It's Valentine's Month on Barnmice! Tell us why you love your horse!

Add your stories, poems, photos and anything else that defines your love for your horse!

Replies to This Discussion

Permalink Reply by Jacquie on February 10, 2010 at 6:51pm

I love my horse because he is my best friend. He has taught me so much – patience, unconditional love, trust, listening skills, and understanding just to name a few. He always greets me at the gate and makes me feel like I am the most important person in the world. He is forgiving, kind, sweet, and loves me for who I am. He is my emotional therapist – the time spent with my horse is the best part of my day. He truly is my best friend! Here’s one of my very favourite pictures of “Ivan” when he was just a few months old.

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Ivan with Curled Tail.JPG, 1.5 MB

Permalink Reply by Kathy Newman on February 10, 2010 at 8:01pm

Why I love my horse. I never in my wildest dream thought that I would have a chance to "bring up baby" but as it turned out I didn't really have a choice. My horse Stormy was born April 3rd 2005, after an early spring snow storm.
I was boarding a horse for a friend plus I had my own horse at my farm.
To make a long story short, I went to the barn that morning and found the boarder's horse just finishing giving birth to a nice black colt.
From that day on I have learned alot more about horses than I ever expected. Our journey together, Stormy and I, have had up and down times but I will never give him up as he has been my dream, (Didn't know I had one).
He has grown up before my eyes and we have been rding together now for 2 years.
All of the challenges that I have had with him, the experiences would never have happened if HE did not come into my life.
I will forever hold him near and dear to my heart because if He did not happen to me I would have not grown as a rider and horse owner, and becuase of that I have become better at both. Thank you again Stormy for "dropping in" when you did
Kathy Newman

Permalink Reply by Lucke, BA on February 10, 2010 at 8:31pm

I have had a number of memorable horse relationships. I gave up horse ownership to start a family. When our first born died in 1995 at the age of 9 I threw myself into horses. There were no emotional land mines to encounter when with the horses.I love m y horses (past and present) because over time they have brought me to a place of calm confidence; they have changed me from the inside out. It was a little black and white pony named Charlie that caused me to realise that I can relate to horses from the inner-most part of me. Currently, I meet a variety of horse personalities through my work as a farrier. What I learned from Charlie always works to get things started on the right foot (hoof!) and get the job done without a rodeo. As I deal with each horse it never ceases to amaze me (and intrigue owners) how well they respond to this way of reaching out to them. I have made a concious 'note to self': I owe that pony!

Permalink Reply by Judi Island on February 10, 2010 at 9:21pm

Why I Love My Horse
by Judi Island

My life changed in an instant when our vehicle lost control on ‘black ice’ on the 401. I sustained a C-3 spinal cord injury (incomplete quadriplegia) and initially was totally paralyzed below the neck. After an 8 hour operation to fuse C 4/5 in my neck, I began to regain some strength in one hand but it took all my strength to push for help if the call button was placed in my hand. I was in hospital for a year in an intensive rehab therapy program to learn how to cope with life in a power wheelchair.

One-day my doctor noticed the photo of my horse, Gitano, tacked up next to my bed. She suggested that I try therapeutic riding when I was released from hospital. I smiled politely as I lay the hospital bed thinking to myself that there was no way I would ever ride again. I had already asked my Mother to sell Gitano.

Eight years earlier we bought Gitano as a 2 yr. old Lipizzan gelding at a local auction sale. Over the years that followed Gitano and I had many fabulous times together riding trails through the Caledon hills. Every ride was an adventure. Whether Gitano and I were needed for rescue maneuvers, or to accompany my sister and her event horse on the trails, I always looked forward to the weekends with Gitano. I didn’t know then our time together would take a dramatic turn.

After a year I came home from the hospital. I was told I would never walk again or have any use of my left hand. I decided to try therapeutic riding, though I had my doubts, as my balance and strength in my arms and hands was very weak. It was difficult dealing with the physical restrictions as well as the fear of re-injury. I began therapeutic riding with the help of three volunteers -a leader and two side walkers. Soon I began to notice an improvement in my balance, strength and endurance.

For nine long years nobody had ridden Gitano. Finally I felt strong enough to try to ride him again. He was so much more responsive and sensitive to ride than the therapy horses. At first he moved away from my leg when it went into spasm but he quickly learned to tell the difference between leg commands and spasms. I was amazed at how well behaved and accepting he was of my disability. I learned to ‘listen’ to him when he wasn’t ‘going right’, I knew I had to make corrections. My riding improved quickly as we began to adjust to each other. I was amazed at the empathetic abilities of this horse to respond to me as a disabled rider.

Gitano was turning out to be the perfect therapy horse with a broad back and natural sense of rhythm. It made it easier for me to balance. The smooth gait was kind to my body. His willingness to please and obedience gave me back my confidence to ride at a trot again. Gitano's willingness to stand quietly, made it fairly easy for me to mount from a mounting block with several helpers. Most importantly he made an ideal mount as Lipizzans rarely shy at anything, and if startled there is little if any reaction.

In 2002, Gitano and I competed for the first time at the local CADORA (Canadian Dressage Owners and Riders Association) dressage show. We were awarded the 2002 Caledon CADORA Championships in both the ParaEquestrian Championship and ParaEquestrian musical Freestyle. That year we also achieved the top score of 83.7% in the Canadian National Para Equestrian Video Competition. We had caught the attention of the Canadian ParaEquestrian coach who after watching Gitano and I, asked if I was serious about competing and encouraged me to go on to international Para equestrian competition.

In 2003, Gitano and I were the 'CanTRA Canadian National-East Div.' Champions and the 2003 Caledon CADORA Trillium Series Champions in both the ParaEquestrian Championship and the musical Freestyle, as well as Reserve Champions in the year end able-bodied Freestyle placings. On the international scene that same year, at the World Championships in Moorselle, Belgium, after just three rides on a ‘borrowed’ horse, I was a double Bronze medalist. With the first medal I qualified for the 2004 Athens Paralympics; with the second I earned a team spot at the 2004 Athens Paralympics, achieving more than I could have ever dreamed just a few years before.

After years of commitment, determination and learning how to compensate for physical limitations, I not only qualified for the Canadian ParaEquestrian Team with Gitano, but Gitano gave me the confidence to go on to compete successfully, representing Canada at six international ParaEquestrian competitions including the USA, Portugal and Belgium; earning a total of 9 medals including 4 Gold medals for Canada.

My doctors are amazed at the progress that I have made and continue to make. I continue to gain strength and my balance, spasm and endurance have improved so much that I now very rarely need to use a wheelchair.

Gitano had shown me that against all odds I could achieve the impossible.

Often I wondered how I could be so lucky to own such a special horse and was curious to learn more about him. How had the majestic Lippizans found their way to a small farm in southern Ontario and into my life?

The United States Lipizzan Registry was able to help me trace Gitano’s bloodlines back to PLUTO XX! This was a stallion that General Patton was given in appreciation for saving the breed during WWII. I have always known he is a very special horse.

That day at the auction sale I could never have imagined the incredible journey we would take together.

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Gitano CADORA 1 copy.jpg, 1.4 MB
Gitano -Judi visits from hospital bw.jpg, 1 MB

Permalink Reply by Cecilia P on February 11, 2010 at 12:51am

Ten years ago I adopted a pony named KixStart, but at the time he didn’t look like much of a kick-start. He had been a cast-off. He had belonged to a little girl who loved him, but after she outgrew him, he traveled from stable to stable, sometimes standing around, sometimes being used as a school pony, before being far too clever and tricky for people and sent off to yet another barn. That’s how we got him. Another barn had decided that they loved Kix, but just couldn’t keep him, so we adopted him without knowing much of anything about him.

It turns out he was very ill. He had a terrible cough and would do nothing but stand in the field and wheeze. I had been hoping to turn him into a trail companion, but even that humble goal looked unattainable. He wasn’t responding treatment or to us. There may be more pharmaceutical drugs available for horses with breathing issues now, but there weren’t then. We felt we couldn’t do nothing, so my mum and I set out to learn all we could about herbal remedies for horses. We tried every single herbal remedy that we could get our hands on. None of them worked. Some of them had no effect; others made him break out in hives, several he wouldn’t touch even if we mixed them with molasses, and they were all expensive. However, I had fallen in love with my Kixie and wasn’t about to give up on him that easily.
Eventually, I found that if I exercised him lightly, and kept the dust in the field down as much as I could, his cough slowly lessened. Finally, it looked like I’d get a humble trail horse out of him. He was starting to feel better and I was overjoyed with my accomplishment. I had taken a sick pony and made him better. But there was a problem with his feeling better: he became hyper and destructive.
That winter alone we had to replace every single fence post. He chewed on the barn; he beat up our other horse… he was a monster. He didn’t trust me or anyone else and became aggressive. I decided that what he needed was exercise, but as a teenager I wasn’t an accomplished enough rider to handle him. So I found a lady who lived down the road and I walked him there once a week for lessons for the both of us. I had to lead him there because he wouldn’t let me ride him. Slowly, over the next two years and progressing on to a different instructor, Kix became a different pony.
Now, he’s still all I fell in love with: his impish face, his curiosity, his kind heart, and the way he plays practical jokes; but now he’s not hostile or ill. I started my lessons with the goal of getting a solid trail horse, but instead I got a show horse and my best friend.
My back-yard pony and I competed in open shows and consistently won. As it turned out, I had stumbled across a "diamond in the rough". The more we worked with him the more we realised what a talented pony we had on our hands. We beat out all the fancy emported-from-europe dressage horses at the big annual show to win high score, and we won year end high point with the local show association.
Since then he’s retired and we hang out and go trail riding. He also now and again carries around, like a gentleman, young kids learning to ride. He’s my best friend and I love him dearly. I really had no idea if I’d even be able to keep him, but now he really is my kick-start.

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Permalink Reply by Eva on February 11, 2010 at 6:32pm

I am 46, and 2 years ago I purchased a TB mare named Bride's Gold or Lily, after not having ridden for 25 years!!! I had no plans to purchase, just trying to get back in the saddle was enough of a challenge, but she sidled up to me right away, and after riding her for a month, I knew it was the right choice. She was young, 5 years, but willing and always came back to me. She probably had a bad start, as we have to work on her not barreling through the poles and jumps, and I had much to relearn and learn as well. She is such a good girl, not spooky, or wild, which at 46 is important. As well, she has had my now 8 year old son ride on her and has always looked after him too. She is just such a gift to visit. Patient and wise, and calm. More than I could ask. I love going to see her every time, I have the opportunity.

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Permalink Reply by Cortni Volkman on February 12, 2010 at 8:51pm

I thought the clouds had parted and God was truly gracing me that day when my old trainer called me and offered her TB mare to me...for free. Utter shock skipped through me for a second then I ended up jumping around the house, in pure joy. Let's skip back a year to the night I first rode her. Her name is Kiss and she is a 16.2 hh dark bay TB mare with impeccable breeding. My trainer had only had her for a short time and was trying to sell her for her mom. I happen to be the next targetted victim. So, I saddled up this beast of a horse (I'm 5'8" and all legs so this was no challenge to me) and got on her. I had no fear, no nerves, nothing. I remembered us doing a beautiful collected trot that was so harmonical and natural, I felt like I had finally found what I was looking for. This is my Maclay horse. I remember thinking in disbelief. You can only imagine how my happiness increased as we moved onto the canter and then jumping. We picked up a beautiful, balanced, jumper canter and turned towards the hog's back set at 3'2". And did we fly that crisp fall evening. Every moment of that ride was perfect, from her playful toss of her head to our ability to ride truly together. But fate would have it, as I untacked this horse I had suddenly fallen in love with, and overheard my trainer and my mom discussing the matter of Kiss's sale. "She is $15,000," I heard my trainer say. "But, they looked amazing out there! They would be an unstoppable team!" My mom explained how that kind of money has never been in our grasps. But my trainer was certain Kiss and I were destined to be together. "Look, I'll offer her for $5000...maybe ask my mom if she'll allow $2500," she added as my mom shook her head. I just stood there, hearing every word and choking back the tears that were fighting persistantly at my eyes.

I walked away that night heartbroken and hating my background, being poor in a rich man's sport. The weeks went by, and my trainer was still getting no bites on selling Kiss, so I was still allowed to ride her. Only building a bond that I never wanted to break. I learned the corks to Kiss's personality and allowed this genuine friendship to form between horse and rider. As the weeks went on, fall turned into a bitter winter, there was still no interest in Kiss. Tragedy struck one snowy night. My trainer's own horse, Anakin, was 'kicked' by Kiss in the icy pasture they had been turned out in. It was a blow he didn't walk away from and had to be put down, devastating my trainer...and leaving Kiss her only horse to own. My rides on Kiss lessened and eventually ceased as I moved onto the Belgium/TB cross mare, Thierry, who the barn was leasing from a woman who was taking a break from eventing. Inevitably, Thierry and I formed the same bond I had built with Kiss. And as winter turned into spring, I was showing Thierry and making the steady transfer from hunter to eventing, using Thierry as my guide. As summer approached, the lease with the boarding barn was lifted and I was signing my name on the dotted line, agreeing to a open ended lease on Thierry. The plan was to train over the summer and enter a Beginner Novice event in the fall at the near by horse park. So, I trained. Almost everyday, throwing my carefree summer to the dogs as I worked my butt off to pay off the board and lessons at the boarding barn up the road from my house. I had moved from my previous show barn, my trainer, and Kiss. I met my new trainer at this boarding barn. She was new to the area, had a funny New Zealand accent, and was a trainer with the training and information I needed to make it to the best. She quickly explained, in blunt New Zealand fashion, how I was previously being taught to ride as a 'crank rider', using my hands to place the horse's head in frame instead of having them obtain self-carriage. She was thoroughly outraged anyone would consider teaching me this way because I was 'a soft-handed, talented rider being corrupted by ignorant tactics.' I caught on quickly to her new training techniques, mostly based off the late Dr. Reiner Klimke's work, and soon was helping her with her own training. My luck ran out one afternoon that summer when someone, oblivious to Thierry's presence in a pasture, turned out a mare who was marked to be turned out alone. Thierry walked away from that battle lame and unable to compete in the mini-event I had already paid for that was less than a week away. Her over-bearing owner became even more over-bearing and in the end, as summer was starting to fade, I was left standing outside the barn, watching as Thierry was rolled away in her owner's massive trailer. And there I was left horseless and unsure of where to go next. The search began to find me my own horse, but did not take off at a tremendously impressive start. My dad, the man who saw basketball more important than spending a day playing with horses, had his opinion stopping my mom from putting her whole heart in finding me a horse.

I was lifted from my heartache by a shocking phone call that rainy day from my old trainer, explaining that her mom was about to give Kiss to the barn owner where she was currently boarded in Iowa. We agreed instantly and the plans were set in motion to go pick Kiss up. My trainer was relectant though, fearing I would be disappointed in what I'd find when we got there. But all I could remember were the numerous rides on Kiss that I'd felt so right. So, two against one, we beat my trainer and she had no choice but to surrender to our wishes, even if she felt they were not of the best intentions.

And she was right. We pulled into the small boarding barn and waited as the owner brought Kiss out of the pasture. Her ears flicked forward at the sight of us and I could only feel disappointment in my old trainer's actions. Kiss was nearly 100+ pounds underweight, sunbleached and sunburnt, and had the unmistakable mark of a 'hunter's bump.' That's when my excitement changed to determination, wanting to rid Kiss of this place and give her glory back. After wrapping her legs for the ride home and thanking the owner, I hopped in the car only to be met with the look on my trainer's face simply saying, I told you so. And once again, she was right. The next few weeks were hell, to say it simply. Because of my old trainer's harsh training tactics (and possibly made harsher after the death of Anakin), Kiss was left mentally fried and physically beaten. My first ride on her, she was 3-legged lame and impossible to control. She had nothing but fear streaming from her eyes and her distress broke my heart. But my determination only grew stronger for this broken mare, as my trainer gave up on her disappointment act and started working with what we had. Kiss had suffered an SI joint injury in her back, though not as severe as some cases, was enough for her to need to be put on natural anti-inflammatories and started the long process of rehabbing her. It also began the long struggle to keep to my morals, and fight for this mare, as my trainer cut down on me, saying this horse would bring me to ruin. But not once, did I give up. The first couple months were not good, rarely seeing signs of improvement and battling Kiss's constant under saddle breakdowns.

Slowly, I began to notice a change in her. Her trust towards me was building daily, and she began accepting things more and more. There was no more fight at the mounting block when I went to get on, and when I put my leg on, she didn't shoot forward, though caution still flickered through her eyes. As fall approached we were starting to see relaxation not only during her rides but after as well. And as winter came crashing in, we were becoming the unstoppable team again, this time in recovery. Then my luck shattered again, one winter night as I was mounting one of my trainer's OTTB's in training. She had asked me to ride him for her some and as I went to swing my leg over, he took off in racehorse fashion, throwing me into the arena wall in the process. And that was the fall that brought fear into the equation of horses for me. I called my dad and he frantically came to pick me up and take me to the emergency room, where x-rays were arranged to be taken of my hips. "Take some medicine and go home," the arrogant doctor said when my x-rays came back clean. I, however, felt that was the wrong answer. But, we left anyways and I took a week off from the horses, only coming every so often to visit with Kiss and tell her my stories. My trainer laughed at the fall and figured the best way to cure me was to get back on the same horse. But I refused. And continued to refuse. So, my lesson took place on my bona fide psycho mare that was balancing on the line of lame and sound. With one exception, I just couldn't get myself to go faster than a walk. Even though I hadn't fallen off her, I was scared. And I had no idea had to cure that fear. And it grew. As spring approached my trainer had to take an emergency trip to New Zealand for a family crisis, and I was stuck with Kiss's training under my belt. So, I took a deep breath, saddled her up, and began to ride...at a walk. Kiss had different plans for me though, and after being sick of just walking, she took matters into her own...hooves and began trotting, but not a sudden crazy-out-of-control-I-want-to-take-off-trot. It was as if she knew my fear and was simply pushing me into the lake and telling me to swim. From there on out, I was okay with trotting on Kiss. I trusted her to take care of me, and she did.

Upon my trainer's return she moved her horse's to a new boarding barn where the faculities were better equipped than where we were, and I soon followed suit, knowing Kiss needed the spacious stalls and massive pastures to ensure her new soundness to stick. It did, improving constantly as we were there. Summer approached, and though I had succeeded in making Kiss completely sound, she was still mentally unable to shake what had happen to her in the past. Some days were amazing, where I thought she could get through this, and others were awful. And my luck faltered yet again that summer day, after going out to get lunch, coming back to the barn to see them taking Kiss out of her stall. Basic instincts rushed through me, knowing before the barn owner said the dreadful words, She has colic, what was going on. I dropped everything and led Kiss to the indoor arena, away from the camper's so as not to frighten them.

"You cannot do this to me, Kiss! I worked too damn hard for you to die on me now! You cannot leave me!" I screamed at my suddenly weak mare, who was lying on the ground, pain and fight battling her eyes. Tears rolled viciously down my cheeks and I tugged on her lead rope again, willing her with every ounce of energy in myself to make her stand up. "Kiss! Do you hear me? We did not come this far to give up now! I didn't give up and neither will you!" I screamed again. She groaned and housted her massive body back to standing position, and I quickly went to urging her forward. My trainer had already left to go pick up her truck in case we needed to trailer Kiss to the University 2 hours away, and the vet had been called and was on his way. My mom and the barn owner were there not only to help Kiss but to help me stay brave through it. A pony from Kiss's herd had been brought in so she wouldn't be frightened and I was walking Kiss persistantly around the arena, smacking her with the lead rope at any attempt to try to lay down again. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks and I only spoke when it was directed towards Kiss. Ten minutes later, the vet showed up and Kiss's attempts to roll had lessened but not by much. He sedated her and began flushing her to help move the colic along. Once he was done, everyone filed out leaving me to sit on the sand in front of my now stoned horse, the silent tears still going. I began telling her about how I had loved her from the first day I rode her, and I told her how she was adorable as she let out random snores, and drooling on my leg. I drew her name in the sand and placed a heart around it and told her I would love her forever and that I had never given up on her. Her reply, a muffled snore and a quick opening of her eyes before falling into the sleep the drug was fighting for her to do.
A couple of weeks later and she was back in training, slowly working her back to her pre-colic state.

Then the incident happened. There was a nice breeze out, relieving some of the dreadful heat of summer, so we took our lesson to the outdoor arena. The lesson started out beautiful with Kiss in control and responding to me correctly. I was set with ending it on the good trot work we had just produced but my trainer insisted we go over the trot poles, saying she needed them. The mental ticking time bomb in Kiss's mind triggered and chaos broke out. She wouldn't even walk in control. Then she completely lost it and took over, heading for the gooseneck trailers lined up near the arena, surely hoping to rid me underneath one. I instantly forced her away from them but that wasn't enough for my trainer. "You have to sell her, Cort," she said. "She's just not worth it." And that's when my heart broke. As the weeks went on, I wasn't allowed to ride Kiss anymore and my trainer, to whom Kiss despised, kept her in shape for her to be sold. Yet, I refused to put up the ad. It wasn't the right time. Summer was coming to an end, and I was now working on a friend's QH, training him from western pleasure to eventing, having been allowed to train him all on my own in hopes to show him in the spring. October came around and one evening, something just clicked in me. I was done hearing the fights about money in my house, all having the underscore blame on my horse, so I put together some good pictures of Kiss and wrote out an ad...and she was on the market. I cried myself to sleep for almost a week, and cried almost everytime I went out to feed Kiss, seeing how we had an almost human like friendship between us.

She called me, her southern twang flowly graciously through the telephone, as she told me her mission statement and how she was very interested in Kiss. She had said she was a breeder and specialized in producing colored thoroughbreds. She told me Kiss's conformation and markings made her a perfect canidate for a broodmare of these colored babies. And, she told me she was open to a lease. "Seriously? Because that's ultimately what I was looking for, and would be perfect," I said, sadness slowly fading. "Well, absolutely! We have several mares leased here. And she'd make some beautiful foals!" the southern voice twanged towards me. I told her I'd discuss it with my mom and get back to her right away. I got back to her, and agreed to allow her to lease her. The next thing I knew, I was wrapping Kiss's legs at 6 a.m., prepping her for her adventure to Tennessee, where I promised her she could be a hoosie all she wanted. All she did was nicker to me, and snuggle my jacket before searching for the peppermint she knew I had. I let out a halfhearted laugh and took her to the trailer. At first, she was very relectant to board the trailer, totally out of Kiss fashion where she usually happily walks on. The approach of my trailer asking if we needed help motivated her on and then we were off.
When we pulled up, I was relieved to be impressed with the beautiful barn. The truck stopped and I introduced myself to the southern twang, who had the southern hospitality to match. We shook hands and I went to release the beast from the trailer. She walked off like a pro and proceeded to take a model stance, showing off her beautiful features and gorgeous height. After the initial check over and attention that Kiss completely soaked up, the lady with the southern self said she wanted to introduce her to the stud, who was making himself go insane in the pasture not too far from the barn where we were standing. I passed off my nonchalant mare and sat back, only expecting the usual from her. Arch the neck, lift the tail, look sweet and innocent, then squeal and lash out with her ears continiously flashing back and forth, obviously enjoying the tease. And the southern breeder just laughed as Kiss proceeded to do just that. I was informed this meant her hormones were working good and she should be able to take a baby well. The time pasted as we examined the place, looking at the well produced foals in the barn, turning Kiss out so she could get her fair share of baby staring as well, and finally, signing the 4 year lease allowing Kiss to now consider herself a southern-belle.

As you can guess, the ride home was filled with tears and the gut wrenching feeling that your heart is being ripped from your chest. Upon the return home, nothing was the same. But that's a different time and a different story. Through my battle with ultimate heartbreak, I learned something about myself. In my quest to save my horse, I was saved. She taught me to never give up, that fighting for what you want, may not get you what you want, but it will get you what you need. And I needed someone to believe in me as much as I believed in them. Today, I tell you I love my horse, not because I went to the Olympics like I planned with her, not because we become that unstoppable team in the show ring, I tell you I love my horse because she took my heart and kept it safe when I thought no such thing was possible, and took me down the road less travelled only to show me what I was really looking for, direction. Guidance. Today, I stand before you, telling you, through the hardship and sorrow I experienced with my first horse, I found myself. And along the way I got to save another. I promised her forever and forever is hers. I love you, Kiss.

Permalink Reply by Jenna Merkley on February 13, 2010 at 2:44pm

I love my horse simply because she is my best friend. I have full conversations with her and despite what everyone says.. I think she understands every word! And best of all.. I never have to worry about her telling anyone my secrets!

Permalink Reply by Gracelynn on February 15, 2010 at 12:17pm

when i got my horse she was absoluley awesome but when i got her home she wasnt exactley the same when i got her home. i hated her nd wanted to send her back. but i never could get the courage to do it her cute little baby face and adorble personality i couldnt help myself to fll deeply and madl in love with her she is abolutley wonderful. she is still very green but we are slowly but surely getting there :)

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Permalink Reply by Gracelynn on February 15, 2010 at 12:33pm

i also go doodle bug my other pony a few years go i hated her soo much she would chase me out of the pature she wouldnt let me hlter her wouldnt even let me touch her. but i was determined to atleast pet her. i sat inh that pasture for hours in a day with a scoop of grain. finally one day she let me feed from my hand, after tht everydy i ot closer and closer to getting a halter on her by the time i got a halter on her we were irseperable there was no parting us. i eventually got her ridled and saddled . after that we learned our flat work then came jumpoing she was always faster than i wanted her to be and we got in lots of arguments but we always loved eah other me and doodle did 3ft 3'6 jumpers my 13 hnd untrainable pony is a super star that everyone loves. she is an absolute sweet heart everyone that enter's her presence loves her and cant stop loving on her. to this day we irseperale but she is now chning the lives of a 9 year olod little teaching her the ways of jumping. my super pony is the best in the world and i wouldn't change her for everyhorse in the world.

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Permalink Reply by Patti B on March 6, 2010 at 3:11pm

Why do I love my horse? I could just say that is a silly question, but I have worked with enough horses in my life to know how you can sometimes be lucky enough to come across one who reaches you on a deeper level. My first horse, Sky, was one of them. He was the only horse I went to look at – I knew as soon as I met him that he was the right horse for me. He passed away at 30 and I still miss him. In college there was a school horse named Oscar who made an immediate connection with me. When he was lying down snoozing in his stall he would let me sit against him and put his head in my lap, out in the field he would follow me around and every time he heard my voice he would nicker. A year after I graduated I came back to visit and he got so excited when he saw me it made me cry. That was a tough one, as I don’t know what happened with him when he retired. I had my name in his file to adopt him if needed, but I never heard where he went. That was really hard.

Now I have another one who stole my heart! I work at the second oldest SPCA in the US where I am the Assistant Farm Manager. We normally get 4 or 5 horses a year on average as cruelty cases that we rehab and (hopefully) adopt out to new homes. Back in the fall of 2006 we had a case involving a 27 yr. old Thoroughbred mare, a 17 yr. old Standardbred gelding, a 6 yr. old TB stallion and a 4 month TB foal whose dam had to be euthanized the day before due to severe colic. The foal was packed with worms and severely emaciated, weighing only 168 pounds and looking about the size of a week old foal at the most. We named her “Wee Whinny Widget” as she was so tiny and had such a faint whinny you almost couldn’t hear it.

For the first month we weren’t sure if she was going to make it as she was very weak and kept colicking as we slowly tried to kill off the parasites. After a lot of nursing care she made it and also decided I made a good replacement mom. I got sucked in – how do you say no to that? I really had been hoping for my next horse to be good for classical dressage and I had no idea what she would turn out like after her rough start, but finding her another home would have been difficult on many levels. She started to get really cute so everybody wanted to adopt her, but she had issues from her initial handling. Apparently she wasn’t kept with her dam at first, but in a stall across the aisle and was put with her mom a few times a day to nurse until someone told her owner that she needed to stay with the mare all the time. As a result, she doesn’t handle being kept in a stall well if the door is closed. If she can come and go as she pleases, she is fine but otherwise she walks or frantically runs back and forth depending

on her stress level. As for other horses, she has a hard time having normal relationships with them, as she didn’t get much of a chance as a baby to learn how that works. She was so weak at first we couldn’t turn her out with the bigger horses in her group, only our llamas, sheep and goats. As she got stronger, she annoyed the adult horses as she wanted to run and play while they wanted to hang out and nap so she got chased and kicked at a bit. The others got adopted fairly quickly so this left only the llamas and our mini horse for some company as the sheep and goats didn’t want to play that much, either. Through all this, she would still rather be near me than out with the others most of the time and would always come running if I called her name so visitors could see how she had grown.

Now I am in the process of getting a barn up in my yard so she can live the way she is happiest – with access to a pasture directly from her stall so she can choose if she wants to be in or out, no matter what the weather is like. I am giving her a bit longer to mature before starting her under saddle than most people do because she had such a rough start. Last fall we started lunging and doing some in-hand work in full tack and she took to it well. My hope is that she will like the mental and physical challenge of classical dressage. She is a very bright horse who seems to like figuring out what I want her to do and learning new things. I can’t wait to see where life takes us next!

Permalink Reply by barbara righton on February 4, 2011 at 2:36pm

Even though I am old enough and experienced enough to know better, I fell in love with a small badly debilitated mare at a horse leasing facility last March. I was looking for a well-trained stock horse to take on safe trail rides—and lease only for a year. The proprietor had several, he said. After seeing a roundup of jumpy ill-trained beasts, I was about to go home empty-handed when he brought out a bright red mare. My first glimpse of her was straight on and I thought, oh, what a nice face and, gazing down, what clean legs! Then I saw the rest. She was shockingly thin and covered in a layer of matted hair and filth. Her feet were a wreck. She had a big ugly bump on one shoulder. For some reason I stayed while he rode her, and rode her and rode her. She was puffing from exertion and fear by the time I got on. I gave her a cluck and she moved off my leg doing a lovely jog. I took her home.

Within the first full day at my barn, she had her shots and a massage and several opinions free of charge. She sure isn’t pretty, my vet said. If that is a well-bred Quarter Horse, you can keep ’em, my barn owner offered. You took Raggedy Annie, my friend said.

That was almost a year ago. She and I have been down quite a long road in such a short time. Her shoulder needed an operation and she has had two very serious bouts of colic. Her feet are still a problem. And here is the upside. She and I are sympathetic entities. She trusted me from the get go and I trusted her. She is indeed a very good trail horse with a lively curiosity and zero spook. She is also a character. She clacks her teeth at me. She makes a funny chortling sound over molasses muffins. She watches for me every afternoon in her pasture. She tells me what she wants me to know. She is the highlight of my life. Of course I bought her. And paid too much too. She has been worth every single cent.