Black with white stripes or white with black stripes, scientists have studied zebras for years and still can’t definitively say which is true. The one thing they do know is that their stripes are all unique to the individual zebra just like fingerprints. With each passing year, I learn how my stripes make me unique and how they now truly serve as reminders of the strength I never knew I had. I’d love to share the story of how I got a few of my stripes. I hope that it encourages you to see any trials you may face as an opportunity to overcome and gain beautiful stripes.
5 years ago, my then fiance who loves the outdoors and has his own landscaping company told me that I needed to get a hobby so that I could enjoy the sun and fresh air like he did daily. During this time I was battling serious bouts of anxiety and depression, so finding something that I was passionate about that could get me out of the house wasn’t a bad idea. Little did we know that I was about to get more than a hobby or a passion, I was headed toward a full-blown obsession!
It was that same summer a friend of mine who grew up doing something I always dreamed of doing reached out to me to invite me to join him and his partner on a trail ride. My first answer was “absolutely not,” to be honest, I was afraid. It wasn't until I had a moment to reconsider my first encounter with a horse that I changed my mind. It had been so long ago that I had forgotten how much I wanted to have a horse of my own. You could imagine the reservations of someone who had spent the latter part of her life only encountering horses in parades and seeing the occasional horse-drawn carriage in Downtown Memphis. My first ride did not take place that weekend with Sadie at Shelby Farms but in fact, it took place years before at my AAU basketball coach’s home.
It was a tradition for us to have an end-of-season slumber party and this year it would be at their home in Unincorporated TN. The drive was almost as memorable as the party itself. As we drove down the rural roads that had fields and crops for miles, my mother fumbled with the now ancient road map in the time before Google. I began to get nervous. As a city girl, I’d never seen so much land, there were no street lights, no business, just land. The roads were winding and narrow, we came to what was supposed to be the house of my coach but there was only a mailbox in view. We began the 3-minute journey down the tree-lined driveway, the end of the drive revealed a beautiful home with a white fence, a barn, and three horses. I was in awe… I’d never seen anything like it. While there, my coach gave us all pony rides on one of the horses. At that moment, I knew exactly what I wanted that year for Christmas.
Even at such a young age, I knew that horses weren’t cheap, so it was a good thing I’d informed my parents of my Christmas request in August, giving “Santa” more than enough time to work his magic. Now in hindsight, I probably should have asked for horseback riding lessons instead of an actual horse, because living in the city I’m sure my parents were considering boarding and all the other expenses that come with horse ownership. My parents let me down gently by reminding me of all the other competitive sports I was already involved in. As time passed my interest in horses soon dwindled to an appreciation of the majestic animals.
It's funny how as adults we so easily forget things that were once so important to us as children. That is exactly what I was thinking that summer on the trail ride with my friends. On that ride, my fear soon turned to laughter thanks to the trail horse “Sweet” Sadie. I’d go on to find out that she was a retired barrel racing horse, who had speed, but no desire to go fast towards anything except a bucket of feed. I learned a lot on that first ride, from the trail guides as well as other customers. I also learned from Sadie that horses choose to listen to their riders, made evident by the many trees that I attempted to steer around, but instead walked right through because Sadie wanted a quick snack. By the time we finished the ride and returned to the barn my feeling of fear had gone from fun to a great sense of accomplishment. I got home from the ride and could not wait to share what I did that day with my fiance. I spent the latter part of the evening replaying in my mind the ride I had that day with “Sweet” Sadie.
Coincidentally, we lived at the time less than 5 minutes away from the barn. I passed the pastures daily. The next day as I was headed home from running errands I found myself turning back into the park and pulling back up to the barn. I was greeted at the window by Blair, one of the guides who took me on the trail ride the day before. Blair was an outspoken hard-working horse-lover, who would go on to become one of my closest friends. I was ecstatic to learn that she was one of the instructors for their private lessons and that her lesson for the day had been canceled. Before I knew it I'd signed up for private lessons and was headed to Target to buy boots to ride in.
My first lesson was a success. When I finally made it home from the errands that I left to run that morning my husband was surprised to see me in rain boots covered in dust from head to toe with a huge smile on my face. It had only been about a month since he told me that I needed to find a hobby. He’d seen the look I had on my face many times before so he knew that lesson would be the first of many. After taking lessons for a year with Blair I began volunteering at the barn. I was still a novice rider so I helped with the barn chores and when I was lucky I got to tag along in the back of the trail rides. I found myself going to the barn whenever I had free time. Sometimes I’d go multiple times a day! I continued my lessons and though I was progressing, there was one thing I just couldn’t master. I had walked down and I even had sitting and rising trot mastered. However, sitting a lope simply availed me. I’d gone through three different instructors, by the end of that year, one English Show Jumper, one barrel racer, and one self-taught rider. They’d all tried to teach me how to sit in a lope and explained that it was a feeling and once I caught the movement, I’d have it down. Well, remember the barrel racer I just mentioned, he had the best seat I’ve ever seen, he made riding a lope look as simple as inhaling fresh air. To help me find the “feeling” he told me to lean back like I was in a recliner, hold the horn and ride it out until I could find the “feeling.” Needless to say, I still couldn’t find my seat, however, I did find a really bad habit of always holding the horn. Aside from this minor setback, I was able to do all of the other basics, so the time had come for me to be a lead trail guide. I reveled in being able to accompany people as they encountered these magnificent creatures, some for the first time and some as a revival of an old love.
My 1st Trail Ride with Sadie
Stripe 1
The more I volunteered at the barn the more I longed for a horse of my own. Little did I know, finding a horse to partner with is much easier said than done. Cinderella or Cindy for short helped me learn this fact the hard way. Cindy was a beautiful palomino Haflinger, with a beautiful long mane and tail. I was so obsessed with her. She’d been purchased as a lesson horse for the barn. There was only one little problem that the sellers forgot or neglected to tell us. Cindy was not a fan of horseflies, at all. If one even landed on her she would freak out and bolt or buck. Me being the naive newly self-proclaimed equestrian thought it would be a good idea to have Cindy be my main horse to take on trail rides as I continued to learn the ropes as a lead guide. I’d soon live to regret that idea.
One evening while taking out a private evening ride, a horsefly landed on Cindy’s butt as they naturally do in July, and I got to experience my first rodeo. I mean I’d attended Bill Picket’s Rodeo, but I had only ever been a spectator, I was living the action this time. My heart stopped, we were at the top of a steep hill that was muddy from the rain earlier that day, and all I could think of was her bucking and taking one wrong step and us going tumbling down the hill head first. I managed to ride it out but hopped off at the first chance I got. To say as a new rider I was shaken would be an understatement. Luckily there was another guide on the ride to finish the trails with the cute couple. I didn’t want to ruin the couple's ride, so I did not continue with the group. I also did not get back on Cindy! Yes… I walked back to the barn on foot, working hard to not be seen by the ride, but also to beat them back, so that I could help close out the day. Not an easy feat as horseflies do in July kept biting Cindy, who kept trying to bolt and buck! Before you even think it, yes she had both fly spray and swat all over her.
On the walk back, as I reflected on my choices, I’d made up my mind that I’d never ride Cindy again. Little did I know, my barn friends were not going to let that happen. I’d become fast friends with one of the veteran volunteers that I nicknamed LoLo. We both lived at the barn, she was ecstatic about my love for horses and was determined to get me back on Cindy. As we usually did, we made plans to ride after work, to my surprise I arrived at the barn to find Cindy was the horse that had been left up for me to ride that night. Against my better judgment, I gave in to the peer pressure. I talked myself into it because, if I started to feel uncomfortable I could just hop off and walk back again… Right? While on the ride, I was getting increasingly uneasy, but managed to stay calm enough to keep going. I refused however to go deep into the woods to avoid the horseflies. My plan was working, there had been no major problems, and I was finally starting to breathe and focus on what was about to be a beautiful sunset. As we started back toward the barn, it began getting dark fast. We were almost back, but we had to close the gate. As Cindy and I waited, LoLo attempted to close the gate without getting off of her horse, nothing that we hadn’t done before. Only this time, I was on Cindy, who I now know is not only not a fan of horse flies, but she is also hugely opposed to plastic bags. Cindy was becoming increasingly antsy as we waited. I wanted to get off, cause I could just hop off and walk back again… Right? LoLo assured me that she’d get the gate shut on her fifth try. I tried turning Cindy in small circles a few times to keep her feet moving as we waited, but after the 6th failed attempt at closing the gate, the sun was now almost completely gone and Cindy was over waiting. I could barely see my hand in front of my face. That was it, I had been brave enough for one day. It was time to hop off and just walk the rest of the way back. I could see the barn now, so yeah my mission was accomplished and I’d survived. I got Cindy to stop, I took a deep breath and took my right foot out of the stirrup. But before I could “hop off” as I so brilliantly planned to do, the dreaded plastic bag that I just mentioned decided to attack “poor” Cindy. Just like that, we were off to the races, only Cindy was no thoroughbred, and I was no jockey. Cindy was a strong Haflinger and I was a novice rider, who couldn't sit a lope with both stirrups let alone with only one! I tried to do “nose to toes”, but anybody who knows horses knows how strong Haflinger is. At that moment I had two choices, continue to try to ride it out, which I didn’t know how to do, or let Jesus take the “hypothetical” wheel and bale. At that time I’d only been riding for about a year, but I’d known Jesus since I was 7. So, I decided to do as I've done a hundred times before, “Let Go and Let God”. As I tried to remember not to tense up as I went barreling toward the ground, I remember briefly thanking God for having on a helmet, then instantly feeling the sting of the gravel as I tumbled to a stop. The first deep breath I managed was followed by what I can only describe as a “wale.” I was in a full-blown panic attack because I wasn’t hurt, but I was so overwhelmed by how badly that could have ended that panic was the only emotion I could obtain at that moment.
Before My Last Ride on Cinderella
I’d started riding horses to help me overcome my anxiety and depression and they were starting to be just that, but Ms. Cindy had just caused a major setback. After having two very scary experiences with Cindy riding had become a new stimulus for my anxiety. Every ride ended with me walking back on foot and in a full-blown panic attack. Overcoming my anxiety would prove to be one of the hardest things I’d ever do. I refused to let it take me away from my new love. For over a year I spent my time at the barn doing pretty much everything with the horses except riding. My barn family was so patient with me. They still included me in everything, and while giving up on horses was never an option I had considered being around them and not riding. But that was not helping my depression, and riding during that time wasn’t helping my anxiety. I was stuck in limbo. I was advised by one of the girls at the barn to try taking English lessons at a barn that specializes in equine therapy to work on getting my confidence back and overcoming my riding anxiety. I took her advice and started taking lessons that winter when things had slowed down at the barn. I spent most of the time in my lessons in tears being ponied around on a horse named RED. He was a sweet, gentle old man, but he was a grumpy grouch in the crossties, which did nothing to help ease my anxiety. I’d become positive that any sign of attitude meant the horse was going to buck or bolt with me. No matter how much I tried to tell myself how irrational I was being, and that these horses that were used for literal therapy wouldn't do anything to harm me, I just couldn’t shake it. I took about five lessons there before I was too ashamed to ever return. I mean there was a 6-year-old cantering around jumping over cross rails while I sometimes was too scared to even throw my leg over the horse.
That winter passed quickly and it was time to add to the herd at the barn in preparation for the busy spring and summer months. We were getting new horses almost every week. By the time Spring break had rolled around, we had a new palomino, two paints, two appaloosas, several quarter horses, and that wasn’t including the horses from the Arkansas Prison Auction. They were all beautiful, and all had finished training and were in the lineup for customers in no time. I spent that Spring and Summer helping out around the barn with chores but still wasn’t back in the saddle. This was my first Spring at the barn so I got to encounter the barn’s weekly polo matches. I loved watching and helping wrangle the ball when it went out of bounds. While I loved being at the barn to work with the horses, I was beginning to get a bit envious of my barn friends and how effortlessly they could ride and be carefree doing what they loved. Why couldn’t I just snap out of it? Cindy had gone to her new home to work as a cattle horse, and all subsequent rides had been uneventful on the horses’ part. I was riding horses at the barn that were safe for first-time riders and children but still couldn’t shake my feelings of imminent dread and panic attacks.
That summer went by so fast, maybe because the summers were filled with camps and pony parties that it all just became a blur. It was now the time to thin the herd for winter, each year the horses who were found to require retirement, or who proved to be unable to handle the Memphis summer heat were sold to new loving homes. My friend LoLo was the resident saleswoman, I mean she could sell sand at the beach. As she worked to rehome each horse, she approached me about an idea she’d been pondering over, but was unsure of how much faith I’d have in her after the Cinderella debacle. She suggested I give the old blue-eyed paint, who was a retired ranch horse from Colorado a try. I wasn’t very hopeful, but after a year of trying everything I could, I had nothing to lose. This time I had the owner’s girlfriend give him a ride in the arena, I wasn’t making the same mistake twice. He did everything she asked, the first time she asked so I figured it was worth a try.
I saddled him up, grabbed a helmet, and said a silent prayer before throwing my leg over the saddle. As we began our ride down the lane toward the trails, me on the old ranch horse and three of my friends on their horses for moral support, I focused on my breathing working hard to keep the panic attack I felt looming at bay. With a sigh of relief, we’d made it… to the top of the hill from the barn. The girls were talking to try and keep my mind off of my nerves, but I could only focus on what each step meant, would he trip, would he buck or bolt, I was looking around at every possible thing that could cause an “issue”, would there be another plastic bag, a horsefly or a deer popping up out of the trees? No, no it was going to be… a plastic water bottle. This was not a drill, in my mind I thought, okay pull back say whoa, and get off, this isn’t going to end well. My friends insisted I see it through. They assured me everything was going to be fine. In my extreme focus on trying to steer around the bottle and avoid it completely, I inadvertently steered him right to it. As he stepped down my heart stopped as the bottle crinkled under his hoof, I dug my heels down, shortened my reins, and grabbed the horn for dear life. I even closed my eyes in preparation for what was to come next, but to my surprise, the old man kept right on down the hill not phased at all, not even by my tense hands and legs and my anxiety that I'm sure he could sense. When I opened my eyes my friends were laughing and so was I. It was the first time I’d smiled on a horse in over a year. That ride was the first of many that I’d take on My Blue Eyed Old Man. I’d bought my first horse and he was worth his weight in gold, in no time Skip helped me regain my confidence. I was taking out trail rides alone, going out on solo rides to open and close gates, riding bareback and I’d even finally found my seat in the lope! Everything was going so well, we were forming the perfect partnership. I was learning to cope with my anxiety and my depression was now being managed with daily vitamin D and exercise.
First Ride on Skip
Stripe 2
The months continued to fly by and the cold weather of February was not enough to stop me from going to the barn every day after work to see my handsome old man. That Wednesday had started like all the rest, my school was having its end-of-quarter awards program, so I was all dressed up. The program was a success and it was my day to cover cafeteria duty, but midway through the second lunch, I started not to feel so well. I sat down for a moment to try and pull myself together. I had a second wind so I stood to begin lunch dismissal. As the teachers began to take out their scholars, I reached for the 6th-grade math teacher, but before I could say anything, I was out cold. I tried to come to, I could hear the commotion around me but couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes. The school nurse tried testing my vitals but when I told her the year was 1992, she gave the word to call 911. I did not want the hefty ambulance bill, so I tried even harder to pull myself together.The EMTs were there in what seemed like seconds, I had managed to open my eyes, they sat me up in a chair and I gave my best ‘I’m okay” impression. That didn’t last long because before I knew it I was out cold again. They loaded me onto the stretcher and wheeled me out to the ambulance. I was in such rough condition that once I arrived at the ER I went straight to triage and bypassed the waiting room. They loaded me up with IV fluids and I waited to see the doctor. I was in and out of consciousness for a while until about the third bag of fluids. My now husband and mother were there and we continued to wait on the doctor, but he never came. Instead, the nurse came to tell me that I was being admitted and I’d be moved to a room shortly. We were all in shock, besides I was kinda feeling a bit better. I tried bargaining with the nurse seeing if I could go home and just come back the next day. “Absolutely not,” she said as she flipped through my labs on her clipboard. You see, my blood work had shown that my Hemoglobin was 4. Just for context, normal hemoglobin for a woman is between 12 and 15. I was at risk of having my heart stop. So of course with this new insight, I complied and stayed. We finally saw the doctor early the next morning. He came in and asked me three very strange questions. Do you like to eat ice? My husband beat me to the answer “Yes, she eats a Sonic cup of ice every day." As he scribbled down on his notes he asked, “Do you have abnormally heavy bleeding during your periods?” I took a second and answered, “not really.” “How often do you change on your heaviest day of flow?” My answer amazed him. I was going through almost two boxes of ultra-flow tampons and overnight pads in seven days. He looked at me over his glasses and said “You have uterine fibroids.” I knew exactly what those were because both my mother and grandmother had undergone hysterectomies because of them. The difference was I was not in my 40s and I still wanted to have children. It turns out, that I had 12 of them, ranging in size from grapefruits to large grapes, there were two of each size. My uterus was measuring at a 17-week pregnancy and so of course they had to come out.
I had to have two blood transfusions before I could go home from the hospital. They immediately started me on birth control to help slow the bleeding until I could have my procedure. This was just great, I’d finally overcome my fear of riding and now I was about to be unable to ride for 10 weeks. Those were the longest weeks of my life. My husband could see that I was getting cabin fever, so he snuck me out of the house when my mom was away and took me to the barn to see Skip. It was just what I needed. I spent most of my time during recovery watching horseback riding youtube videos. I was worried I’d lost everything I’d learned, I was so unsure of myself. I had to learn to do everything again. My core muscles were mush and my leg muscles were none existent. I couldn’t waste more time, I wanted to get my riding mojo back fast, so I bought a Groupon for an English Showjumping Barn. I’d watched enough youtube videos of riders cantering around with no stirrups and no hands to know that this was just what I needed to kick start my return to riding. That was the best $60 I ever spent. The owner of Southwind Stables was about to be my new instructor, and Emma was about to help me take my riding to the next level. She pushes me to new limits literally, there were times my legs would just stop working and I loved every second of the burn. She took me back to the basics, I started developing muscles I didn't ever use before. I was so excited about the progress I was making with Emma that I started taking lessons twice a week. I grew so much as a rider. Before I knew it a year had gone by and little did I know that I was about to earn another stripe.
First Full course at the cantor on Nike
Stripe 3
There is something about life that likes to throw curveballs when you finally figure out how to manage the fast ones. One month before my 36th birthday, I started feeling faint at work. I’d eaten breakfast and hadn't done anything out of the ordinary. Nonetheless, I called my mom to take me to my primary care physician. I knew something was wrong when I saw my doctor come into the room instead of the nurse practitioner. My blood pressure was 80 over 50, we had no idea why. They loaded me up with H2O packets and told me to drink lots of fluids and take it easy until I could get in to see my hematologist. When I got in to see my doctor one week later my hemoglobin was down to 10.2, and while I was constantly on the verge of passing out and in jeopardy of my blood pressure bottoming out I had to wait until my hemoglobin dropped lower for the $10,000 Iron infusions to be covered by insurance. We had to aggressively monitor my levels so, I scheduled a follow-up appointment for two weeks later. Sure enough at my follow-up, my hemoglobin was down to 8.6. In just two weeks, I noticed that I'd started craving ice again and I was sleeping with my heated blanket every night, and the most telling thing was that I hadn’t been going to the barn. I just had no energy and couldn’t risk riding while I was feeling so ill. I couldn’t wait to get my infusions, I knew the benefit of them, and that they would help get me back to the barn. I had to do two iron infusion sessions to get the needed amount to get my levels back up. I arrived at my appointment to see a few familiar faces. I’d been trying my best to hydrate before my appointment because I was no stranger to how hard my veins were to stick when I was dehydrated. When I arrived my stats were taken again, my BP was still low and as a result, I had to be stuck over 6 times by three different nurses to get a vein. They just kept blowing, but there was finally a strong enough vein and I was halfway through the infusion when my vein blew again. They spent 30 minutes trying to find a new vein, they even questioned whether I needed a PICC line since they feared I’d have the same issue when I’d return for my second session in two weeks.
As they were debating, I was tossing back Electrolyte water and apple juice, and praying that they wouldn’t have to take that route. They worked so long trying to find my vein, that it was time for a shift change, and lucky for me because one of the new nurses had spent 15 years working on the neonatal floor. She assured me that she’d be able to find a working vein for me and that she did. The next session was the week of my birthday. This time my blood pressure was normal and my hemoglobin was back up to a 10, I was one infusion away from a normal rating. I was well hydrated and the neonatal nurse was there to start my IV. She found a good strong vein and my infusion took half the time of the first one without all of the hiccups. I was curled up with my warm blanket and my AirPods ready to nap for the last 20 minutes while I finished up. Only, I started getting short of breath, I shrugged it off and tried to drift into sleep, but my chest began feeling like I had lightning radiating through my lungs every time I tried to inhale. I wanted it to pass, but when it didn’t I called for the nurse, and before I knew it I was surrounded by all of the nursing staff. One giving oxygen, another taking my blood pressure, and another calling my husband. He was unable to sit with me due to covid protocols. Turns out I was the 1 in 1000 who had the side effect of muscle spasms that affected my heart and lungs. It caused me to be hypotensive and experience respiratory distress. They flushed my system with Saline to help the spasms pass. Luckily I was more alert by the time my husband arrived and was able to go home. While I was now on track to getting my hemoglobin back up, we still didn’t know why.
It had been less than two years since my myomectomy, so we never imagined that the fibroids could be back, well I was wrong. After several visits to the doctor and countless tests, I finally got my answer. This time there was only one. It was much smaller than the largest one from the last time, it currently measures 4.25cms. We thought that was good news. The problem is, that it is in my uterus and even at 1cm would have to be removed. In the past year, my husband and I have seen numerous specialists for fertility, and I’ve had countless tests run to help identify why we had been unable to conceive. This one fibroid is causing more trouble than the other 12. I am well on my way to earning my next stripe as my husband and I embark on our journey to start a family. Every time someone asks me what my husband and I are waiting on to start a family I am reminded of the journey we still have ahead as well as what we’ve already overcome. I know people don’t mean any harm, but now that our government has made a women’s womb everybody's business but their own, this journey has become more treacherous and unpredictable. I am so glad to have my herd to help see me through this journey.
When Forest asked me to join the Herd and share my story in a blog I was so excited. Of course, I could write a blog, I was an English major, and being a writer is actually what I wanted to do after college. I had no idea the mental and emotional preparation I’d need to tell the story of how I acquired some of my many stripes would take. I am so grateful for Forest and the grace she’s shown as the delivery of my blog dragged on. I am also grateful for the benefits of me taking time to reflect on my past and be reminded that there is life on the other side of our trials that is beautiful and our added appreciation for that beauty is only present due to the peaks and valleys on the trail we took to get there.
I was 30 when I finally found my passion, I was 33 when my Heart Horse found me, 34 when my body tried to give up on me, and 36 when I decided to share my story of how I earned my stripes. Life gave me my stripes, but horses gave me the courage to wear them with honor and the opportunity to share my story. As an equestrian and a woman of color being able to share more stories with others has reminded me of how far I’ve come.
]]>Never, in a million years, did I think that my own husband would die by suicide just 2.5 years later. And I don’t think Dan thought he would die by suicide then, or ever, either. In fact, I think we both would’ve bet the farm that suicide would’ve *never* impacted our family.
But it did.
When things get “bad bad,” a rational thought cannot enter an irrational mind and that’s the God’s honest truth. Google “impulsive suicide” - you’re gonna be shocked just how little time it takes for an irrational, traumatized brain to think suicide is a good idea. Having a gun available inside your home = chance of instant death multiplied by the thousands. (Impulsive suicides can have access to knives but they don’t go stabbing themselves - the facts are the facts.) And I’m mostly talking handheld guns. Dan used a 9mm with hollow-point bullets - I’ll let your imagination run wild with what I, his widow, read on his autopsy report when he had no exit wound.
And people wonder why I hate guns….
When they say ”thoughts become things,” well, sometimes those thoughts are detrimental, multi-life changing thoughts.
I hope, with all my heart, if you’re ever thinking those thoughts, and think that life will be ‘some better kind of way’ without you in it that you seek guidance. We now have 988 to call or text in that moment. I wish it had been around when Dan was still alive, but I’m so grateful it exists now. National suicide awareness month is September, and here’s a reminder to check on your friends whom you haven’t spoken to in a while. And maybe check in on the ones you’re least worried about - they might be the ones carrying more than they let on.
And maybe think about ditching the handheld guns. Dan had his in a small gun safe that only his fingerprints could open, but in that weakest moment, the gun my husband bought to protect our family is indeed what destroyed it.
Help is available
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I would like to tell you the story of how a trail ride on my heart mare, Sophie, down a dusty gravel road changed my life. But before we get into that life changing story, here’s a little background information on me. I have always considered myself a late-bloomer. For most of my life, I seemed to always be behind my peers (turns out developing a chronic illness in middle school will do that to a person). I didn’t get my driver’s license until I was 20, which is clearly not the norm. I am a 30 year old woman from Kansas. I am an educator. I have loved horses for as long as I can remember but didn’t get the opportunity to start riding until much later than most at 24. At 26 I bought my first horse, Sophie. I was 29 when I found my love of Eventing, and I was 30 by the time I competed in my first 3-Day Event. I was 31 when I discovered, and came to terms with, my identity as a lesbian.
Sophie and I have been partners for eight years. Along with being my first horse, Sophie is also my whole heart and has helped me through some major life changes. She was green-broke when I bought her, but we learned and grew together under the watchful eyes of trainers. I know this is not the traditional way for most but it worked for us. In the time I have owned her, Sophie has seen me through a lot of challenges both in and outside of my riding. From losing my job to rehabbing a broken collar bone. But the biggest challenge Sophie has ever helped me face was finding myself.
When I was in fifth grade I remember the first time of feeling truly alienated from my people; that feeling has followed me through my younger years into adulthood. I felt like I didn’t connect to the world the way other kids my age did; because I was still imaginative, because I had different interests than what was considered “normal,” and because I felt things very deeply. I knew I was considered unusual and that I didn’t fit in. These feelings of being different continued through my teens and into my adulthood. At first I just secluded myself away from others because I thought it would hurt less than trying to connect with others and being excluded. Inevitably, I became very lonely, so instead I began giving up parts of myself in order to assimilate with those around me. I learned to change myself in order to fit in with my peers. I pushed down my wants and needs in order to please those from whom I wanted attention. I shed every bit of myself that didn’t make others want to keep me around. By the time I graduated college, I had perfected the art of pleasing people, people didn’t know the real me but I thought that was okay because at least they weren’t rejecting me. This is not a way to live but only to exist.
Don’t get me wrong, I did have some relationships that were genuine where I felt I could be me. I felt comfortable letting my guard down and being mostly myself with a select few individuals; however, I was constantly watching for signs of displeasure from them so I could quickly fix whatever part of me was the problem. The past trauma of how others treated me made me very anxious about opening up to people.
I wanted to live what I thought was a normal life. So did what everyone else did. I graduated from college, married the man I had dated for five-years, got a teaching job and bought a house. I made sure to stay on the path my parents and society had laid out for me. And I did all the things I was told would make me a successful and happy adult. I never even gave myself the chance to stop and see if this was really who I was or what I wanted.
I was comfortable in this life, but with every passing year, I became more and more of a shell of a person. The only thing I did for myself was to start riding and bought my beautiful red mare when others thought it wasn't a good idea. At the barn, and around horses, I felt free. Even if no one else understood why I was taking up this new hobby that was okay; because I was fulfilling my childhood dreams, the ones I had kept safely tucked in my heart all those years. Even though learning to ride as an adult came with its own unique set of challenges, I loved learning all there was to know about being an equestrian and good horsemanship. It was my break from the box I had put myself in; it also became a wonderful distraction from the emptiness and restlessness I was beginning to feel in the rest of my life. The more empty I began to feel, the more I rode, trained, and competed. In the span of 6 years, Sophie and I went from western beginners to schooling novice cross country. Even when I had to take 6-months off for my broken collar bone, I channeled all that drive into physical therapy and staying in shape so I would be ready when I could get back in the saddle. I had to keep myself distracted from the increasingly present thoughts that something was wrong in my life and marriage. What was going on inside of me that had me feeling like this?
Then came March 2020, yes the March that will go down in the history books. Covid-19 was spreading and the world shut down. As our world shrank to that of our homes, I lost all the distractions I used to avoid my problems. I was one of the lucky ones in the equestrian world though, my barn didn’t completely shut down. Those of us who boarded horses were still able to have access to them as long as we could avoid others. I turned my truck into a mobile tack room and began taking lots of trail rides. It was also in March that I first admitted to another soul that I had an attraction to women.
This was a big milestone in my life. Up until that point in my life, I thought all people raised as female felt about women the way I did; boy was I WRONG! The first person I told encouraged me to begin seeing a therapist to explore what this new realization meant for my life. So that’s what my life became: therapy and trail rides. At first I was identifying as bisexual. I thought I must be since I had dated and even married a man. Then came the trail ride that changed everything. I had therapy that day and we were exploring why the bisexual label didn’t feel right, why I couldn’t just accept that and move on with my current life. I can tell you exactly where I was on that road when it hit me, out-loud I shouted, “Sophie, I’m a lesbian!” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew they were true. A wave of understanding and relief washed over my body and the world made sense again. Turns out I had people-pleased and became so unattached from my true self it took a global pandemic to get me to stop and reconnect with what was going on inside my own soul.
I was gay. Coming out to yourself is only the beginning. There were times in the months to follow I didn’t think I would be able to come out and change my life. I thought it would be better for me to end my life than come out as my true self and destroy other people's lives. I want to stop here and say that no matter who you are and how you identify we want you here. You matter. Your life matters. I learned valuable lessons during this time about how to value myself and to use my voice to let others know who I was and what I needed in this life. I had to learn to become a whole person. Through all of that darkness and hard work I leaned on Sophie, she gave me a reason to live and put in the hard work. Whenever I needed an escape I could go to her, she picked me up when I was down and gave me a safe space to process, feel my emotions, and begin healing.
Coming out to my barn family was one of the scarier moments I had, I couldn’t stand the thought of being rejected by the community that held me together when I was falling apart. I didn’t know of many openly gay equestrians and certainly no openly gay women in the sport. I was terrified of being ostracized from the one place that had felt safe to be me. I am forever grateful for how well they responded when I told them and for the support they gave me once they knew. I have also been blessed to find other LGBTQIA+ equestrians through social media, it really is a comfort to know I’m not alone and I try my best to be out, proud, and be the sort of representation I needed but couldn’t find. I was also drawn to Herd of Zebras for their emphasis on acceptance and community for all equestrians no matter how they identify.
Today, two years after my realization of who I truly was, my life looks much different. I came out to my family and friends, my husband and I were able to amicably divorce, and after some time I started dating a wonderful woman who I am building a life with. Internally I have been working to reshape myself, so I can live freely, the way I feel when I am with Sophie. I am learning that I am worth loving just as I am, that I do not need to be anyone other than myself. I have learned just how powerful and important the advice to “be yourself” is. I am also learning to set and stick with boundaries and whose opinions of me I actually care about.
My riding life looks a little different too. Sadly, I am having to retire Sophie. She broke the coffin bone in her left hind foot and the injury refuses to fully heal. She is pasture sound and will be able to live out her life at a friend’s farm. Although our riding and competing days are over, the love I have for that horse will always be there. As long as she is healthy and happy I will continue to provide for her, care for her and love her. I owe my life to that horse.
So that’s it, that’s the story. The story of me and my red quarter horse mare, how through our bond she helped me find myself. The story of coming-out in the equestrian world. And the story of how the bond between horse and rider saved my life.
Follow Kira's journey on Instagram @sum_phun_seeker and on TikTok @lesbianequestrian
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline The Lifeline provides 24/7, free and confidential support for people in distress, prevention and crisis resources for you or your loved ones, and best practices for professionals. If you’re thinking about suicide, are worried about a friend or loved one, or would like emotional support, the Lifeline network is available 24/7 across the United States. You can call 1-800-273-TALK (8255) or chat.
]]>Trevor Lifeline The Trevor Project is the leading national organization providing crisis intervention and suicide prevention services to lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, and questioning (LGBTQ) young people under 25. The TrevorLifeline is a crisis intervention and suicide prevention phone service available 24/7 at 1-866-488-7386. TrevorText is available by texting “START” to 678678.
Like most equestrians, I am not a person who enjoys sitting still. I want to be riding and in the barn every day. I want to take my dogs for walks. I want to be doing things. So, when I found out I needed another Endometriosis surgery, I was less than excited for 2 weeks of nothing, and then having to ease my way back to normal. As I was grumbling about this to my trainer Shelby, she looked at me and put it into words I could understand. If Wyatt was hurt and rehabbing from an injury or issue, I would follow the vet's recommendations to the letter and do everything I could to make sure he was able to heal properly, why didn't I give myself the same grace? Why do we as riders push and rush ourselves?
What is it about the horse world that constantly makes us feel like we are falling behind if we take time off for our physical or mental health? When I had surgery a year and a half ago, I was working for a barn and trainer that made it clear taking time to heal was not what equestrians do. I pushed myself to be back to work, and back in the barn, and remember coming home sore and exhausted. Months after my surgery, I asked for a day off, and was given a hard time because my boss said they were still trying to catch up from when I had taken time off for surgery, it felt like a disease that I already had no control of was being thrown in my face. On a side note: I was a groom, show season was over, how were we catching up on training rides and turnouts?!
I have spent a good chunk of my time as an equestrian chasing ribbons, chasing awards and accolades from other riders and trainers. I felt like if I slowed down, or showed weakness, I would be pushed aside for someone better. I had to prove myself and my worth to those around me so that someone else didn't scoop up the job and status I was so desperately chasing. It became exhausting, and when Josh died, I finally crashed. That status didn't mean anything without the horse that helped me win all those ribbons and awards.
Out of that crash came a new person. One who no longer needed ribbons or a job title at a show barn to know her worth as an equestrian. I found a Herd of people who supported me, ribbons or not. A trainer who valued me as a person, and supported me taking the time I needed to be healthy. I realized all I wanted was to be the person my horse deserved. After surgery that looked like giving him a two week vacation, so that when I climbed back in the saddle I was really ready to be there, instead of relying on his good nature to get us by until I really was strong enough to ride.
I'm not saying I am perfect at taking it easy now. I definitely was picking up a pitchfork to clean Wyatt's stall before I should have, but I worked hard to give myself the time and grace I needed, and guess what? This time when I climbed into the saddle 15 days after surgery, I had the physical strength to be here, instead of trying to trot 9 days after surgery and feeling things pulling and stretching in ways they shouldn't have been.
Herd, to be the best people for our horses, we have to treat ourselves and our bodies with the same love and respect we give our horses. Our value doesn't come from the ribbons we have won, or our job titles at work, it comes from giving ourselves, and our horses, the grace we all need to be the happiest, healthiest versions of ourselves.
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One of my earliest memories is attending the Washington County Fair in Wisconsin with my grandparents. I vividly remember walking the barn aisles with them, standing on my tip-toes to look into each stall to get a glimpse of the horses inside. In one of the stalls, there was a palomino with a sign on the stall door that said, “For Sale $2,000.” At that age, I had no concept of money and thought that sounded reasonable. I begged my grandparents to buy me the horse and I was devastated when we had to leave without it.
Though I was unable to have a horse at the time, my parents did everything they could to help satisfy my love of horses, such as sending me to horse camp with my best friend and making sure a trail ride was included in the itinerary for every family vacation. My obsession with horses started to dwindle when my best friend started taking riding lessons and I started playing other sports in grade school. Even though my love of horses started to take a back seat to other hobbies of mine, even into adulthood, I always told my friends and family that “I will have a horse someday”. They often chuckled, not because they didn’t believe me, but because they remembered that little girl at the county fair.
During the COVID-19 quarantine, I felt incredibly lonely and unfulfilled in life. I am a person who thrives by being active and outdoors, surrounded by the people I care about. Businesses started opening back up a bit and I happened to see someone post on my neighborhood’s Facebook page asking about riding lessons. It dawned on me that I was finally at a point in my life (nearly 20 years later) where I could make it happen, so I also posted in the group asking about Hunter/Jumper barns in the area, since I always knew that was the discipline I was interested in. I set up my first lesson and was hooked from the very start.
Three months later, I started leasing a horse, and just under a year into riding I decided it was time to start searching for a horse to call my own. My trainer and I took a trip to Minnesota to see a few different horses. We had one horse in mind that we thought would be “the one”, two others that we thought could work, and one that I was not all that interested in. Can you guess which one I ended up liking best and ultimately deciding to call my own? I have never once regretted my decision.
Nearly two years into riding and a year into horse ownership, I am the happiest I have ever been. My horse is my absolute heart and soul, and the love I have for him is indescribable. The same can be said about my trainer and my barn family. To be honest, I jumped into horse ownership a lot sooner than most do after starting to ride and probably a lot sooner than I was prepared for. I needed a lot of help, and they gave it (and continue to give it) happily and freely, without judgement. The friendships I have formed over the past two years are incredibly strong, because we all share that indescribable love for our horses. I am so happy to have not only found my heart horse, but to have found my herd as well.
I would like to acknowledge that I recognize it is an immense privilege to be able to ride and have a horse of my own. I wanted to write about this because I truly believe it is never too late to follow your dreams. There is no set timeline when it comes to riding, or life in general. Everyone has a different path. Do not let the fear of “being behind” hold you back. I promise you will not regret it.
You can follow my journey on Instagram: @ajr_equine
]]>Hi Herd! My name is Alex(@liberty_equestrian)! I am so excited to be a part of this herd! I am 25 years old and I am from Virginia. I have been riding in total for about 10 years but unfortunately my riding story isn’t linear. In high school, after a long fight with getting doctors to listen, I found out I had a chronic illness called Ehlers Danlos. I fought hard to continue riding but my pain kept increasing and it became too much to manage. This ultimately halted my riding career for a couple of years. Now, with treatments and tricks to help my EDS, I have been back riding for about three years now, alongside my heart horse, Libby.
Libby couldn’t have come into my life at a more perfect time. I had just decided to start riding again when I received a text from her owner asking if I wanted to come try her. I was so nervous; I was terrified that my Ehlers Danlos wouldn’t allow it. I remember getting on Libby for the first time, my hips hurt immediately and my back started slipping. All I could think was “maybe riding just isn’t for me anymore.” Yet the longer I sat there the freer I felt. I had ridden plenty of horses before but this one felt different. Libby gave her all to me that day even though I could only give such a small portion back. That day was the start of a bond I had never imagined having with a horse. Now three years later, we are a pair that is simply unbreakable. Libby gave me the wings I was lacking.
One of the hardest parts about getting back into riding was accepting that just because someone else can do it doesn’t mean I can. I wanted to fit in and do everything all my peers were doing. No stirrups couldn’t happen because my hips would dislocate. Sitting deep would cause my back to shift. The list goes on. I became very frustrated and felt as if I would never “be” something. I remember being so frustrated that I had a horse that gave me her all, yet I felt I couldn’t do the same for her. Very quickly I decided I needed to shift my mindset.
Instead of giving up, I decided to channel my feelings into creating content that would spread awareness. I started a TikToK and Instagram account about my journey with Libby and my chronic illness. The equestrian world is hard. I think the vast majority of us have a hard time feeling as if we don’t have a place in the community. Adding a chronic illness just makes all of it a tad bit harder. I wanted to create a place where I could be transparent about my riding and my chronic illness.
When I came across Herd of Zebra’s, I automatically felt like it was a community that I had to be a part of. The Herd of Zebra’s community is exactly what I was looking for all along, a place where everyone is welcome. Along with their message, the Ehlers Danlos awareness symbol is a zebra. How perfect, right? I automatically felt like I belonged in this family.
No one's story is the same, just as no one's stripes are the same and that is perfectly okay!
]]>Some decisions in life are easy, some are difficult, and some are so emotionally difficult that they end up being the easiest moral decision you’ll ever have to make.
In December of 2021 I made the decision to sell Watson—my fist pony, my partner who I earned my bronze and silver medals on, the first horse I produced to the FEI dressage levels, and my heart-horse of almost 11 years. He was never for sale. Not for a single day. Money was not an influence. My love and admiration for him was just as great (if not greater) than the first day I ever laid eyes on him— and yet, I made the decision to sell him.
Why?
Because I saw in somebody else’s eyes that same sparkle of light that he had put in mine. I saw all of that same love and admiration that I had for a horse who I adored so dearly surface in somebody else.
I was originally going to bring Watson to my farm and include him in my lesson program—as he was nowhere near ready to fully retire, but also deserved a step back from training at the FEI level. I had started leasing Watson to my friend, Tiffany, a little over a year ago and learned many things while watching the two of them grow in their relationship together. The most important thing I noticed was how much Watson appreciates having “his person.” He is a horse that is very tolerant, but at the end of the day, truly prefers to have a consistent person in his life. I also knew that with teaching lessons and doing training rides all day, that Watson and I realistically would not have much time to spend together. While I’m sure he would be absolutely doted on by the riders in my lesson program and would still get plenty of saddle time, I know how much he loves to have “his person.” Tiffany is undoubtedly “his person” and is just incredible with him.
I am very lucky that Watson will remain at the same barn where he has lived for the past 10 years under the guidance of my coach. When the day comes that he fully retires, he has a pasture outside my window with his name on it. While ultimately deciding to sell such a special horse was far from easy, knowing that the decision was made in his best interest and he would be owned by such an incredible person made it the easiest decision I could ever make.
You can follow my journey on Instagram here: @painted__dressage
]]>Forest and Bindi celebrate Endo Awareness Month
Hey, Forest here, how are you Herd? This blog is a little bit different from the others I have written in the past regarding my journey with Endometriosis and the ways I struggled after the diagnosis. For this blog I am going to focus on one of the positive things I gained from Endo, my almost six year old Irish Sport Horse mare, Bindi. She gave me something to look forward to again and I think that sense of hope and excitement for the future can be really hard to find after a diagnosis such as Endometriosis.
Forest and Bindi when Bindi first came to America
It was 2016, I had just went through a silent miscarriage that I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone about, even my mother. I had undergone a surgery to remove many Endo lesions, many other procedures and I was struggling with my mental health in ways I couldn’t have imagined before. To add to it, I was in a deteriorating marriage with someone who showed no empathy for my situation and also made it very clear that the greatest love of my life, my horses, were something he did not care for or support. It was awful. To make it worse I knew the likelihood that I would need to have a hysterectomy to recover any kind of “normal” quality of life, was imminent. I had just turned 30, was sicker than I had ever been and was months away from Endo claiming my ability to carry children of my own. This was not how I thought my life would go, at all.
Forest with the four horses that hold her heart- Bindi, Sparky, Bling and Rudolf
The horses were always what helped me through all the curve balls that life threw at me. At the time I owned the three best horses in the world, Sparky, Bling and Rudolf. These three brought me through the ranks from the pony hunters through the jumpers but I knew my time in the show ring with them was over. I needed something to look forward to again. My biggest fear at the time was something happening to my senior horses and being left horseless in a bad marriage was more than I could handle. I had quietly been looking for a young horse over the last few months as a distraction from everything that was going on in my personal life. I wanted something that I could train with the intention of having my next show horse.
Bindi at one day old with her mom, Abba
I, like many equestrians, frequently looked at what was for sale online. I wanted something young that I could train myself and bring through the levels. An October evening, a friend of mine sent me a Facebook album of two foals that were for sale in Ireland. Through my time looking for my next horse I had never considered buying a foal let alone one that was in another country. But once I opened the album and laid my eyes on the most regal, white blaze staring at me, big bodied, breathtaking red bay mare I had ever seen... I saw a small, not even 24 hour old “Mabel” standing next to her mother with her upper lip smiling and my heart fell to the ground. I knew without a doubt this was my horse.
Bindi and Abba
Today, Mabel is now known as “Bindi” or “Vindicating” if we are being fancy. Why did I change her name? Isn’t that bad luck? I had always hoped one day I would have a human daughter of my own that I would name Mabel after my name sake. Many probably don’t know this but I was named after my Great Grandmother Forest Mabel aka “Grandma Mabel.” I am actually the third female “Forest” in my family (I have a Great-Aunt, Forest Patricia aka Pat) and the first to go by “Forest” and not my middle name. Additionally, Bindi’s birthday is May 12th, also the same as my Great Grandma Mabel. A little strange isn’t it?
Forest with Herd Mascot, Sparky and Bindi
I guess what I am trying to say is, no matter what hardships you are going through, try to keep your eyes out for the little signs from the universe that will let you know you are on the right path. Life is hard, unfair and oftentimes cruel but still so amazingly beautiful. Through my journey with Endo I lost so much but one thing I never lost was hope for the future. Without hope life can be unbearable. Please keep your eyes out for the glimpses of hope and excitement for the future. My hope came to me with four hooves and a massive heart.
In honor of Endometriosis Awareness Month, we created two products with proceeds going
Abba, Bindi's mom shortly after giving birth, this photo is the inspiration for our Stay Wild Design.
The Endo Warrior hoodie uses the Stay Wild design. This design is inspired by Abba, Bindi’s mother and the photo of her looking so mighty shortly after giving birth. We adapted the art to bare Bindi’s markings, to represent the strength that I was given through the unexpected.
]]>Painful. Uncomfortable. Confused. Scared. Worried. These are some of the emotions I felt when I found out from my doctors that I have Endometriosis. Going back to when I was in middle school is when I first noticed that something was different. When I got my first cycle, I was nervous and scared. I remember the horrible sex education talk in 5th grade. Trust me we have to get better as a society to explain puberty to girls. Most girls (myself included) were so embarrassed to talk about periods. The talks they have in schools make the conversation feel rushed and leave girls with so many questions. Speaking for myself I had so many questions, but felt too embarrassed to ask. I had the feeling that I would be judged by my peers for asking questions that made them feel uncomfortable, and me left feeling dumb for asking question. I am grateful that I have a mom and sister that helped me through this challenging part of life. They made me feel comfortable and informed about my body. I wish all girls felt this way, and had someone to help them through this part of life.
I noticed these were not the normal period symptoms and feelings. I would feel so helpless getting up out of bed and saying "oh great…. My period is here", the cramps, the back pains, the headaches, and all the things you experience being on your period. My cramps were unbearable! My family and friends would tell me “ Oh the first day is always the worst and could be the heaviest”. I noticed that my cycles were heaviest for almost the whole week and sometimes would last longer. If my first day of my cycle landed on a school day I would most likely have to skip school because the pain was so bad that I couldn't walk. Or I would try to suck it up and go to school which resulted in only going half day because the pain was unbelievable I was so nervous to tell my mom that I felt I needed to go to the doctors and be put on birth control. At this time I made the decision because most of my friends were experiencing the same thing. They mentioned that being on birth control helped lighten their periods. I went through multiple forms of birth control to find the one that worked best for my body. I tried the pill-nothing. I tried the shot- and it actually made my cycles longer and heavier. I came across the IUD, and that has been the miracle worker. After being on the IUD for at least a year I noticed my mood immediately changed. I felt that I had more energy throughout the day. The first day of my cycle is always the worst, cramps for sure, but the IUD has helped so much. Within the year my period was gone. Having endometriosis has been challenging, but I am extremely thankful that the IUD has helped me so much through life.
Hi Herd, happy Endometriosis Awareness Month! It's Allie here. It has been a year since I last talked about my journey with Endo on the blog. Last year I shared the improvements and challenges I had experienced since my surgery. In the 10+ years it took me to get a diagnosis, I figured that once I had an answer, a diagnosis, I would have a treatment plan and I would be good to go, reality has been far from it. My physical symptoms continue to be a challenge, and the mental and emotional toll of this disease are no picnic either.
In my friend circle in Alaska I only have two friends who are my age, also married and do not have kids. We are surrounded by women who have kids or are pregnant, and I am truly happy for them, but sometimes it isn't easy. It feels very isolating to be in a room of women all excitedly asking about when Tom and I will have kids, talking the challenges of motherhood, or discussing baby names. They mean well, and I don't expect them to understand my journey, but those conversations are uncomfortable. Uncomfortable enough that after an awkward encounter at the start of the holiday season, I felt too broken and uncomfortable to attend a Christmas gathering outside of my own home.
Over the last year I have been in counseling working through a few different things in my life, but my journey with Endo has been a big part of that. It's taken me over a year to get to a good place mentally and emotionally with my diagnosis, even if my disease is far from under control. The news of a chronic, incurable illness is a tough pill to swallow. But, with time and help I have gotten to a place where I realize I may not be able to change the hand of cards I have been dealt, but I can use them to help others, and that has become my goal. This month I am wearing yellow, posting about Endometriosis Awareness on social media and just generally opening up about my journey. I've done my best to always be an open book about this disease, but once you have as many transvaginal ultrasounds as I have, you realize perhaps being modest about what you are going through is over-rated.
Here are the symptoms I experience on a monthly basis:
It is a daunting list. Pain is on that list A LOT. And those are just MY symptoms. Other people have many more things to add to that list. But I have learned to live with that list. To function around the fatigue and pain. To eat the foods that won't make me miserable after I eat. To give myself grace on the bad days, and also how to power through it when I need to. I also learned that my struggle can help others. Even if I don't share the same diagnosis or symptoms, I can love and support others with Endo and other chronic illnesses by being a person who listens and understands their struggles. I now look forward to the opportunity to use my journey to help others. I know exactly what it feels like to be a zebra in a herd of horses, and just because we are a little different doesn't mean we don't need the support of a Herd.
]]>Hi Herd, its Ambassador, Rae.
Recently in the equestrian world a video of a well-known trainer and equestrian surfaced showing him beating a horse on the flank with a tree branch to force them into a water jump that they refused. This video has sparked outrage and also defense of said trainer, and in my opinion has really showcased a problem that we all need to change in the equestrian world: when we know better than to do something, we need to actually do better and encourage others to do the same.
Shortly after I had gotten my first horse Bug, he developed a vice of not wanting to stand at the mounting block. I was still very new to horses and learning training techniques, so I took the approach similar to what I would do with a dog: train with treats (positive reinforcement), because that’s what I was most familiar with.
I tried working with Bug in the round pen to fix this vice, and after a few days we were making improvements even with my poor timing and lack of knowledge, I was trying my best and this gentler approach was working in some way for him. We later had a lesson with my, at the time, trainer. She watched me try to be patient with him at the mounting block for all of five minutes before her own patience wore thin. She grabbed Bug from me and proceeded to beat him on his flank with a crop until the crop broke in half. I could not believe what I just saw, and I was on the brink of tears. She told me that I was “too easy on him”, and I needed to “make the wrong thing hard so the right thing made sense”. I just remember not saying a single word to her the rest of my lesson, and crying and apologizing to Bug afterwards.
I have seen this, and countless other displays border-lining abuse in my years in the equestrian world. And, to be completely honest, I think a lot of people’s reactions to situations and training techniques stem from purely a lack of knowledge and understanding of horse mentality.
Many horsemen think that you need to dominate a horse, be the boss of them, demand their respect, and if a horse “acts out” that you need to force them to submit to you. In the words of one of my favorite goofy commercials from the 2000s, “That’s not how this works! That’s not how any of this works!”
Horses quite literally lack the portion of the brain that can make decisions like “I’m going to have an attitude today!” or “I’m going to buck my rider off for no reason!” They cannot make emotional decisions. Horses live in the moment and will act and react based on what is presented to them in a given moment.
When a horse reacts to something in what we perceive to be a negative way, instead of reacting we need to ask ourselves, “Why?” Because there is always a reason why a horse is responding how they are! As equestrians and horsemen we should always strive to get to the root of the “why” and when we can give a more logical response to that, we in turn will have a happier and more willing partner.
We all got into this sport and lifestyle for the love of the horse, did we not? I think every single one of us has that in common. But as the years pass, the love of the horse may fade, and in turn be replaced with a love for money, for winning, for perfection, and the horse comes last. It’s sad, but it’s the truth even though many would never admit it.
So, if we all started this because we love the horse, let’s strive to become the owners, riders, drivers, grooms, and so on, that every horse wishes they had! Let us all be our equine’s voice, their advocate. Let’s all be better than we were yesterday and continue learning without feeling shame for not knowing it all. You only know what you know! It’s hard to break old habits, but by putting forth an effort to learn new things that will improve your horsemanship, you’ve already taken a huge leap in the right direction!
We’ve all done things that we’re not proud of in the past, I know I have for sure. I’ve acted out of frustration, exhaustion, anger, fear even, and I’m not proud of those moments. I can always see that almost instantly after I’ve acted. I’m not the most patient person in the world, and I’ll be the first to admit that. But I’m constantly trying to improve and be better for my horses. I want to learn their language and learn how to better listen to them. Since I’ve started listening instead of talking over them, I’ve been able to solve a lot of really simple problems that I might not have been able to otherwise.
I’ve been blabbering on and on here, but the point of this blog post I’ve written is that we as equestrians need to strive to be better and be open to learning and listening to our equine partners more. We need to listen for the whisper before it turns into a scream. And when we know better, we do better.
*If you’d like to do some of your own research into equine neuroscience and how horses think, I very highly recommend the book “Horse Brain, Human Brain” by Janet L. Jones*
If you want to follow my journey, you can find me on instagram @fourthtimesequestrian
]]>Change.
It’s terrifying. It’s the feeling when you stay in a new place for the first time, and you have to navigate in the dark to find the lightswitch. When you’re at home, you can find the switch in the dark when you’re still half asleep. When you leave home, even for an exciting vacation or a new adventure, you have to take baby steps to find the switch to help you even figure out what you’re doing. At home, you might even be able to get yourself to the bathroom or find your water glass on your nightstand without ever turning the light on.
That feeling of uncertainty is small but significant. We’ve all jammed our toes on a bedpost because we were walking in the dark, right? That reminder of pain can help keep us from exploring the dark. No one wants to do that again. These feelings can keep us from changing, even for the better.
In the past couple of years, I’ve started to change my outlook on training horses. When you’ve spent your entire life in the barn, you know where your light switches are in training. You have go-to habits and reactions when dealing with horses: tugging on the halter when they get pushy during leading, a resounding “NO” when they come into your space, or a smack on the neck when they try to nip at you. These are all things I was taught.
I’m not going to spend time debating training methods here because frankly, it’s futile. It’s not my job to tell you what to do, only to share what I’m doing for myself and my own horses.
Whenever I post about my switch to +R or gentle horsemanship, I receive backlash. It’s funny how people feel the need to defend their training even if their training isn’t even being addressed in the post. I was one of those people, too. I was very comfortable navigating training when I knew where the bedpost was and where the light switches were. I didn’t have to think about them, I knew them from years of experience. Why would I risk stubbing my toe by changing to a completely different environment when I could stick to what I already know? Who cares who else it affects? It was hard.
One of the biggest things I had to let go of was my own ego. I wasn’t here to “be the boss” of my horse. I was here to be a good partner. I was here to cultivate a relationship in which we could both be content, and heck maybe even excited. This change in mindset takes a lot of humility, and retraining myself is just as hard, if not harder, than retraining the horses - but the coolest part has been the change in my own mentality when it comes to other aspects of life. I’ve always been a strong believer that what we learn in the barn never stays in the barn.
In this new kind of training, I work to make the environment friendly for both me and my horse. We both need to feel safe, confident, and accepted. Sometimes that means I have to make changes from how things have “always been done” and navigate that dark, unknown space looking for the lightswitch. It also made me start to recognize that training isn’t the only place where the horse industry may need some changes.
The horse industry is rampant with racism, sexism, classism, and ableism and a lot of that persists because of the “that’s how it’s always been” attitude. Progress requires change, and we all need to be willing to do our part to ensure everyone is included in our world. Horses are such an incredible gift and we should never gatekeep that from anyone. As I’ve learned in +R training, it isn’t always about me, and often, if we improve something for someone else, it really does improve for everyone. When I’m calmer and gentler with my horse, it’s more fun for them AND I end up doing less work to achieve the same goal. Likewise, by addressing systemic issues within the horse industry (and honestly, everywhere) we can improve the experience for everyone else, too.
It’s important that we all look outside of ourselves and see how we can use our own stripes to make the horse industry a better place for everyone. What light switch can you find to illuminate the space for someone else to navigate better? What can you move out of the way to make it more equitable for someone else? These are questions we need to constantly ask ourselves to make sure everyone’s stripes are equally as important.
You can keep up with me and my horses on social media, all @spottedbayproductions. We are on TikTok, Instagram, YouTube, and Facebook. We also have a podcast, The Hayloft Hour, where we cover the dark side of the horse industry: true crime, scandals, mysteries, and horror stories. You can submit topic suggestions to spottedbay@gmail.com or on my website at spottedbay.com. Get yourself some Herd of Zebras swag too with our discount code JORDYN10
]]>I didn’t want to go to the barn today. I ALWAYS want to be at the barn, but today it was cold, and I was tired and, I didn’t feel like wearing a billion layers and trudging through the snow. It had been one of those weeks, you know the ones were nothing THAT BAD happened, but there were just little things every day that were slowly wearing me down. I didn’t want to go, but I did because Wyatt’s stall wouldn’t clean itself. Once I was at the barn and started enjoying time with Wyatt and my friend, Heidi, my motivation picked up a bit. I tacked up and climbed on Wyatt, but I was grumpy, and the wind was whipping through my jacket and breeches. As I walked around, I told myself that I had zero expectations for my ride. I was just going to ride around on a loose rein and hope for the best. Wyatt’s turnout had been limited due to weather issues so there was a 50/50 chance that he would be his usual chill self or have one of his rare wild monster days. Wyatt however seemed to sense my mood and stepped up to the challenge and we ended up having a great day. That ride ended up being the highlight of my day, turning my otherwise frustrating day around.
As equestrians and athletes, we often feel a lot of pressure to be in the barn training, working towards goals, always progressing. But that pressure is hard on us. It creates fatigue and burnout and takes a sport that most of us started for the love of an animal and turns it into a competitive experience. The sport quickly loses the joy and meaning we originally found in it. Equestrians I am here to tell you it is OKAY to take a day off from the barn. It is okay to just go to the barn, take care of your horse and go home. It is okay to just hop on and have an easy ride and just simply enjoy your horse. Horses are here to bring joy and fun to our lives, if you don’t take the time to enjoy the barn it doesn’t matter how many ribbons you have won. At some point in our lives, we fell in love with a horse. Don't forget to take time to ride for that person, that passion and the magical bond that horses give us. Don’t let the pressure to win ribbons, earn points or prove yourself take that love and joy away from you. Sometimes we need a break and a moment for ourselves away from the barn, but never underestimate the power of saddling up and taking in the magic of the bond you share with a 1000+ pound animal.
Hello everyone! I’m so excited to be part of the Herd! My name is Amanda. I am 26 and I’m from Southern California. I have been riding for 7 years and have been around horses for 10 years! I got introduced to horses when I was a junior in high school. I had to do community service for a class I was taking and stumbled across the barn that I currently ride at. They offer riding lessons to children and adults with and without special needs. After high school I wanted to go into teaching, especially special needs, so I thought this was the perfect fit. I was terrified of horses! I did not know much about them but, volunteering each week I learned something new and started to become comfortable working around them. For my 18th birthday my sister gifted me with a month of riding lessons. I struggled with anxiety most of my adolescent years and riding gave me the space to be free of it.
Entering college, I needed a calming activity to do after working part time and being a full-time student. So, my riding journey began in January 2015! It was definitely not an easy start and my body reminded me it was not used to this kind of workout. After every ride I just wanted to give up and I felt like this sport wasn't meant for me. I didn’t look like the other girls that were riding. I felt I was too old to be doing a sport that many have been doing since they were young kids. I didn’t have the money for the fancy riding breeches, boots, or shirts the other girls were wearing. With the love and support of my family I kept pushing myself through every lesson. Riding in jeans, baggy t-shirts, $20 boots from Walmart, and borrowing helmets from the barn. I remember how excited I was when I purchased my very own helmet and breeches. I had worked so hard to get something that I could call mine.
After a year of riding, I wanted to challenge myself to ride the new horses at my barn. That is when I found him or better yet, he found me. His name is Roy and at the time he was 8 years old. After he stepped off the trailer, I told my trainer “I want to ride him! I want to go far with him!!” I started taking lessons on Roy and man oh man was he challenging! At the time I had been taking lessons once a week, summers off. Needless to say, riding an 8 y/o Holsteiner was challenging. I wanted to ride the horses that everyone at my barn was scared of and that were too fast to handle. I wanted to prove to all the people that said I wasn't good enough to ride him, that I didn’t have the right skills to ride him, and that I was too old to learn how to ride that I could do this. Throughout the 6 years of riding Roy, I have learned how to canter, then ride over ground poles, from there I progressed to small jumps- cross rails and verticals, and even learned to walk-trot-canter bareback with and without poles and jumps. I began showing offsite and onsite. Offsite I have shown two different horses, one horse that belongs to my trainer and one that belongs to the organization that I started this journey on. I ride Roy for all on site shows. I have placed in 4th, 2nd, and 1st.
Fast forward to present day. I am in my 6th year of leasing Roy. We are jumping about 3 feet. Roy has taught me so much about myself. He has taught me to face fear and look at it right in the eyes, to do things for you and no one else. It shouldn't matter how much time you have been in the saddle, ride in fancy clothes, or have the money to purchase your own horse. It’s about having fun, being safe, and doing it for YOU! These are my stripes and I embrace every single one of them! I want to share with fellow equestrians to support one another! We are in this sport together to support one another. If you have the extra time, be sure to offer to help set up the arena and give a friend extra courage when they are feeling down. Remember to not stress over the small things. Enjoy every moment in and out of the saddle!
Hello Herd! I'm Liv; you may know me as the weird lady always taking her horse's temperature. To be clear this happens daily, but that's NOT A LOT I promise.
Fair warning - this story of mine makes no sense, but roll with it anyway.
Many moons ago, I started working as a professional groom while I was studying for an MBA. I needed some time away from writing (look at me now, that's my literal job), and I was so fortunate to work with top riders. I had the absolute pleasure of working with Guenter Seidel on my very first gig. Funny story, I had no idea who the heck he was when I talked to him. Anyway. After a horse-adjacent accident, I wasn't able to work for a bit. When I was able, I started to freelance.
Fast forward some time, and another horse-adjacent injury sidelines me. Was this a sign from above that I needed to move on? HECK YES. Not being able to work opened my eyes quite wide. How much time was I giving to others (for crap pay and zero benefits and often unethical and illegal work practices) while sacrificing my horses, mental health, relationships, and family? Way too freaking much.
So it had to change. Getting injured that second time helped me in so many ways. Sure, I used my frequent-flyer card to the ER. BUT - I re-discovered my priorities, got help for my depression, started a fitness plan, and put myself first for a change.
Moral of this part of the story: Putting horses first seems like a good idea at the time, but self-destruction can be the result. We all want our horses to have THE BEST CARE EVER, but that can't happen when we are spent, hurting, exhausted, and depressed. Put yourself first.
So then it was time to make changes. Mostly. So I decided to do what any rational person would do. Instead of spending every waking moment at the barn working, I used that time to make a business plan and learn to code so I could put up a website. And so it began - the (mostly) systematic way I can dump my grooming knowledge into the universe.
Over the next ten years, I build out the site, stumble through social media wins and fails, do some public speaking and clinics, work horse shows, and live my BEST DAMN HORSE LIFE EVER - because I'm the boss. This also means that I work almost as much as when I was grooming. But it's on my time, and I get to decide how I spend it. Which also makes you strangely hyper-responsible, as you have only yourself to celebrate and blame.
Moral of this part of the story: Find a job that you love, even if you have to make it yourself.
Overlapping all of this has been horses. Since I began riding as a wee one, horses have been in and out of my life for various reasons. Years of summer camp riding morphed into weekly lessons changed into random horse rides while in college. Then not riding at all, then moving across the country, taking lessons again. And then, FINALLY, I was able to purchase my own. And then I got another. This seemed like a good idea at the time. And it mostly was.
At the peak of my pro grooming career, work came first, my own horses came after that, then time for family, then other obligations, then me. And let me tell you - after working crazy long days plus a drive to see my horses, they did not get the attention they deserved from me. Did they suffer? NO - but I wasn't truly present. How often I made it down that list to take care of me? Literally never.
Another aspect of horsemanship and horse ownership is the emotional burden that caring for these creatures can bring. We all joke about how much money we bleed, but I rarely hear anyone discuss the empathy and compassion we need. Not to mention the physical and mental drain from worry, heartache, and second guessing.
We ask our horses to exist, and we turn up the volume and ask them to perform physical and mental challenges. Their "jobs," as it were. The level of responsibility increases exponentially - the necessity for preventative care and just listening to their feedback increases. Over time, this can be exhausting. We make decisions that impact so much of their lives, and some of us feel that burden deeply. Is there guilt involved, too? Sometimes!
As my time with my senior horse dwindles away, I'm prepared for the last big heartbreak of my life with horses. As much as I adore all horses, it's time to change gears. I will still have them in my life, just in a different way. I'll keep going with proequinegrooms.com, teaching, and seeing you at shows. But my bank account and years of emotional labor will rest.
Moral of this story: It's ok to switch plans because it's no longer feasible for you to continue.
And those are my stripes.
You can follow me on Facebook HERE or Instagram at @proequinegrooms
]]>One year ago, I got the phone call no horse owner wants. My horse, Josh, had fallen in turnout and broken his leg. There was nothing they could do, and since he was 4000miles away at my parent’s farm, I didn’t get to say goodbye. Josh had been my best friend and rock since high school but, had a few health issues that meant the journey to Alaska wasn’t in his best interest. Leaving him had been hard, but my plan had always been to have him with me once we moved back to the contiguous US. Loosing Josh so suddenly, and so tragically shook me to my core.
Like so many, 2020 hadn’t been the easiest year for me. It had meant canceled plans to see family and friends, canceled visitors coming to us in Alaska, and had made the 4000miles between Alaska and our families seem extra far. September had brought a long awaited, and twice canceled, diagnostic surgery for endometriosis. A surgery that ended up telling us my endo was much further progressed than I had hoped. Tom left shortly thereafter for 6 weeks with the Air Force, leaving me alone to finish healing from my surgery and processing it all. Add to that a few toxic work environment issues and Josh’s traumatic loss and I entered 2021 in a pretty dark place.
I spent about a month trying to pull myself together without any luck. I was feeling more and more stuck. Stuck in my grief, stuck without a career, stuck in more ways than I could count. Somedays the only thing that got me out of bed was knowing my dogs were hungry and needed to be fed, and that I needed to clean Wyatt’s stall. I needed more help than I could give myself. It took me a few weeks to get up the courage to tell Tom I needed to see a counselor, but I did it. For a while he was the only person who knew, I was scared of what other people might think. I figured after a few months I would be good as new. Somedays I would start to feel better, see a glimmer of hope of the person I once was, other days I cried a lot, and had to force myself out of bed.
I quickly realized that healing from my heartbreak and the trauma of the last year wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought. To be clear I didn’t think I would just get over my horse dying, but I also didn’t think that I wouldn’t know how to carry on either. I have always been good at working through the hard stuff that came my way, I thought of myself as strong and resilient, but all I felt was broken. As the months went on, I kept thinking “I’ll be done with counseling soon, I just have to work through *insert issue here* first”, but I would work through that challenge only to find another. It was a bit like peeling back layers of an onion to slowly heal many, many years of trauma, bullying and hurt to finally start to heal. I love horses, but this industry had been hard on my mental health. Add to it 10+ years of doctors telling me I wasn’t sick enough and there was nothing they could do for me and there was a lot to work through.
I have been going to counseling for 10, almost 11 months. Over that time, I had days where I thought this is it, I’m good now, only to be reminded a few hours later there was still a lot of work to be done. It has been a bumpy journey. The days leading up to the anniversary of Josh’s passing filled me with dread. I knew it was going to be a hard day, and I was terrified to fall apart. That morning I cried A LOT. I cried as I got my day started, I cried driving to the barn to do stalls and I cried driving home from the barn. But I let myself feel the hurt. Counseling had taught me to honor my feelings, and I made sure I took the time to do it. I had to be at work at 10:15am for a meeting and I was a little concerned I would be a mess all day, but I wasn’t. Was it the happiest day of my life, absolutely not. But I had the tools to work through it now. For the first time in a year, I felt strong, I felt a bit more like myself again.
It hasn’t been a quick journey, nor an easy one, but I am finding myself again. I wanted to badly to believe that once I started putting things back together, it would all fall into place, but healing is not a linear journey. I know a blog about grief and healing isn’t the most happy and seasonal, but the holidays are often not the easiest time for people. Just remember Herd, it is okay to take the time to honor your feelings and not be okay, the journey to healing is long, hard and uniquely yours.
]]>Hi, my name is Killian, I am 14 years old and live in Alaska. I started riding at 3 years old and I’ve been riding ever since. I got my start riding with a lady down in Tennessee. After a couple of years I got my first horse, a Tennessee Walker named Beauty. I had her for a while, but when my family moved to Alaska, we had to sell her. I rode with quite a few people in Alaska until I got my Morgan named Royal. We met a dressage instructor and I’ve been with her for almost 6 years now.
In May of 2021 I got accepted into Lendon Grey’s SIT (Summer Intensive Training) program in Maine for the month of August. I applied to the program just seeing what would happen. I didn’t expect to get a spot in the program, so I didn’t get my hopes up. When I got into the program, I was very excited. My mom and I quickly started planning the trip. Unfortunately, because it’s very hard and expensive to fly a horse out of Alaska, I couldn’t bring one of my horses to Maine. So we started looking for a horse to lease for a month, and that’s when our very nice friend Allie told us about a lady who had a confirmed 1st level, schooling 2nd Belgian Warmblood mare which was exactly what I needed.
Talking with the lady it sounded like the horse was perfect. I did a ride with her owner when she got to Maine, since I had never ridden her before. She seemed nice, forward and like she knew the right things. But once I started doing lessons with Lendon she started bucking in the canter and felt scared when I asked her for the canter under saddle and on the lunge. It was very odd. For the whole month of August I worked on a lot of walk and trot because Lendon and I were stumped on why she was bucking in the canter. I had a lot of fun with this mare though.
We did many other things in the program other than riding. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday we rode our horses and had a lecture from Lendon or another professional would come in and talk about their job in the horse industry. We worked-out with a professional fitness trainer, or on the days she couldn’t come we would go swimming at the barn manager's beautiful house. We did presentations on topics outside of horses and were challenged to interview someone we didn’t know that works in the horse world. That person could be a professional rider, a business person or someone that you researched about a little bit and wanted to interview them on how they got to their place in life. On Thursdays we did our normal routine but instead of lessons we broke into small groups and went for a trail ride around the farm. It was very fun getting to ride around in the field with the other girls talking about how the weeks had been and sometimes we would let the horses take a short gallop through one of the fields at the farm. On Sundays we broke into two groups. One did morning chores and the other did evening chores. The horses got turned out in the field and would get a spa day so they could be ready to start again the next week.
Throughout the program every horsewoman there had their ups and downs, but it was totally worth going. I got a whole new experience in the horse world and now I want to participate in many more activities.
]]>Hi Herd! My name is Kate Kudelko (@painted__dressage on Instagram). I'm excited to tell you a little bit of my story. The most incredible part about working with equines is undoubtedly the lessons that each individual horse has to teach you. I’ve been blessed to have 3 long-term horses that have each taught me countless lessons in developing perseverance, ambition, and courage.
Perseverance
My journey in the horse world started when I was 11 years old—with an introduction much less traditional than many others. In January of 2011, I started taking weekly riding lessons at a local stable. On April Fool’s Day of that same year, my parents purchased my first horse, Watson— a stout little paint horse standing at a whopping 14’3 hands. We didn’t have his papers and knew relatively little about his past other than the scars that covered his body. A few months prior to my family purchasing him, Watson had been rescued for meat price from an auction by a woman who would frequent the auction houses and find horses to give a second chance. Watson was very green broke and couldn’t pick up his left lead canter for the first year of owning him. He was nervous and spooky but was as sweet as could be. I initially started in hunters for my first year of riding, as all of my friends were in the hunter/jumper world.
In 2012 I decided to embark on my journey in the dressage world alongside Watson, and I became hooked. I was told by my peers that Watson was “too much horse for me,” “not a real dressage horse,” “an ugly mover,” and that “I should sell him so I can get a real dressage horse.” It was hard to push through these comments—especially as an impressionable 11-year-old—but I wanted nothing more than to pursue my goals with Watson in the dressage world. I eventually found myself at First Choice Equestrian Center—where I still train a decade later under my coach, Bobbie Gutman. She developed both of us from the ground-up and helped me achieve my dream of taking Watson down the FEI centerline. Alongside Watson, I earned my USDF Bronze and Silver Medals, attended regional championships, and won IRHR’s end of year FEI Champion award. Nobody, including myself, expected this little paint pony who was sold for meat price to end up becoming my FEI dressage horse. One of the most important lessons that Watson taught me was to never overlook the underdog, because sometimes they are the ones with the most to offer.
Ambition
In spring of 2017 I began my search for a youngster to take up the dressage levels as Watson inched closer to his 20’s—and very much deserved a fabulous semi-retirement from the upper levels. My trainer and I had found a little filly that I absolutely loved. A week before we were about to do her pre-purchase exam, I received a phone call that would change my future.
My grandmother’s good friend, who I had never previously met before, reached out to see if I would be interested in bringing her FEI schoolmaster—Mr. B—back into work after having almost 5 years off of serious training. Mr. B is a 16’2 hand Swedish Warmblood and was 18 years old at the time. He had previously competed through Intermediate II at the CDI level with her trainer and had all the bells and whistles of the Grand Prix. We held off on purchasing the filly after speaking with Mr. B’s owner and decided on a training schedule. B’s owner was gracious enough to trailer him over to my coach’s barn for lessons, but after a few months, she offered to sell Mr. B to me for the price I was willing to pay for a youngster. I was incredibly lucky for this opportunity and would never have been able to afford a horse of his caliber otherwise.
The journey conditioning Mr. B back to the FEI levels was interesting, as the first year together was focused on getting him back into shape and re-establishing the foundational building blocks of our work. While 16’2 hands doesn’t make him abnormally tall, he’s a very stocky and powerful mover that had developed a knack for plowing onto the forehand and trucking around like a freight train. If there’s one horse that taught me the importance of transitions and exercises to improve longitudinal suppleness, it was B.
At the time, I had recently been diagnosed with a handful of GI issues and weighed in at 87 pounds from not being able to eat very much. I felt lethargic and sick to my stomach most days, which was definitely an obstacle I had to face when bringing such an athletic horse back into work. B was with me alongside my recovery process while I was learning how to mitigate my conditions, and it was pretty incredible to watch this horse come back into shape while I also improved my health.
Mr. B ended up taking me to regional championships at the FEI Prix St. Georges, where we placed 3rd. I also had the opportunity to ride in my first international level class at Global and place 2nd in the PSG. The summer before I went into my sophomore year of college, I took Mr. B down his last FEI centerline—competing the Intermediate level at 21 years old. While he qualified for regionals that year, I decided that it was his time to retire from the FEI after giving me so many incredible opportunities. I will always be thankful for this horse’s lessons, and for helping build my ambition as we came back into work together.
Courage
In January of 2021 I had to make a very big decision. Do I stay an adult amateur, or do I go professional? While the task might seem simple enough, convincing yourself that you are worthy of being labeled as a “professional” in your industry is a daunting decision to make. As I hovered over the “submit” button on USEF’s website to officially claim myself as a “pro”, I was also awaiting texts from a woman up in Texas regarding a Quarab filly that I was interested in purchasing for my new sales program. I believe that things really do happen for a reason, because that little filly would become one of the most cherished pieces of my life.
I purchased Delilah as a coming 6-year-old who was relatively unhandled, had never seen a farrier, was about 300 pounds underweight, filled with worms, and wasn’t broke to ride. My goal was to put some groceries on her, put her under saddle, and teach her basic w/t/c before selling her. All of my goals were accomplished… minus the “selling” part. The feeling you get when you find a ‘heart horse’ is simply unrivaled and as our relationship grew, the more clearly I realized that she was meant to stay in my life for the long run. I wish I could put my finger on the exact “gut feeling” you get when you find that special horse, but it’s very much real. There’s no other feeling like it in the world—even if it includes getting stepped on, run over, and thrown in the dirt from time to time. Fast forward almost a year later and Delilah is now schooling all of the 3rd level dressage work, with an aptitude towards the collection and passage work of the upper levels. I don’t have a single doubt in my mind that she will be my next Grand Prix partner, but for now, I still enjoy every moment of developing my incredibly talented friend up the levels.
Delilah has taught me that regardless of the hardships the road has to offer, allow yourself to daydream of the goals that you might think are presently unattainable—because you can’t make something a reality if you don’t have a dream to guide you.
You can follow my journey on Instagram here: @painted__dressage
]]>There is a certain romanticism about being in the military, or a military spouse. You will move to incredible places, see the world, have a steady job and great health care. But if we are being honest, this lifestyle is anything but easy. I currently live 4000 miles from my family and friends. I've missed holidays, birthdays and major life events for countless family and friends. My husband has been away while I've experienced heart breaking loss and major medical appointments. I also wouldn't change or trade it for anything.
In my short three years as a military spouse, I have found that unless this is a lifestyle they have lived, it is very hard for people to understand. People tend to ask a ton of questions that we often don't have answers to.
Q: Where are you going next?
A: I don't know, I have a general idea of when, but that can change, and where is always a mystery, we can know where we want to go, but where we end up may be completely different. We will get anywhere from 6 months to 6 weeks notice of when and where we are going.
Q: When are you coming "home" next?
A: Soon? We always do our best to come visit friends and family, but its important to come visit us too! Visits home can often feel stressful. I often feel like I am always disappointing someone when we go home, it often doesn't end up the vacation that people seem to think it is. Please realize that we want to see you, but its also important for us to get to go on a true vacation with no expectations from family and friends, which may mean we are taking a vacation somewhere other than where our friends and family are.
Q: Where is your husband, and when is he coming home?
A: I may or may not be able to tell you where he is. I have a general idea of when he is coming home, but that date is always a bit fluid. Asking about it is nice, but sometimes can hurt. It gets lonely not having him with me, and the questions are a reminder of that.
A week and a half ago Tom and I had a huge curveball thrown our way. Tom's orders have us living in Alaska for 4 years and leaving in October of 2022. He is applying for a specific position and assignment when we leave here that we are very excited about. We got a phone call offering Tom the position *YAY*! But it would start in November of 2021. We would have about 6 weeks to pack up our lives and move 2 humans, 2 dogs and a horse across the country. Six weeks to say goodbye to the friends and "family" we have made while living here in Alaska. We were given just 4 days to decide if we wanted to take the position he was offered, but not at all on the timeline we anticipated, or turn it down and risk that he does not get the position he wants when we leave here. Decisions like this are HARD, but we were very fortunate to have a choice, since many don't have that chance.
I was once asked if I would ask my husband to leave his career in the Air Force, the thought behind it being that it would be easier and better for my anxiety. Would not being faced with tight timelines and hard questions be nice, absolutely. Would being closer to family be amazing, 100% yes. But would making someone give up a job they LOVE that has provided wonderful opportunities for us give me more anxiety, definitely. Being a military spouse is not easy, but I am fortunate to have made some incredible friends along this journey. Friends who have supported our path, been a sounding board when we are unsure, and have been our family when we are so far from home. And that is something I would not trade for anything else in the world.
PS. We are staying in Alaska... for now
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Do you believe in a heart horse? Some people are as skeptical about it as soulmates but, I believe they exist. There are some riders that view a horse as an animal that is needed to compete, but I think horses should be so much more! For me, a horse is an invaluable partner that I trust with my life, but above all else, they are a part of my family.
I started riding about six years ago when I first moved to Colorado. I had been in a saddle when I was a child but when I was about fifteen I really learned how to ride and it led me to the competition world. I started out just doing walk-trot-canter in IEA and progressed from there. The next summer my trainer let me ride her lesson horse Wesley and I got to compete in my first local CHJA show doing cross rails. I was nervous for my first cross-rails course, I didn’t breathe the whole round. Once I walked out of the ring and finally took a breath, I was hooked!
That fall my trainer had me try riding this beautiful chestnut named Roo. He was twenty-three and loved his job. Unfortunately, his owner was ready for bigger things, but he was perfect for me to learn the stirrups on. He was the first horse I had ever leased and he taught me so many amazing things. He showed me how to see distances, taught me about how to use spurs correctly, and other things like lateral work. His owner was even more amazing. She taught me about how to care for him and everything I needed to know about my first horse. The next summer I competed in my first stirrups class with hopes of even making it to Medal Finals. Sadly during the summer, he had become lame and had to be retired, but I am forever grateful for him.
Luckily, my trainer still wanted to make my dream of Medal Finals come true, so she let me take Wesley into the ring and he got me qualified. While Wesley is amazing, he is spooky, and my trainer thought he would not succeed in such a scary indoor arena, so the search for another horse had begun. A horse at my barn had become available for a lease, but it did not work out. When all hope was lost, my friend’s horse Puppy was just coming back from an out of barn lease for a week before leaving again. My trainer popped me on him for that week and saw potential, so she arranged for me to ride him at Medal Finals. He came back from his last lease a week before the show. It was hard, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to love a new horse, but I buckled down and tried to figure him out before Medal Finals. I was a wreck once we got to the show. I had never been to such a big show, especially one where I had twenty-two other competitors and a new horse. However, after we finished our round, I came out with a green ribbon, a grin from ear to ear, and was completely in love!
It wasn’t an easy journey for us. We had our win at Medal Finals but I still had so much to learn about him. I love that he is always forgiving and tries his hardest to help. However, he is a big boy and can be strong, long, and heavy. He made me gain muscle, stamina, and patience. We had ups and downs. After some falls I had become terrified of lines so we started playing around in the jumper ring. Two years after our first appearance, we returned to Medal Finals competing in the 2’9” equitation, and won third place. This year we will be returning again for the 2’9” equitation, but we are a different team now than we were two years ago. We still don’t win everything, in fact, this year we received our first Champion ribbon ever. I struggle with confidence and staying out of my head, but I know Puppy always has my back. In the past, Puppy has always been the leader, but this year we will return and whatever we win will be because of all the hard work we have put into ourselves. This year we are a team. We make decisions on purpose and together. They may not always be right but I trust him more than ever and he trusts me to support him.
It is a remarkable thing to win a class, but it is even more astounding to be in sync with your horse. Puppy and I have grown so much together and hit a point where it’s almost like we can read each other’s minds. He knows when I am going to ask him to stretch and go get a long distance and we are on it together! It’s like all the pieces have fallen into place and all is right in the world. Everything feels meant to be. I have started genuinely smiling during my courses. When we nail the first few jumps it is like we are on top of the world and unstoppable. Whether we win the class or not, it is a win for our team and I would never trade that experience for anything.
He started out as a lease for a show and little did I know, nearly four years later, he would still be the love of my life. He has taken me from jumping around at 2’ to competing at 2’9”. He has taught me so many things about riding, but so many invaluable life lessons too. While I have always been grateful for all the horses I have been lucky enough to ride throughout my career, Puppy is beyond special. He has been with me throughout high school, college, and now the current chapter of my life.
Puppy is not only a horse, my partner, my pet, but a precious member of my family. He has been on every Christmas card and is always a topic of conversation. My letters of recommendation and personal statement for dental schools all include Puppy. He is a huge part of my life and hopefully, I can get into dental school in-state and continue to have Puppy in my life. Even though I don’t own him, he is so special. I never want to think about a life without him but he will forever be a big part of my life. He is my heart horse! It’s sad to think about other horses I will have, and I am sure I will have another heart horse, but Puppy will forever be my first. A heart horse is more than a horse, they are a partner, a member of the family, and you just can’t imagine life without them.
You can follow our journey on Instagram by following @puppythehorse
]]>Part of what I do for a living involves writing blogs. Still, finding the right words to say for this blog was challenging. Opening up to show your stripes can take some serious guts!
I consider myself an advocate for body positivity in the equestrian community (when I learned that the Herd of Zebras message celebrates inclusivity, I knew I wanted to join the herd!). As a rider who is not plus-sized but has always been reasonably bigger than a size 2, I haven't always felt like the equestrian world accepted my body. This feeling has held especially true while showing on the A show hunter/jumper circuit in the equitation divisions.
At age 12, I won junior equitation champion in my zone. The same year, my former trainer also told me that I was fat. Not only did that hurt, like, a lot, but it also put a lot of pressure on me because I felt like there was something wrong with my body. When I began showing in the 3'6" equitation divisions, I couldn't help but start comparing myself--especially my body--to other riders. I was short and curvy; they were tall and slender. It didn't help that I felt like some of my best-executed rounds deserved a higher placing than they got. There were rounds where my rollback turns were tight and balanced, my lead changes were smooth, my distances were precise, and my seat was on-point. And yet, the winning rider, who looked skinny compared to me, made mistakes and reaped all the rewards. I still can't help but wonder if my not being stick-thin had anything to do with me not winning those classes.
It was around this time that I started to feel pretty burnt out from riding. But despite the severe body dysmorphia that had developed, my love for horses and competing was still present and as strong as ever. Channeling that love, I decided to take my hunter/equitation horse, McGuire, into the jumper ring, where I felt no pressure. Since jumper scoring is objective rather than subjective, my good riding finally got rewarded for precisely that-- good riding. All of a sudden, my riding McGuire with precision and balance was paying off! We won countless championships in the Children's Jumper division together. Fast-forward to my late teens/early twenties, and I was winning championships in the Low Junior Jumper division on my more advanced jumper, Nirvana. And most importantly, I was accomplishing all of these things without shrinking my body. I never went back to an equitation class for any reason other than to have fun for the rest of my junior career.
Today, I'm an amateur rider who is still happiest showing in the jumper ring where I don't have to worry about subjective scoring. Do I still have body dysmorphia? Unfortunately, yes, but it's better than it used to be. Do I want people to think my experiences are typical and to be expected when riding horses? No. I've developed a decent-sized social media following over the last year, and most of my followers are junior riders who are a lot younger than me and impressionable. I see more and more diversity in equitation divisions and don't think we should entertain the notion of normalizing body dysmorphia on social media.
I'd instead like to use my platform to emphasize these core messages to my followers: every body is an equestrian body with the right-sized horse. How well we ride is not determined by our body type. We ride our best when we're strong, and we are always capable of getting stronger.
Follow me on TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube for more positivity: @TheJillT
A few weeks ago I received an email in response to our final Pride Month eblast. The email, and the few that followed from the same sender, were all very anti Pride and anti the LGBTQIA+ community. I was completely disheartened as I read them, but as someone who is straight, it served as an excellent reminder just how important movements like Pride Month are. It reminded me that a little kindness and acceptance can go a long way in making the world a better place.
July marks another important month, Disability Pride Month. But as many Paralympic athletes across the globe excitedly pack and prepare for the Paralympic Games, I learned that a United States Paralympic Gold Medalist was forced to withdraw from the 2021 games when the USOPC would not allow her to have a Personal Care Assistant (PCA) with her at the games. Becca Meyers is a 3 time Paralympic Gold Medal Swimmer, a World Record holder, she is also deaf-blind athlete. Meyer shared her story in a beautifully written piece on USA Today, and frankly I do not think I can do justice to the importance of this story. Below is an excerpt I found particularly powerful, you can read her full story by clicking HERE.
The idea of trying to navigate a foreign city without help is intimidating to me, add to that the stress of COVID-19 protocols and disabilities that can limit communication, I truly cannot imagine how overwhelming that would be. Asking for ONE person to help you navigate those challenges hardly seems unreasonable to me. Just look at the US Olympic Equestrian Team, correct me if I am wrong, but if they can bring one groom per horse, why can't our Paralympic Athletes have their own PCAs? Don't get me wrong, I love my horse, but why are we giving better accommodations to equine athletes than our Paralympians?!
It is easy to overlook months like Pride Month, and Disability Pride Month if you are not part of the communities that they represent. But the last two months have just gone to show how important they are. Our work to make this world kinder and more inclusive is not done. So today, and everyday, please remember to Be Kind.
]]>As equestrians, we spend a lot of time justifying our sport to other people. The fact that it is in the Olympics doesn’t even seem to matter some days. Instead, I have had people argue that ping pong is an Olympic sport, trying to prove that not all Olympic sports are sports, I guess. As we make that argument, and as we push ourselves and work to climb up the levels, to prove ourselves as a competitor in this sport, we lose sight of why we started in the first place, and what is most important. Recently the quote “Love the horse first, and the sport second” has been circulating Facebook, and it really resonated with me. I’ve written a bit about how moving to Alaska, and having Wyatt have challenged me to refocus my riding, and truly helped me to live up to this quote.
A few months ago, I discovered that Wyatt developed Melanomas in his mouth right where his bit goes. While we waited for him to have surgery to remove them, I started riding him in a cross under style bitless bridle. While I helped eliminate the discomfort caused by the melanomas, he did not love it, so I figured at some point we would go back to riding in a bit. After his surgery, we continued to try different bitless options while his mouth healed, and I was shocked to find that he absolutely LOVED the pinwheel hackamore I tried. He was a WHOLE different horse. At 12 years old he has always been a bit crocked, and required some work to ride straight. The crookedness would also lead to the occasional missed canter lead. In the pinwheel hackamore those problems went away. He became straighter, and hasn’t missed a canter lead since the change.
A few friends have asked me when I will switch my horse back to a bit so that we can pursue our horse show goals. The answer is I don’t know that I will. Wyatt being happy and comfortable with the tack we use, is way more important to me than winning ribbons at a horse show. Some times what is best for your horse isn’t what is best for your show career, and that is okay. Don’t get me wrong, I am painfully aware of how hard this decision can be. I have had to make it on a few different occasions for the horses I have been blessed to have in my life, but at the end of the day we are responsible for the health and welfare of the amazing animals that make this sport possible.
Horses are extremely selfless, in so many ways I think they give us way more than we can ever give them in return. The days when they stop at a jump, spook in the middle of your flat class, or hit the barrel killing the time of your run it can be hard to remember all they do for us. But without them we wouldn’t have a sport. We wouldn’t have met countless people who have become our closest friends. Without them we wouldn’t have a shoulder to cry on or someone to tell our deepest secrets to. Horses make us better, so in the end, even when the decision feels impossible the choice is simple, “Love the horse first, and the sport second”.
]]>Hi everyone, my name is Rae (@fourthtimesequestrian on Instagram) and today, in honor of pride month, I want to share my stripes with you.
A quote that has recently stuck with me is, “Don’t ever be afraid to show off your true colors.” I found that quote on the internet and I have no idea who said it or where it came from but I love it, and it’s really struck a cord with me. I used to be so afraid to be myself. Growing up and going through middle school, I was always one of the “weird” kids. I was bullied for the way I dressed, my weight, my hair, the way I acted, I didn’t fit into the mold that others did and at the time that was all I wanted to do to make the hurtful words stop. So, I changed myself as much as I could do blend my stripes into a world of polka dots.
I hadn’t been diagnosed yet, but my anxiety and depression dragged me to a really dark place those years. Seeking help in school made no difference, the counselor basically told me that I was being overdramatic. Thankfully, my parents were nothing but supportive and did everything in their power to help me, which included pulling me out of public school and homeschooling me from 7th grade through 12th. I still tried to hide my stripes even after leaving my school. It felt like I was at a constant battle with my mind, still desperately trying to make myself fit into the mold that I didn’t need to try to fit into anymore. And amidst this battle with myself, was where I learned the most about myself.
Going through my teen years, I was never interested in being in a relationship like everyone else my age was. I was completely sex repulsed and the thought of being in a real relationship with another person was enough to make me gag, and as a result I kind of felt like I was broken. No one else I knew felt this way, why did I? Certainly it’s not normal. I didn’t understand myself, I didn’t understand the way I felt. But I wanted to, so I started researching and trying to put words to my feelings. I was probably around 15 when I first learned of the word “asexual”, and seeing that there were other people that felt the same way as me was incredibly validating and relieving.
In my junior year my mom signed me up for a homeschool group that got together every Tuesday and had a day of classes. I took photography, sign language, computer science, and a few other classes, and it was nice to get out of the house and get to make some acquaintances. It was at this group that I had my first crush at the ripe age of 17 when I was a senior. And my crush was on a girl. So now I was a confused little queer who didn’t even know what to identify as. Was I still asexual? Was I gay? Was I bi? It was a weird time for me while I struggled to grasp what the heck my sexuality actually was. What no one told me though was that not knowing exactly what you identify with is perfectly normal and okay! Sexuality can change and be fluid, and labels are just that, labels, and you don’t even have to pick one! If it’s easier to just call yourself queer instead of defining yourself with one or multiple labels, do that. You do what makes you feel comfortable and what feels right to you!
So now, let’s fast forward a couple of years to me being in my first relationship, with a girl. Being a queer equestrian, especially being “out” and in a same-sex relationship, is somewhat taboo it seems. It’s not “normal”. When my then girlfriend would come to the barn, there would always be a couple of people that would just kind of look at us funny. Not in a rude way, but just that they didn’t understand. It’s always bothered me though how I’ve been looked at and treated when in a same-sex relationship versus a straight passing one.
The equestrian community definitely has some work to do with being more open and accepting of LGBTQ+ equestrians. Having and being good allies can be a literal lifesaver to someone in the LGBTQ+ community. Whether it’s putting your pronouns in your profile or sharing your support for pride month, it’s all these little steps that push us in the right direction and make it a safer world for us.
So here I am now, proudly wearing all of my stripes. The stripes that don’t define me but, rather, have shaped me. I am a biromantic asexual, and that will undoubtedly shift throughout my life, and that’s okay. I am a type one diabetic, and the loss of function of an organ has made me stronger (and bionic). I have anxiety and depression, but it doesn’t have me. I am a million little broken pieces put together with glue and tape and good intentions. I am me, and that’s all I can be. I’m proud of myself and my stripes, I’m proud of overcoming my struggles and I will always be unapologetically me.
BY JESS CLAWSON
If you’re paying attention to social media at all, you’ll see a variety of pride flags all over the place this month, including the iconic rainbow flag. Some equestrians don’t think Pride belongs in equestrian spaces, and I obviously disagree. I’m excited to share more of my personal feelings about Pride with the Herd.
The first time I went to Pride as an out queer person, I went all out--I flew to New York City and spent several days with my brother and sister-in-law in the place where Pride started. I got to dance on the boardwalk, take in the parade, and cover myself in rainbows. It was one of the best weekends of my life.
The poet Allen Ginsberg was at the Stonewall rebellion that started Pride, where drag queens and trans women fought back against police brutality in 1968. Vanity Fair quoted him referring to the queer people standing up for themselves for the first time: “They were so beautiful that day. They’ve lost that wounded look.”
His words echoed in my ears as I watched people celebrate the incredibly joyous, creative, brilliant spectacle that is both Pride and the queer community itself. No one was paying any real attention to the haters with their signs about sinning. People were dancing, cheering, wearing outrageous outfits (or wearing almost nothing). I felt like I was part of something, that I had finally opened the door to a community of people who were rooted in a jubilant fight for justice. It brought tears to my eyes.
We really, really need Pride month, especially these days. The queer community is under assault from the Supreme Court, local politicians, and bigots across the nation. I get frustrated when straight people think the fight is over because we have marriage equality now--which is not the most important thing queer folks need, while we’re fighting for access to housing, employment, health care, and public accommodations.
There are over 250 anti-queer and anti-trans laws circulating state legislatures, with a record-setting 17 signed into law already, making 2021 the worst year yet for trans people in the eyes of the law. The court system is also making things worse.
Let’s take a look at what’s going on:
The day before my writing of this piece, the US Supreme Court dealt a blow to the LGBT QIA population in a high profile case over whether the city of Philadelphia could refuse to contract with Catholic Social Services agency because they refuse to work with same-sex foster parents. This decision is harmful to foster care youth and the foster parents who want to work with them, and reinforces the idea, once again, that queer people have no place around children, even though lots of queer people are children.
And this isn’t an isolated incident. Buck v. Gordon deals with the state of Michigan allowing foster and adoption agencies to deny all LGBTQ people the ability to foster or adopt children under the premise of “religious exemption.” This denies children opportunities for loving homes, and sends the message to queer children in the foster system that there is something wrong with them. Oh, and it’s happening in South Carolina, too.
There are 440,000 children under government care in the United States. Finding loving homes for them all should be the top priority, not curtailing the options based on bigotry.
Trans peoples’ access to healthcare is continually a hot topic. Toomey v. State of Arizona is an effort to require the state of Arizona health care plan for state employees to lift its exclusion on transition-related surgery for trans people. These surgeries are life saving for trans people dealing with gender dysphoria, and the state denying these critical medical procedures is horrendous. Lots of proposed state laws are seeking to deny transition-related healthcare to trans people, and some, like Iowa, already deny this healthcare to Medicaid recipients.
Meanwhile, black trans women are being murdered at rates equivalent to genocide, which doesn’t include suicide or death from lack of shelter or medical care.
Trans kids playing sports--I should say, trans girls playing sports--is a particular bugbear for state legislatures at the moment. I could write a whole piece on this and likely will at some point, but just know that I’m never going to cave to arguments about anything not being fair to cis kids while trans kids are fighting for their lives every day and should be able to just play basketball in peace.
I could keep going forever. I haven’t even talked about the attacks on protections in education, housing, employment, accurate identification, bathrooms, and other public spaces. I haven’t discussed in the gruesome detail I see every single day the murders of queer people in this country, especially trans women of color. Not in Syria--right here. Every day.
Herd of Zebras is about showing your stripes. That’s why we all love it. The queer community has a lot of stripes to show, and not just the beautiful rainbows you’re seeing everywhere. We’re angry, and rightfully so.
We’re also incredibly resilient. This atrocious wave of legislation can’t keep us from being who we are. No one can. We’ve fought back before, led by our most vulnerable members, and we will keep fighting. I’m proud of that.
]]>Herd member Asher Woodbury joins us to share his story:
We have spent some time over the last few months highlighting the significance that a heart horse can play in our lives, but today I thought we should switch gears, and talk about the barn dogs. I am lucky enough to have two dogs that absolutely LOVE being at the barn with me. Benny, is a 9-year-old corgi. He is often known as “bad corgi” and has been in the barn with me since the ripe old age of 8 weeks. Then there is Nora. She is an almost three year old mutt rescued from a village in northern Alaska.
When we adopted Nora, the plan was for Benny to continue his role as my barn dog, and for her to be my husband, Tom’s hunting and hiking buddy. But, less than 24 hours into having her in my life, she managed to get hurt. I was the one who scooped her up as she cried and squealed, and we have been attached at the hip ever since. Benny on the other hand realized that watching sports on the couch with dad, and helping him pack for, hunting and fishing trips was his calling in life. While I sometimes feel a little bit disappointed that Benny's loyalty has transferred from myself, to my husband, Nora is a better barn dog by a landslide. She LOVES people, comes when she's called, doesn't randomly disappear leaving me searching for her, and she's careful and sweet with the horses. Benny is well fiercely independent at the barn, disappearing frequently, and has been known to snap at and chase Wyatt away from his food.
Much like Wyatt, Nora is everything I didn't know I needed. As someone who works from home, and boards at a small private barn, I spend a lot of time alone, especially when Tom is away for TDYs. Nora is my constant companion. As I have worked through challenges with my health, grief from the loss of my horse Josh, and the loneliness of working from home, she is constantly by my side. Her little nose is even in my lap as I type this. When I have a bad day, she is always there to rest her head on my arm. I did not know I needed a little buddy like her, but her sweet snuggly personality always makes me feel better when I am having a bad day.
Her love for barn time is also so heartwarming. She loves to hang out and nap in the sun, or sit by the front door and watch for friends, both human, or animal. She and Wyatt are truly best friends. Wyatt has been known to gently groom her as he would another horse. While I think his love might be a bit aggressive for her tiny 45lb body, she patiently sits there, and lets him do it. She follows us around when we are walking to start or end our rides, and even has a game with Wyatt when he ride in the field where she darts away when he tosses his head at her, then comes back and they repeat the process over and over. The joy she finds in her barn time, makes my barn time even better. The barn has always been my safe place, my happy place, and I love that it brings her the same joy.
As equestrians we all are animal lovers. And while horses might be the animal that make our sport possible, our little barn buddies worm their ways into our hearts and end up just as important to us. Be it a barn dog, or barn cat they bring an added level of joy to our lives. We all think our fuzzy family members are the best, and none of us are wrong.
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When we started the heart horse blog series, I did not have any intention to write about my horse, Wyatt. I absolutely adore him, but he doesn’t feel like an extension of me the way my horse Josh did. However, over the last few months he has helped me through some of the most heartbreaking and challenging times in my life so far. And it recently occurred to me that just because my relationship with this horse is very different from the relationship I had with Josh, it does not mean it is any less special. While he is not really the horse I wanted him to be when I bought him, but he is 1000% the horse I need in my life.
***Please note that I am not saying every horse you meet or own will be your heart horse. I have owned or leased several other horses; I just happen to be lucky enough to have had two that are very special to me. ***
While Wyatt and Josh have some striking similarities, both being push rides with an affinity for vet bills, they are very different horses. Josh was polite and steady and tolerant of my mistakes; Wyatt is very open and sassy wearing his heart on his sleeve. Josh could stand for HOURS being groomed and loved on, Wyatt tolerates my annoying need to groom him, in exchange for treats or time hand grazing. They both love kids, but Josh did not love beginner riders, he tolerated them, but wouldn’t really listen to them. Wyatt LOVES the chance to have an “easy” day with a kid or beginner adult.
Josh would have hated it here in Alaska. He hated the cold, went WILD in the wind and could be a bit jittery on a solo trail ride. Wyatt however is unfazed by all of those things. Heck I have ridden through the start of a wind storm with gusts of wind swirling snow around us and he didn’t put a foot out of place while I rode BAREBACK in a HALTER. I would not have even bothered to sit on Josh in that kind of weather, knowing full well it would have been a disaster.
When I purchased Wyatt, I had no idea that a year and a half later, we would be moving to Alaska. I bought him with the hopes of turning him into a 3foot hunter/ hunter derby horse, but a lack of a clean and smooth lead change makes that next to impossible. Now that we live in Alaska, my focus as a rider has shifted significantly. Riding is significantly less about showing, and mostly now about enjoying my horse, with the hopes of attending some schooling shows this summer. Wyatt is a bit of a jack of all trades, master of none. He jumps well enough to be a hunter, but doesn’t have a clean lead change. He is bold enough for the jumper ring, but doesn’t have the speed. He will happy go play on cross country, but wants no part of a water crossing. He will happily do dressage, but just isn’t super interested in the work it takes to win in the sandbox. But Wyatt will happily go along with whatever I try to make him that day. He will trail ride down the street, do whatever discipline I try that day, or cart around a friend’s 5-year-old all with care. His willingness to literally do whatever I throw at him, is exactly what I need right now.
I read a post on Facebook the other day talking about the “mistake horse” the one that you fall in love with even though they are less than perfect for what you wanted them for, but still wonderful. I could look at Wyatt as a mistake horse, but that name just sounds wrong to me. Sure, when you buy a horse, you generally have a plan or intentions for who that horse is supposed to be, and maybe they don’t live up to them, but is that the horse's fault, or the human's? I think calling them a “mistake horse” sounds like they were wrong for you. They may not have served their exact or intended purpose, but they taught you so much more than that. Wyatt is not my “mistake horse” he is simply not what I wanted, but instead everything I needed. And somehow in all of that he has wormed his way into my heart in a very unexpected way. He has supported me through some pretty big life changes including a cross country move, a chronic illness diagnosis and loosing Josh. In all of that if he was what I wanted him to be, he wouldn’t have been what I needed him to be.
Heart horses come in all different shapes and sizes, you just have to open your mind and your heart to see the special magic that can come from even the most unexpected equine.
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What is a heart horse, exactly? It’s hard to explain. It’s the kind of thing you have to experience for yourself in order to truly understand it. The best way I’ve heard it described is that a heart horse is a horse whose soul compliments your soul. It’s a horse that you have a special connection with – a soulmate in equine form.
I started riding shortly before I turned 6. On January 14th, 2012, my 12th birthday, I received a card explaining that come spring, my mom and I would start the search for a horse of my very own. In April, on Friday the 13th, we met a 12-year-old Paint gelding named Leo Scottish Pride, aka “TJ.” He certainly wasn’t the prettiest horse to look at – a short, hairy, under muscled little Paint with an unevenly cut, choppy mane. It was April in Iowa, far too cold for a good bath, so his white parts looked more yellow-brown than white. The seller’s son tried to lunge him for us, but “TJ” pulled the lunge line out of his hand and ran down the driveway. They caught him, tacked him up, and I rode him around a little. Then we went home.
Two days later, on April 15th, 2012, we went back to see the little Paint again. I rode him some more, this time we went out in the cornfield for a bit. When I loped him, he did a little crow-hop. My mom only saw out of the corner of her eye, and when she asked me if he bucked, I lied and told her he just slipped. And then, we bought that little Paint horse. To this day, I’m not sure why we chose him. He definitely wasn’t a great first horse for a 12-year-old. He bucked when asked to lope, didn’t know his leads (and almost never picked up the left lead), he didn’t neck rein, he didn’t back, it took hours to get him on the trailer. But regardless, he came home with us.
It took me a couple weeks to decide on a name for him. TJ didn’t fit, and I wanted his name to be perfect. I finally settled on the name “Chaco,” after Chaco Canyon in New Mexico, which my family had visited a couple years prior.
I’d be lying if I said there weren’t a few times in those first few years that I wanted to sell him. He was just awful sometimes, and we didn’t have the money for a trainer. But despite the problems and setbacks, I stuck with him. And over time, he became my best friend.
We started going to horse shows, something neither of us had done before. Even though we didn’t do so well at the first few, I decided that showing was the best thing I’d ever done. We improved more and more each year, and our relationship became stronger and stronger. It started to seem like he could hear my thoughts. We competed at the Iowa State Fair and entered cowgirl queen contests. We even won a couple state champion titles in ranch horse. I started giving some local 4-H kids riding lessons in 2016, something I never would’ve been able to do without everything Chaco taught me.
In 2019, we took our biggest leap yet and went to the Pinto World Championship Show in Tulsa, Oklahoma. In all our years together, we had only gone to a couple of breed shows – they were too expensive – but we went anyway. And my little self-trained Paint pony and I came home with not one, not two, but three reserve world champion titles in three different ranch horse classes. We went from two scrawny, inexperienced little ugly duckling 12-year-olds to two 19-year-old reserve world champions, and neither of us could’ve done it without the other.
Our win pic at the 2019 Pinto World Championship
But it’s not the ribbons and accomplishments that make him my heart horse. It’s his personality and heart. It’s him playing “tag” and chasing me around the arena, no halter or bridle, as I laugh and try my best to outrun him even though I know it’s impossible. It’s the way he tolerates anyone I put on his back, but tries to sneak into the middle where I’m standing with every lap around the arena. It’s him standing quietly as I sob into his mane over the death of my dad in 2015, over breakups and lost friendships. It’s him being far too smart for his own good and learning to untie himself, open stall doors, and discovering that “bowing” gets him lots and lots of treats. It’s him having mini temper tantrums when he sees me paying attention to other horses, the way he looks at me when he knows I’m making fun of him, the way he comes when I call him from the gate, the way he nickers when I walk into the barn.
Now, it’s 2021. I can’t imagine life without Chaco. He’s more than just my best friend, he’s my entire world. He’s been with me through so, so much, and he’s been the cause of many tears and even more smiles and laughter. It would take me hours to talk about everything he’s done for me. He turned 21 on April 1st, but he is still going strong. But even when he starts feeling his age, when he’s old and unrideable, he will stay with me. He’s done so much for me, the least I can do is give him a good retirement when he’s ready and a safe place to live out his life. It’s impossible to put into words how much this horse means to me. But I can say, with 100% certainty, that Chaco is my heart horse.
You can follow our journey on Instagram by following @paintofadifferentcolor
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