Attacked By Bees

              by Laura Crum                                   

            A wise person (and I think it might have been Aarene, at Haiku Farm, listed on the sidebar) once said, as we discussed the need to wear a helmet while riding a gentle horse, “It only takes one bee.”  I would add, “Any horse can fall.” But it’s the bees I want to talk about today. Because I was recently treated to a very good demonstration of the bee issue.

            In our part of the world one of the biggest dangers for horsemen and hikers is yellow jackets—a sort of ground wasp. Some people call them “meat bees,” but I believe them to be wasps. They nest in the ground. And in my own lifetime I have known literally dozens of people, some riding, some walking, who disturbed such a nest, not knowing it was there. And the yellow jackets attacked.

            They seriously do attack. The horse (or person or dog) does not get stung once or twice. They get stung dozens of times, if lucky. The yellow jackets swarm them and pursue them and sting relentlessly.

            The best defense is to run. The one and only time this happened to me I was riding in the mountains on a green four year old. He crowhopped and tried to bolt at the first sting, and I had the wit to understand what was happening and encouraged his bolt into a controlled long trot and we got the hell out of there. He probably only got stung a couple of times and we were fine. But it doesn’t always happen like that.

            A very good friend of mine who is a competent horse trainer was taking some beginners for a ride last summer and they disturbed such a nest. My friend was thrown when his gentle horse began bucking uncontrollably, as was a very young beginner girl. The child was also stung numerous times. Everybody survived, but it was not a good moment.

            And this time of year (late summer/early fall) is the dangerous season for yellow jackets. I actually limit my trail riding in August and September to dirt roads and places where I doubt I will disturb a nest. But this is no guarantee, as recent events proved.

            We gather together with friends a couple of times a week in the summer to ride and rope at my uncle’s arena.  We’ve been doing this all year. And last week, to our great surprise, a horse that was tied along the fence where we tie horses every single roping day, managed to disrupt a yellow jacket nest, which was there in the ground, right in the tie-up area. The yellow jackets swarmed the horse and he began bucking, kicking and pulling back violently.

            For a moment no one knew what to do. The owner started toward her horse, but realized the danger of approaching him, as he was kicking out in a blind frenzy. In another second we all realized that the only safe way was from the other side of the fence. The owner scrambled over the fence and cut the leadrope (getting stung numerous times in the process), freeing the horse, who galloped away, bucking and leaping in the air.

            It took awhile, but the horse was caught, and the vet was called. The horse was swelling up with hives and eventually got a shot of “dex” and some Banamine and was sent home. The owner later reported that her horse colicked that night. The hives persisted for a couple of days, but eventually the horse was fine. The rest of us were pretty freaked out, however.

            My uncle destroyed the yellow jacket nest the next night, but we all avoided that area of the arena, anyway. And then, yesterday, the dog disturbed a nest (somewhere nearby, we didn’t see where) and came running in with yellow jackets stinging her. One of the ropers got stung. All I could think about was what if they swarm my son’s horse?

            It didn’t happen that day, but it IS a serious risk. Even a bombproof horse will come unglued when swarmed by yellow jackets. I gave my son a short talk about staying aware and getting Henry away as fast as possible if there was any sign of yellow jackets bothering the horse. But no one knows better than I do that it isn’t always possible to protect yourself. If you step right in a nest, you are toast.

            And as for my idea that I can prevent this sort of disaster by riding only on reasonably well used dirt roads and avoiding little used trails, it’s obviously a worthless concept. Because our friend’s horse stepped in a nest that was located in a place where we all tied our horses—each and every time we roped. A well traveled spot for sure. I guess it was just luck that the nest wasn’t actually disturbed until that day. But clearly if it could happen under those circumstances, it could happen anywhere.

            So here’s my question for today. Does anyone else have any insights on this subject? Any experiences you’d care to share? And most important, any survival tips?

MASSA MAGIC, by Francesca Prescott

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve wanted to go on holiday with my horse. Of course, when I was a child, there was a slight flaw to the concept: I didn’t have a horse. Much later, when I finally got a horse, years went by but the opportunity never arose. And then one night, earlier this year, Marie-Valentine Gygax, my long-time trainer and friend, met part of the Massa team at an international dressage competition in Saumur, France. And between you and me, from what I’ve heard about that evening, a great time was had by all those present…

My Lusitano, Qrac de la Font, is a Massa. Qrac comes from the Massa stud in the south of France, but I didn’t buy him from there as he’d been sold to his previous owner as a three or four year-old. In all honesty, when I first saw Qrac neither Marie-Valentine nor I had any idea of how prestigious his Massa bloodlines were; we knew next to nothing about PREs or Lusitanos. She’d never sourced anything but German or Dutch warmbloods for clients before, and I was totally clueless.

When I bought Qrac, all I knew about the Massa stud (Elevage Massa) was that one of their Lusitanos, Galopin de la Font, had qualified for the Beijing Olympics, which struck me as pretty impressive for a French breeder of Portuguese horses. But I wasn’t going into buying a new horse with the idea of doing much competing; until very recently it’s never been my thing. I bought Qrac because I fell for him at first sight, despite the fact that he didn’t tick all the boxes in what I was looking for in a horse. Ideally, I wanted a horse with fa

r more established work, and Qrac was a very green seven-year old. Our first weeks together were rather tumultuous, and there were definitely moments when I thought I might have bought myself a little too much horse!

Qrac enjoying the view of one of the arenas at Château Font du Broc

Fast-forward two and a half years, and love, dedication and hard work have produced a wonderful partnership. Call me soppy, but I get a rush of sheer joy every time I arrive at the stables and see his handsome arched neck and beautiful head. Qrac has a gentle, affectionate personality  and a great work ethic. Also, from the feedback I regularly receive whenever we venture out in public, I’ve come to realize that he’s also recognisably “Massa”. For example, a few weeks ago, just as he and I were coming out of the arena after completing our best program ever at a show (we got our first plate! Yay!), a young woman approached me and asked if my horse was a Massa. This had happened to me before so I wasn’t totally surprised, but for the first time ever it occurred to me that people were seeing Massa horses in the same light as a high-end brand, if only on a sub-conscious level.

Another thing I’ve noticed since I bought “a Massa horse” is how much criticism surrounds this breeder, especially from owners of non-Massa Lusitanos. You wouldn’t believe the nasty stories I heard whispered behind my back about my horse when I first moved to my current stables a year and a half ago. As for the gossip and bitchiness surrounding how Sylvain Massa developed his stud farm at Château Font du Broc in Les Arcs-sur-Argens in the south of France, it’s all so preposterous that it always struck me as sour grapes. However, I must admit that the bitchiness got to a point where it bothered me; criticize Sylvain Massa and you’re indirectly criticizing my horse. Why are people always so jealous of success? According to some of the mudslingers I’ve met, Elevage Massa’s nomination as France’s number one breeder of dressage horses in 2012 was nothing but a giant scam. As for the atmosphere at Château Font du Broc, according to these naysayers it was horrendously snooty and unpleasant.

The more backstabbing I heard, the more I wanted to see for myself, so when Marie-Valentine returned from Saumur and recounted her fortuitous nocturnal meeting with a mile-wide smile I was even more eager to go. My girlfriend Joëlle and I had had plans to go and do a dressage clinic with another trainer in the north of France in July, but Joëlle’s PRE’s long-term injury wasn’t getting better, so we’d cancelled because I didn’t want to drive up there all alone. Now, Joëlle’s horse seemed a little better and the idea of going to the south of France, riding in the mornings and spending the afternoons lying by a pool held a definite appeal, especially after our never-ending winter. So I emailed Anne-Sophie at Château Font du Broc and asked if there was any possibility of ten days dressage training and accommodation for two horses in July. I was delighted when she answered they’d be happy to have us.

Unfortunately, Joëlle’s horse’s injury worsened again, so when we set off earlier this month Qrac was alone in the trailer, but Joëlle had made arrangements with Font du Broc to ride some of their schoolmasters in order to improve her skills. She had also tentatively told them that she was thinking about buying another horse, as her current PRE’s prospects of returning to work seemed increasingly compromised. However, Joëlle insisted, this was early stages and she would only seriously start looking for a new horse as of September. No way would come back to Switzerland with another horse.

Famous last words!

The drive down to Font du Broc seemed endless; we loaded Qrac at five in the morning and finally made it to our destination approximately nine hours later. Both of us were exhausted; excitement had kept us up most of the night, but Qrac behaved angelically throughout the trip, never bothering about the massive trucks lumbering up behind him. Qrac also settled right into his massive, super luxurious stable, knee deep in straw, and didn’t fuss or freak out when Francisco, one of the Massa trainers, kindly offered to take him to stretch his legs for fifteen minutes or so after his long trip. I’d have walked Qrac myself but once Joëlle and I had unloaded all my horsey equipment (yes, I practically took the kitchen sink) we had to rush off to find the guest house we’d be staying at as the hosts had to go out for dinner.

With riding lessons scheduled for eight o’clock the next morning, virtually no sleep the previous night, and nine hours of trailering down busy French motorways, Joëlle and I could barely rustle up enough energy to go out for dinner. But we were starving, so we zombied out towards the closest village and staggered through the door of the first restaurant we came across. We got lucky; the food was delicious, although the service was slower than we’d have liked considering the circumstances. We then zombied back to the guest house and fell into bed before dark, excited yet also slightly nervous about how our riding lessons might go. We’d been so exhausted upon arriving at Font du Broc that the jaw-dropping beauty of the place hadn’t quite registered. Trust me, it definitely registered the following morning.

As equestrian facilities go, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. Nor have I ever seen so many serene-eyed, beautifully kept, stunning horses. A team of grooms fussed over them as they prepared them for their designated riders, kissing their noses, chatting to them and among each other happily. The atmosphere was relaxed, professional and friendly. My assigned trainer, Renaud Ramadier, (who had already made a great impression on me the previous afternoon when he kindly offered to park my trailer for me. I hate parking my trailer; reversing stresses me out!), greeted me with a lovely smile and a series of French customary kisses, complimenting me on Qrac’s condition which he said had improved immensely since the last time he’d seen him, approximately four years ago, when Qrac had been sent back to Font du Broc for a few weeks training. Joëlle’s trainer, Francisco, had prepared Nativo, a Grand-Prix schoolmaster for her, and from Nativo’s condition it was hard to believe he was twenty-years old. Over the next ten days, Joëlle spent many hours in heaven as this wonderful horse gave her a taste of what it is to ride dressage’s most difficult movements.

I loved my first lesson with Renaud, which took place in Font du Broc’s indoor arena, an incredible stone building with stained glass windows, chandeliers, and huge mirrors draped with heavy golden-yellow curtains. The arena is apparently an exact replica of the indoor arena of the famous Cadre Noir school in Saumur, and both Joëlle and I felt as though we were riding in a church. Renaud told me to warm up Qrac as I usually do, watching carefully from the gallery before stepping down into the arena and getting the party started. Initially, his main comment was that Qrac tends to either escape through his outside shoulder, or fall onto his inside shoulder, especially tracking right, and I wasn’t about to contradict him since I’ve been working on this recurring problem since day one. Also, Renaud noted, although the overall outline looks good, we tend to cheat a little, and Qrac needs to learn to carry himself “like the big boy he is”.

With this in mind, over the next ten days Renaud helped Qrac and I work on improving our balance, stay in a more regular rhythm, and establish more self-carriage in order to progress to more complex exercises. We rode miles and miles of shoulder-in in all three paces on the second track, worked on travers and then moved on to half-passes, improving to the point that by the end of our stay we were doing pretty good zig-zag half-passes! As early as four days into our stay, Qrac felt like a different horse; he seemed to grow ten centimetres beneath me, developing a power I’d never felt before. In fact, when I posted photos on Facebook, friends from my stables in Switzerland later told me they hadn’t dared comment as they weren’t sure the horse I was riding was actually Qrac! Can a horse change so dramatically in such a short time? Or were the photographs just really well timed?!

Renaud also helped Qrac and I establish the basics of piaffe, which I found very exciting. Qrac amazed me by not becoming the slightest bit flustered by this new exercise and immediately understood what he was meant to do. The problem I now face is that, so far, I’ve found nobody to practise this with at home, and I’m not confident enough to work on it myself. What I particularly enjoyed about working with Renaud was that his enthusiasm and his determination to push Qrac and I beyond our limits, to bring out the best in us, to get me to feel the movements on a whole new level. He also had a great sense of humour,

making everything fun, keeping the mood light-hearted yet working us hard. Renaud also rode Qrac a couple of times, while I watched and drooled. Who knew my horse could move like that?!

Renaud Ramadier on Qrac

Joëlle and Umbrella de Massa

As for Joëlle, her tentative quest for another horse got off to a rubber-burning start when Renaud mentioned she might like to try Umbrella de Massa, a five-year-old Lusitano Sport mare out of Oldenburg Rubin Cortes and Qarioca de la Font, a Lusitano mare sired by the aforementioned Olympian, Galopin de la Font. Umbrella had very little work for a five-year-old due to the great number of colts born during the same year, so she’d been broken in and then returned to pasture for two years. Renaud Ramadier had started riding her again early this year and had really liked her. Well, so did Joëlle. She took a series of lessons on the young mare and got along remarkably well with her, telling me right after the very first time she rode her that she’d “felt right at home.” Qrac and Umbrella got along very well too; the four of us went on wonderful long trail rides through the vastness of Font du Broc, with the grand finale being a cooling splash in one of the large, beautiful ponds on the property. This was kindly photographed by Renaud and fellow-trainer Ludovic Martin, who zoomed down to the pond on a quad bike in order to capture this monumental moment! Ludo had been away on holiday during most of our stay, but we got to know him over the last few days and were thoroughly charmed by his big, colourful personality, not to mention his top-notch equestrian skills. I’d wanted to go into the pond with Qrac since the moment we arrived at Font du Broc, having seen dozens of beautiful photos of Ludo fooling around in the pond on horseback over the past few years (we’ve been Facebook friends for a while), but the fact that he and Renaud went out of their way to drive down and take photos of us in the water with our horses (yes, Joëlle totally caved and bought Umbrella!) was very touching.

Qrac and Umbrella, they practically match!

Château Font du Broc, the boutique and garden area

Our entire stay at Font du Broc was fantastic. The lessons were excellent, my horse was extremely well looked after, and the property manages to be stunning, peaceful and spectacular, yet without an ounce of ostentation. Everyone was friendly, helpful, going out of their way to make our stay the most enjoy  

able possible, be it the team at the stables, the administrative staff, or the ladies who run the lovely boutique selling Font du Broc’s wine and olive oil. Marion, head of administration at Elevage Massa, was brilliant. When Joëlle decided to buy Umbrella, Marion still drove us to see the younger horses at Chateau Bretonne over in Saint Martin de Crau, close to two hours
away, to make sure there wasn’t a three-year-old over there Joëlle might be interested in buying instead. We loved seeing all the youngsters; the three-year-olds, the two-year-olds and the yearlings, all friendly and content, all healthy looking and used to
being handled. We were shown a selection of three-year-olds in the indoor arena, and if I could I’d definitely have treated myself to a gorgeous black, very uphill Lusitano (yes, I know, I already have a black one…) with big floaty paces. Joëlle admired a lovely grey guy with a playful personality, but her heart was already set on Umbrella. Marion later took us to visit the brood mares and their babies at another locale, where we oohed and ahh-ed at the dozens of little beauties flocking around us, all of them gentle and curious. Marion also amazed us with the efficiency with which she organised the paperwork to enable Joëlle to bring Umbrella back to Switzerland; once the mare had passed the vet-check the timeframe to get everything ready was extremely tight, but Marion made calls and rushed around and made it happen. Early on Monday morning, Joëlle and I loaded our two sleepy horses into my trailer and reluctantly set off on the long trip home, already working on potential dates to return to this incredible place as soon and as often as possible.

Some three-year old Massa stallions

Unfortunately, it’s unlikely we’ll be able to go back before next spring, which seems a long way off right now.  Next time we go, I’m hoping we’ll get the chance to meet Anne-Sophie, Sylvain Massa’s companion, who was away on holiday with Sylvain while we were there. Anne-Sophie handled my initial emails about coming to Font du Broc with Qrac, organised our stay, regularly checked on us and remained reachable by phone the entire time. She was also sweet enough to make sure we came away with Massa caps and Massa saddle cloths to match our Massa horses. And what will these two Massa owners be wearing when temperatures drop? Why, our matching Massa jackets, of course!

Believe me, after an experience like ours, I defy anyone to not become a diehard fan.

Have you ever had a similar experience? Do you enjoy going on holiday with your horse?

Summer Riding and Reading

                                                by Laura Crum

            Now that I’m finally done with the long saga of “My Life With Horses” (everybody heaves a sigh of relief), I thought I’d catch you up on what I’ve been doing lately. For those few who might be interested, I will collect the “My Life With Horses” posts into a brief memoir, which will (eventually) be up on Kindle.

            So, lately we’ve been riding (no big surprise there). Our old friend and boarder, Wally, has recovered from his knee surgery and is back to riding and roping. Here he is on the trail with my son, as they give their horses a breather climbing up the big hill. Wally turns eighty in a week or so, so his fast and uneventful recovery from knee surgery is both impressive and inspiring (to me, anyway, and perhaps to all of us older riders).

            I love riding this dirt road through the redwood forest in the summer. The shade under the trees feels like a drink of cool water on a hot day, and the dappled light is lovely. The road climbs, sometimes steeply, sometimes gradually, until it reaches the top of the ridge. It is private land where we have permission to ride and we seldom see anyone else.

            My son and Henry as we ride along the ridgeline. 

            Riding single track trail through the forest on the way home. My “ear photos” are pretty predictable. Beach photos in the winter and the forest trails in the summer. Riding through the redwoods is strictly a summertime pleasure—its dark, dank and muddy under the trees from the first major rain until it dries out sometime in late spring. So I ride here as much as I can in the summertime, when it is absolutely magical. Lately we’ve been up here a couple of times a week.

            Sunny and Henry, our very relaxed trail horses. They are just the best.

            We’re also riding at the roping arena with our friends a couple of days a week. My son helps bring up the cattle with our friend Mark.

            Henry gets to chase a steer.

            Wally’s first run post surgery. Mark heading, Wally heeling on Twister. And yes, Wally roped two feet.

            So that’s my current summer riding life. And then, there’s reading. “What are you reading right now?” People ask me this, in real life and on the internet. And on this blog we often talk about our favorite “horse books,” (not just our own books). Right now I am reading a couple of lovely novels that were recommended by my friend Funder (at “It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time” over on the sidebar). In my family we read aloud to each other after dinner (we don’t own a TV) and these are the books I’m reading to my husband and son this summer (having read them previously myself).

            “The Hero and the Crown” and “The Blue Sword” by Robin McKinley are our summer reading fare, and they are truly delightful. Both books are fantasy, about an imaginary land called Damar. Being fantasy, everything, from people to horses to other critters, is a bit bigger than life. The people are heroic (or really dastardly) and the critters, including the horses, are a bit more noble than your average real life horse. (And lets face it, we don’t meet many real life dragons.) Nonetheless, the horses ARE believable in their context as war horses; Robin McKinley has definitely spent a good deal of time with horses and is able to create believable equine personalities. Lovable ones, too.

            I have to say that the courage and intelligence displayed by the horses in the books remind me very much of the courage and intelligence displayed by my own horses, working cattle and climbing through rocky passes in the mountains and what not. I’m pretty sure my horses would not be up for facing off a dragon, but I have faced off a charging bull on a tough cowhorse and the equation isn’t so very different. Robin McKinley’s horses are real to me.

            I like fantasy, if its well written, and these novels are exceedingly well written. Both feature a very strong female protagonist (which I believe is this author’s specialty), and I take great pleasure in reading to my son of young women who are strong and courageous and smart and self-aware (he loved Brave—if you want a Disney equivalent), and I am hoping he will internalize this version of the ideal female.

            More than this, the descriptions of the landscape and climate of Damar are deeply evocative, and I will admit that this is perhaps my favorite part of writing—both in my own books and the books of others. I love description that can make you feel that you really ARE in the particular world of the book—the sights and scents, the chill of the air, the hot desert wind…etc. I am criticized once in awhile for too much description of landscape, plants and weather in my stories, but I have no criticism for this aspect of Robin McKinley’s books. I love it. I can picture Damar as if I’ve been there.

            There is one confusing thing about the two books. “The Blue Sword” was published first, but “The Hero and the Crown” comes first in chronological order, making it a prequel. THTC is actually set several hundred years (I think) before the time of “The Blue Sword”, which is a tiny bit confusing overall. The Damar of “The Blue Sword” bears a certain resemblance to India during the time of the Raj, and THTC doesn’t have this tinge at all, making the two stories very different in feeling. I wasn’t sure in what order I wanted to read them (to my family), but settled on THTC first, as that was the order in which I first read them myself, and is the chronological order. (Funder agreed).

            And finally, these are great books. Really exciting, really engaging. Not since I first read Tolkien and the Harry Potter series have I been so taken by a fantasy novel as I have been by these. If you’ve read them yourself, please chime in with your thoughts. And if you haven’t, well, if you like fantasy (at all) and horses, give them a try. Perfect summer reading.

            There you have it. My summer riding and reading. And I hope everybody else is having an equally happy summer, and enjoying those lovely views “between the ears.” If you have any summer reading to recommend, give it a shout out in the comments. Cheers--Laura

Please allow me to introduce myself

By Gayle Carline
Author of Mysteries and Humor and Horse Memoirs

Hi, I'm Gayle, and I'm a horse-aholic.

I've been invited to entertain you all on the last Saturday every month, so set your alarms, mark your calendars, here I come. I'm really excited about contributing to this blog, and I'll try not to be boring.

I thought I should introduce myself so you'll all know which corner of the equine hemisphere I inhabit. Let me start with two anecdotes:

1. When I was a teeny tot, my favorite activity was to take a huge sheet of paper and draw. I'd start in one corner with a house, a tree, a dog, and a horse (always a horse). Then I'd begin to tell the story, drawing it in as I went. Soon the paper was filled with forests and mountains and cities and fighter jets and dragons. (I told a helluva story.) My art-loving family saw all the pictures and thought I was an artist. They were wrong.

I was a storyteller.

2. I'm pretty sure I was horse crazy from the womb. I read all the horse books, collected horse statues, drew horses, dreamed of horses. My grandmother was from the country and told wonderful tales about all the horses she had known. My mother (her daughter) did not like horses and would not allow me to be around them. "They're large and you will get hurt."

When I was 45, my husband got me riding lessons for my birthday. It was the first time I actually got to ride a horse. A year later, I finally owned my first horse.

I also began writing. Fifteen years later, I have six books in print and two Quarter horses.

The lesson here, by the way, is that you cannot hide from your destiny. The life you were supposed to live will not be denied.

My first horse, Frostie, was three when I bought her. I intended to show her, but she had other ideas. She has a rather nervous temperament for the noise and chaos of a horse show. Fortunately, she has good bloodlines, so I bred her and got her son, Snoopy. You met him when I guested last week. Snoopy loves the excitement of a show, and when he's not being a goofball, he's pretty good at it.

We show in AQHA Trail classes. I've been told that these are technically called "pleasure trail" classes, but honestly, the AQHA website and show premiums don't call them that. Here is a video of my trainer, Niki, showing Snoopy at the Los Angeles Equestrian Center in Burbank. Niki was four months pregnant with her son at the time, so I took this video to show her you couldn't see the baby bump. Snoopy has his own YouTube channel. If you're interested, go here.




I have lots of pictures of me with my horses, but here's a picture of my family, which I think puts my life in context. It's our annual Christmas photo. In addition to Frostie, me, and Snoopy, let me introduce my husband, Dale, our son Marcus, the two maniacal dogs Duffy (corgi) and Lady Spazzleton (retriever-Muppet mix), and Katy the cat (who is most displeased with the whole thing).

Again, I'm super-happy to be here, and hope I can contribute to the horse cyber-discussions!

Alone

                                                            by Laura Crum

            I spent three months all alone at a Sierra Lake when I was twenty-two years old, with only my young dog for company. (See my first two posts on this topic here and here.) For those who wonder what in the world this has to do with my life with horses, I’m getting to it. Slowly but surely.

            So I’ve touched on the magic I experienced at the lake, and I’ve talked about the fear, but there was one other notable thing. And that was the pure experience of being truly alone. Not in the sense of being afraid, which I’ve already written about. But just in the sense of how different it is to be really alone.

            We commonly don’t think much about this. We talk of being alone when we are merely without others in our home for awhile. We have neighbors, we go shopping, we drive down the street. We see other people every day. Almost all of us. We are never really alone.

At Burgson Lake, I was, for long periods, truly alone. Alone as in I never saw another human. I often went to town on Saturday to buy fresh food, but sometimes I did not. I sometimes saw others when I went hiking, but quite often I saw no one. It wasn’t a heavily traveled area in any sense. And I kept track. So this is how I know that I once went for ten days without seeing another person.

Ten days doesn’t sound very long. But stop and think if you have ever gone even three days without seeing another human. How about 24 hours? Most people have not. It’s an interesting experience. There can be fear, which I experienced. There were, for me, many moments of thrilling beauty, when I stared at the light sparkles on the lake and truly lost myself in the connectedness of the moment, just as I had envisioned. There was lots of time to read, and to write in journals. I didn’t bring a timepiece, but I became very good at reckoning where I was in the day by the sun. And the days stretched long in a way that could be both delightful and difficult.

Cause here is the part I didn’t imagine before I went to the lake. You get bored. You miss other people and regular things like cars and movies and bars and such. This was before the days of the internet, but now, I suppose, you would miss the internet. I missed my boyfriend. In short, there were moments where I was lonely. I would have given anything, at times, for a loved companion.

I had my dog and I had books. All in all, I did pretty well. I wrote in my journal when I wished I had someone to talk to, and I read. I stared endlessly at the lake and the mountains and the birds and lizards and deer and pine trees and tried to understand whatever message they had for me, just as I had hoped to do. I watched the light die out of the sky, and the flames of my campfire flicker in the darkness. I watched the full moon rise over my lake. Everything around the lake became deeply familiar to me, from the small, swampy forest at the other end (lots of mosquitoes), to the “granite beach” (a gradual sloping shelf of rock that led into the lake, where I sunbathed), to the “jumping off rocks” (where I dove into deep water) to the “dock” (a huge old floating log that I tied up near my camp, which functioned quite nicely as a pier).  I became very good at building fires and prided myself on not needing even a scrap of paper or such. One match, dry needles and ferns and twigs, voila!

 And sometimes I went to town on Saturday. You have no idea how much patience you can have with things like traffic and lines and crowds and such when you spend the rest of your time completely alone. It was fun just to be in the bustling tourist town. But I was always ready to go back to my camp after a day of town life. In many ways, which I barely understood at the time, I truly was soaking in the experience of solitude like a sponge. My Walden experiment was a success in a way I never could have predicted. It gave me a pattern for my life.

And now I return to what I said in the first postscript. I view my future as being shaped by this solitary summer which changed my life. Its interesting, that summer was the only period of my life since I was fifteen and first allowed to buy a horse of my own, when I did not own a horse. I had sold Hobby in May, and I bought Burt in September (see part one and two of “My Life With Horses). In the intervening three months I lived at Burgson Lake and learned some things.

Back to the present. I said in part twelve that I envision my future as being more contemplative, and my life as becoming perhaps a somewhat solitary and hermitish life. I wrote about these themes in my twelfth novel, Barnstorming. 

The truth is that I see that I have created a life that is somewhat modeled on my time at the lake. I have a small cabin on the edge of a round riding ring. The centerpiece is a round vegetable garden with a round birdbath of clear water in the middle. Symbols for sure.

 I can see no other houses from my front porch. If I keep my gate shut and don’t go out, I can spend days without seeing a human other than my husband and son. This is it. It’s the perfect form of the life I sought. I have loved companions, I have solitude, I have that cabin by the symbolic lake. I have my Walden. My task now is to deepen in my understanding and connection—the goal I sought that summer. I believe that vision can come to fruition now.

And so my life with horses is no longer about anything I especially want to “do” with them. It is more about sharing my life with them. Because one of the things I was acutely aware of missing at the lake was horses. I didn’t so much miss riding (though I would have been happy to ride)—I just missed having horses around. And if I am to be a hermit in my old age, I want to be a hermit with horses. A happy hermit with horses. 

I have written about my feelings about wanting to be a hermit recently (see On Being a Hermit), but that post covers only one half of the equation (the cranky part). Just as I did when I was twenty-two, I still have a vision of escaping the endless busy-ness of civilized life and the pressure to do and be something that other people exert. I want to sit on my porch and watch the light die out of the sky without feeling that I must go somewhere and/or do something. Just as I did then, I want to deepen in my connection to the natural world. To be with what is. I want to live as Thoreau did at Walden Pond.

And I can do that right here. In my own cozy cabin by the shore of my solitary symbolic lake, which is, actually, about as remote as Thoreau’s cabin was in real life (he could walk to town for lunch, and could see the railroad tracks from his front door). I have the loved companions that I missed at the lake and I have my horses. I feel that my life’s journey has brought me full circle to the goal that I sought in my youth. And I am happy with this result.

We don’t know what the future holds, but if I envision anything, I envision this.

And yes, I hope to keep riding as long as my horse and I enjoy looking at the world together. Here we are yesterday on a lovely ride through the redwood forest. As Aarene says (Haiku Farm, listed on the sidebar), “Life is good.”

Other People's Horses

Good Morning - Horse Peeps! Today I'm giving a shout-out to one of our own - Natalie Keller Reinert, whose new book called Other People's Horses kept me up late finishing it.

Here's the official blurb:

It’s the dream of a lifetime — and Alex should be thrilled, taking six horses to Saratoga for the storied racing meet. But circumstances are less than ideal. With her husband, Alexander, abroad, the racing community is suspicious of her credentials. And to make her even more uneasy, Kerri, her naïve assistant, is a little too friendly with the trainer next door.

Ignoring the outside world, Alex throws herself into her work. Then she notices a new filly on the track — a filly with a problem she’s sure she can fix.

If only Alex owned that filly.

From training track gossip to tack room confidentials, OTHER PEOPLE’S HORSES continues the story of Alex and Alexander — two Thoroughbred trainers trying to do the right thing — that began in THE HEAD AND NOT THE HEART.

Oh gosh, I became totally absorbed in this one. It's the sequel to her first book, called The Head and Not the Heart, but trust me - you don't have to read that one first. Other People's Horses stands on it's own, and it's truly a horse book for horse people.

Here's my gushing review (and no, she didn't pay me to write this - hahahaha):

What a great book! I stayed up last night until midnight finishing it. This is a horse story for grown-ups. The Black Stallion for adults. Seabiscuit for women. Not only does the author dispense with all the generic "explaining" of horsey terms to outsiders, she just assumes you understand, jumps right in and hustles you along as Alex (she's a young horsewoman) takes a string of horses to Saratoga at the opening of that prestigious horse racing meet. Although those interested in horses and horse racing will adore this book, there is a lot here for anyone.

Ever been a woman knocking your head against the wall of the good-old-boys club? You'll appreciate this novel. Ever fallen in love-at-first-sight with an animal (in this case a bright chestnut filly) which you realize is a totally gut-driven, emotional, irrational choice, but you can't help yourself? You'll completely understand this story. Ever played second-string to a popular, successful husband and can't find any recognition of your own talented self? There is much to love in this fast-paced novel about Alex's attempt to prove herself as a trainer, all the while keeping her marriage to Alexander intact. This book is the sequel to The Head and not the Heart, Ms. Reinert's first novel. But this one is definitely a stand-alone novel in its own right, and I'm happy to see how Reinert has grown and matured as an author. Can't wait to read her next work.

Anyway - I totally loved this book. Whether you are or are not interested in horse racing, many of you will relate to the struggles of a young horsewoman trying to prove herself, and to use her learned and innate knowledge of horses to bring out the best in an animal.

Really well done. Brava, Natalie!

Here's the link on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/Other-Peoples-Horses-Alexander-ebook/dp/B00BUC6GFU 

Enjoy!!

Meet Gayle Carline - and a Contest!

Hi everyone! Today we have a guest post from a regular reader, author and horsewoman Gayle Carline. Besides being a humor and mystery author, Gayle is also a Quarter Horse owner who shows as an AQHA Novice Amateur. She also has a brand new book out, told from her horse's point-of-view, called "From the Horse's Mouth: One Lucky Memoir."

I thought it would be interesting to see how she captured those equine thoughts on the page, and she talks about the process here. Be sure and read to the end, where she announces a contest with an awesome prize for one of our readers.

Best of all - Gayle may soon be blogging with us regularly - so with that said:

Welcome Gayle Carline!

First of all, I’d like to thank Linda and all the members of Equestrian Ink for having me over to the blog. (Can I call you Inkettes?) I’ve been reading this blog for years, and really enjoy everyone’s posts.

Let me introduce myself: I am a mystery author and humor columnist, and I am also a horse owner. Oddly, horses have never made it into either my books or my columns, even though they started my writing career, as a freelance writer for California Riding Magazine.

When my gelding, Snoopy, was three years old he won the 2007 Pacific Coast Quarter Horse Association Trail Futurity. Then on April 30, 2008, he broke his leg. The exact bone was the left hind sesamoid.

Five years later, after the surgery and therapy had returned him to good health, I decided to write a book about the experience. I had blogged about his injury and his long road to recovery, so I had plenty of material. (You can read more at http://thatsmysnoopy.blogspot.com.)

I quickly realized that it was not my story to tell. I didn’t break my leg, Snoopy did. My point-of-view was that of an owner paying the vet bills, trying to figure out whether she was going to end up with a horse or a lawn ornament.

Snoopy needed to tell this story, in his own words.

 

 

Telling a story in an animal’s voice can be tricky, but I had two things going for me. I’ve read other good stories that were told by animals. And I may not be sane.

If you think it’s normal to talk like your animals, then I’m as normal as you are. Whenever my husband talks to the dogs, I feel compelled to answer him back – as the dogs. When Dale says, “Not that ball. Give me the good ball,” I respond (in a high barkie voice), “No! That other ball is dead to us!”

It’s the same with my horses. For example, when my trainer tells Snoopy to move over, I can’t help but say, “Ho-o-Kay,” in a goofy way. I’ve even written some of Snoopy’s blog posts in his voice.

Before I started the book, I also went back and read some first-person animal books. Black Beauty is the gold standard, in my opinion. I also read War Horse, and The Art of Racing in the Rain (which is told by a dog, but I wanted to see the contrast between the species).

Black Beauty still won me over. Beauty is an English country squire on four legs, but his interests lie in the way he and his friends are treated by their masters. For example, he speaks of being trained to bear a saddle, and it’s all about the discomfort of the girth being offset by the handful of oats and the pats from his owner.

In War Horse, as much as I loved the story, Joey was just a man in a horse suit. In one scene, he describes the Union Jack hanging in a courtyard. Snoopy would only notice a flag if it was close enough for him to eat.

As for Racing in the Rain, that dog’s an Einstein next to my four-legged Forrest Gump.

When I finished, the end result was a book I’m very proud to have written. It’s a story that is by turns funny, poignant, and insightful. I’ve not only captured Snoopy’s voice, but given voices to his friends. My editor refers to it as “Black Beauty for the 21^st century.”

What would be my advice if you want to write as a first-person in four-legs? You have to get inside their heads, just like any character. Spend time watching them, and set your imagination free. How would they describe things? What makes them happiest? Saddest? Make up their dialogue as they roll in the dirt or eat their hay or stand for the farrier.

Trust me, pretty soon, you’ll have a story!

* * * * *

In the meantime, how would you like a chance to win a nice prize? I’ve got a lovely Professional’s Choice grooming bag, a $25 Amazon gift card, and a copy of Snoopy’s book (autographed by him, of course) to the first person who can tell me, in the comments below, when Black Beauty was originally published.

Wow, super contest! Thanks, Gayle.

Readers: Ready, Set, Go!

And if you'd like to learn more about Gayle and her new book - here are a couple of links:

 http://gaylecarline.com/from-the-horses-mouth

http://www.amazon.com/Horses-Mouth-One-Lucky-Memoir/dp/0985506067/