Bullies & Buddies

Ransom loves people. However, his peer relationships are more complicated. He has yet to find a turnout buddy. At first, he shared the field with Zone, a mature paint. They got along fine, but the closest they got to being buddies was grazing nearby. When Zone went on stall rest due to an injury, Ransom met Noble and sparks flew from the start. Even after meeting over the fence in adjacent paddocks, the bay gelding wasted no time in establishing himself as the alpha horse. Ransom put in a good show, but his macho charges and squeals soon turned into retreating trots. He pranced around trying to maintain his dignity, but after nursing a few battle wounds, Ransom steered clear of Noble. They settled into co-existence, with Ransom always keeping a watchful eye on the enemy.

Yet this week, nearly a month following their introduction, Ransom’s fears were justified. After grazing amicably in opposite corners of the pasture for an hour, Noble sought Ransom out and proceeded to chase him, unrelenting, around the field, intent on taking a piece out that spotted hide. Poor Ransom nearly climbed the gate in his attempt to escape this gratuitous bullying.

Finally Ransom met Decor, an amiable paint gelding who wasn’t interested being boss. But as with Zone, the two geldings showed apathy towards the other; they were simply not interested in mutual grooming, playing, or swishing flies. So the search continues for a compatible best buddy for Ransom.

Appaloosa Memories: Sonny Part 2

Sonny was my steed of choice for the Pink Ladies themed drill team that formed at the barn. When we performed at the state fair, Sonny tolerantly allowed me to tie shimmery pink ribbons in his mane and wrap his legs with pink polo wraps. I decked out in my satin jacket and saddle shoes and horn-rimmed glasses. As the music started and we entered the arena, Sonny had a sudden attack of separation anxiety, and refused to turn away from his partner, skittering across the arena as I desperately tried to regain control. We finished the rest of the drill without incident, but I was so embarrassed. Fortunately, he performed much better in our repeat performance at a local schooling show.

There were far more good times than bad as he taught me to ride. I adored him. I spent hours giving him extra attention. In the winter he often developed scratches (an inflamed rash of sorts) from standing ankle deep in mud. Every visit I hosed his legs until his socks were white again, and bought desitin to apply to his cuts. When the weather was nice, I took countless photos of him (pre-digital, mind you). When I wasn’t leading trail rides for Terry on Sonny, I used him to give pony rides to a little girl named Kyra.

When I decided to pursue equine science after high school, it was Sonny who helped me earn a place on the equestrian team at my college. Daddy came out with his camera and videotaped me demonstrating my skills on Sonny so I could apply to the equestrian team. I was accepted. Not long after, I was in an accident that put riding on hold for four months. When I came home to visit at Thanksgiving, Sonny was my first ride.

Sonny was perpetually 18. Lesson horses just don’t age in the mind of kids. But while I was away in college, my instructor retired and Sonny retired with her. I visited her and her pasture of deserving retirees a few times, always saying hello to my beloved Sonny, who was now showing his age. Then I heard he was gone.

There’s a new appaloosa love in my life these days. But Sonny is still in my heart.

Appaloosa Memories: Sonny Part 1

I could hardly contain my excitement when I arrived at Knicker Knob stable for my first riding lesson. Through the fence I watched a blonde girl about my age ride a beautiful blanket appaloosa. That was my first memory of Sonny. Kelly, a veteran KK student, rode Sonny often during my first year of lessons, since he was “more challenging” a lesson horse. I practiced on a steady bay mare named Everready, waiting for the day when I was good enough to ride Sonny.

My instructor, Terry, said that Sonny had a strong sense of justice. He had a lower tolerance level than the other lesson horses for the unfair pulling and kicking of unskilled riders. Out in the herd, he was the dominant personality. At 15.3 hands high, he was an athletic Appaloosa cross who was known for his bouncy trot and hard mouth. But he had a divine canter.

Riding Sonny for the first time represented an accomplishment. After a brief affair with a tri-color pinto half Arabian named Jazzy and a dapple gray mare named Manzanita, I found my appaloosa true love. Sonny was the best part of my awkward teenage years. In the summertime, Terry roached his pitiful mane and he carted me out on trail rides to picnic at the lake with Kelly, Lauren, and the other barn girls. We raced up the “racetrack” trail, climbed Gambit’s hill, hopped over the “jumping log,” and trotted along the ruins of an old canal.

There were two other Sarahs at the barn – a younger student and Terry’s dog. My obsession with Sonny soon earned me the nickname “Sonny-Sarah” as a means of identification. I loved horses, but I’d never loved a horse so much.

I was 14 when I participated in my first “play day” at the barn – an informal horse show for the lesson students and boarders.  The lesson students were allowed to sign up for one class/horse per week for a month prior to the event. I crossed my fingers that I could sign up for Sonny before someone else did. When the show finally arrived, I had second thoughts on my choice when things didn’t go so well in our pleasure and equitation classes. Sonny barreled around like a freight train in a curb bit. I cringed at my poor technique when I saw the pictures later.

But we redeemed ourselves in the following years. Sonny took me to first place in the bareback class three years running (it was amazing – the more I learned, the less bouncy his trot became!), and culminated with a blue in the challenging “Judge’s Command” class.

Saving & Splurging

Moving to a new barn has inspired a few other splurges on Ransom’s care and wear, even though I am a horse owner on a budget.  I’m not in debt and live within my means, yet I still have a hard time spending money. This last month’s expenditures are a radical departure from my penny-pinching ways, which I can only justifiy by my fanatical saving.

First up was a new helmet. My trusty Troxel had served me well but fell victim to a sticky substance I couldn’t remove, even with goo-be-gone.

Next up was new shoes – of the metal, hoof shaped variety. Ransom has been barefoot for the last year and a half, but given his toed-out conformation and the upcoming dry season, I had him shod. In the region where I live, boy – are those shoes pricey! And he grows out of them every seven weeks like a child having a growth spurt. Ransom also got new leg boots which, I confess, was primarily to meet dress code expectations at the new barn.

But the big purchase was a new (used) saddle and pad. I knew I wanted to upgrade eventually, but I didn’t expect it to happen so soon. I normally agonize over a decision of this magnitude (financially speaking), but an opportunity presented itself and I seized it. It happened so fast I had no time to guilt trip myself about discretionary spending.

My old saddle was a well-loved hand-me-down that was too narrow for Ransom’s shoulders and a bit small for me, but we made do. My new saddle is the nicest piece of tack I’ve ever called my own. Its wide tree leaves a nice smooth sweat mark on Ransom’s back – no dry spots. It completes Ransom’s quality, coordinated ensemble, which means I can now return to the comfort of my frugal, guilt-free saving.