I've watched Black Beauty more times than I can remember, and one line has always stuck with me, and that's the very opening line:
"The story of my life is the story of the people in it"
This resonates strongly with me; but, equally as true would be the statement that the story of my life is the story of the horses in it.
My heart lives in my horse. When I am around horses, I think of little else. I am truly in the moment and happy.
For as long as I can remember I have loved horses. I vividly remember riding my neighbor's pony when I was little in Connecticut. I remember that we were on a grassy, but rocky hill. I remember that we trotted (I'm sure it was brief). I was hooked. I somehow convinced my mom that I needed lessons. I remember going to the riding stable about 20 minutes from us, only for them to turn me away because my legs weren't quite long enough yet (I was probably six at the time). Some time later we went back and I began taking lessons.
The first lesson horse I rode was named Marie. I liked that, because my middle name is Marie. She cornered me in her stall early on when she realized I had carrots. That was the last treat Marie ever got in her stall. I learned to walk, trot, and jump tiny cross rails with Marie. After I outgrew Marie, I rode Tattoo. Tattoo was not an attractive gelding by any means, but we got along quite well. We even won some schooling classes at the barn. Here's an embarrassing photo that serves as an endearing form of proof.
"The story of my life is the story of the people in it"
This resonates strongly with me; but, equally as true would be the statement that the story of my life is the story of the horses in it.
My heart lives in my horse. When I am around horses, I think of little else. I am truly in the moment and happy.
For as long as I can remember I have loved horses. I vividly remember riding my neighbor's pony when I was little in Connecticut. I remember that we were on a grassy, but rocky hill. I remember that we trotted (I'm sure it was brief). I was hooked. I somehow convinced my mom that I needed lessons. I remember going to the riding stable about 20 minutes from us, only for them to turn me away because my legs weren't quite long enough yet (I was probably six at the time). Some time later we went back and I began taking lessons.
The first lesson horse I rode was named Marie. I liked that, because my middle name is Marie. She cornered me in her stall early on when she realized I had carrots. That was the last treat Marie ever got in her stall. I learned to walk, trot, and jump tiny cross rails with Marie. After I outgrew Marie, I rode Tattoo. Tattoo was not an attractive gelding by any means, but we got along quite well. We even won some schooling classes at the barn. Here's an embarrassing photo that serves as an endearing form of proof.
Other school horses that I rode included: George's Girl, Cactus, Cheyenne, Bingo. I can guarantee that I'm leaving some very patient creatures out of that list, but my mind is blank on their names.
I've also owned a slew of horses, including: Freckles (flea bitten mustang that knew he could get away with anything and did), Two Socks (ill-tempered weanling., worst decision ever), Clifford (sweet-hearted thoroughbred that I didn't have nearly enough time for).
I have also had two horses though that have stolen my heart. Beans and Gavin.
I've also owned a slew of horses, including: Freckles (flea bitten mustang that knew he could get away with anything and did), Two Socks (ill-tempered weanling., worst decision ever), Clifford (sweet-hearted thoroughbred that I didn't have nearly enough time for).
I have also had two horses though that have stolen my heart. Beans and Gavin.
Beans. My beanieboy. The password to all of my accounts for years. This horse kept me busy, kept me engaged, and kept me out of bad situations at a time when nothing else could. I was bad when I was young. And when I say bad, I mean, I was bad. I wasn't nice. I was sneaky. I wanted to party all night, and sleep all day. And then my mom and dad bought me this fellow. I had to work to pay for his board. Between school, work, and Beans, I had time for little else. Beans was often unwell, and this led me to the decision that I wanted to be a vet, which led me to do a complete 180 in school (and actually start trying). This also meant that I spent a lot of time on the sidelines with Beans, watching others ride and progress. I didn't care though. When he was good, he was THE BEST. He was kind, he was sweet, he would threaten passing out when I saddled him (tighten girth one hole, walk Beans around, repeat), he'd passage. I stunk like horse. My room stunk like horse. I cut my hair insanely short, and I didn't care. Every other woman at the barn had short hair, so I might as well also. I didn't have a boyfriend; I didn't care. What I cared about was Beans, and school, and getting into CSU. I will forever be grateful to my parents for buying me Beans, and for Beans himself, for being such a good sport. Without him, I certainly would not be where I am now.
Gavin. My pony. I bought Gavin for myself as a graduation gift. I know, quite a gift to oneself, right? Really, my dad bought him for me. My dad died the year before I graduated from college, and left myself and my brothers some money. My dad and I were the only two members of my immediate family who aren't (or would it be weren't?) A) allergic to horses; b) scared of horses; or C) both. I felt like it was one of the only things we could connect on, and who knows - maybe I inherited my love of horses from him. I knew when I set out looking for a horse, that I wanted this to be a horse that I'd have for the rest of that horse's life, or mine (whichever ended sooner). I knew that I wanted a sound horse, both in body and mind. I knew that I wanted an athletic horse, and a versatile one at that.
I fell upon my search with great enthusiasm, and quickly found a breeder in Indiana who bred and sold quality Welsh Cobs (Castleberry Cobs). I still can't believe I did it, but I flew out to see the whole breeding operation in the countryside of Indiana. It was a wonderful trip. The breeder and her whole family were some of the nicest, most genuine people I'd ever met. I met all of the horses. The boy herd, the girl herd, the stallion, and two geldings who were at a picturesque Warmblood farm just up the road. I really had my mind set on one of the geldings that had some training. But before we saw them, we went out to the boy herd. There were a few furry beasts (this was in December) out in that pasture. They all were curious, and all wanted a piece of the action. Each came up for a sniff, but one in particular stuck his furry little nose in my face as if to say "hullllllo" and didn't immediately wander away. He stuck around and sniffed at me. I pet him, and pet him, and breathed in his nose, and pet him some more.. I couldn't stop thinking about him! I know, not much to go off of, but that was how I met Gavin. I went home, and mulled it over. It seemed silly to buy a completely unbroken horse over a chance meeting in a pasture, but my mind kept going back to him.
Finally, I took the plunge. I bought Gavin. And I've now owned him for three years. In that time Gavin has become the closest partner I've ever had in a horse. He has proven to be sweet, kind, patient, mischievous, athletic, and at times truly talented. I am always proud of him. We have advanced slowly, which is my fault, not his. I've never really ridden a horse who doesn't already know the moves. But the point is that we're advancing. And every advancement we make, I can take pride in. He will be my horse, and I will be his owner until one of us kicks the bucket.
And so that is the story of the horses in my life. I can't wait to see what the next chapter has in store for me.
I fell upon my search with great enthusiasm, and quickly found a breeder in Indiana who bred and sold quality Welsh Cobs (Castleberry Cobs). I still can't believe I did it, but I flew out to see the whole breeding operation in the countryside of Indiana. It was a wonderful trip. The breeder and her whole family were some of the nicest, most genuine people I'd ever met. I met all of the horses. The boy herd, the girl herd, the stallion, and two geldings who were at a picturesque Warmblood farm just up the road. I really had my mind set on one of the geldings that had some training. But before we saw them, we went out to the boy herd. There were a few furry beasts (this was in December) out in that pasture. They all were curious, and all wanted a piece of the action. Each came up for a sniff, but one in particular stuck his furry little nose in my face as if to say "hullllllo" and didn't immediately wander away. He stuck around and sniffed at me. I pet him, and pet him, and breathed in his nose, and pet him some more.. I couldn't stop thinking about him! I know, not much to go off of, but that was how I met Gavin. I went home, and mulled it over. It seemed silly to buy a completely unbroken horse over a chance meeting in a pasture, but my mind kept going back to him.
Finally, I took the plunge. I bought Gavin. And I've now owned him for three years. In that time Gavin has become the closest partner I've ever had in a horse. He has proven to be sweet, kind, patient, mischievous, athletic, and at times truly talented. I am always proud of him. We have advanced slowly, which is my fault, not his. I've never really ridden a horse who doesn't already know the moves. But the point is that we're advancing. And every advancement we make, I can take pride in. He will be my horse, and I will be his owner until one of us kicks the bucket.
And so that is the story of the horses in my life. I can't wait to see what the next chapter has in store for me.
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