Got Lucky

Soon I will be submitting a story I wrote about Ransom to an anthology of horse stories. It’s about my childhood dreams of having my own horse and how Ransom fulfilled them. As I wrote about the experience of buying my first horse, I realized that on the surface, it looks like I did a lot of things wrong.

Here’s my confession: I bought the one and only horse I went to look at. I didn’t ride him. I didn’t vet check him. One of my horse friends says, “You got lucky he worked out.” In my defense: I knew what I wanted. He was barely broke and there was no riding area. I wasn’t buying an expensive performance horse.

Still, I can see how it would look foolish and risky to others. At the time it was a leap for me too. But I wasn’t a novice. And I just knew.

I did the same thing with each car I’ve purchased. I decided on a make/model based on consumer reliability ratings, researched the value, and then watched Craigslist everyday – waiting for the right deal. That usually took a couple months. But when the right one showed up, I was ready to seize it.

The story doesn’t always reflect how much planning I put into big decisions, especially when finances are involved.  Buying the first thing you see sounds spur of the moment. Ransom was anything but. I had a checklist: breed, age, training, disposition, location, and price. It took me a week to even convince myself to go see him. During that time I arranged for the company of a knowledgeable friend, a trailer if I needed one, and took a hard look at my finances to see if this was feasible long term.

Perhaps my desire to do it right the first time is driven by a fear of failure. Or maybe it’s just to save the hassle of the search process. Either way, I did get lucky.

The Instigator

I pulled my scarf tighter around my neck as Ransom walked beside me, puffing frosty breaths into the frozen morning. He’d been cooped up in his stall over the weekend and his eyes gleamed with the anticipation of joining the herd of geldings I had turned out together in the field. As I closed the gate and buckled my now empty halter on the fence, “the boys” went through their ritual greeting – a sniff and a squeal.

Ransom pranced around trying to get a reaction, like a mischievous child who misbehaves to get attention. He tossed his head and stuck his tail straight up in the air. Play with me! But the older horses weren’t interested in the antics of this obnoxious youngster. He pushed his way through the group, nipping playfully at Noble’s belly.

Noble ignored him.

Nip, nip, nip.

Noble pinned his ears, irritated.

Nip, nip, nip.

Finally, Noble lifted a hind leg, gave Ransom the tail, and walked away. Undeterred, Ransom took off after him, bucking with exuberance. Zone the paint lifted his head to watch him frolic past, then went back to scouring the hard ground for something to eat.

With no playmates willing to tear around the field or engage in mock battle, Ransom eventually settled into the boring, mature task of grazing. For now.