My Life With Horses--Part Eleven

                                                by Laura Crum

            With Sunny and Henry my son and I began exploring the trails along the ridge near our home in earnest. My son was seven and a half. I was fifty years old and, to my surprise, a new horseback passion had entered my life. Because I became quite obsessed with riding the trails of my home.

            And here, if there is anyone out there who has been reading my posts on Equestrian Ink from the beginning, is where you came in. Because I began blogging here just a couple of months after I bought Sunny. In fact, one of my early posts was titled “The New Horse” (May 2008).

Sunny was always a very reliable trail horse and he gradually came to accept me as his boss and dropped most of his “testing” behaviors. I’ve blogged about him here often enough, so probably most of you have a pretty good idea of this little yellow horse’s personality. Suffice it to say that Sunny and I formed a good partnership and from the beginning I was deeply grateful for how steady both he and Henry were on the trails. These two horses opened up a whole new world for my son and me.

We began riding in the hills several days a week, sometimes with our friend Wally, sometimes just the two of us. We rode the trail to the Lookout often. 

We also discovered new trails, a whole network of trails that criss-crossed the wild ridge that we could see from our front porch.  

We hauled the horses down to the shore and rode them on the beach. 

Sunny and Henry were and are amazing trail horses. In the redwood forest.

    Crossing creeks. 

           In the mountains. 

I could never describe, or even show you in photos, half of the delightful and beautiful things my son and I were privileged to see from the backs of these two wonderful horses. I have to say that though it may not sound as exciting as training and showing cutting horses or competing at team roping, these last five years exploring the trails of our home and the beaches and mountains have been my absolute favorite part of my life with horses. It has been a time of pure enjoyment, of taking delight in both the horses and my son and the wonder of what we were all seeing together. There has been nothing to prove to anyone, and no need to improve or train or push. The horses have been our partners every step of the way; they were competent, solid horses when we got them and they brought their own confidence and experience to share with us. My forty years with horses stood us in good stead, and I am proud to say that my son has grown up riding, has challenged himself as he saw fit (and yes, kicking Henry up to a gallop after a steer and riding some of the steep, tricky trails we have ridden has been a true challenge), and has become an adept, kind and secure rider, one who really understands horses. I don’t know what the future will bring, but we have done and seen some lovely things. My photos can show our life with these two horses better than words. 

I can truly say that for five straight years we rode Henry and Sunny everywhere and had a blast. We may be getting close to a thousand rides all told (I kept track the first year and we went on 165 rides that year alone). We were never hurt or scared, never even very anxious—none of us. And it is all due to these fine horses. We have had so much fun. Gathering and working cattle with friends. 

Just loping along in the sunshine.

This year my son turns thirteen and Henry is twenty-five. We are still riding a couple of days a week, but we aren’t pushing Henry too hard, and, to be fair, my kid is developing other interests and isn’t as passionate about riding. And that’s OK. The magic will always be with us and in us. And Henry and Sunny will be with us until they die. The gift they have given us is beyond price, and I will always be grateful.

I wrote my 11^th and 12^th novels in the Gail McCarthy series about trail riding along the ridge by our home (of course the books feature some very dramatic happenings out on these trails—which I am VERY glad we never experienced in real life). Sunny and Henry both have prominent roles in these stories and are described very much as they actually are. So, for a glimpse of this part of my life, and a couple of exciting mysteries as well, try Going, Gone and Barnstorming. 

Auctions

Auctions are on my mind because I have been going to quite a few. Not horse auctions, thankfully. I have been bidding on old tins and cookie cutter collections that were once prized by their owners. It's sad to see someone's life laid out on tables and going to the highest bidder. But I try and treat all my 'wins' with dignity--cleaning them carefully and selling them to someone who will once again collect and appreciate them. But I am bidding on objects with no feelings; horse auctions are another story.

In my past life, I went to a few horse auctions. It was never a pleasant experience. I chose two photos off the internet that illustrate the two extremes.  The one below of the skinny horse was NOT the worst photo. Several made me sick to my stomach and I quickly looked away. I never went to a million dollar horse sale, but my husband did when he worked on a Thoroughbred farm (many decades ago.)  His jaw was hanging through most of it. The horses were sleek and beautiful with impeccable breeding. But how many ended up broken down on the racetrack and sold at the "other kind" of auction?  I am sure all of you have been to "the other kind" where horses that no one want end up. They might be lame race or show horses, unbroken three-year-olds with no breeding, a kicker, biter or cribber, or excess stock that can no longer be afforded.

Or maybe they just came from an owner who wanted a fast sale. My mother's pony ended up in such an auction and I still have nightmares about it. My mother rode until she was sixty and got royally dumped by the said pony. It was trailered off to an auction before I could protest. I do not know what happened to the mare--she was cute and well-cared for, so I am hoping she went to a good home. She was also fat, and back then, you know what that might mean. (And will mean again now that it a horse packing plant has been opened in the US.)

When I researched my mystery Shadow Horse, I spent time at a rescue farm where the volunteers went to auctions and bought horses that were slated to go to the killers. One was an old pony who had faithfully served a family until she was twenty-five and no longer healthy. An auction was her reward. The rescue farm bought her so she could have a gentle ending. The other was a strapping, rambunctious yearling Percheron cross that came from a farm with too many horses.  He was in quarantine when I met him; I am hoping he found a good home (and some manners.)

I know there are auctions that serve a great purpose--matching a potential owner with a good horse. And the above are extremes. But for the rest of my life, I will be happy to make my auctions the antique kind!

What are your experiences with auctions? Have you been to both kinds? Are there some positives as well as negatives? Do tell!

My Life With Horses--Part Ten

                                                by Laura Crum

            I have told the story of how I came to acquire Henry rather recently on this blog (see My Son’s Horse). So, in the interests of not being too repetitive, I’ll just say that Henry opened a brand new chapter in my life with horses. And you could call this chapter “The Trails Along the Ridge.”

            As you may remember, my seven year old son had begun asking me to go out on trail rides. And as it happens, there was a network of trails on the ridge across the road from our house. Many years ago, when we were first together, my husband and I had explored these trails on Flanigan and Plumber. But I had not been up there since I got pregnant with my son. So I hadn’t seen the trails in eight years. I didn’t even really remember them all that well, and the way we used to access them had been blocked by a housing development. Thus I was pretty much starting from scratch to figure out if we COULD trail ride from here.

            I headed out on the newly acquired Henry to explore a little (and make sure he was as reliable on the trail as I thought he was), and I found a way back up to the ridge. As was inevitable, it involved crossing the very busy road at the end of our driveway, and then some rather dubious skirting of other people’s property. But horse hoofprints indicated that riders from the nearby boarding stable rode this way. And sure enough, I eventually found (and recognized) the same old trails I had ridden years ago with my husband, and reached the Lookout—a high spot with a glorious view of the Monterey Bay. I knew that this was where I wanted to take my son trail riding.

            Henry was an absolute champ outside. Nothing bothered him, he was relaxed and calm, and walked quietly at all times. He was as steady as a rock when I crossed the busy road, indifferent to the traffic. I felt that I could take my son riding out on the trails with a reasonable degree of safety. So we tried a few expeditions, beginning with some easier trails. And I realized that the only problem I was going to have had nothing to do with my son or Henry. It was Plumber.

            Plumber was nineteen years old at this time and I had done plenty of trail riding on him in the past. But for the last eight years he had been strictly an arena horse. My friend Wally roped on him and I rode him while I accompanied my son on short rides in the arena. Plumber was starting to slow down and Wally and I were pretty sure this would be his last year as a team roping horse. I thought that the timing was perfect and Plumber could now become my trail horse. But I was wrong.

            Because it turned out that Plumber didn’t want a new career as a trail horse. And he made this very plain. Every single time I took him out on the trail, he danced anxiously and spooked at every little rustle in the brush. He also protested at the downhill bits, tossing his head and pinning his ears, switching his tail, and walking at a slow, reluctant crawl. He absolutely never relaxed and just walked along, enjoying the scenery, as Henry did. I took my son for his first ride on the beach and Henry was perfect. Plumber was nervous and unhappy the whole time (which I think you can see in their respective expressions in the photo of that expedition—below). In every way he could, Plumber communicated, “I don’t want to do this.”

            A lifetime spent with horses will teach you a few things. Even though it was reasonable to suppose that the still quite sound Plumber could be my trail horse, I had to acknowledge that it wasn’t working for either him or me. Steady as Henry was, Plumber’s constant spooking triggered Henry to spook once or twice. Despite the fact that I felt perfectly safe on Plumber in an arena (and had ridden with my kid in front of me in the saddle for two years—that’s how safe I felt), I did not feel safe standing next to the busy road while Plumber danced anxiously. I was pretty sure I could control Plumber, but at this point I had my son on the pony rope and I absolutely needed to keep my whole focus on him. Nor could I risk that Plumber would startle Henry. So I made the rather unpopular decision (just ask my husband) that I needed to buy a new trail horse. And I knew just the one.

            Nine months previously, I had tried a little palomino horse as a possible replacement for Toby the pony (Toby’s cancer had reoccurred and we had removed another tumor from his sheath—I was aware that his time might be limited). This was a horse that I had known for a few years and I believed that he was a steady, reliable trail horse. But upon trying him I realized that he was also opinionated, ill broke and a bit spoiled—not a good combination for a kid’s horse. So I passed on him and eventually bought the much better broke Henry for my son. Still, for some reason, I couldn’t forget the cute little palomino horse. Neither could my boy, who continued to ask about “Sunny.”

            Sunny remained for sale. A friend of mine tried him and rejected him for much the same reasons I did. “Too ornery for a kid’s horse.” But when I thought about finding a steady trail horse for myself, Sunny popped into my mind with irresistible force. And despite my husband’s protests that we did not need another horse, I picked Sunny up that very day to take him on trial. The rest, as they say, is history.

(To be continued—the beginning of the saga is here)

Your Favorite Color (of horse, of course.)

Okay - we love our readers - so let's play a little reader participation game.

What's your favorite color of horse?
Bay, sorrel, palomino, paint, buckskin, chestnut, black, appaloosa, grey, or ?????

Of course, I'll be the first to admit that A Good Horse is Never a Bad Color. But deep down, we all have our favorites.

I adore paint horses, and always pick them out in a field driving past. In fact, the picture I still use as my author photo:

Linda Benson and Pete

is of me and a paint horse that I have since sold. But he was a pretty guy, wasn't he? With one blue and one brown eye, I adored his coloring (although he does look a little chubby here.)

I tend to like horses with color. I love palominos, like Laura Crum's Sunny. I adore a good buckskin horse, and I like chrome on a horse: flashy white stocking, bald faces, something special to make them pop. And I love bays - anything from a plain bay horse to a bay with a wide blaze and high white stockings is very cool, in my book.

Years ago, my dad used to do a little "horsetrading" on the side, and I often went with him on his buying trips. Besides riding and helping him find gentle family horses to resell, we always looked for pretty ones, too, because the truth of a the matter is that "pretty sells."

But color is definitely a preference. Some people adore sorrels, some chestnuts, some brown-bay or black. Some like plain horses, and some people like flashy ones.

So you tell us! In the comment section below - let us know your favorite color (or colors) of horse!

Everyone who leaves a comment will be entered to win a copy of my book, The Girl Who Remembered Horses.

 

 I'll draw the winner's name from a hat on July 1, 2013. U.S. entrants can choose a paper or ebook copy, and international entrants can win an ebook. Fair enough?

Okay, Go! What's YOUR favorite color of horse???

My Life With Horses--Part Nine

                                                            by Laura Crum

            I’ve written about my son’s pony, Toby, before—Magic…and Toby the Pony. Click on the link to find the full story of our magical little white horse. In the context of my own life with horses, the next two years were dominated by this pony. I spent most of the first year leading the pony around with my five year old son on him. I seldom actually rode myself. (Though once in awhile I did ride Toby to give him an “attitude adjustment.” Toby was a good pony, but he was a pony.)

            To those who think this sounds like an incredibly boring horse life, all I can say is that it wasn’t at all boring, from my point of view. But I’m not sure I am going to be able to explain why I loved this part of my horse life so much. However, I’ll try.

            Partly it was because I had truly come to understand that my greatest joy lay just in living with horses, and whether I rode or not wasn’t that important to me. Partly it was because having a pony of my own had been my childhood dream…and now I was making it come true. At last I had a pony (!) Toby was the first pony I ever owned and I still smile, thinking of him. And partly it was because I was just happy with my life overall.

            Another factor was that I had achieved the goals I had set myself in my life with horses. I had been a reasonably effective competitor at cowhorse, cutting and roping; I had trained some horses that I was really proud of. I’d crossed the Sierras many times on my own horses and camped with them in some amazing places. I’d worked as a cowboy on a commercial cattle ranch. There wasn’t anything that I had once been burning to do with a horse that I hadn’t yet done. And the depression I went through had freed me of the need to see my life with horses in terms of goals. I was happy just to enjoy my horses and my son. I think the fact that I was older helped, also.

            But mainly, of course, I was happy to spend my time this way because I loved my little boy so much. As I said in the last post, I would have done absolutely anything to give him a happy life, and I thought, and still think, that raising a child around and aboard horses (if you can do it without injuring or scaring them) is a fine way to create a happy life. Lest you suppose this is just my own prejudice, you may consider the fact that the number one therapy for handicapped kids is “horse therapy.” People pay big bucks to let their handicapped child get led around on a gentle horse. If it can actually “cure” handicapped kids, how good must horseback riding be for kids who are not handicapped?

            So I took much delight in spending my horse time leading my child around on our steady pony, feeling that I was giving my son a huge gift. And I really believe this from the bottom of my heart, in the same way and to the same degree that I believe in attachment parenting. It doesn’t matter if my son grows up to be a horseman or not. That isn’t the point. The point, to me, is that riding and interacting with horses throughout your childhood helps you to feel strong and comfortable within yourself, and to connect in a positive way with the natural world. That is, if it’s a positive experience.

            I took this part of it very seriously. As a young child I had many very “scary” moments on a horse. Because I was passionate about horses, these moments had never deterred me. But I knew many others who had been scared, or injured, or both, and who never again had any interest in horses. So I resolved to do everything I knew how to do (and I knew quite a bit about horses at this point in my life) to give my son a positive experience.

            To this end I bought Toby, a very steady 20 year old pony. To this same end, I led my son around for a year on the pony before I let him ride independently. I took the stirrups off the saddle for this whole year, in order that my kid should develop a good seat. I cannot count to you the miles I jogged, leading Toby as my son learned to trot on the critter. My long legged husband ran alongside the pony, as my son learned to lope. Once our child was pretty confident at all three gaits, I began lunging Toby with my kid aboard. And only when my little boy seemed absolutely solid, did I let him begin riding Toby independently—in our small riding ring. When we rode in larger spaces, I ponied Toby from my own horse, Plumber.

            This may sound overprotective to some, perhaps. But a lifetime of experience with horses had taught me to be careful, and my whole aim was to create a positive, rewarding experience for my son. And it worked. My little boy became a confident, happy rider. By the time he was seven years old, he could walk, trot, and lope Toby independently, and control the sometimes strong minded pony competently. And he began asking me to take him out on trail rides.

            Here is where I had a problem. Because Toby just wasn’t the right horse to take a seven year old out on the trails. He had a tendency to be “forward” outside, and I knew perfectly well that riding outside was very different to riding in an arena. Many more variables, a much less controlled situation. And so I hemmed and hawed about the trail rides. We took a couple of short ones (around my uncle’s ranch) with me ponying Toby from Plumber. And then life, once again, intervened. Toby got sick.

            The story of Toby’s death is described in “Magic…and Toby the Pony.” I will just say that it was very hard on my son when we lost his pony to cancer just after my little boy turned seven. Toby is buried here and at least once a month my son talks about how he misses him. Toby truly was a very special and important part of my life with horses and I will always be grateful to him. He was the first forever horse that came to me for my son.

Fortunately Toby was followed by another great horse. I have always believed that Toby sent us a gift in his passing and brought us another forever horse to take care of his little boy. Because of losing Toby, Henry came into our lives. (To be continued.)

            Toby is featured in my 10th mystery, Chasing Cans. Click on the title to find the Kindle edition of this book. (I have to add, I just read the Amazon reviews of Chasing Cans, and there is a group who absolutely hates this book, due to the fact that it is about a mother with a new baby. Yes, it is also an exciting mystery with lots of horses and a dastardly barrel racing trainer and plenty of action, and also includes the wonderful Toby. Most people, even the haters, point out that it is as well written as the previous books. However, fair warning: if reading about the "mama" experience turns you off, don't bother with this one. And if anyone who has enjoyed this book would post a review on Amazon, I'd be really grateful. This is one of my favorite novels in the series. I have to admit that it makes me sad that the non-mothers who hate reading about a career woman turning mom are the ones who seem mostly inclined to review it. I have no problem with anyone else's path, but since my own path became motherhood, I wanted to write about the experience. I tried to be faithful to the reality--joys and trials--while still crafting an exciting mystery. See what you think.)

 

            This saga begins here.  

My Life With Horses--Part Eight

                                                by Laura Crum

            I was thrilled to be pregnant. Neither my husband nor I had ever had a child, we were getting older (I was 42 and he was 49), and we really wanted a baby. At our respective ages it wasn’t that likely—without technical intervention, which we weren’t inclined to—so it seemed like a real gift. And I immediately resolved not to ride until the baby was born.

            This doesn’t mean that I think pregnant women shouldn’t ride. I just wanted to do everything possible to protect my unborn child at my advanced age. I gave Danny, the colt I had been training, to a friend. My old friend Wally was still riding and roping on Flanigan and Plumber, so they were getting plenty of exercise. And Gunner and Burt were turned out to pasture.

            Once again, I took a break from riding. I still fed my horses and saw them every day and I still loved them. In fact, I began to discover an interesting truth. The thing I enjoyed most about horses was not riding. It was living with them. This didn’t mean I wasn’t interested in riding any more. It just meant that I had come one step further in understanding my path with horses.

            Because I found that seeing my horses many times every day, feeding them and turning them out to graze, made me happy and content even though I wasn’t riding. I puttered around the garden, and I puttered around with my horses, and I waited for my baby to come and I was happy. I was aware that I was happy and this knowledge stood me in good stead, because having a baby wasn’t at all what I had expected it to be like.

            I had thought that the baby would be sort of an adjunct to our lives. My husband and I would do more or less as we had always done, the baby would just come along, too. But it wasn’t like that at all.

            I was unprepared for the fierce rush of maternal love, the absolute realization that I would do ANYTHING to protect and care for this little creature. If I had been asked, while I was pregnant, if I planned to give up riding for the next few years (or at least riding without a kid in the saddle with me) I would have said, “No, of course not.” But that is more or less what happened.

            This blog is about horses, not babies, and this saga is supposed to be about my life with horses, not my life with my child. But if you are to understand why my life with horses became the life that I have today, you will need to understand how I chose to parent my child…and why. I absolutely don’t blame you if you find this boring and not relevant, especially if you don’t have kids. Feel free to click that little “x” now.

            But, anyway, from the day of my son’s birth, the one main thing I wanted of life was to take the best possible care of my little boy. I’m not going to argue parenting styles here, but I will say that my own path became the “attachment parenting” path. I nursed my baby until he weaned himself (at 18 months), we slept in a family bed, and I carried my little guy in a sling and then later in a backpack, everywhere I went. I stayed home with him and took care of him (and this is one of the benefits of being an author—working at home was already my path). This is, I think, a wonderful way to raise a child, and I was very happy, but I did not find much time to ride. To be honest, riding wasn’t very high on my priority list.

            But I still had my horses and I still loved them. I carried my baby down the hill to feed every morning and evening. He grew up around horses. And when my little guy was six months old, I climbed up on my beloved Flanigan and took my baby for his first ride. After that I rode once in awhile—always at the walk and with my little boy sitting in front of me, always on Flanigan.

            Sadly, when my son was three years old, Flanigan died of an inoperable colic. He was the first of my “forever” horses to die and the first horse to die on my place. He is buried here…and I still miss him. I feel that his spirit both protects and guides me, however odd that may sound.

            After this I took my little boy for rides on Plumber. And we progressed to trotting and then loping. My son loved to ride. I think now that I should have put a helmet on my child, but I was confident in myself and my horses, and to be fair, we never had any problems. We rode a couple of times a week, in my riding ring or up at the arena, always with friends. For five years I rode only in arenas, at a relaxed walk/trot/lope. I can’t remember that I ever once rode without my child in the saddle with me in all those years. And no, I was not bored. I was happy. Plumber packed us like a champ until my son was five years old and just too big to ride comfortably in front of me any more.

            It was time for my boy to have a horse of his own. And thus came Toby.

            The saga begins here.

            I wrote Moonblind about being pregnant and Chasing Cans about having a nursing baby. Click on the titles to find the Kindle editions.

 Both of these books have lots of horses in them, but perhaps a tad less action than when my protagonist was single. What can I say? My life had a tad less action in it once I became a mama. I did my best to keep both mysteries exciting and still be faithful to the reality of motherhood. I really love these books, but I think that those who are mothers themselves are more likely to appreciate them than those who are not. The absolute truth is that I loved (and still love) being a mama, but it is not a life that “sounds” as exciting as my earlier life training and competing on horses. The fact that this part of my life with horses has actually been the most rewarding and interesting part to me is something you may have to take on trust (or perhaps my novels can portray this emotion more clearly than I can convey it in a blog post).

            

The Girl Who Remembered Horses - ON SALE

For the first time ever, The Girl Who Remembered Horses is ON SALE. With a great price of only 99 cents for the e-book on Amazon, I hope those of you who have been wanting to read it will take the opportunity to grab it up.

The Girl Who Remembered Horses is a horse novel set in the future, when most humans have forgotten the bond they once shared with horses - all except for one girl - who dreams of them. This novel is based not only on the reality of what's actually happening to many horses in today's modern society, but also on a college research project I completed about why women and girls love horses. I hope you'll enjoy it!

There are more books available in this .99 sale, too, by a variety of authors. All are suitable for middle-grade readers and up, and several more of them are about horses. You can find the full list right here on my personal blog. Sale runs from June 17-21.

Thanks, everyone. Hope you have a great summer filled with reading, riding, and relaxing!