Horse Family

I mentioned briefly last week that Deanna had gone horseback riding for the first time. When she was just a toddler, she got to ride a pony in a circle, being led by a teenager. I think it was back then that she got the horse bug.

Don says all little girls love horses. So why don't little boys? It must have to do with those feminine hormones. Boys like guns and swords, girls like horses.

Anyway, I took Deanna's little girls group to a local stable last Saturday for a Girl Scout Program. They each got to choose a horse, they learned basic commands such as go, stop, turn left, learned how to hold reins and mount, and then got to ride for about an hour. Next, they brushed down a horse (each clamoring for a particular brush - don't know why they all thought that one was the best) and then would have gotten to muck out a stable but they were already mucked, so they learned how to muck. They had a short class in tack and then we headed home, worn out and satisfied.

My father rode in the Rodeo in Canada as a young man. He grew up on horses and always broke his own, so the Rodeo was an easy job for him. Once, while we were visiting my Grandpa, his horse, who was old and tired and not used to children, refused to move for us kids, who were all piled on her. Daddy got fed up and I vividly remember him cutting a switch from a birch tree, hopping on her, and putting her through the paces. I stood in the doorway of Grandpa's house and watched in excited horror. I must have been all of 6, but I'd never before seen anything that looked so scary - my Daddy, who seemed like such a normal, average man (albeit perfect), shouting "Yah" and kicking up this wild horse who tried to buck him off, rub him off on the barbed wire fence, and any other number of horse tricks before Daddy finally taught her a lesson and she galloped peacefully and obediently through the fields. My Daddy - the Cowboy!! From that point forward, when she got tired of us kids and stopped to eat, we'd call to Daddy. He'd only have to yell "Yah" from the front door for the horse to take off at a canter to squeals of laughter from us kids.

When I was a young girl, we had a close friend who became sort of an adopted grandpa to me. We called him Uncle Claude. He had been in the Army with my Father when Daddy was stationed in Germany before my parents married and then he and Aunt Hulene lived in the same housing building as Mom and Dad when she finally obtained her Passport and was able to travel to Germany to join my Daddy after they married while he was on leave. When we moved to Georgia, we ran into them accidentally, after all those years, and my parents re-established their relationship. Uncle Claude was my best friend and we dearly loved each other.

He had a Shetland Stallion that he had bought for his granddaughter who visited about once a year. Being a Stallion and being unridden for 11 3/4 months out of the year, he was quite wild. I was itching to ride him but Daddy explained that he would have to be broken first. He asked if I was willing and I agreed to try.

Daddy stood outside the fence and called directions to me. Red tried everything under the sun. He ran under a low branch and tried to knock me off. That worked only once. He took off at a gallop and ran so close to a tree trunk, he almost rubbed my leg right off. THAT only worked once, as well. After being bucked off for the third time, Daddy told me that when I felt like I was sure to fall, to wrap my arms around Red's neck. Then I'd just swing between his front legs and fall gently, rather than the hard falls I'd had. It took about 2 weeks of bruises, cuts, and falls but I broke Red. Finally, he learned I was the boss and, although very spirited, was a good horse and would call to me when he caught my scent on each visit to Uncle Claude's farm. I loved that mean, little horse.

One Wednesday, I called Uncle Claude at work and asked if he would pick me up on his way home so I could ride. We had an understanding and I did that about 2 - 3 times a week. He responded, for the first time ever, that maybe that night wasn't the best night. I said okay and hung up, surprised. That weekend, Daddy took me to the Farm and I ran from pasture to pasture looking for Red and calling to him. Finally, I ran up to Uncle Claude who was talking with Daddy and asked where Red was.

"You're gonna have to tell her," Daddy told Uncle Claude. "I'm sure as heck not going to. I told you your temper was going to get you into trouble some day."

"What, Uncle Claude," I asked. "What's happened?"

It seems Uncle Claude's granddaughter had come for a visit. They figured that since I had been riding Red, he'd be pretty tame, so they put Chrissy right up on him. Well, he was a Stallion and had an understanding with me, but he wasn't about to let Chrissy ride him. He had bucked her off immediately, she had gotten hurt, and Uncle Claude was so angry, he pulled out a shotgun and shot the horse between the eyes. On Wednesday, when I called to come out, the Dog Food Factory was sending a truck to pick up the carcass and Uncle Claude didn't think I needed to see that.

Sometime later, he decided I needed my own horse, and worked it out with Daddy. His name was Prince and he was a Welsh Gelding. We stabled him at Uncle Claude's farm and I became a "horsewoman". I had him for several years until he wasn't getting the attention he needed from me and I had moved on to other interests.

Last Saturday, as the girls stood outside the fence, fighting over who would get the smallest horse and scared to death of every horse the handlers brought out, I was thrilled to see Deanna's hand shoot up when the largest horse was brought out and the handler asked, "Who wants this one?" They brought out steps to help her mount him and she sat straight and tall in the saddle. She told me later that she was scared but nothing was going to keep her from this experience, not even her own fears.

I jumped on a big horse and trotted him around a little. They kept the girls pretty much in a line, one horse following another. I was on the Alpha Male, who had to be at the rear because he herded all the other horses, so I took advantage of the opportunity and rode all over the field on my own. At one point, something scared Deanna's horse and he bolted, rearing up on his back legs and galloping full-tilt away from the crowd. Deanna never lost her composure. She pulled back on the reins, yelled, "Whoa", and slowed him down. Then she talked gently to him and continued to pull back on the reins until he came to a full stop. She patted him on the neck and he calmed right down. The handlers all stopped what they were doing and watched. Two of them asked me later if that was my daughter and said that she was a natural. I couldn't have been more proud and Deanna couldn't have been more excited. Her first experience with a real horse was a smash hit.

So, this past weekend, we went to a horse show. She's decided to save up her money to attend horse camp this summer.

Some girls love horses their whole life but never have the opportunity to do anything with that love. Deanna's getting the chance to experience horsemanship and to learn more than she ever could have imagined about horses. The last two weeks have been a dream come true for her. I just hope she keeps dreaming.