairs and we all loaded up and headed to the barn. I don't remember having any butterflies or being nervous although I know I had to have been!

We got to the barn a little later than usual, nearly everyone else had come and gone so the place was almost empty. I decided to introduce Rose to the saddle while still in her stall, just in case she went crazy. Isn't that what all horses do when you first saddle them up? You tighten the girth and they all buck around like crazy for a while right? A picture kept looping around in my 15 yr old mind, I'd tighten up Rose's girth and she would start broncing around like she was rodeo bound! I showed her the saddle blanket, rubbed her neck and back with it then tossed it over her withers. No problem! I brought in the saddle and again, I let her sniff it and get a good look at it then placed it slowly on her back. She looked back at it but that was about it. I slowly lowered the cinch and stirrup on the other side so they wouldn't bang against her barrel and startle her. I reached under her belly, grabbed the cinch, took a deep breath and then started to tighten it up. I pulled the cinch until it was touching her belly, no problem! I pulled a little tighter, still no problem! She kept one ear flicked back in my direction and the other out the front of her stall, she seemed much more interested in a fellow boarder who was grooming her horse in the aisle than to what I was doing. So I tightened the girth completely and stepped back...waiting for the inevitable explosion...

It never came. I thought to myself, once she moves and realizes this thing is strapped to her back, she'll start bucking. Nope, she moved around her stall, got a drink from her bucket, walked around...nothing. So, getting braver, I brought her out of the stall and into the arena. Sister grabbed the lounge line and clipped it to her halter just in case she went mental, that way we'd have a nice long lead to hang on to. Nope, nothing! Rose meandered around like she had been wearing a saddle every day of her short life. I stopped her in the middle of the arena and Sister and I gave her lots of pats and scratches. I looked over at Sister, looked back at my newly saddled horse...Sister grinned as I grabbed the stirrup, stuck in my foot, stepped straight up and balanced there. Rose took a little step sideways, that was it. So I swung my foot across her back and slowly sank myself into the saddle. Both of Rose's ears immediately swiveled back towards me, I kicked both feet out of the stirrups and once again braced for the explosion. Once again, it never came. Rose simply sighed, turned her head and nosed at my foot as if to say "what is this doing here?" and that was all she ever did. No bucking, no rodeo display...nothing. I wish they all could have been like Rose. Not a day goes by that I don't think of her, her hoofprints are forever embedded in my heart.

The Story Of Stormy, Part 2

The day was calm and quiet, one of those early fall days where the leaves are just starting to change colors and the air is cool and crisp. We were headed out to the barn for the usual evening chores and to work the horses a bit. After a rather rocky beginning, Stormy had finally learned that he could trust me. I could halter and lead him to and from the paddock, saddle and bridle him, work him on the lunge line and hop on and ride with little to no problem. He seemed to have gotten over his earlier fears of well...everything. Or so I thought...


We entered the barn and said hello to some of our fellow boarders. Rose caught the sound of my voice and called out in her high pitched whinny, Stormy followed with his soft little nickers, ears pricked. I stopped and unlocked the tack box, scooping up Stormy's saddle and bridle. My sister decided she didn't feel like riding so she grabbed the lunge line and headed to Rose's stall.


Mom busied herself with measuring out the evening feed and chatting with fellow boarders...she liked to gossip and spent most of the evenings talking rather than actually working with the horses. Stormy was still showing a fear of buckets and so rather than feeding him in the corner feeder, we started feeding him out of a bucket to help him learn that a bucket could be a GOOD thing. He was doing rather well with it, he still wouldn't let you touch him with one, but he would certainly eat out of it now without much fuss.


Sister haltered Rose and lead her out to the middle of the arena to groom her, the little filly ground tied like no body's business and was happy to stand for hours as long as someone was scratching the itchies on her withers and chest! I gave Stormy a fast once over with the brush then picked his feet (another challenge we had overcome) and saddled him in his stall. I lead him out just as Sister started lunging Rose at the top end of the arena. While Stormy was never "hot" like a lot of Arabian's can be, he was certainly eager to work and he chewed his bit and licked his lips incessantly in his excitement.


I lead him around the arena a few times, he was still very green and like a lot of horses would suck in a big gulp of air as you were cinching up so I walked him first before hopping on. I halted him in an arena corner and tighted up my girth and took a look around to make sure there wasn't any surprises hiding in the barn loft....Stormy was getting better but he still didn't like motion above his head. My mother was the only person up there, still scooping grain. I noticed she had forgotten to bring down Stormy's feed bucket and so I reminded her to bring it down with her when she was finished. I adjusted my stirrup, checked my girth one last time and just as I was stepping up on my little horse...my mother leaned over the side of the loft and dropped the feed bucket practically in Stormy's face.


He pivoted like a reining horse and I scrambled to get my other leg over his back and my butt in the saddle. I missed, due to his momentum I landed BEHIND my saddle and my thumping down on his kidneys just added to his terror. I let loose his reins since I feared pulling him over and grabbed for his mane instead. I looked up and realized he was headed straight for Sister and Rose. I felt like we were moving in slow motion but in reality he had spun and covered the arena in 3 or 4 big leaping strides and I knew I had no chance of regaining my seat and pulling him up...we were on a collision course and there was no way out...

Just An Update

Sorry I haven't posted in a while...I'm working on some stories as well as having some trials going on in my life. I'll work on getting the next post up soon, I'm sure some of you are curious to hear some more about Rose and Stormy.

The Story Of Stormy

As I stated in my last post, Rose seemed to take everything in stride. From tying to trailering, clipping to clomping above her head in the loft not much bothered her. The old gelding I had leased, Indy, was another of those who had seen much of life and had a "Been there, done that" kind of attitude so I just wasn't thinking about much more than just where to unload Stormy as we pulled into the barn drive with our new horse.

Stormy, however, soon gave me much, much more to think about. Dad backed the trailer closer to the barn doors and we all jumped out to be greeted by frantic screams echoing out of our little 2 horse trailer. Undaunted, I hopped up in the trailer with Stormy, clipped a lead to his halter and dad released the bar across the back. The colt shot out of the trailer as if he'd been fired out of a cannon and let loose another shrill whinny. He spun around mid-whinny and got his first look at his new home. His frantic call died in his throat (it literally sounded as if he swallowed it!) as his eyes widened in shock....I realized then he had never seen any barn bigger than the tiny 2 stall shed he had grown up with. In his four years of life he had never seen anything other than the little paddock where he lived and the 2 elderly people who had cared for him. He stood there frozen, legs splayed in what would have been a comical picture if he hadn't been so afraid. I gave his lead rope a gentle tug and took a step forward. Stormy flicked an ear at me but remained riveted to the spot. I stepped back and scratched him under his mane, working in circles back towards his withers. He slowly relaxed his neck and gave me a shaky sigh. I stepped forward again and this time he took one hesitant step forward with me.

We had, of course, gathered an audience. No new arrival at the barn ever went unnoticed! Thankfully no one made a lot of noise or stuck their nose in places it didn't belonged. It took me 15 minutes to walk Stormy the short distance to the barn doors. I paused there and let him get a good look around. When he decided that nothing was going to jump out and eat him he walked beside me down the hallway and into the main barn. I stopped again and gave Stormy the chance to take in his surroundings. He stood with his head nearly vertical, eyes wide and nostrils flared, breathing in deep (if still rather shaky) breaths. The horses that were still in their stalls were peering curiously out at him, even they wondered what his deal was. This time it only took him 5 minutes to relax and I moved farther into the barn. He still walked with his head held up but at least he was moving forward. He looked at EVERYTHING...the sawdust pile (oh yikes...when you breathe on it, it puffs up in your face!), the chickens, the shovels and wheelbarrows we use for the sawdust...nothing missed his inspection as we walked a lap around the barn. He relaxed even more and by our third lap he was quietly walking by my side on a loose lead.

There was sudden movement in our loft and one of the boarders appeared above the stalls. Stormy snorted in surprise and once again he froze splay-legged as he realized (oh the horror!!) that they were ABOVE his head. I stood, waiting to see which way he would bolt as this was obviously more than he could handle after such a traumatic day. He stood bug-eyed for just a second more then started to nervously lick his lips, then he simply turned slowly around and put his back to the scary lady in the loft. He didn't bolt, buck or flee in terror...he just turned his back! I walked him away from the lady in the loft and he came with no hesitation, walked into his stall and showed interest in his hay.

After that first episode with the boarder in the loft, Stormy's way of dealing with scary situations was to simply turn his back on it. He was never violent about it, just slowly pivoted until he was no longer facing whatever it was that frightened him. He was a very fast learner, he learned to lunge, how to stand for the farrier and vet...as long as I was there he was fine. He was still too much for my sister or mother to handle, neither one ever rode him or lead him to the fields to graze. One of my favorite memories of him is one of us down in far back pasture where only a few horses were let out to graze. I had gone down to the pasture to check on him and stopped to sit a while in the shade. Stormy quietly came up and grazed beside me, simply to be in my company. Those were good days, too bad we didn't know those days were numbered...