My horse is like a Siren; those dangerous creatures from Greek Mythology who lure nearby sailors with their enchanting music and ethereal beauty, to shipwreck on the rocky coasts of their islands. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but I was definitely smitten with this horse.
On that first day, as I impatiently waited for Cris to come up the drive to meet me, I wondered what it was I liked so much about this horse. She seemed to have an “uncertain confidence” that I saw as potential. It almost felt like she spoke to my soul on that first day, whispering to me a promise. I was destined to take her on a journey and she had been waiting for me. She was ready to go. Her insistence was almost tangible. It was just a fleeting, but powerful moment and it struck me to the core.
Cris eventually pulled into the ranch, got out of his truck and said “I hear you like my horse! I might consider a lease. Do you want to go for a ride?"
Of course I was thrilled at the prospect. Cris let me bring her out, groom her, saddle her up, all under his watchful eye, of course. I was in heaven. It had been a few years. Then we were off! She really moved out, happy and confident, like we were out on some grand adventure! It felt like it had only been a day since I'd been in the saddle, not 7 years. I remember Cris giving me warnings about certain little behaviors to watch for which never quite materialized. Periodically I would hear him say “Huh…!” behind us. She was really putting her best hoof forward!
Needless to say, I was sold on this mare. I also really liked Cris. How was this going to work out? I decided the best way was to be completely honest. I wanted this horse. And while she wasn’t exactly for sale, I was hoping that maybe Cris would recognize something that might convince him to be open to the idea of letting her go. He was very polite, considering that I had appeared out of nowhere, a stranger, informing him that I wanted his horse. He agreed to think it over for a day or so, and we would talk. I let him know that I also had another horse to look at the next day that I had already scheduled an appointment to see. It’s funny now to think of it, but we were both just delaying the inevitable. Maybe to give ourselves some time to wrap our minds around the sudden and unexpected events of the day.
I did try to go to look at that other horse the next day. My car blew up on the way and as I waited on the side of the road for a tow, I sent Cris a text message “Couldn’t see the other horse, car blew up. I just want Maddie. When do you want to meet to talk about it?”
He agreed to a 60 day lease. We would see how it went. He gave me a purchase price in the event it did work out. I felt like I needed to let him know that if I ended up buying her, we would be leaving the ranch. I had no truck, no trailer, and I knew I wanted a big arena to work in, to re-teach myself how to ride, to get in sync with my new horse, and I also wanted access to miles and miles of trails. I also knew that we were going to have to cut familiar ties in order to embark on our own journey, although I had no idea what that journey would look like at the time.
Next came the most excruciating 60 days of my life! I was so afraid that Cris wouldn’t approve of me, that I wouldn’t be good enough for Maddie, that we wouldn’t be the right match after all, that this feeling I had of knowing could somehow be wrong. My husband spent the next two months reassuring me that from an outsider’s perspective, this horse and I were meant to be together and he assured me that Cris would see it too.
For all of his encouragement, all of my “knowing”, I was still not going to believe it was true until I heard it from Cris.
I could try to tell you how Maddie and I spent that first 60 days, but it’s kind of a blur. I was enjoying it immensely, but also worried. I didn’t want to pester Cris. I was afraid he would change his mind and I just didn’t want to hear the wrong thing. Anyone who knows me would be shocked at how well I kept my mouth firmly shut! But Cris seemed to sense that we “fit” together. He and the others at the ranch would sometimes comment that Maddie seemed really happy with me. I remember being a little doubtful. She was a bit more standoff-ish than I thought she would be, given our initial "sparks-flying" meeting. But this was her way, and I would come to understand and appreciate it better in the coming months.
Finally, a couple of weeks before our 60 days was up, Cris walked past me as I was cleaning out Maddie's pasture. He shook his head and said; “Bitch. You stole my horse!” (with a smile, of course). That’s when I knew there was a good chance she would actually be mine!
While the 60 days may have been stressful and uncertain, there are a few things I clearly remember and enjoyed about my stay at Rocking S Ranch.
One of my assigned chores during our trial period was to clean Maddie’s pasture every day. Cris told me that I could pay a little bit extra to have someone clean for me, but in his wisdom (which I am still very grateful for today), he encouraged me to do it myself. This allowed Maddie and I to form our initial bond. For two months, she would look at me with her silly, curious expression, then look away, completely bored and disinterested. I could count on her casually walking over to make a quick surveillance for hidden treats, then just as casually walking off with a swish of her tail to go stand and stare at something more interesting. It wasn’t much, and to be honest I wondered why she wasn’t more interested in me, but it was the beginning of something.
Cris gave me one warning: “Don’t break my pitchfork!” Within the first week, being a bit muck-rusty and also trying to prove myself as the very best care giver possible, I cleaned so fervently that I broke his pitchfork. I felt terrible! When I left the ranch two months later, Cris presented me with the replacement pitchfork I bought for him. He had written “MADDIE” on it with a Sharpie. I still have it today and I’m a little embarrassed to admit that it holds quite a bit of sentimental value. It represents honor and gratitude. We both honored our word. We honor our horses. Caring for them is an honor and an exercise in gratitude. They give us so much. And even though the board at our new ranch included cleaning, I asked that I be the only one to clean my horse’s stall and pasture every day. Miraculously, I’m doing it with that same damned pitchfork.
Another thing about our stay at Rocking S is the friends that I hadn’t expected to make. The people I met seemed to be in my corner from the beginning, offering encouragement, friendship and much needed advice. I am very grateful for my time spent with these people and very happy that they are still my friends.
There was another person I met there, a farrier’s apprentice, who with a simple comment one day, set the course of our future. More on that later….
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Friday, February 22, 2013
And Then There Was This Horse (Chapter 2)
I know, I know...two blog entries in one day. But you don't understand! I've decided to "tell our story". And I'm way behind...a year and 5 months behind. We've got to catch up! Read on.....:
After those first wild rides, and a couple of years “figuring things out” with my first pony (Ponies can be pure evil by the way!), I got my first “real” horse. She was a stout, confident, Quarter Horse/Morgan cross with a very kind disposition and plenty of motor. We had 25 years together. I could go on and on about this mare. How versatile she was – barrels, trail, western pleasure. Her stamina – I had to get up at 4am and ride across town 5 miles to the horse shows, show all day, then ride back home. And mostly, how forever grateful I am to her. My childhood was a little “tumultuous”, I guess you could say, and I felt like this horse saved me. We spent so many great years together. She was a mother/protector horse, and an adventure partner. A willing accomplice to any scheme I could cook up. Mandy….She was my pride and joy.
She was put down at the ripe old age of 36. It wasn’t an easy passing. I felt that after all that she had given me throughout her life, I let her down in the end. She deserved a peaceful, sun-drenched, never-ending nap in a meadow. But it was a terrible experience that still makes me sad to think about.
On that day, I walked away from the barn one last time, with a broken heart, leaving all of my tack; my saddle, my bridle, my brushes, everything, never to return. Somebody else could have it all, I didn’t care.
I drove home feeling numb. Then I quickly moved on. I was a very busy, newly divorced mother of a toddler. Things in my life were hectic. It was fun, but a lot of responsibility to own a horse. Besides, there would never be another Mandy. So that was that. I was done with it.
Then one day several years later, I reconnected with my old childhood friend, Linda (of our first wild horseback ride). She had gotten back into horses after a few years without. If you recall, we got our first ponies together. Then later, we got our first “big horses” at around the same time. Her horse Duffy lived to be quite an old man. A few years after Duffy passed, she picked up an Arabian mare and she had horse fever again! She suggested that I just “think about it”. I spent some time out at her ranch with her horses. And that was it. I knew I Must. Have. A. Horse.
Boy, was my husband surprised. For as influential as horses had been in my life, I just never talked about them. I rarely spoke of Mandy. These were private memories I kept quietly and safely tucked away. Could you imagine his reaction when I casually mentioned to him one evening “Oh…my gosh. I have something to tell you! You don’t know this, but horses are my LIFE. And I must get one now. It’s time.” (say what!?!?)
Being the good supportive husband that he is, he was behind me. A little nervously….but behind me.
Of course I wanted a horse like my old mare. A nice thick Quarter Horse type. Steadfast, solid minded and good on trails, but ranchy and fun. Capable.
I spent a few weekends looking at a bunch of Quarter Horses, with no luck. The first one was a beautiful dun QH mare. She charged me when I turned her out in the arena. I mean, really charged like she was going to kill me. I’m not really one for taking on a horse with issues. I passed. I’m sure she might make a great horse for someone, she was probably just testing me, but she failed my test. I looked at several others, but none of them really stood out. I was sure of two things; my horse was out there, and I would know her when I saw her. But I was starting to get a little frustrated. Where was my horse?
Then one day, out of the blue, I decided to take a drive up to a little horse boarding facility not far from my home. I had called a few times but no one answered and I didn’t get a call back. It could have been the vague nature of my message: “Hi. Uh.. I’m looking for a horse?” So I thought I would just go and ask if they had any horses for sale, or knew of any.What did I have to lose, really?
I pulled up the driveway and got out of my car. It’s not good etiquette to show up at a private boarding facility without an appointment so I needed to find the person to apologize to, and then ask about horses! Shelly was very nice and after explaining my purpose for wandering on to her property, she pointed me down the hill to the “end corner pasture on the right”. “There’s a young mare down there. She’s not for sale but I know the owner was considering maybe leasing her out a while back. Why don’t you take a look and I can call him if you’re interested.”
So I made my way down the hill. As I got close to the last pasture I thought, “Well, maybe I didn’t hear right.” I stopped and looked around. Could there be any other “end corner pasture on the right” that the woman may have been referring to? I was thinking that there really wasn’t any point in going any further. In front of me was one of the gangliest, funniest looking, upside down built horses I had ever seen. She didn’t know if she was spotted or painted. Half her mane stuck up on end and the other half lay flat. Her conformation wasn’t what I was used to, expecting, or hoping for. I didn’t see a hind end to speak of. She definitely was not a “Quarter Horse” type.
I was about to turn to go when she walked up to the gate to see who I was. What did I want? Did I have a treat? A scratch, perhaps? Did I come for her? She looked so darned hopeful and insistent that I thought it would be mean not to go and say hello. So I walked down to the gate and gave her a little pat on the neck. She wasn’t so bad really. Kind of pretty. Definitely unique. I was a little stumped, quite possibly captivated, and I couldn’t turn away. I decided to lift up her fly mask to get a look at her eyes. You can tell a lot about a horse by their eyes. I remember that feeling. My breath catching in my throat.
Well, hello my beautiful girl. You are the one. Yes. In fact, I did come for you.
I practically ran up the hill to Shelly and breathlessly (damn, I came to hate that hill) panted…”Call him. Please. CALL HIM!”
And so she did.
After those first wild rides, and a couple of years “figuring things out” with my first pony (Ponies can be pure evil by the way!), I got my first “real” horse. She was a stout, confident, Quarter Horse/Morgan cross with a very kind disposition and plenty of motor. We had 25 years together. I could go on and on about this mare. How versatile she was – barrels, trail, western pleasure. Her stamina – I had to get up at 4am and ride across town 5 miles to the horse shows, show all day, then ride back home. And mostly, how forever grateful I am to her. My childhood was a little “tumultuous”, I guess you could say, and I felt like this horse saved me. We spent so many great years together. She was a mother/protector horse, and an adventure partner. A willing accomplice to any scheme I could cook up. Mandy….She was my pride and joy.
She was put down at the ripe old age of 36. It wasn’t an easy passing. I felt that after all that she had given me throughout her life, I let her down in the end. She deserved a peaceful, sun-drenched, never-ending nap in a meadow. But it was a terrible experience that still makes me sad to think about.
On that day, I walked away from the barn one last time, with a broken heart, leaving all of my tack; my saddle, my bridle, my brushes, everything, never to return. Somebody else could have it all, I didn’t care.
I drove home feeling numb. Then I quickly moved on. I was a very busy, newly divorced mother of a toddler. Things in my life were hectic. It was fun, but a lot of responsibility to own a horse. Besides, there would never be another Mandy. So that was that. I was done with it.
Then one day several years later, I reconnected with my old childhood friend, Linda (of our first wild horseback ride). She had gotten back into horses after a few years without. If you recall, we got our first ponies together. Then later, we got our first “big horses” at around the same time. Her horse Duffy lived to be quite an old man. A few years after Duffy passed, she picked up an Arabian mare and she had horse fever again! She suggested that I just “think about it”. I spent some time out at her ranch with her horses. And that was it. I knew I Must. Have. A. Horse.
Boy, was my husband surprised. For as influential as horses had been in my life, I just never talked about them. I rarely spoke of Mandy. These were private memories I kept quietly and safely tucked away. Could you imagine his reaction when I casually mentioned to him one evening “Oh…my gosh. I have something to tell you! You don’t know this, but horses are my LIFE. And I must get one now. It’s time.” (say what!?!?)
Being the good supportive husband that he is, he was behind me. A little nervously….but behind me.
Of course I wanted a horse like my old mare. A nice thick Quarter Horse type. Steadfast, solid minded and good on trails, but ranchy and fun. Capable.
I spent a few weekends looking at a bunch of Quarter Horses, with no luck. The first one was a beautiful dun QH mare. She charged me when I turned her out in the arena. I mean, really charged like she was going to kill me. I’m not really one for taking on a horse with issues. I passed. I’m sure she might make a great horse for someone, she was probably just testing me, but she failed my test. I looked at several others, but none of them really stood out. I was sure of two things; my horse was out there, and I would know her when I saw her. But I was starting to get a little frustrated. Where was my horse?
Then one day, out of the blue, I decided to take a drive up to a little horse boarding facility not far from my home. I had called a few times but no one answered and I didn’t get a call back. It could have been the vague nature of my message: “Hi. Uh.. I’m looking for a horse?” So I thought I would just go and ask if they had any horses for sale, or knew of any.What did I have to lose, really?
I pulled up the driveway and got out of my car. It’s not good etiquette to show up at a private boarding facility without an appointment so I needed to find the person to apologize to, and then ask about horses! Shelly was very nice and after explaining my purpose for wandering on to her property, she pointed me down the hill to the “end corner pasture on the right”. “There’s a young mare down there. She’s not for sale but I know the owner was considering maybe leasing her out a while back. Why don’t you take a look and I can call him if you’re interested.”
So I made my way down the hill. As I got close to the last pasture I thought, “Well, maybe I didn’t hear right.” I stopped and looked around. Could there be any other “end corner pasture on the right” that the woman may have been referring to? I was thinking that there really wasn’t any point in going any further. In front of me was one of the gangliest, funniest looking, upside down built horses I had ever seen. She didn’t know if she was spotted or painted. Half her mane stuck up on end and the other half lay flat. Her conformation wasn’t what I was used to, expecting, or hoping for. I didn’t see a hind end to speak of. She definitely was not a “Quarter Horse” type.
I was about to turn to go when she walked up to the gate to see who I was. What did I want? Did I have a treat? A scratch, perhaps? Did I come for her? She looked so darned hopeful and insistent that I thought it would be mean not to go and say hello. So I walked down to the gate and gave her a little pat on the neck. She wasn’t so bad really. Kind of pretty. Definitely unique. I was a little stumped, quite possibly captivated, and I couldn’t turn away. I decided to lift up her fly mask to get a look at her eyes. You can tell a lot about a horse by their eyes. I remember that feeling. My breath catching in my throat.
Well, hello my beautiful girl. You are the one. Yes. In fact, I did come for you.
I practically ran up the hill to Shelly and breathlessly (damn, I came to hate that hill) panted…”Call him. Please. CALL HIM!”
And so she did.
In the Beginning....There Was a Horse. (Chapter 1)
I'm changing the name of my blog. I was trying to come up with a name that would incorporate all of my favorite things, but "Smiling Yoga Cowgirl I Love Food And Martinis So MUCH Why Can't I Lose Weight?!" Doesn't have the right ring to it. It doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. I also decided to change the focus from weight loss/fitness (ha ha ha to that anyway!) and food (I will probably still talk about food, I can't help it!) to my horsemanship journey.
What is my horsemanship journey? Well, to be quite specific: The Making of A Californio Vaquero Style Bridle Horse.
What's that, you ask?
Here is a fairly succinct, easy to read article on the origins of the California Vaquero Bridle Horse. Keep in mind that today's competitive "reined cow horse" has little in common with the historic Vaquero trained bridle horse from a time long forgotten by many but the most passionate of cowboy historians.
A horse trained in the Vaquero tradition of old probably wouldn't stand a chance competing against today's reined cow horse in the modern show pen. But that isn't the point of it anyway. (see the HISTORY section in the link below)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reined_cow_horse
Now why would someone like me - a middle aged, suburban Volvo driving wife and mom, with no horse training experience other than banging around on my old horse as a kid, end up choosing this particular and decidedly "old-timey" path? Especially with a horse like mine, who is clearly not a ranch-type horse. She's a great trail horse, don't get me wrong. But she's the wrong horse for the job, as they say. Well, that is a story for another day, but I'll just leave you with this for now: I didn't choose this path, and I certainly didn't choose the horse who is walking it with me. They both chose me. More on that in a future chapter!
Honestly, I don't really know how far we'll get, or if we're any good at any of it at all! There have been many days I've almost given up. I have seen the futility in it, the insanity of it. We have so many obstacles. So. Many. Obstacles. But as many on this journey well know - it quickly morphs from a flirtatious little curiosity to a GRAND PASSION bordering on obsession. And we all know that the very best journeys are the ones we stumble upon accidentally. And after taking a few tentative steps we decide, against our own better judgement and the advice of the wise, to lose ourselves on the path. We know instinctively that we will find our way, eventually. And if we are lost...what a grand world to lose oneself in!
Besides, it's not really so much about where we end up, but what we are experiencing along the way. And if the last year is any indication....we're in for a long, fun, exhilarating, crazy, frustrating, tears on my pillow one night, heart bubbling with joy the next day, kind of ride!
And so - Away we go!
First, we should probably start in the beginning with a little of my own horse history:
When I was 6, my family was in Half Moon Bay one sunny fall day and I begged and begged to go on a pony ride. My thumb got caught up against the saddle horn with the rein and I screamed until the poor pony attendant could untangle me and help me off. It was horrible. Terrifying and embarrassing. But for whatever reason - that horrific ride set the wheels in motion and I just knew that I. Must. Have. A. Pony. And so the begging, wheedling and whining commenced.
Fast forward a couple years. My friend Linda and I went to grade school together and there was a pasture with two horses behind the schoolyard. We were probably 8 years old. When we weren't galloping around the playground pretending we were wild horses, we were stealing apples from the auditorium garbage cans after lunch and feeding them to the horses.
One day after school, we brought a few boxes of sugar cubes back to the pasture and started feeding them to the horses....the entire box! One for each horse. Smart, right?
We must have been eating them too because we got hopped up enough to think it was a good idea to dare each other to climb the fence and hop on. We had both read The Black Stallion series, and probably ever other horse book we could find, so we knew exactly what we were doing and how it was going to go, of course.
One horse took off at a gallop and the other one followed. They ran across the field, down a hill, jumped across a creek, then into the woods, zig zagging all over the place (and going under every low branch they could find!). We hung on for dear life, sometimes with our arms flung around their necks, pressing ourselves as flat to their body as we could to avoid the lowest branches, hootin' and hollerin', terrified and thrilled at the same time! I remember feeling like I was one with this powerful, graceful (and very large) animal. There was nothing else like it, I was sure.
They finally galloped out of the woods and into a clearing, then hung a sharp right into the barn. We slid off their backs, shaking and laughing like crazy, and realized we were trapped in the barn because the house was right across the driveway and we didn't want to get caught! We weren't sure, but thought maybe you could get shot for riding someone's horse without permission.
Eventually we managed to sneak out of the barn and ran back down through the woods - VERY impressed with our horseback riding skills.
Of course we were hooked after that and spent many afternoons testing our bareback, bridle-less riding skills on two great beasts who looked for all kinds of ways to get us off their backs without actually harming us. That was how we learned to ride. We were very lucky to have survived it, yes we know.
We both got our first ponies within a year or two of that first wild ride.
What is my horsemanship journey? Well, to be quite specific: The Making of A Californio Vaquero Style Bridle Horse.
What's that, you ask?
Here is a fairly succinct, easy to read article on the origins of the California Vaquero Bridle Horse. Keep in mind that today's competitive "reined cow horse" has little in common with the historic Vaquero trained bridle horse from a time long forgotten by many but the most passionate of cowboy historians.
A horse trained in the Vaquero tradition of old probably wouldn't stand a chance competing against today's reined cow horse in the modern show pen. But that isn't the point of it anyway. (see the HISTORY section in the link below)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reined_cow_horse
Now why would someone like me - a middle aged, suburban Volvo driving wife and mom, with no horse training experience other than banging around on my old horse as a kid, end up choosing this particular and decidedly "old-timey" path? Especially with a horse like mine, who is clearly not a ranch-type horse. She's a great trail horse, don't get me wrong. But she's the wrong horse for the job, as they say. Well, that is a story for another day, but I'll just leave you with this for now: I didn't choose this path, and I certainly didn't choose the horse who is walking it with me. They both chose me. More on that in a future chapter!
Honestly, I don't really know how far we'll get, or if we're any good at any of it at all! There have been many days I've almost given up. I have seen the futility in it, the insanity of it. We have so many obstacles. So. Many. Obstacles. But as many on this journey well know - it quickly morphs from a flirtatious little curiosity to a GRAND PASSION bordering on obsession. And we all know that the very best journeys are the ones we stumble upon accidentally. And after taking a few tentative steps we decide, against our own better judgement and the advice of the wise, to lose ourselves on the path. We know instinctively that we will find our way, eventually. And if we are lost...what a grand world to lose oneself in!
Besides, it's not really so much about where we end up, but what we are experiencing along the way. And if the last year is any indication....we're in for a long, fun, exhilarating, crazy, frustrating, tears on my pillow one night, heart bubbling with joy the next day, kind of ride!
And so - Away we go!
First, we should probably start in the beginning with a little of my own horse history:
When I was 6, my family was in Half Moon Bay one sunny fall day and I begged and begged to go on a pony ride. My thumb got caught up against the saddle horn with the rein and I screamed until the poor pony attendant could untangle me and help me off. It was horrible. Terrifying and embarrassing. But for whatever reason - that horrific ride set the wheels in motion and I just knew that I. Must. Have. A. Pony. And so the begging, wheedling and whining commenced.
Fast forward a couple years. My friend Linda and I went to grade school together and there was a pasture with two horses behind the schoolyard. We were probably 8 years old. When we weren't galloping around the playground pretending we were wild horses, we were stealing apples from the auditorium garbage cans after lunch and feeding them to the horses.
One day after school, we brought a few boxes of sugar cubes back to the pasture and started feeding them to the horses....the entire box! One for each horse. Smart, right?
We must have been eating them too because we got hopped up enough to think it was a good idea to dare each other to climb the fence and hop on. We had both read The Black Stallion series, and probably ever other horse book we could find, so we knew exactly what we were doing and how it was going to go, of course.
One horse took off at a gallop and the other one followed. They ran across the field, down a hill, jumped across a creek, then into the woods, zig zagging all over the place (and going under every low branch they could find!). We hung on for dear life, sometimes with our arms flung around their necks, pressing ourselves as flat to their body as we could to avoid the lowest branches, hootin' and hollerin', terrified and thrilled at the same time! I remember feeling like I was one with this powerful, graceful (and very large) animal. There was nothing else like it, I was sure.
They finally galloped out of the woods and into a clearing, then hung a sharp right into the barn. We slid off their backs, shaking and laughing like crazy, and realized we were trapped in the barn because the house was right across the driveway and we didn't want to get caught! We weren't sure, but thought maybe you could get shot for riding someone's horse without permission.
Eventually we managed to sneak out of the barn and ran back down through the woods - VERY impressed with our horseback riding skills.
Of course we were hooked after that and spent many afternoons testing our bareback, bridle-less riding skills on two great beasts who looked for all kinds of ways to get us off their backs without actually harming us. That was how we learned to ride. We were very lucky to have survived it, yes we know.
We both got our first ponies within a year or two of that first wild ride.
