Nube was a beanpole of a yearling. If he and Ernest weren’t trying to get me bucked off a horse… if he wasn’t eating his body weight in hay every hour… if he wasn’t listening to the Grandfather Horse tell stories about me… if he wasn’t sleeping with donkeys… sometimes Nube came to work with … Read more
In the first months after coming to our farm, it was a simple schedule for Nube: wrestle, eat, sleep, repeat. The horses were kind, but it was mutually agreed they could do without Nube’s adolescent fart games. It was great news because fart games are the bread and butter of donkey life. I’d given the … Read more
I was forty-nine years old with gray hair, calloused banged-up fingers, and chronic lameness in my left foot. He was two months old, brave, sensitive, and wildly athletic. He cantered at liberty throwing flying changes for the fun of it. I loved dressage, especially riding changes that skipped with energy and lightness. We were the … Read more
I was forty- nine years old, and my upcoming birthday was hanging in the air like a pair of stretched-out waist-high cotton underwear. My Grandfather Horse was on stall rest with a career-ending injury, never to be rideable again. At least my other horse, Dodger, was sound and fifteen. I didn’t know I’d lose him … Read more
I’ve never been good at remembering dates, so sometimes I measure my time with horses by when I learned things. Was it when I was still clipping whiskers for shows because we were all told to. Was it when I kept my horses in stalls for my convenience? Was it before I knew about ulcers? … Read more
Foals are irresistible. They are precocious and lively; they cavort and air gallop and sleep flat-out. When they wake up, they’re an inch taller and even more curious about the world than before their nap. They have newborn piaffes and sliding stops. They jump like frogs. They are a fresh start, a whole new … Read more
Turning good intentions into low expectations.
It seems that most things I learn about horses, I learn in hindsight.