WHERE DID I GO? THE HORSES CALLED...

Has it really been twelve weeks?  That is difficult to believe. 
 But (ah there is the excuse) but, life changes then we change--then things, incidents, places, people and even purposes and directions change.
We take a deep breath and--go on.
In these weeks I have moved to my Mother's house which I inherited, moved my 'things' here; painted, cleaned, renovated and settled in, close to a farm, so that I may take up writing more directed to telling my 'real' story.
Yes, the actual story of the horses of Aspen Ridge Ranch.  I knew this day was fast approaching when I began to disclose, in this notebook, the stories of some of the individual horses and some of the people who loved and worked with them. 
This is a story that I thought might not need to be written.  It seems that was wishful thinking and the day has arrived when I am responsible for writing the truth of the matter.
Thus:  the departing from the past and the arrival in the present. 
I find that I am content to tell it and now I have time.  None of the horses in the near barns are mine; all belong to students and friends.  I supervise teaching and the workings of the Lessons and enjoy the company of close companions.
I have time to remember and to write about how it all began.
You see, I had a ranch in Colorado.  It lay along one of the high valleys running behind the front range of the Rocky Mountains, sixty miles or so to the West of Denver. 
The highest point was located at 9,500 feet in the Spruce and Pine forrests.  The meadows rushed down five hundred feet cascading into aspen groves miles long.  Those groves turned soft chautreuse green in the Springs, golden in the Falls and naked white in the snows of Winter. 
The wind whispered through them the secrets of the deer, mountain lions, occasional moose and the herds of horses ranging through the glades.
From the highest point on the ranch I could look out across the rolling parks of the South Range where the wild Iris bloomed so thick the bogs looked like purple carpet. 
The wind raged over the Parks in the cold months, blowing snow well above the snow fences placed to define the highways; the passes closed with every storm; the sun burned cold-cold to blind people who dared to ride out without hats to shade their eyes.
We bought four hundred acres backing onto government land of three thousand acres, my husband, my daughters and I. 
I had waited fifteen years to purchase property for a home.  I designed the house (everyone who knew it called it : the High House) which sheltered us. I helped build it with its contracter, Sven Keirkgarte, a man who usually built church altars and baptismn founts, an Artist friend who fell in love with the site and asked to build our home. 
I drove the highway miles, with and without my children to paint and nail and hold the other end of boards. Sometimes we slept over in the rough cabin on the property for back to back workdays.  The daughters slept in hammocks , one to each corner of the front room, while I slept in piles of bedrolls on a short mattress by the fireplace.
Sven moved a trailer onto the area, lived there for two years and then, one day-simple and just-like-that, it was finished. 
We left our rented house, drove the narrow roads up and up with the moving vans, settled beds, each daughter to her own room, to sleep in the country-quite under the brilliant, bright, close to the ground stars.
That first night I sneaked down to the house front, half finished balcony, to lie in blankets and dream under the stars, changing positions in the dark, deep skies.
And so it began: my life with Horses.
Beautiful, private, free; I never thought to question what that perfectedness would cost, not in the beginning.

COMMON SENSE SAFETY TIPS

I had good responses to the last post, so thought to share some more working ideas today:

How to Avoid accidents when working with horses is my subject for this post.
Some common suggestions:
-Never work alone if it can be avoided but if you must: be certain that someone knows where you are and notify them when you have finished your work session
-Always tie safety knots (quick releases) or, if working with a horse trained to be clipped, use a 'quick release' clip
-Do not leave the Horse tied and alone
-NEVER tie the Horse to yourself in any fashion
-Do not 'surprise' the horse, speak before touching or handling
-If you do not 'know' the Horse--do not try to handle the Horse
-Dress properly, equestrian clothing is designed for equestrian work
-Be aware of Fire Hazards such as: hay should be stored away from stalls and other working areas; manure piles should be in the open; bedding should be dry when spread and stored in an area away from stalling boxes

In fourty years of working in the Equine business I have seen some accidents that could have been avoided; people injured, horses injured, barns burned, even cars damaged! Since the first observation I have included SAFETY TIPS in all of my instructions to spread general knowledge and help horsepeople become aware and seek to avoid difficulties in a sport which carries inherent danger, without additional casualness in work/enjoyment of the sport.
If you want to discuss any other points on safety or problems which you are coping with now, please feel free to comment!
I want to encourage you to use the tips; take care of YOU AND YOUR HORSE...THANK YOU and HAPPY TRAILS TODAY, PH

HELP FOR A FRIEND...

I was thinking about calling my friend; off and on the way one does, when the phone buzzed I wasn't surprised to hear her voice. She had been thinking of calling me all day yesterday...what it that?
She had a student who was ready to buy a horse of his own and she remembered that I had a posting about how to buy one, would I please list it in this Blog? She didn't want to give advice and then sell a horse to the same person...so: sure I would repost it.
But she should not expect that to stop her student. Once the thought of finding and buying that *SPECIAL* horse got into a person's mind...they were intent on taking action!
We shared a laugh, I found the article and here it is...anybody using it is on their own!

JUST GOTTA GET A HORSE OF MY OWN...
buy, lease, lesson-horse, day rides, dude ranching vacation
just gotta, gotta get one for me....!
OK, so that is silly! But horse-fever has struck and being around a horse has become a passionate desire. How to 'get' a horse is the question of the hour. Maybe it is because it is Spring. Maybe I need exercise. Maybe I am bored without pratical action in my passion. Maybe I must be around people who love as I love. Maybe it is the old-fire-horse-analogy: it is what I did--so it is still what I have to do. Whatever...I gotta get onto a Horse!
SO THE QUESTION IS: How can I 'get' a Horse?
The most obvious solution: get one for 'free'. This can mean exchanging rides and care for use (presupposing I have skills); appreticing to a stable or trainer, consider skills again; shoot, even bucking out dude horses or guiding dude strings during the summer would be involvment.
Next: least costly: taking lessons and paying a teacher for use of string horses, will get to ride more than one horse and can go ride as many days as I can afford! Maybe I can work up to exercising for some folks who can't get to their horses (wealthy hobbyists!).
Consider: adopting a horse. This will probably be a 'rescue' horse, it will have some problems, I shall need to 'beware' since I will be buying it. So: have it vetted, arrange transportation, rent or buy a farm (!) space/stall, purchase tackle and equipment, spend about two years 'working out the kinks' (probably with a PRO Trainer/Teacher to whom I will pay enormous amounts of money) and pray, a great deal, as I work toward achieveing 'pleasant' rides.
Or buy a horse from a Seller or Breeder: see above.
This passion is gonna cost me time, physical work, patience, money, so (before I get too involved) let me consider some old 'sayings' because there is truth in old sayings, that is why they are still around:
...Look a gifthorse in the mouth (seek truthfulness)...It costs as much to feed a good one as to feed a bad one (I think this is tied to personal pride and tenacity)...You can lead a horse to water but you cannot make it drink (understanding) and finally...Why could you not have gotten a dog (or cat or gerbil--something easier and cheaper).
Think about these things. Just think about these truths! Take time to project about 'getting' a Horse.
Then, because I know what Passions will do to a Person, accept your responsibility for your actions and smile!Now...what will you name your Horse? Happy Trails to You! wfh/phf
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KING CHANTICLEER

He struted, he floated, he flashed; he was such a three year old SHOW OFF. The breeder gave him two names before she approved of Chanticleer. A bright, shiny penny-red chestnut with white socks and golden mane and tail. He was...noticeable.
I had not gone to the sale to buy a Saddlebred stallion. I had gone to learn how to bid and what to look for in a young stallion. I had watched my teacher question the attending Vet and the Farrier, whom she knew and approved of in general.
My next door neighbor had decided to have mercy on me and take me by the hand and walk me through the never-never land of: purchasing horses.
Bee was very practical; she had been in the business of keeping and breeding Arabian mares; she was kind and an excellent teacher.
She zonked out over this 'chicken' colt! He was exactly what I should be looking for! I should buy him today, if possible! Not above four-thousand because there wasn't more than that in his breeding fees, registration and application futurity fees. The Vet said he was sound; the Farrier said he had maybe been lightly quicked and might be a bit off on one foot...but Bee excused that, foals frequently had small problems and this horse had such a pedigree that he was worth that much of an investment.
I countered with: where would he go until my barn was built (remembering my husband's last statement about being careful about the money going into an asset, we were supposed to lose money, but just the right amount!)--Bee would take him into her barn if I would breed one of her mares next year. OK.
Would she teach me about breeding? She would send me to the right person , a friend of hers. OK
She would also introduce me to the girl who had him for sale, this person knew the Saddlebred people...OK.
So, I decided that I would buy this colt and give him to Bee, if she wanted him; in exchange for her help and guidance since I had met her...ah, so innocent, I really thought that was a gift she would love.

The bidding started slowly, it crept up to two hundred dollars; Bee and I consulted in whispers...she couldn't figure out what was going on ; I , of course, had no clue. She assured me that this little horse was a steal at the price we had mentioned.
So, I bid four hundred dollars thinking to move things along; and--I had bought a Stallion!
I told her of my idea to gift him to her; she didn't discount a partnership. I offered to let the Seller keep her colt, which she had invested over two thousand dollars into, she said absolutely not--a sale was a sale--she begged me to show him in the Refional Futurity; I agreed that would be done.
I paid for him; then went to actually see him.
He was jumping and leaping about in his stall; he rushed to the door when he saw us and I realized how big he was...big and...active.
Bee said she would have to take the top off the trailer and we would be down tomorrow to pick him up.
All arranged. We went home. Bee was very happy, I tried to be.

I have an eternal picture in my mind of loading Chanti after putting on goggles. equipment which Bee had brought and insisted upon using because of the open trailer, nothing should be permitted to strike his eyes. He sort of leaped into the trailer, found the open spot to stick his head up ; we leaped into the truck and hit the road. Every time I looked back at him, he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the whole adventure, turning his head--flashing the goggles, grabbing a bite of hay and sticking his head straight up into the wind. Every once in awhile he would scream a whinny.
What had I done? What HAD I done? WHAT had I done?
This was my husband's idea: that I should enter the horse breeding business, pay for my needed training, build the necessary facilities, teach my daughters to ride and help with the chores and turn the whole of it into a tax-loss business--HE was responsible for this whole idea!
Every time I looked at that Rooster of a Horse, thoughts careened into my head: he didn't say I could have fun, he has no idea I love this adventure, how can I loose money using THIS horse?
And Bee kept shaking her head and saying things like: you STOLE him! If things keep going like this, everything you touch will turn to GOLD! What a great start-up stud!
I knew I was in trouble.

LESSONS FROM MY LADY BLUE

The first one that I learned was: patience. It took six months to 'catch her'.
I had asked the trader to find me some family-type ponies. One, a mare please, could be a little tricky; I figured I needed some touching-up in techniques since I hadn't ridden in years. I had never been completely responsible for care either. I wanted some challenge so I would need to reach up.
They brought me what I asked for. In the van was a thoroughbred, ex-race trained ,gelding; he would come around pretty fast since the track always instilled some manners and co-operation and whoever had owned him had thought enough of him to turn him out instead of over to the knackers.
And there was a quality chestnut Quarter horse mare. They had the back story on her: she had raced, made a great deal of money which the owner didn't report, so he turned her out into the same ranch where the gelding had gone.

She ran with an Appaloosa stallion for over three years, had a foal, went to some hands to work in a feedlot. They tried her patience and one day she sorted them out royal, one guy to the hospital, one guy just broken up a bit. So back she went to her Appy in the canon.

Where, apparently, she got bred again...because the yellow patched colt that jumped on the van behind her must have been her foal.
So, they gelded him for me, he might be a little sore for a couple days, best just to leave them together!
Out they jumped into the verdant ten acre pasture.
The next day, the van showed up loaded with a Saddlebred mare who someone had just pulled shoes from; she walked like a cripple but they knew the guy who had her, she just needed time to find her flat stride without shoes; she was lovely, if broken, maybe.
And...two painted Indian ponies; one dark and one leopard, over white; both fat! They needed work and to be put off the grass at night.
Money changed hands and they said if it didn't work to call them back and they would find some others to exchange.
That is the way it was done back in the sixties. You found someone who knew someone who found some horses; the traders handled it all and exchanges could be managed until the right horses were in your pasture.
When it turned to chill in the Fall; my children all knew how to catch, groom, tack and ride in the open.
And one evening Lady decided I was trustable enough to follow into the barn for feed. She chose to sleep only in the arena that Winter--no stall permitted. I was allowed to halter and groom her.

'Catching' her had taken about six months of daily showing up and whistling and talking and putting feed in front of her...etc.etc.etc.
She was the only mare I ever bought for myself; she was a fantastic lead mare; she was a beauty; she could move over trails to get me to where I wanted to go in less time than I thought it would take.
We had about twelve years together; she created beautiful Half-Saddlebreds.

We co-operated. I loved her while she tolerated me; we understood each other.

I learned to allow time for my work.

DEAD HORSES

I fainted once at a doctor's office. I was young, there was blood, some hidden connection was made and pow! my face met the floor.

Years later, when my Mother's coffin was lowered into the ground, I suddenly felt light-headed, got up, wobbled to my car and almost passed out, almost. Someone followed me and tapped on the window, I signaled that I was o.k. and waited for the disconnection in my head to pass. It did. The disconnect in my world did not.

Still later, at least twenty years, I don't remember how I got out of the barn, I made it half way up the hill to the gate on the front paddock, suddenly sat down on the damp ground, laid back and went to black! When I opened my eyes the Vet was pulling up on my belt buckle and I was sucking air in loudly.

My last horse had died. He actually was euthanized. I had called the Vet when I went in to feed and found him down. He had injured his eye and scraped up his off front leg; he wasn't cast, but this time, he wasn't able to get up. He tried, for me, but he looked into my eyes and I knew he was ready to leave.

So, I ran to the house (before cell phones), called the Vet, it was so early he came within fifteen minutes and agreed the ending was best.

Uno had looked for his buddies for months, but they were gone. He had pulled his last stunt of rolling over to his bad hip in the pasture and circled around and around until I found him and helped him rise. I thought he was dead that time but he opened his blue eyes as he laid there...sleeping!

He must have struggled until he was tired and gone to sleep. There is an old horse saying: put them in a padded stall and they will smother themselves! I can add: put them in an open field , add a shallow spot with dew and they will cover themselves in mud, then wait for you to show up!

But, this time was different. He and I had lived together over twenty years. He was an ex-dancing white stallion from Vienna, whose life I saved for Doc Antel (an exotic animal breeder/trainer) so his wife could ride the horse with a Unicorn horn tied to his forelock, in Renaissance Fairs.

They retired him to me and we had many, many 'aires above ground' moments. He taught me all the Grand Prix movements. I loved him and respected his dignity.

My last horse. I buried him in the high pasture where I go to close down days and watch sunsets.

The Gelding in the Fog

So I've been out driving the roads; something I do when nothing seems to make a lot of sense. I have a friend who does this late at night, or early in the mornings, around 2 or 3 am, which ever way you want to look at it...she is alone, out there on deserted city streets. Me, I just take off when I can and drive the backroads. Usually I come home when it turns dark because I like being at home then.

I drove out because the house got a really charged feeling, like lightning about to strike. So, I said I was going down to the barns which can take hours to work through. But I didn't stop there; I told someone that I was driving over to Ceilia's and proceeded out the gate and down to the junction and right on down 285.

I rolled down the window and breathed deep; the sun was setting, it was pretty cold and the wind started up.
Now I was driving toward Fairplay and thinking. I came to a cross road and remembered that someone had called me and asked if I would stop by a certain farm to look over a Gelding.

This was a horse she owned and no one had ever ridden him, so she said. She wanted to place this horse in training because he was: just so beautiful! He was 13 years old and had never been ridden! She thought he deserved more than living in a pasture.

Weird. Probably a lie too. But I had committed to looking at him if I got over that way. So, here I was, out for a drive in the dark, going that way.

I realized that it was fogging up; as I drove over a rise the valley around me was actually fairly hidden. And, as I drove slower and slower it got more and more dense, until my headlights were not doing too much good while I drove along in this spooky, closing down, grey ground covering: FOG.
SO, I decided to turn around; my weather sense was kicking in and I thought it best to go home now. I found a spread spot and began negotiating a turn around.

Then I decided to get out for a smoke. I occasionally smoked these hand-rolled dark brown tabaccoed cigaretellos. When I was alone. And thinking.
I got out, lit up and puffed slowly away thinking about going home to the ranch I had wanted all my life, had waited and worked for over many, many years and now it was not good. Not good at all. I was actually driven out, to hang out alone in a farm truck, in the fog. And now I heard something too. Something unplanned.

Thunderous hooves, pounding toward me! It was a BIG horse apparently. Might be my beautiful gelding! I turned toward the coming horse; he began to materialize , breaking the fog away as he galloped down the fenceline. He looked dark and managed to mark time in a rapid, yet completly off-hand sort of way as he raced toward my lights.
He slid to a halt, reared a bit,waved his head in a menancing motion; I was apparently not allowed into HIS fog! He tucked himself into a perfect turn around the quarters and cantered off to a hidden distance. I waited but there was no sound. He was hiding.
SO, I went home.

That's how I met the Horse which trained me for the Olympic trials: Achille's Revenge. I always called him Foggy. Only he and I knew why. Someone asked me once: why do you call that horse Froggy?

THINGS UNFORGIVABLE?

Horses pardon other horses. Why do Humans have so much trouble with this concept? Perhaps if we could just kick away at each other, the way horses in herd situations do, perhaps then we might not have problems with giving up on blame.



Other animals establish leader/pack relationships through threats and physical attacks; there is rarely any question about which one is lead-mare or top-dog or alpha-chimp. When groups swell beyond respectable, recognizable limits and custodians, the herd or pack or pride simply splits. New territories are carved out, established, defended and life goes on. Rarely do opponent groups fight to the death.



It isn't for lack of communication skills either. All species recognize the common language used within their types. Some even recognize expressions of concepts expressed by one type to another, such as dogs to rabbits, horses to goats and cats to ferrets.

Animals frequently have 'low' thresholds in anger expression but these seem to be well understood. Some say: not now, not today, go away and never! But few are aggressive. Most are well respected by other members sharing common spaces.



I think that may be where Humans can pay attention and learn something from those we share our spaces with; some of our spaces are also Other animals' spaces. We need to honor them. We need to understand their languages. We need to avoid 'cornering' them and to leave them...respectfully...in their own civilizations.



We, undoubtedly, need to work more within our own Human establishments toward understanding and forgiveness. If we are good because we strive to mirror God, we should actually do unto Others as we want them to do unto us. Exist in peace, within our herd; live with forgiveness and, as much as possible, respect each other. Leave 'justice' to the laws.

Blind Spots

Some mornings I am awakened by the sound of a softly mumbling muffler making a curve on the road outside. It is always between 4:30 and 4:45. I have worked it out in my mind that it is the car and driver which delivers the town's free newspaper, wrapped in a blue plastic sleeve.

Usually it is a Tuesday.

I think about that driver/delivery person: a kid? a woman? a guy? two people? Up and out in the wide world before sunrise.

Throwing their route; going home to have breakfast, their day well-begun; off to the ''rest'' of their day...maybe back to bed for a snooze?

The dog and I will walk down to the gate to pick up yesterday's mail and the news, left by an unknown.

I wonder if I perhaps DO know the 'Thrower'? Do our paths cross somewhere other than my driveway, some days/nights? If so, I don't actually know this other person; I know the role they play in my life: Thrower of the newspaper.

That stretches my mind to wonder how far does MY role reach out into Others' lives?

That question makes me want to be a bit more careful of my actions; some day I might just meet the Thrower and I do want to be able to say: thank you for bringing the wide world so quietly to my gate!

I hope that Others' who might meet me as a person, not a role player, will feel kind toward me too.

Horse Spirits

Fourty -plus years in a Horse career have convinced me that, like people, Horses do indeed have some Spirit/Soul somewhere inside their mind or body.

When I look into their eyes, they look back into mine.

Not like a dog looks; don't judge me as saying that I think dogs are without Spirits, no; a dog has to 'know' you before they look directly into your eyes, they have caution.

A horse will look at you directly, the first time.

Perhaps it is because they usually stand taller than people.

What I see when I look is that there is "always someone home".

If I catch a Horse asleep It will leap away in fear as soon as It sees me looking. I have been in pastures working away at a fence or on a tractor to suddenly realize that the whole herd is...watching me.

It comforts me...this meeting of souls.