Meeting an Old Friend...

  A lovely horse is always an experience.... It is an emotional experience of the kind that is spoiled by words. ~Beryl Markham

 Today, I'm going to digress from products and trailers to tell a rather amazing story that made me smile, and cry a little. One of the new horses at the barn is a horse named Star. She is a 13 year old pintabian mare, and she is white. It wasn't until after she nickered at me, and I walked up to pet her, that I realized that she and I were old friends. Sometimes, real life really is better than fiction.
       Back when I was a teenager, we could not afford for me to own a horse, so I wound up riding the "problem horses" at each stable I was at. Looking back now, I appreciate more than ever, this quote:

"I must not forget to thank the difficult horses, who made my life miserable, but who were better teachers than the well-behaved school horses who raised no problems." ALOIS PODHAISKY
     Early on, I came to enjoy the difficult horses. No one wanted to mess with them, so, for a while, they were treated as my own. If I was patient, and worked hard, I made more progress than the other students and knew I was learning far more. And more than anything, the horse themself rewarded me for my kindness and patience, and gave back. Sure, it hurt to lose them, but I thickened my skin and decided that I would at least do my best to give them a better life with proper training. So, after we moved to North Carolina, I found a new barn and, of course, eventually found a new project horse. Her name was Star.
     If I remember this all correctly, the owners at the time were going through a phase. They had daughters, who wanted to ride, but instead of buying steady and gentle horses which the children could learn on, they bought bargain horses. Cougar, an unbroken two year old appaloosa gelding, and Star, a 4 year old green-broke and mishandled pintabian mare. Not ideal for young children. But the horses were cheap, and they were "pretty." They were not necessarily bad people, but they did not do right by anyone in the situation. The instructor of the barn offered for me to work with the mare, as she was taking the money to board and "train" the mare, but not doing anything with her. Not a very nice lady, looking back. But, for me, a project was a project and sure thing, I could work with that filly!  
     The previous owner had sort-of broken her, but was very rough and as a result, Star was very nervous and very headshy. She was also very green. Her main quirk, though, was that when she would become anxious under saddle, she would begin half-rearing, and become very wound up. Therefore, she was labeled "HORSE THAT REARS." In addition, she bucked at the canter- so she also was labeled "HORSE THAT BUCKS" I really hate those expressions, it stereotypes too many good horses. Rearing is hard work, and a horse doesn't do it unless it hurts or is frightened. Ditto for bucking.
     Of the many horses I had worked with, she was very gentle and had a wonderful kind eye. In her own way, she was beautiful. I worked with her for a year, and with patience, kindness, and a firm hand, she blossomed into a real gem, and the perfect little miss. She was friendly, tried hard, and was tremendously giving. She would crawl into your pocket to be with you. She stopped being headshy, and stopped becoming wound up and rearing. Turned out the bucking was from being young and having zero balance. For a while, we had to stop using the arena because she couldn't make the turns. I can still remember clearly riding her around the outside of the arena to teach her to canter and turn. She learned to balance, and her rocking chair canter became the envy of everyone at the barn. She got to be darn near perfect, and had the wonderful personality to back it up.
     About this time, the owners got tired of having horses. They had stopped paying board and owed a good deal. Their other horse, the baby, became skin and bones, because they refused to pay for feed and the pastures were gone from winter. I started him under saddle, but he was too thin to ride much and too malnourished to care. I spent a little time getting him used to things so that he might survive being run through a sale. It would have been an upgrade from his current life.
       Since the owners were now looking to unload the horses, I wanted to buy Star myself, but I never bothered to ask my parents much because I discussed her price with the owners. They told me that I could buy her, certainly, for $3500, which was beyond ridiculous. They cited that she was registered, a PINTABIAN, and they needed to pay off previous board. Plus, they had been paying extra to have her trained (no, they had not been paying). And she was. By me. At the time, I was heartbroken. For all intents and purposes, she had been mine for a year. I had pampered and bathed and treated and brushed and braided and ridden her beautiful little self for a year, and was already imagining her as mine. Then that all came to a stop. The instructor, to get back at the owners for non-payment (yes, to train the mare) forced me to stop working with her altogether. I was crushed. I bought myself an "affordable" horse, my first, so that this whole thing could never happen to me again. Unfortunately, that little horse and I rather clashed and she was eventually sold to one of the barn's students. We never did really hit it off, the two of us.
     Then, suddenly, there was a big uprising at the barn. The drunken instructor was fired, and Star and Cougar were confiscated as barn property for non-payment. Angie, the very kind lady who was employed to the barn work, overnight became manager of a barn and 28 horses, many of whom were underfed from the instructor's neglect. I can still very clearly remember that miserable day, the instructor carted off in an ambulance, 40 degrees and icy cold rain pouring dawn. Hungry ponies, muddy pastures and very little feed. A really, really bad day.
      Soon after that, I went off to college and eventually parted ways with my little mare. Star became Angie's horse, for months of backpay for her hard work. I was very happy, as Angie is about the only person on the planet kind enough to deserve such a wonderful little horse. Eventually, I bought another horse, and trained and sold him. Then, I happened upon my love, Dakota.
       Walking by the two newer barn horses today, the white pintabian stuck her head over the rail and nickered at me. Unable to resist a hello, I walked over to pet her. About the time I reached over to rub her forehead, I recognized the translucent gray markings underneath the white. I knew those markings. I had lovingly washed, curried, and brushed them many, many days. And the very faint star on her forehead, I knew that, too. The stripe of white running down her right flank. The mane I have braided dozens of times. This was the very same Star, just a little older, more balanced, and lighter in color. She recognized me first, and it sadly took me a little longer to catch up.
     Now, she is starting a new adventure, with wonderful new owners who will lovingly brush those same markings and enjoy her smooth-as-silk canter and gentle, ever-questing velvet nose. She is at our barn with beautiful 70-80 acre pastures. She has new horse friends and creeks to play and splash in. New children to teach patience and kindness to. It was so very hard at the time to understand, but we were fated to have a moment in time together, then to continue on our own separate journeys. I have my best horse-friend, Dakota, and she has a wonderful new family to love and care for her. I guess, in the end, everything does perhaps happen for a reason. Debbie Watts, I'm so glad things worked out the way that they did and you have a wonderful, beautiful new gem of a horse!!