Friday, April 10, 2009
New Horse and New Barn
There's as much horse
sense around as ever.
Unfortunately, the horses
have most of it. -- Unknown
I mentioned that Rudy got his new horse (he's started a blog which you can find over here), but I have to say, I found the whole process a bit unnerving.
Rudy is one of those people who is pretty exacting. He knows what he wants (note his list) and is the kind of guy that reads the instructions to things before putting them together. These are great qualities, particularly in his field.
So when he sort of went off the deep end looking for this horse, I was a bit concerned. Because he bought his new horse based on an internet ad. In Tennesse. He never even laid hands on this horse.
I can't stress enough how much this is not like Rudy. But this is what horses do to you. They make you crazy.
His new horse, Cowboy (now known as Vaquero), came off the trailer with little resemblence to the horse described in the ad (shocking, I know). His hooves were long, he'd clearly been left to sit in the field, and Mr. 1-2 temperment is hotter than my horse. Touch the rein and the horse practically spins in place.Time will tell, though. Rudy has worked out his share of kinks in horses. And the horse has a kind eye, if he'll just chill, he might be come around. I hope so, it's very early in the process.
Rudy convinced me to ride Vaquero for a bit in the arena. That Paso Fino gait is something else. It looks so odd to my eye, like a mechanical tin horse running along a path. You feel like you're not moving at all - and you're trotting.
On another note, I'll be leaving our stable. The owners have had the place for sale and as a result nearly everyone is gone. They've had a few nibbles on the place at last and it looks like it will be sold very soon, so they're closing down and moving on to a really great opportunity.
Still Waters has been a great place to board. The trails are fantastic, they take good care of the horses. They were a place we came to celebrate and enjoy time away from computers and work and rivers of asphalt.
But once it started to empty out, it just got progressively sadder to be there. They've been selling off things, and there's a feeling of desolation in the air. Empty stalls, barren tack room, only a few names on the dry erase board.
I rediscovered my love of horses there and gave in to it. They helped me through my learning curve. I spent hours in that round pen, learning, eating dust, trying to figure out the workings of my crazy horse's mind, while the azure sky wide and open over the wide field promised another beautiful day.
My daughters ran around like it was a second home, made friends, had a blast, but as it's quieted down they've been reluctant to go. Other kids left, people divorced, horses died, even friendships and kinships shattered in ways I never experienced before. Maybe there's something about horse life that makes emotions so much more volatile, and people more unpredictable. Maybe I've been sheltered.
All this time I've been stubborn, not wanting to leave, probably needing to leave because there was virtually no one left, sadness permeated the air like an ache, but I wanted to linger, as if by lingering I could bring it back.
But that's not my role.
I've found a new barn, and it's nothing like the old one. I suspect I won't get as attached (you never forget your first), but there are more folks riding there, big trails are all around and all the horses look good, no bitten up horses, the barn's clean, the accomodations modest. I know Canyon will be well looked after and it's closer to home so maybe I can ride more.
I'll move in a week or so... And I'll try hard not to look back.