Please, these are my opinions, and I respect experienced horsepeople's opinions, too, and try to learn from any and all. I also am working with some pretty qualified doctors (many with Google MDs) and I listen to them. By all accounts, I will ride again. Maybe not this summer, but you bet your butt hairs, I'll be riding.
My uncle Erhardt bought me my first pony at age five. Her name was Julie and contrary to popular belief, smaller doesn't make them nicer. I loved her, though. Long tangled mane filled with burrs, stubby little legs, evil baring teeth, she was the best. And then riding her! Oh the joy! Cinch up the saddle while dodging fangs, desperately sawing at the reins as she sought to rub me off on fence post after fence post, being dragged under her stubby pumping legs because the saddle slipped and my boot was caught. Good times. I was hooked and spent every summer with my uncle on his dairy farm(s) along with Omi, Opa and all of the glorious animals. Learned to drive a hay truck (and Mercedes) at age 10. Butchered my first cow at age 12. Yup, shot it and skinned it. That's how cowgirls roll.
The summer of my 12th year, my uncle hadn't yet killed or maimed me, so he bought me my first Arabian. (Horsey friends cringe here and rightly so). I named him Strawberry Sparkle. Evidently, we were going to do Disney Parades from that wise name choice. He was grey, big wild eyes, red rimmed nose, the perfect choice for a pre-teen girl. Never rename a horse, it is bad luck. With said luck, I proceeded to learn the real basics of horsemanship, including walk, trot, buck. Never made it to canter because buck was what he would do when asked. Still, he was mine and I loved him.
There was a milker on the farm named Margie. She was a divorced woman with limited means which looking back made sense because she owned horses. Seven of them. I now know she collected them, which, in my humble opinion, is close to animal abuse. Horses need to work and play to be balanced and safe. Margie took me to a breeders' farm where I witnessed my first live cover and it scared the holy crap out of me. Very violent. Anyway, she and I convinced my uncle to let us convert five acres with a broken down barn into a stable. I learned to really ride on Destiny's Desire, a Morafic mare and she was something. She was a former show horse in Western Pleasure and halter, now brood mare, age 20. That's the Arab you want to ride.
Fast forward to discovering Winthrop and purchasing our property and building our horse set up near the trail system. A few horses, good and bad. The death of a few horses, good and bad. Purchasing a three year old Paint named Bo with no real training; once again, a horse needs constant play and work. I also bought Doc, my all time favorite horse. Two horses, you may ask? Just like potato chips, trust me.
Bo was ready to go for training and this is what happened when I let him out onto grass after being cooped up in a little stall and paddock for two weeks. Bye-bye, Bo.....Sold to a sweet woman in Poulsbo.
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| Note the lovely hoofprint pattern, still indented to this day |
I kept Doc, but had to put him down after a few years due to Navicular. R.I.P., good boy. Remember Barbaro and all the $$$ spent to keep him alive so he could live cover? Sidebar here folks: The Mister said he didn't know what Live Cover means. It means SEX, Mister. Registered race horses are required to live cover, no artificial insemination allowed. (Should I be upset that he doesn't know this????) Anyway, I would have spent that on him. Well, maybe not that much. The Mister does like his custom made shotguns more than horses, I've discovered.
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| I miss him so much, but I won't cry because he is happy now. |
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| He learned sign language and we're sharing a laugh.. |
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| My handsome Cowboy on Comet |
This is why I purchased the beast, Bombay, aka Elmer. A friend of mine in Winthrop had purchased a Rocky and sent him up to Bob Boyce, an old cowboy who believes in Natural Horsemanship, which is quite rare in someone over 60, I've found. I went to see Bailey (I know, we name our animals after liquor; very original) I spoke with Bob and his wife and he told me that he would buy a Rocky for his wife in an instant. This is a diehard Quarter Horse man. Smart, gentle, loving and gaited!! I purchased Elmer as a two year old from Kentucky, after a year long search and visits to Kentucky and researching the breed. He's bucked me off a couple times, yes, I got a concussion once and he stepped on me. I've had a broken shoulder from a horse I didn't own and even chipped my nails. Who cares? That's how cowgirls roll.
Bombay is ready to go to a new home now, but not because I don't love him. He is not a pet, but a creature deserving of respect and a quality of life, like you and I. Horses need to work and play to be balanced and safe. Are we all clear on that? Good. Once again, my humble opinion, not trying to be controversial.
Please don't tell me I won't ride again or shouldn't ride again. It's akin to saying, "Sorry, you won't breathe again." And that is just silly.
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