I went to my first horse camp. I fell in love with the little palomino pony, Spirit, the moment I first laid my hands on her neck. I was elated to have been assigned to ride her and over the next year of lessons on her, decided it was a goal of mine to one day own her. Long story short, she was sold but not to me, and my heart felt broken.
I got my first pony. Skimmer, a 17 year old beautiful QH/Arab mare who I had so many fun adventures with before health issues slowed her down, I outgrew her, and she was given to a good family friend who enjoyed her. She was euthanized around 4 years ago, lived a longer life than I would have expected for her given everything she experienced. Her death was sad and eye opening, but to be expected.
Moonbeam, the most beautiful horse I had ever laid my eyes on 2 years prior, officially became my horse. My first ride on her that spring I had felt honoured, and the excitement that I felt that fall when the ownership papers were signed was indescribable. I was now the owner of my literal dream horse, and the adventures ahead were almost inconceivable at times.
Molson. What can I even say about Molson. My first auction purchase. A green horse with 30 days under saddle at a ranch. He couldn’t canter. He didn’t steer. He didn’t really like anything. He was impossible to catch, he was frustrating for a while. I don’t know what even changed, but overnight it felt like I walked to the pasture the day after I decided I would list him for sale and just give up, and I never had another bad day with him. The ad wasn’t listed, and he went on to be the first horse I rode cross country, the horse who introduced me to a world that changed my riding forever. He was sold to a therapeutic lesson barn in 2014, because sport wasn’t for him, but people and connecting with everyone who he deemed to be a kind and reasonable person, was for him.
Moonbeam was retired from sport. I was devastated, she was a fun, simple, reliable horse to ride and take anywhere. She was always so steady and took great care of me. I don’t think she ever stopped at a fence- like ever. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for me, and I was crushed to close that chapter.
But, Syn. My god, I found SYN. I found the horse I didn’t realize I needed until I saw him. I saw him pawing and weaving and screaming at his tie stall at the chuckwagon barn. I saw him trot and canter in the arena. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, and when the owner agreed to a trial period I couldn’t miss that opportunity. I didn’t think I’d ever get a Thoroughbred, let alone an OTTB, until I saw him. He failed flexion tests, he was horrible for the farrier, he jumped a wheelbarrow and bolted away from me within moments of coming off the trailer at home. But god he was perfect. I bought him despite everything, and the rest is history. I can’t get into it.
October. Syn and I went to a live-in working student position 8 hours south. Despite obtaining a severe injury on the way down, Syn grew leaps and bounds in our time at that barn after the months-long healing process. Some things were less than ideal, but it was such an experience that I was fortunate enough to share with Syn. Outside of my bedroom window was my own horse. My walk to work every day involved bringing a carrot down and him trotting to meet me at the fence line to grab it and get a scratch. I was in heaven.
We went home from that position in May. I enjoyed a summer of eventing with Syn and did my first Horse Trials in September before I left for college. I lived life to the fullest with him that summer, I knew it would be a long 2 years without him but I also knew I wanted to do this, I wanted the knowledge of how to massage horses to help him and Moonbeam given their injuries among other horses who needed it, and I wanted the income to support my horses better and provide them with more than my retail jobs ever had. I sobbed when I left him but I smiled every time I looked at pictures and videos of him for the next 2 years.
I graduate. I get home. I re-learn how to handle my complicated amazing horse. I feel pride, I feel ready to get on again. I get a phone call, 10pm 9 days after arriving home. He’s injured, it’s bad. I need to come out, and arrange a vet. 2 days later- *boom*- my horse, in distress and severe pain, barely able to move and unable to perform basic bodily functions, hits the ground lifeless. It’s all over.
There’s no going forward from this. There’s no loving another horse after this, there’s no riding. There’s no way. I saw the highest form of love and passion for the animal, I felt it and I lived it. Just the same as 2004 started me on a path I am eternally grateful for, and 2015 started me on a shared journey with a horse I will never forget nor would I trade for anything, the events of 2019 are things I cannot come back from. I cannot stomach the thought of putting my feet in the stirrups and swinging onto the back of another horse. At least not one that I “own”. I can hardly groom Moonbeam. The horse I have now, and have had for years, I can barely spend time with.
Whether I like it or not, everything is a milestone. Most push you forward, but some alter your path completely in a way you’d never have wished for.
I don’t know what’s in the future, and I don’t know who or what I am if not a rider. But I know I’m no longer a rider, and I have no ambition to change that
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