The Friendliest Horse

 Let's start this story from my point of view.

Shilo is beautiful, especially in the summer when he shines golden with a few dapples to add to his radiance.  He's a Quarter Pony, although there are no papers to prove his pedigree.  But his appearance is minor compared with his temperament.  In all my 70 years or so of horsing around, he is the friendliest equine I have ever met.  He is the first to greet everyone.  He comes to the fence or gate, and puts his head in a position for pats.  He is a mooch for horse treats, but really he is happy with nothing but attention.  He always wants attention.

It someone goes out to the pasture to fix a fence, he is right beside them.  Ignore him, and a cap is gone.  Attempt to leave his area, and he dances about, trying to block any exit.  He wants to be with people.  Other horses are okay, but want he really wants is people.

This friendly behavior should be a plus, but not always.

Take the fence fixing situation.  He can slow the whole process.  Shilo isn't adverse to trotting off with a hammer.  Sigh.  And try grooming his pasture mate, Bonnie...poor Bonnie.  He is intent on putting his body between you and Bonnie. If that doesn't work, he will nip the poor mare.  

Further, there is the problem with conducting lessons.  His pasture borders the arena, so he can clearly see there is action right beside him  He sees other horses, but more than that he sees people.  People: his favorite companions.

Usually we turn the electric fence off when we are conducting lessons.  We don't want the students hurt.

But trust Shilo.  He discovered the power was off.  He barged through the wires that appear to be white ribbon.  The first couple of times he managed to duck under the top rung and climb over the bottom, spaced low for the Miniature Horses we no longer have.  However, when I tried to adjust the wires the third time, he just plowed through in spite of the power being turned back on.

The lesson was interrupted.  My youngest granddaughter (16) admitted his frolicking, including bucking and rearing, once he got in the arena, frightened her.  I had to grab him, and lead him back, past the now shredded electric ribbon, while he kept insisting he wanted to be with us, to be part of the action.

Eventually, my husband had to completely adjust and repair the wire.  And we now have to leave the electricity flowing when we have lessons in that area.

Having a super friendly horse isn't always a bonus.

 

Okay.  There are two sides to most stories, and here is Shilo's version.

I just want to have fun.

I like people.  When I was younger it was people who finally fed me, and they took me away from the stupid, bullying stallion.  I'm a grateful kind of guy.

You have to understand I look forward to training; I love treats.

And the day I realized the fence wouldn't shock me; well, who wouldn't want to go and play with the students and the other horses?  I discovered the nipping ribbons weren't on, and all I had to do was step over the bottom rung, duck under the top, and there I was - with the gang.  The Treatsinthepocket woman was there, the curly maned young woman who called Treatsinthepocket "Grandma," and who sometimes comes to help with the lessons was there, and so was the slight girl with the uncertain gait, and the man who always seemed to be fascinated by the stone he carried.  They had the brown pony mare with them, as well as the bay mare.  

I didn't know the pony well, but I'm always interested in other horses.  I tried to greet everyone.  I was so pleased.  Treatsinthepocket got a halter with a rope, and put them on me.

I thought, "oh, joy, I get to play, too," but she led me back to the pasture with big mare, who I like, although she can be a bit of a bore.  

Well, now I knew what to do.  I stepped through the ribbons again. I was out in a minute!  I'm a fast learner.  Back in the arena.  I knew the game. Oh, bother!  I was returned to the pasture.

Treatsinthepocket had disappeared to turn on the nipping.  I had already committed myself to stepping through, and I got a little bite, but I was out!  The ribbons had come loose from their posts.  They trailed behind me like a long, flapping tail.  

Okay!  I was back in the action.  Curly maned girl approached me.  Did she want to play, too?  I danced, shook my head and bounced to my back legs, then whirled and bucked out.  Curly maned girl backed off.  So disappointing.  I was sure she wanted to play.  So, I did a little more dancing to encourage her.  No biggy.

Treatsinthepocket returned, and snapped the rope back on my halter.  "Good," I thought.  She gets it!  She was muttering.  I tried dancing and tossing my head, but she put me in the driveway pen, and proceeded to tie off the fence.  Such a disappointment.  Another big sigh.

Later that day Gruffmanwhotrimshoofs appeared and adjusted all the ribbons so I couldn't step out anymore.  More sighs.

I still like people.  And I still just want to have fun.

Won't someone come to play with me?  I promise to nuzzle you, or rest my head on your shoulder.

 

Welcome to my world with horses

Welcome to my blog post.  I'm Laverne.  I'm 78 years young and I've spent most of my years with horses.  I still have a pasture full of the critters.  Well, actually just six now - down from 21.

I'm hoping this blog will bring me renewed delight in writing.  Perhaps some people will even read it!  Anyone out there?

Over 30 years ago, I was privileged to be chosen to write a weekly newspaper column called Hoofbeats for the Enumclaw Courier Herald.  For many years, starting in 1990, I could call myself a paid writer, although I think I was paid $12 a column.  Even given inflation, that was a pittance: however, writing those columns gave me enormous pleasure, and made me brave enough to submit articles to horse magazines.  Many were accepted.

I ended up writing a couple of self-published books: The Hoofbeats of my Heart and The For Always Pony.  Look for them on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.  (I had to get the plug in.)

The writing experience gave me joy.

Then I stopped writing for pleasure, and returned to university for a Bachelor's degree, followed by a Master's.  Somehow, the creative juices stopped flowing the way it had in the days of the newspaper column.

I remember clearly how my initial foray into published writing began.  Over 30 years ago Friendly Horse Acres had recently moved to Buckley, Washington.  The community was small, and a lot of property had enough acreage for livestock.  The local feed store hosted a celebration of horse people, and they sponsored an exceptionally well attended parade of people and horses around the parameter of the city in late September.

My husband and I were breeding Miniature Horses.  We decided to walk the distance (about six miles,) dressed in pioneer costumes, and leading a pair of minis.  Okay.  We were younger, but that trek turned out to be a grueling hike, as we tried to keep up with the mounted participants.  By the time were were within a mile of our own farm, heading up a hill, we were wiped out.  Suddenly, a woman sporting a professional camera popped out of the foliage.  "Hi, I'm Shannon.  Can I take your photo and interview you?"  Of course, we agreed.  I recognized Shannon as the Enumclaw Courier Herald reporter who wrote the horse column.  I read it religiously every week.  We ended up with a full page spread in the paper, as well as being the subject of the newspaper column.

Shannon stayed in touch.

About a year later she announced she would be leaving her reporter job, and the courier Herald to return to her home in Ireland.  Although the reporter position would be filled by a professional journalist, she was offering the Hoofbeats column to a community member.  Qualified readers were asked to send in sample columns.

Yes, I was the chosen one.

I remember cussing at the typewriter, but just when I got the job, my parents presented me with one of the best gifts I have ever received.  It was a Brother word processor, complete with floppy disks.  That machine was a treasure. It sang.  And almost all of my articles came off the machine.  When it finally became inoperable, I cried.  Sure, we had PCs by that point, but I felt more creative with that old machine.  Somewhere, buried in a drawer, I'm sure I have a collection of floppies.  Oops, I glance up about the cabinet.  There they are, behind a doll and a crochet horse.  Now, if I had that word processor...

On with my story:

Without the support of that Brother, I hope to recreate my newspaper column in a new form.  Look for stories about horses, of course.  Maybe some research fact articles.  Maybe even some fiction.  No one knows what I'll be up to - least of all me.

I should be including some interviews with local motocross riders who insist horsepower in any form is still horsepower, even if it isn't the four-legged kind. 

Hope someone decides to come along for the ride.  We won't know where we're goiong until we get there.

Keep Horsing around!