What Happens?

                                                by Laura Crum

            What happens when you take a couple of horses who haven’t been ridden much in a month, other than short rides around the property, and haul them to the beach on a brisk spring day with a chilly little wind blowing drifts of clouds around, and the waves crashing in a sprightly way on the shore? Well, lots could happen, but because these two horses were Henry and Sunny, our two very reliable trail horses, what actually happened is we had a lovely ride.

            Ok, I’m bragging. But I’m not bragging about myself because I didn’t train these horses. Nor am I doing anything to help keep them solid (see the above mentioned lack of riding). No, I’m bragging on my horses because they are such good horses and I’m proud of them. They are the ones who have simply decided that being reliable, calm trail horses is their job, and they intend to do it well—because they choose to do this. Whatever happens, they take it in stride.

            Yesterday we had the time, so hauled them down to the beach near Moss Landing (the central point of the Monterey Bay) for a ride. And they were so good. So happy to be out—it was quite obvious—brisk and forward without once pushing on us or doing anything disruptive. We had a lovely ride and I am just so grateful to these horses. What a gift they have been.

            Sunny power walked quite a bit, and I let him. We were in pretty deep sand and I didn’t want to risk trotting or loping, so we power walked down the beach for a couple of miles with sea lions playing in the waves, sand pipers running along the shore, and sea gulls swooping overhead. It was big fun.

            And my son’s 26 year old Henry was just a champ. As free moving as if he were 6 rather than 26. As long as we avoid hills, Henry is completely sound. Which makes the beach a good destination.

            Here we are headed down the trail through the sand dunes to the beach.

            Looking toward Monterey.

            Looking toward Santa Cruz. You can see the curve of the bay if you bigger the photo up.

            My son and his 26 year old Henry. My 13 year old kid does not like his photo taken, but doesn’t Henry look good? Those are the stacks of the Moss Landing power plant in the background—which I sometimes refer to as the “Two Towers.”

            Anyway, this isn’t much of a post, but I hope you can all enjoy a brief vicarious experience of riding down the beach on a pretty spring day on a really good, reliable horse. Not a dead head, but a horse who is enjoying the expedition as much as you are. A horse you can trust to take care of you. It doesn’t get much better than that. (At least for lazy riders like me who have no interest in going 50 miles, or even 30 miles, let alone 100!)

Payback Time

                                                            by Laura Crum

            I was recently discussing my horses with an acquaintance, and after hearing my litany about keeping weight on my old guys and keeping them sound and giving them lots of turn out time and grooming and attention, she asked me, “But what are you DOING with your horses these days?”

            I had to think about this. “Well, I still ride,” I said, a little hesitantly. “But not a lot, right now. I’m busy with a lot of different things, and just taking care of the horses takes time.”

            She then said, “It doesn’t sound like you’re having much fun with your horses any more.”

            I was a bit stymied by this. This gal knew me when I showed cutting horses and trained horses and competed at team roping and went on several horse packing trips in the mountains every year. You get the drift. From her point of view, my horse life looks like one big, boring drag, compared to what my horse life used to be. And really, I can see her point. But it doesn’t feel that way to me.

            I could go on and on about how I’ve reached a different stage of life and just hanging with my horses and tending my garden seems delightful to me. And I’ve talked about this before. But there’s something bigger here, and it is this. It’s payback time.

            Even if I still wanted to spend my time and money competing at some horsey event (which I don’t), the horses who carried me for so many miles, and in so many different competitions and trail rides are older now. Gunner is 34, Plumber is 25, Henry (my son’s horse) is 26 and Sunny is (I think) 19. Gunner and Plumber are retired. Henry and Sunny are still carrying us faithfully on short rides, but both are less than happy about steep hills (Henry doesn’t like the “ups” and Sunny doesn’t like the “downs”). Based on what I see (they are both sound on level ground) I think they have the slight arthritic changes that are typical of older horses. So we avoid steeper hills these days. The thing is, it’s time for me to pay these horses back for all that they have done for me. And I am glad to do this.

            Yes, I could send them to some retirement pasture. But I don’t have the money for a really first class operation, and I have seen first hand what turning these senior horses out in a pasture with very little supervision really amounts to. The older they get the harder it is on them. And eventually they are thin, lame, shivering in storms, fly bitten in summer heat, and picked on by other horses. If I want my older guys to have the care they deserve, they need to live with me, where I can make sure they get fed the supplemental feed they must have to thrive, pain meds as needed, blankets in storms and fly spray in fly season…etc. Not to mention grooming and attention that they love. So that is my first priority right now.

            Because these horses have earned this. Not only do I love them, but in all fairness, I owe them. Gunner gave me ten straight years of faithful work.

            As a cutting horse.

                    As a rope horse.

            As a trail horse.

           

            Plumber wasn’t just a rope horse (for fifteen years), he babysat my kid and me for several years as well.

            He was my pony horse for my son’s first ride at the beach.

            I could never put a price on all that Henry gave my little boy in the seven years that we have been privileged to own him.

            And Henry is still giving my son great riding experiences. What a good horse he is.

            Sunny has been a huge gift, enabling me to ride with my kid without any worries.

            We have been on literally hundreds of trail rides.

            So many happy cruises down the beach together, without one wreck, or even a really anxious moment.

            Yes, it’s payback time. And I am nothing but grateful and happy to do this.

            Thank you, my wonderful horses. I love you. And I am glad to spend my time taking care of you, in honor of all the times you took good care of me.

            I am so lucky and blessed to have you in my life.

Anybody else in this place in their horse life? Or can imagine yourself being here?

            

Colic Surgery

                                                           by Laura Crum

            I have had a few friends lately (both on the internet and in real life) who have either lost a horse to colic or had a serious colic, and the subject of colic surgery has come up. Since I have actually gone through colic surgery with a loved horse I thought I’d write a post on what I learned, in the hope that it might help someone else make a decision.

            First off, I have always been someone who said I wouldn’t do colic surgery. Too much risk, too hard on the horse, too expensive, the rehab is long and hard, many horses are never 100 percent…etc. I knew people who had done colic surgery, with varying results, and I felt pretty sure this was not a path I wanted to take.

            But…five years ago, when my son’s horse, Henry, colicked, I did, in the end, choose colic surgery. I had some pretty specific reasons for this. 1) My son had lost his beloved pony to cancer a year previously, and I was desperate not to lose Henry at this point, 2) Henry was sound and strong and in perfect health otherwise, 3) ultrasound showed a mass in his intestine that the surgeon thought was a pile of sand or small stones that needed to be removed and they felt this was a relatively straight forward surgery, and 4) Henry was in excellent shape for surgery…all his vital signs were very good. The vets at the equine center convinced me that surgery was Henry’s best chance.

            I was told the surgery would probably cost $7500, and though I had to put it on my credit card (I do not have that kind of extra money lying around), it was not an impossible amount for us as a family, and my husband was in agreement that we should try it. I would not have done the surgery if it would have been a serious financial problem for our family. (By the way, when all was said and done, with rechecks, post op problems…etc, it was more like $10,000, and people have told me that it is $12,000 today at that same equine center.)

            I was also told that Henry had a very good chance of going back to full work, which for him was walk, trot, lope trail horse. I forget the actual statistics now, but they were pretty good. The down side was that Henry had just turned twenty, and one in five rehabs had some sort of problems. Anyway, I made the choice to try the surgery.

            Those who have read this blog know that it did work out and Henry has been 100% fine for five years post surgery. Given the exact same set of circumstances, I would make the same choice. I do know the surgery was needed—I have the cantalope-sized stone they took out of Henry’s intestine on my living room shelf. However, if another one of my horses colicked tomorrow and I was faced with surgery, I think I probably would not choose this option (though again, it might depend on circumstances).

            Why? Well, having been through it, I really understand what it entails, which I certainly did not before. So let me see if I can describe the process well enough that others can understand my thinking.

            First of all, I would only consider colic surgery if the horse was, as Henry was at the time, vital and pretty much irreplaceable and completely sound and in full use. The horse would have to have an excellent prognosis going in, as Henry did. A horse that was already in distress with poor vital signs is just not a good bet. And finally (though I didn’t think much about this at the time) the horse would need to be the sort to be a good patient.

            Because the rehab was just as difficult as I had feared. First off, the horse has to be confined in a 15 by 15 stall for the first month and, guess what? They would prefer he didn’t roll. (You can easily see why.) I have no box stalls, so I built a 15 by 15 stall out of panels, under a pasture shed roof. Oh, and this just happened to be in February—it rained pretty much non-stop during the first part of Henry’s rehab. The stall had to be kept immaculate, because it was vital to keep the incision clean. So I bedded this stall VERY lightly, so Henry wouldn’t want to roll, and I cleaned it three times a day.

            The horse must be hand walked three times a day as well, and hand grazed on green grass three times a day. The horse must be fed four small meals of hay a day. Then there’s antibiotics and pain meds as needed. Taking care of Henry was almost a full time job. Fortunately, I had the time to do this.

            Henry had to go back to the equine center once a week for rechecks during the first month (and the equine center was an hour away). During these rechecks they changed his bandage (which was a huge thing that wrapped around his barrel and supported the incision). But after the first month, they had me buy a “hernia belt” (very expensive) and from then on I changed Henry’s wound dressing every two or three days myself. I learned to do it competently, but it would have been a dangerous business with a flighty horse inclined to spooking or kicking.

            Henry ended up with a couple of (very common) post surgical problems. First he got an infection (he was on antibiotics for a couple of months) and then he developed a hernia. Neither of these problems was a big deal in the grand scheme of things (though, of course I didn’t know that at the time), but they caused me a lot of worry and some expense and certainly many extra rechecks with the equine center.

            After six weeks of confinement in a stall, even the docile Henry was very full of himself and a pain to handle—I cannot imagine what this would be like with any sort of hot horse. I was worn down with worry and the constant care giving. I had been told that we could go back to riding Henry in three months, but it wasn’t until the end of four full months of rehab that we got cleared to actually ride the horse. And it wasn’t until we were six months out from surgery that we were taking him on trail rides and picking up the lope. It was a long haul.

            Six months is not a long time if you simply turn a horse out in pasture and let him heal. But this was four months of constant, every day, three and four times a day, hand walking…etc. It was a lot of work. I worried constantly that Henry would get adhesions, or a serious hernia that would require more surgery, or mean the end of him. In retrospect, since I know the horse is fine, this worry was pointless. And, of course, since I did my very best to take good care of Henry, and this was all that I COULD do, the worry was pointless in any case. But I couldn’t help worrying. It was very stressful.

Eventually rehab progressed to the point where my son could ride Henry—bareback at the walk. And this was the one and only point in all the time we’ve owned him when (the now feeling way too full of it) Henry ever dumped my kid. (My son wasn’t hurt, but it wasn’t our best moment, that’s for sure.) And then came two months of slow, careful under saddle exercise, while the horse lived in a small (20 by 20) pen. Lots of stall cleaning and pen cleaning involved, too. Again, a lot of work.

            Yes, it was worth it to me. Under the circumstances in which I made that choice, I would do it again. But I probably would not choose it today for any horse on my property. None of them have the disposition to be the excellent patient that Henry has/had, and Henry himself is 25 years old. All of my horses are in their late teens or older. Bearing in mind that we all must die sometime, I don’t think I would put myself or any of my horses through that ordeal just to extend their lives. The one exception might be Sunny—but I am not sure how he would deal with the rehab. He hates taking meds and will kick if he feels the need. I think it might be an unworkable combination.

            So yes, even though I had a successful result with colic surgery and I am very grateful that I spent the money and the time and the blood, sweat and tears to keep Henry with us, this hasn’t made me feel that I would want to do colic surgery in the future. I can’t, of course, make any recommendation on what others might want to do, because every situation is different, but I hope my story may help someone else to at least have a little more understanding than I had going into the process.

            And please, if anyone else has insights to offer, feel free to give them in the comments. 

           

My Son's Horse

                                                by Laura Crum

            Sometimes you get lucky. I had no intention of buying Henry. I had known the horse for years. A reliable, good hearted, somewhat boring horse, I thought. I had no interest in him. For most of those years I rode more athletic horses that were sensitive and perhaps a little hot. Henry struck me as dull. And he was a sorrel—my least favorite color. He did not intrigue me and I had no desire to own him, though I knew him to be a good horse—a capable rope horse, always sound, willing to babysit a child. Just not my kind of horse.

            When my son was little (between three and five years), he rode with me on my horse, Plumber. And one day, when Plumber was lame due to being kicked while in the trailer by his traveling partner, my uncle, who owned Henry, offered to let us ride the horse. I knew Henry was safe, so accepted the offer—and I was pleasantly surprised. Though a lazy horse overall, Henry had a wonderfully smooth trot and gave me a good feel. I enjoyed riding him. And I didn’t think too much more about it.

            When my kid turned five, I bought him a pony. And for two years he rode that pony almost every day. At first with me leading him, and later with me ponying him from my horse, and after about a year, my son rode Toby independently, while I rode along with him on Plumber. Toby was a real jewel. He was a big pony, thirteen and a half hands, and I thought, if I thought about it at all, that my son would grow up riding his pony, as the girl who owned Toby before us had done, and that when my boy became a teenager I’d move him up to a horse—just like the previous owner.

            Sadly Toby died of cancer just two years after we bought him. It happened the same autumn we lost our old dog and an old cat that was my son’s special friend. All within a six week period. It was my child’s first real brush with mortality, and it was a tough introduction. I was desperate to do something to alleviate the pain. I couldn’t bring Toby back, but I could make sure that horseback riding didn’t disappear for us with the loss of the pony. If I could find the right replacement for Toby.

            I remember telling my husband that none of our horses were suitable to mount a child on—too sensitive, too spooky. It wasn’t worth the risk. “But I know of one,” I said. And I called my uncle up and asked what he’d take for Henry.

            My uncle has been a horse trader all his life. He wasn’t planning on selling Henry, but it was autumn and the roping season was coming to an end for the year. Now he would feed the horse through the winter and not get any use out of him. And Henry was 19. Though sound, his days as a rope horse were probably limited. And my uncle knew that I would give any horse I took on a good home. And so he named a price—a very high price for a nineteen year old horse that was to be used as a kid’s riding horse. I said, “Fine. I’ll take him.” And the next day Henry was in my barn.

            My knowledgeable horse friends thought I was nuts. “He WAY overcharged you,” they said. “Did you vet him?” they said.

            I shrugged. No, I didn’t vet him. I knew him. And I also knew that I could search forever and not find another horse I was sure about. Sure he was sound, sure he was safe. It was worth every cent to know that my kid could keep riding and that I wouldn’t have to worry. I trusted Henry.

            And so it proved. When I bought Henry my little boy had just turned seven. Toby the pony had taught him to ride, but we really hadn’t ventured out of the arena much. My son had just begun asking me to go on trail rides shortly before Toby died. And with Henry, we jumped right in. Below you see us on my son’s first ride at the beach, shortly after we bought Henry—it was Henry’s first time at the beach, too, I believe. In the photo we have just emerged from the trail through the sand dunes and are looking at the ocean. If I look a bit stern it’s because I was wondering how Henry would react to his first sight of the sea (he was fine). Plumber, my horse, never did care for the beach, which I think you can tell from his expression. But we had a good ride that day, and my son was hooked on riding “outside.”

            However in the months to come I realized it was time to retire Plumber, who was 20. Plumber was peggy on downhills and let me know he did not care for trail riding any more. Not to mention he was spooky. He spooked at every little rustle in the brush. This had never bothered me before, but now I had to keep my attention on my son. I needed a solid horse that could take care of himself and give Henry a steady lead. And so I bought Sunny.

            Sunny was as steady on the trail as Henry. Not much of anything bothered him. And my son and I, on Sunny and Henry, went on over a hundred trail ride adventures in the first year that we owned these two horses.

            Through the woods.

                               To the Lookout.

                                    On the beach.

                                 In the redwood forest.

Over the hills.

                         Henry was a trooper. He loped endless circles for my kid.

                                          He chased cattle.

            He was just a great horse. And then he colicked. It seemed, initially, to be a mild colic. We treated him. But every time the pain killer wore off, the pain came back. Henry never did seem to be in great distress. But he wasn’t coming out of it. After two days of this, we hauled him to the equine center. And there, after X-rays and ultra-sound, they told me that he needed surgery.

            I have to admit, I have always been one of those people who said they would never do colic surgery. Too much money, endless rehab, a lot of horses don’t recover, just too much grief for both horse and owner. So my inclination was to say no. And besides Henry wasn’t looking too bad. Just mildly painful. He didn’t look like a horse that needed surgery.

            But the vet convinced me that it was Henry’s best chance. And I couldn’t stand not to try. We’d lost Toby a little over a year ago. If I could help it, we weren’t going to lose Henry. It was a tough decision, and I drove away from the veterinary center with tears streaming down my face, not sure if I’d ever see Henry again.

            But I did. We all did. The very next day we drove to the center to take Henry (with a huge bandage around his middle) for a walk. And the old horse was a bit shaky, but bright-eyed. He nickered when he saw us and walked eagerly alongside my son and grazed on the green grass. And the vet handed me a cantalope sized stone they had taken out of his intestine.

            Henry recovered. The rehab was as long and time consuming and frustrating as I had feared, but we got through it. Six months later, Henry was back to full work and doing great. I will be forever grateful.

This was five years ago, and we have gone on hundreds of trail rides since. I have grown to love Henry as much as I have ever loved any horse. Not just for the gift he has given my son, though that alone is priceless, but for himself. For his wonderful, bright-eyed, tough little self. My son’s red horse. Who still carries my kid bravely on adventures, and is 100% sound and free moving at 25 years of age. Like I said to begin with, sometimes you get lucky. Thank you, Henry. You have a forever home with us.

My son and Henry headed back to the barn after a good ride--April 2013.

 Henry enjoying some post-ride grazing--April 2013

Feeling Too Good

                                               by Laura Crum

            I am happy that Gunner, my 33 year old horse, feels good these days. But lately it’s been sort of a problem. The old boy wants to charge around, bucking and spinning and galloping up and down his pen at the drop of a hat. He especially likes to do this when I remove the neighbor horse from his pen. Gunner isn’t really worried—and there’s a horse on the other side of him. It’s just a good excuse to pitch a fit.

            The thing is, Gunner was never known for being sensible. A trooper yes, no quit in him. Friendly, kind, cooperative, playful…check. A heck of an athlete, yes. A tremendous amount of cow, super trainable…all of the above. But, sensible, no. My Sunny horse is sensible. Gunner is and always was the sort of horse who saw horse eating monsters everywhere. I believe the new term is a “sensitive, reactive” horse. I just called him a big spook. Also a goofball.

            So its not really surprising that Gunner, at the advanced age of 33, will choose to gallop madly down his sloping pen, slide to a stop at the bottom, spin round and race to the top, neighing wildly. Lather, rinse, repeat. All because the neighbor horse is out of his pen, grazing. Even though Gunner can, of course, see his buddy. He can also see the other horses. He just ain’t sensible. He LIKES getting all worked up.

            I watch these shenanigans, holding my breath. It’s fun to see that Gunner can still move so well when he wants to. But I fear these downhill charges will eventually result in the old, arthritic horse piling it up. I picture him breaking his leg or his neck, and yep, I go fetch his buddy and put the horse back in his corral. That’s how big a wimp I am.

            On the other hand, it’s not fair to Plumber, the buddy, if he never gets out. To my chagrin, I find that horses are very aware if they didn’t get their “turn.” The accusing stares and plaintive nickers that follow me when one horse does not get his turn out time speak louder than words. Plumber is a very people oriented horse and he lets me know he wants his fair share of the attention and grazing. So a week or so ago I turned Plumber out for awhile, and watched Gunner.

            It had just rained and the ground was slick. I had my misgivings. But I had not given Plumber a turn out in a couple of days. What’s a good horse owner to do?

            For awhile Gunner seemed OK. He could see Plumber grazing nearby. But then Plumber moved a little ways away, and the long unhappy neighs began coming from Gunner. He started trotting up and down the top end of his corral, sliding with every footfall. Shit, I thought. It’s too slippery.

            I caught Plumber and hustled back with him. But before I could get there, Gunner loped across the pen, slid to a stop, slipped, went down, and piled it up on the ground. He thrashed on his side, and seemed unable to get up, and my heart went to my throat. I will admit that I screamed, “Gunner!” like a teenage girl. I thought he had broken something.

            I have seen horses break their legs; I have seen them break their necks. I know what can happen. For that moment while my old horse thrashed on the ground, all these horrible scenarios flashed through my mind. And then Gunner got his legs under him and heaved himself to his feet. He limped off, but he was clearly not broken.

            I put the reluctant Plumber back in his pen and kept watching Gunner, who moved around and pretty soon walked out of his limp. He was Ok then. But my problem was bigger than ever.

            Because now I know that I am risking Gunner getting hurt if I turn Plumber out. And I just don’t want the old boy to die because I took the risk.

            What to do? I had the bright idea I might turn Gunner and Plumber out together. I don’t usually do this because my property is 1) Not perimeter fenced the whole way around, and 2) Full of places (like by the house or inside the shop or haybarn) where the horses COULD go, but I don’t want them to. There is good grazing on the verges of the riding ring, along the driveway, and in the barnyard area, and the horses usually stay where they belong. I shut (and lock) the front gate, and the back of the property (not fenced) is very steep and brushy and no horse has ever tried to escape that way (in twenty years). But…

            As a safety precaution, I turn the horses loose one at a time. That way they don’t tend to run and play and get in trouble, and I’m sure that the loose horse will not leave the others. However, I decided to try Plumber (24) and Gunner (33) loose together. Surely two old horses could graze peacefully side by side in the sunshine. Right?

            Bad idea. The very first thing they did was start farting around. Nipping each other, squealing, trotting off together, charging up the hill to the riding ring like a little cavalry brigade. Not at all what I had in mind. They just wouldn’t settle down and graze. They were having too much fun. Never mind that they can play around and nip each other in their side-by-side corrals and this was their one chance to graze on green grass. Nope, they had to go crashing about. And then the old farts wouldn’t let me catch them. Again, having too much fun. I did eventually get them caught and put away…and that was the last time I tried that.

            So now I feel kind of stuck. I turn Henry out.

                              I turn Sunny out.

                              I turn Gunner out.

            And then I catch Plumber and hand graze him, keeping him close to the corrals so that Gunner doesn’t freak out. It’s a solution, but not an ideal one. Plumber would prefer to be free, and I would prefer not to babysit him. But I worry about the downside. What would you do?

            

Racing a Shadow

                                                by Laura Crum

            A boy and his horse—racing their shadow on the ground. I love this photo. Not because its such a great shot in any technical way (it isn’t), but it captures a unique feeling. It reminds me of my own childhood on horses…and helps me to understand what’s really important (at least to me), in my life with horses today.

            The photo is of my twelve year old son and his twenty-four year old horse, Henry. Long trotting down the arena on a sunny November day. I snapped the shot from my own horse, Sunny—one reason it is not all that sharp. At the time, I didn’t even realize what my kid was doing; I just thought, look how free that old horse is trotting, and clicked a photo. It was only when I looked at the picture that I realized that my son was looking down at his (and Henry’s) shadow. It just makes me smile.

            Something in the captured moment speaks to me. Of an old horse who is still sound and free moving, not to mention as bombproof a riding horse as ever lived, and a young boy who is still in the magical space of childhood, both of them sharing a feeling of freedom and fun. This, exactly this, is what I meant to bring to my child through horses.

            To this end I have avoided formal riding lessons, though I’m capable of teaching them and have taught others to ride. I have not steered my kid towards competing at any horse sport, though I have competed at several events myself. If my son had shown a desire to pursue and compete at something (horse oriented or not), I would have honored this with my support. But he has (so far) expressed no strong desires in this direction, and I have to admit I am relieved.

            Because though I know there are positives in competition, and there can be much fun as well, I also know the negatives. I competed for many years at cutting and team roping, and I strongly believe that ALL horse sports (and every competitive sport) do, in certain ways, detract from the gentle magic that can happen when we are not focused on improving, achieving, and competing with others. When we ride for the pure fun of riding and enjoying our partnership with a good horse…well, all I can say is that a peace and tranquility become part of the experience. An acceptance of each other’s strengths and faults. A letting go and enjoying the moment. A freedom, pure and simple.

            Freedom from focusing on just the right form, freedom from judging our own performance, freedom from being critical of our horse. Freedom from wondering if we are doing better” or “worse” than someone else. Freedom just to enjoy being on a horse, racing our own shadow.

            For those very many of you who compete at some horse sport or other, I totally understand, after twenty years of competing myself, that one can compete on a horse and still remain centered in enjoying the moment, free from over-pressuring oneself and the horse. It can be done, and many of you do it. But there are very many who do not have the strength of mind and clarity to do this. Competition is a seductive thing—the drive to “improve” can easily become the very narrow negative need to win…to prove oneself better than others. To validate oneself in the eyes of the world. And yes, you see this in all disciplines, as far as I can tell.

            What I wanted for my son was something different from this urge for achieving goals and validation. I wanted him to ride free of the need to prove anything to anyone, just enjoying the partnership with his horse. I let the horse be his teacher, as well as his friend, and I gave them many, many hours together. On the trail, at the beach, gathering cattle, in the arena. I seldom corrected my kid, or gave him direction…only when it was truly needed. And Henry has been the best teacher my little boy could ever want.

            So, no, my kid, for all his hours of riding, does not have a very correct “form”. He does not know how to pick up the correct lead. (As an ex rope horse, Henry prefers the left lead, so we lope him in that direction in the arena.) My son has a good seat and knows where to be when gathering cattle, he can urge his horse through a creek or mud crossing, pop him over downed trees on the trail, and duck accurately for low, solid limbs as we trot or lope up a steep hill. He can open and close a gate from his horse. He has waded with Henry in the surf. Both he and his horse are troopers out on the trail, not intimidated by fairly daunting obstacles, and not complaining or weakening as the ride goes on for hours.  In that sense, my kid is a good hand. But I’m sure he (and Henry) would not win a ribbon in any horseshow class on earth. And I’m fine with that.

            Perhaps the day will come when my son will want to compete at something. Maybe he’ll wish he got started when he was young, as all very strong competitors seem to begin very young. Maybe he’ll blame me…why didn’t you get me started roping or cutting, it would have been so easy for you to do…etc And all I will be able to say is some version of this blog post. I thought I was giving you a better thing.

            I’m not sure I’m right about this in any overall sense. It’s just my own inclination, and my feeling about this particular child. I’m sure if my son had been very keen to learn to rope or cut cattle, I would have taught him. If he had longed to pursue any sport, I would have helped him. And I still will, if this comes our way in the future. But for now we are still, both of us, just racing our shadows. Having fun with our horses to no purpose but the fun.

            So how about you? Do some of you ride solely for fun, as we do, or are most of you happy to be focused on some goal, whether it be a fifty mile ride you want to complete, a dressage level you aspire to, or a year end buckle you are striving for? And I am happy to hear why others think that being involved in competition is the greater good. Fire away.

            

In Praise of Henry

By Laura Crum

Its sunny and we’re riding again. The horses have had two weeks off due to bad weather. Monday we saddled up and rode in my riding ring—walk trot only because the ground is not perfect yet. The trails will be too wet for some time to come. Both Sunny and Henry felt pretty good—who can blame them. And yet both little guys were well behaved for a fairly sedate session of walk trot work. I am so grateful for them.

So yesterday, as I was thinking about writing a post, I decided I just want to sing Henry’s praises and through him, extol the virtues of buying your child an old, solid horse. So often people opt in favor of the younger, less solid horse, and I know the reasons for this. But the absolutely wonderful, 100% positive experience my son has had with Henry is a good reason to consider that older horse when you’re shopping. And for those who are not the boldest older “re-riders”, this applies to you and me, too. Don’t overlook the “Henry’s” of this world. Let me show you why.

Here is Henry. Henry is a registered QH gelding, of mostly running bloodlines. He is 14.3 hands. I’ve known Henry since he was a young horse. He belonged to a friend of ours, Harold Warkentin, who team roped on Henry until Harold was 80. The photo above shows Henry as a six-year-old at Harold’s place.

Henry was always reliable for Harold and when Harold gave up roping in his 80’s my uncle bought Henry. Henry was 15 at the time. My uncle used him as a practice rope horse and to mount his grandkids on. I watched Henry be perfectly sound and well behaved for an assortment of people for four years. His only vice was being a touch lazy, and I consider that a virtue in a kid’s horse. Henry had smooth gaits and was absolutely reliable, in the pen and outside. When my son’s pony died three and a half years ago (my child had just turned seven years old at the time), I asked if my uncle would sell Henry. Sure he would. For the same five thousand dollars he’d paid for him four years ago.

My friends told me I was nuts. I shouldn’t have to pay five thousand for a nineteen year old horse. And I was perfectly aware that my uncle was cutting a fat hog at my expense. (He’d done this before.) But I knew Henry was the horse I wanted for my son. And he’s been worth every penny.

Since I bought Henry, my son and I have been on hundreds and hundreds of rides together (I kept track the first year—we went on 120 trail/beach rides that year, not counting arena riding). Not once has my kid been hurt or even scared. We have seen many lovely things that will be with us forever. My son has learned to be a confident and effective rider. What price could I put on that?

The photos below show my son riding Henry. They’re not the best pictures, since I took them while riding my own horse, Sunny. But if you look you will see the relaxed, confident demeanor in both horse and child. They are enjoying the world together. And look at what they get to see. I could not have taken my little boy all these places without a horse as solid as Henry.

Henry in riding ring.

Henry on the trail.

Henry at the beach.

Henry is twenty three this spring and still perfectly sound. He colicked when he was twenty and I paid for colic surgery to save his life, but that happens to horses both young and old. The odds are that he doesn’t have ten more years left as a riding horse, as a younger horse might have, but certainly many younger horses have more soundness issues than Henry—who currently has none. He is completely sound and goes barefoot. And if I lost him tomorrow, those last three and a half years are a gift I will value forever.

Henry—twenty three years old.

My son rode Henry yesterday—another pleasant walk/trot session in our riding ring, which still has some muddy spots. Nothing special. Took about twenty minutes. Just what you see in the riding ring photo, which was actually taken last fall. But I cannot think of one single thing that I consider a greater gift than this regular, pleasant, confidence-building interaction my son has with this great old horse. When my son was done he gave his horse a cookie (which we have taught Henry to take politely) and we turned him loose to graze in the ring (which has plenty of grass right now) for an hour. We were all content.

So thank you, Henry, for all you’ve given and are giving us, I will take care of you and love you until the end of your days. And to all of you who are looking for a horse and are offered a chance at a rock solid oldster—do not discount the pure joy available in the reliable ride, free of fear and struggle. Does this look like happiness or what?

Henry and kid—loping in the springtime (last year at this time).

Anybody else have an older riding horse you just love?