She couldn't argue with me there, Twilight was tired and ornery.
"Plus, I think I want a gelding. Oh mom looook loook at this one!"
After the dust had settled from the trauma, I couldn't help but get excited about the prospect of buying a horse. I was a kid in a candy shop, everything I saw on craigslist looked delicious.
"He's a chestnut, only three but well trained, look at the field he is in mom, oh his beautiful and his names Leo, but his in Oregon."
Mom shook her head at me.
"He is in my budget." I persuaded. I had about two thousand dollars saved in my bank account, I'd been saving up since I was four years old, when I started riding.
"How far away?" she asked,
"Three hours, round trip. . ."
"No"
My eyes scanned the web pages, "Oh look mom, here is a Persian Arabian, he is grey just like Pudgy was, that Arabian I rode when I was little.. . oh but I can't afford him."
I had already established with my parents that I wanted to purchase my own horse.
Pride had stopped my father from admitting to me that he could not afford to buy a horse for me. My mother had come to me instead and told me they could no afford to buy one, not with this economy, not with my dad's business in the state it was in.
"Its alright," I'd told them, "I don't want you to buy a horse for me, I want it to be my own, and they only way it will be my own is if I buy it, otherwise its more like your horse than mine."
They didn't understand, my dad thought I may be putting up a brave face for what he felt like were his short comings.
I had two reasons for wanting to buy my own horse, one I never shared with my parents. I was still afraid of the control they'd had over me, when they had uprooted me from school, from riding, from my life, and sent me away. I didn't want them to be able to drag me away from my passions again, and I figured if I owned my horse, bought it with my own money, they would have no right to take it away from me.
I told them my second reason.
"Its not like that at all. Gretchen told me about when she found her first horse, a thoroughbred on the race track. I think his name was Chico, she knew he was her horse as soon as she saw him. He was not for sale, but, she didn't care, she went right up to the owner and said "If you ever retire him from the race track, or if he can't race any more, tell me because I want him." She was there when they castrated him, held his head, let him bite her in anger, and still she loved him, he kicked at her when she applied disinfectant to his wounds, and she still adored that horse. And when he was injured and could no longer make a profit as a race horse, she took him from the track. When Gretchen told me this story she said her daughter still had Chico out in California. When I find my horse, when I feel that connection, I want to be able to stand up on my own two feet, and buy that horse."
I know it sounded like a proposal, and in a way it was, horses can live thirty years, I met a mare in Hawaii that was 32 and looked like she had become part of the forest with moss growing in her spider web white mane. Its a commitment for at least a third of a long life time.
I looked through numerous paints, western pleasure horses, but I wanted an English horse, or a horse that had potential for it.
I found a dark red mare named Scarlet who was in my price range but her owner never called me back.
One day I saw an advertisement for a medicine hat filly, my heart skipped a beat.
I'd grown up feeding on ice cream, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and good wholesome horse fiction. The story of San Domingo The Medicine Hat Stallion one of Marguerite Henry's many horse stories is among one of my personal favorites.The legend that goes with a medicine hat horse, is that they are a sacred horse that will die for their owner, and build a bond with only one person. And now I had a chance to go look at one, possibly own one.
She was young, only three years old, but she'd been started and was coming along well according to the advertisement.
"This could be the one!" I said shrilly to my mother.
Naturally because of the potential of this being a momentous occasion, I wanted to have someone there with me, someone who could help me be level headed, but also share my excitement. So I made a phone call.
"Hey Hanna, are you free next Saturday? Great! Do you want to come see this Medicine hat filly I'm going to go look at with my mother? Fantastic will pick you up around three."
The afternoon did not start off promising, dark rain clouds rolled in bringing a howling wind with it. Autumn leaves and rain thrashed at the windshield of our car.
"I don't think its happening today." Mom said reluctantly.
"No please!" I begged, "lets try and wait it out a bit."
We postponed are meeting with the owner for an hour, and then since the rain stopped, but the clouds still held we decided to chance it. The entire drive out Hanna and I were on the look out for any sliver of blue sky, there was none.
The barn the Medicine hat was at was small but a classic red barn with double doors. She was out back in a large spacious pasture with nooks and crannies, rolling hills, long silvery grass and twisted scrub oak. Hanna, the owner and myself trudged out into the pasture and watched the dainty mare come galloping over a hill with a small herd of other horses. I don't remember what they looked like, I only had eyes for this mare. She was tall and slender, with perfect markings that were well defined between clay brown and white. She even had a bulls eye around one of her crystal blue eyes.
Hanna frowned at me, "Blue eyed horses are bad luck, I don't like them." she said matter-o-factly.
"I think there gorgeous." I retorted.
Gretchen had helped me make a list of things I should ask the owners, since I was new to the market and green behind the ears. Health records, if the horse loads, papers, pedigree, proof of ownership, any records of work with certain trainers, how they were for the farrier, for a bath, how long had the owner had the horse, how long since the horse had been ridden, how far along was she into her training, any bad habits such as cribbing, bucking, shying etc. . .
"A horse that cribs is a horse not worth buying," Gretchen told me, "Its a hard habit to break, and causes all sorts of health issues."
Following her advice I had avoided a black gelding I saw for sell who seemed perfect till the owner confessed his single vice.
The Medicine Hat filly didn't seem to have any of these issues.
The final piece of advice Gretchen gave me was to have the owner ride the horse first. So I told the rather burly woman that I wanted to see her work with her horse first. That was when things started to fall apart, the mare shied away from the saddle, and when the woman mounted her in the round pen she took the mare through her gaits she suddenly stopped tossed her head and reared straight into the air.
I made eye contact with Hanna, who looked right back at me, and then we both looked at my mother, all three of us were decided, we were not interested in proceeding further.
The woman was in tears, and mumbled something about not get out to ride her enough. I patted her on the shoulder as we left.
"I told you blue eyed horses are bad luck!" Hanna said.
Mother consoled us both by taking us for a warm delicious meal at Marie Calendars.
The next horse my mother and I went and saw by ourselves. She was a beautiful black mare named Mikea, ten years old, with papers. She was a National Show horse (half Arabian half saddlebred) well trained and only 15 hundred dollars, to good to be true.
I talked with her owner on the phone, a girl who was going off to college and simply didn't have time for her anymore. "Trained her myself." she told me proudly.
We went out to the barn and met the girl's father and her. Mikea was already saddle, her mane tossed to one side, neck arched beautifully against the sky. "Oh mom she's gorgeous!" I squealed.
"Don't let them see how excited you are," she cautioned, but she was smiling to, both of us were quite taken with this mare.
We watched the girl ride. She swung on to Mikea's back and the mare went immediately into a trot, this was one hot horse. The girl rode her through water and into a flawless canter.
"Now I did do some gaming with her," the girl mentioned, "if she sees barrels she's going to do them, and there is not much you can do to stop her." She pulled Mikea into a sliding stop.
"Want to have a go?" she asked.
I was trembling as I got on, and the horse new it. She took off with me, into a gallop I couldn't pull her out of. I didn't know what to do to slow her down. I was afraid of this horse.
"I don't know how to ride her." I admitted.
We talked it over for a bit, the college student was willing to give me lessons on how to ride this horse, mother encouraged me to take the offer, but I was scared stiff I didn't want Mikea as my own.
I don't even know what really happened that day, I don't know why I froze on that horse's back, but I knew she was not for me. Clearly I try not to dwell on it to much.
So what horse was? Was I honestly going to exchange one deranged horse for another?
"Well you said you wanted a horse with some spark." Mom reminded me as we drove away.
"That was an inferno."
I looked through numerous paints, western pleasure horses, but I wanted an English horse, or a horse that had potential for it.
I found a dark red mare named Scarlet who was in my price range but her owner never called me back.
One day I saw an advertisement for a medicine hat filly, my heart skipped a beat.
I'd grown up feeding on ice cream, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and good wholesome horse fiction. The story of San Domingo The Medicine Hat Stallion one of Marguerite Henry's many horse stories is among one of my personal favorites.The legend that goes with a medicine hat horse, is that they are a sacred horse that will die for their owner, and build a bond with only one person. And now I had a chance to go look at one, possibly own one.
She was young, only three years old, but she'd been started and was coming along well according to the advertisement.
"This could be the one!" I said shrilly to my mother.
Naturally because of the potential of this being a momentous occasion, I wanted to have someone there with me, someone who could help me be level headed, but also share my excitement. So I made a phone call.
"Hey Hanna, are you free next Saturday? Great! Do you want to come see this Medicine hat filly I'm going to go look at with my mother? Fantastic will pick you up around three."
The afternoon did not start off promising, dark rain clouds rolled in bringing a howling wind with it. Autumn leaves and rain thrashed at the windshield of our car.
"I don't think its happening today." Mom said reluctantly.
"No please!" I begged, "lets try and wait it out a bit."
We postponed are meeting with the owner for an hour, and then since the rain stopped, but the clouds still held we decided to chance it. The entire drive out Hanna and I were on the look out for any sliver of blue sky, there was none.
The barn the Medicine hat was at was small but a classic red barn with double doors. She was out back in a large spacious pasture with nooks and crannies, rolling hills, long silvery grass and twisted scrub oak. Hanna, the owner and myself trudged out into the pasture and watched the dainty mare come galloping over a hill with a small herd of other horses. I don't remember what they looked like, I only had eyes for this mare. She was tall and slender, with perfect markings that were well defined between clay brown and white. She even had a bulls eye around one of her crystal blue eyes.
Hanna frowned at me, "Blue eyed horses are bad luck, I don't like them." she said matter-o-factly.
"I think there gorgeous." I retorted.
Gretchen had helped me make a list of things I should ask the owners, since I was new to the market and green behind the ears. Health records, if the horse loads, papers, pedigree, proof of ownership, any records of work with certain trainers, how they were for the farrier, for a bath, how long had the owner had the horse, how long since the horse had been ridden, how far along was she into her training, any bad habits such as cribbing, bucking, shying etc. . .
"A horse that cribs is a horse not worth buying," Gretchen told me, "Its a hard habit to break, and causes all sorts of health issues."
Following her advice I had avoided a black gelding I saw for sell who seemed perfect till the owner confessed his single vice.
The Medicine Hat filly didn't seem to have any of these issues.
The final piece of advice Gretchen gave me was to have the owner ride the horse first. So I told the rather burly woman that I wanted to see her work with her horse first. That was when things started to fall apart, the mare shied away from the saddle, and when the woman mounted her in the round pen she took the mare through her gaits she suddenly stopped tossed her head and reared straight into the air.
I made eye contact with Hanna, who looked right back at me, and then we both looked at my mother, all three of us were decided, we were not interested in proceeding further.
The woman was in tears, and mumbled something about not get out to ride her enough. I patted her on the shoulder as we left.
"I told you blue eyed horses are bad luck!" Hanna said.
Mother consoled us both by taking us for a warm delicious meal at Marie Calendars.
The next horse my mother and I went and saw by ourselves. She was a beautiful black mare named Mikea, ten years old, with papers. She was a National Show horse (half Arabian half saddlebred) well trained and only 15 hundred dollars, to good to be true.
I talked with her owner on the phone, a girl who was going off to college and simply didn't have time for her anymore. "Trained her myself." she told me proudly.
We went out to the barn and met the girl's father and her. Mikea was already saddle, her mane tossed to one side, neck arched beautifully against the sky. "Oh mom she's gorgeous!" I squealed.
"Don't let them see how excited you are," she cautioned, but she was smiling to, both of us were quite taken with this mare.
We watched the girl ride. She swung on to Mikea's back and the mare went immediately into a trot, this was one hot horse. The girl rode her through water and into a flawless canter.
"Now I did do some gaming with her," the girl mentioned, "if she sees barrels she's going to do them, and there is not much you can do to stop her." She pulled Mikea into a sliding stop.
"Want to have a go?" she asked.
I was trembling as I got on, and the horse new it. She took off with me, into a gallop I couldn't pull her out of. I didn't know what to do to slow her down. I was afraid of this horse.
"I don't know how to ride her." I admitted.
We talked it over for a bit, the college student was willing to give me lessons on how to ride this horse, mother encouraged me to take the offer, but I was scared stiff I didn't want Mikea as my own.
I don't even know what really happened that day, I don't know why I froze on that horse's back, but I knew she was not for me. Clearly I try not to dwell on it to much.
So what horse was? Was I honestly going to exchange one deranged horse for another?
"Well you said you wanted a horse with some spark." Mom reminded me as we drove away.
"That was an inferno."
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