How did you get into horses?

[ZuzusPetals]

I was asking folks this yesterday at a clinic. Among the answers:

— “My first word was ‘horsey’ and I never stopped talking about them.”

— “Hooked after a carnival pony ride.”

— “I watched Westerns as a kid and wanted to be a Native American girl on a paint.”

— “My neighbors had.”

— “I have no idea. No one in my family, none of our friends, we didn’t live in a horsey place.”

Myself: One side of the family owned a harness and saddlery company. The leatherworks blew up and burned down in 1906, and two family members and a few workers died. I like to think that they whispered to me, “It’s in our blood. Carry on for us!”

[lenapesadie]

I was born this way.

[goodhors]

Have to say they just “called” to me, even as a small child. I wanted to see them, touch and ride them! Might have come down thru the blood, since my great, great Aunt Kate used to train horses and was supposed to have a “magic touch” on even bad ones. Her husband was a horse trader, while she did the training. I have a nice photo of my Great Gramma driving her trap carriage with her two boys in the backseat and husband sitting beside her. My Grampa told how Aunt Kate could get bad ones going again to be resold. She presented the horses, made them look good to the buyers. Grampa himself was a good horseman, riding his pony to deliver the daily work directions to foremen of his father’s construction crews before school. Two Aunts had horses as girls when they lived on the farm and rode them to the Catholic girls school every day. There was a shed to keep the horses in during class time.

It took me years to finally get my first pony, but sure was worth it!

[Foxglove]

Growing up one of the photographs hanging on the wall of our living room was a large black and white picture of my ma on a horse with a herd of cows in the background and a mountain range. She SAID she lived in Wyoming for 10 years after college and worked on a ranch --which was where the photo was taken. I used to sit and stare at the photo for what seemed to my child-mind hours --and wish I was the one on the horse.

She gave me my first horse at age 13 and even then I was pretty sure she didn’t know much about horses --or if she did, she’d forgotten a lot of it (kind of the “run them until they are tired, then the horse will be good” school of horse training). I always had a horse after that --finding ways to keep myself mounted for the next 67 years until this day --I currently have 4. I hope I have learned something along the way from the good-great trainers/instructors over the years.

BUT —I also found my way to genealogy – I did a two year research on my ma after she died --of course would have been easier if I’d started when she was still alive. I discovered that “she never let the truth get in the way of a good story.” —Ma did become a renowned journalist and editor of a large newspaper --however, much of her early life was fictionalized to my sis and me. The “Ten years of living in WYO” was actually one summer of working at a dude ranch. Ma “forgot” to tell us about her first marriage to a rancher’s son (divorced after a few months --he later, in WWII became a prisoner interrogator as he was fluent in German) --while Ma implied she was in military intelligence in WWII, she was not --she did work for the Australian government in DC. Her second husband (also from WYO, did not die of a war wound, as Ma said, but of a brain aneurism) --ma would have only been 30 then, she always said he was the “love of her life” which must have made my dad feel just awful --he was her #3 husband.

One good thing though was Ma taught me and my sis how to rope. I’ve just started to dabble in Ranch Horse with my newest horse Bob --roping is part of Ranch Horse —and I can still make a loop and catch a mounting block (as long as it is standing still!) Thanks, Ma!

[goodhors]

Foxglove My maternal Gramma was also very creative on the family history when telling my Mom and me about past family members. My Mom got to genealogy later in life as a DAR member and had the (NOT) happy job of finding the truth in the histories! We have since nicknamed Gramma “the great myth maker.” Not much truth in the tales, but they were good stories! Drove Mom nuts sifting deeply thru the stories to find the truth as family had migrated from New England.

[applelover]

I remember drawing them, around 3 years old, I swear before I had actually ever seen one in real life. No one in my immediate family at the time had anything to do with horses. My great-grandfather raced harness horses in Germany before the war, and my grandfather claimed we had “gypsy” blood (his word for it) so I do think there might be something to it being in your blood.

[cayuse]

I do think it’s in the blood. One of my ancestors was a horse thief. Family history says it wasn’t a one time thing, it was his livelihood til he got caught and shipped to America on a prison ship. And thanks to him, here I am. I’ve never stolen a horse, but I’ve seen a few that tempted me .

[RMJacobs]

I never saw a horse as a small child in New York City. Then we moved to New Jersey when I was four, I saw my first horse, and fell in love. I finally got my first one at age 19, but only had him a year before my first husband and I needed to sell him. I got my next one in my 40s. But I was always crazy about them.

My family absolutely didn’t get. I only got a short season of riding lessons when I was eight, and that was it for family support. When I was in my 40s, my mother asked me if I was every going to give up horses, and I said no way. Too bad disability has sidelined me.

Rebecca

[NoSuchPerson]

There are absolutely no horsey people in my family on either side, aside from maybe some way older generations that used horses on the farm. But, my sister and I were born loving horses. I used to watch the Lone Ranger, My Friend Flicka, and Fury on TV on Saturdays while riding along on an ottoman.

Just before I started 3rd grade, we moved and had neighbors whose kids had ponies. Then my Grandpa bought me a pony and it was all downhill from there.

[NancyM]

For me, it was genetics. My mother rode a bit. I have a “Junior Jumping” trophy that she won, from 1938. She would have been 14 years old. She didn’t own a horse, but rode at the local “riding academy” with the local coach there. That facility was still functional when I was a child, and she took me to the same coach in 1966 (when I was 6), who by that time was getting a bit ancient, and he would drop off to sleep on his shooting stick chair during my lesson… so I could get a bit of galloping in on the school horse… great fun!!!

[Salty]

When I was really little, we lived near the Kellogg Ranch and people would ride Arabians past our front door. Later, I had the choice between skiing and riding lessons. I figured you could ride all year, and you could only ski in the winter, plus I love horses.

My granddad was a buckaroo, jockey, sulkey driver, and rodeo trick rider. We always watched the Kentucky Derby together on TV. He had a horseshoe shaped dent in his head, which was impressive.

[McGurk]

“The boy who rode on slightly before him sat a horse not only as if he’d been born to it which he was but as if were he begot by malice or mischance into some queer land where horses never were he would have found them anyway. Would have known that there was something missing for the world to be right or he right in it and would have set forth to wander wherever it was needed for as long as it took until he came upon one and he would have known that that was what he sought and it would have been.” Cormac McCarthy, All The Pretty Horses

I do not sit a horse as if I’d been born to it, I wasn’t. It was a long, rigorous learning process to be competent.

But I do believe if I were misbegotten by malice or mischance into some queer land where horses never were I would have found them anyway. Would have known that there was something missing for the world to be right or me right in it.

I was four when my mother boosted me up on the back of a horse and told me to hold the mane while her friend led the horse from the pasture to a stable. I was a goner.

I remember stealing a seat cushion and folding it over the arm of a sofa for a saddle, and fastening wire coat hangers to the edges for stirrups so I could “ride” the sofa arm.

Relentless begging for either riding lessons or a pony ensued. Riding lessons followed at age 7 or 8, first horse at 14.

[TWH_Girl]

I didn’t grow up with horses at al and didn’t get into them until my early 30s. I was newly married and couldn’t have kids due to endo. I wanted/needed a hobby other than following my husband and two young stepsons to their respective sporting events. A friend hooked me up with riding lessons and I really enjoyed them. Took those for a few months and then I rode the horse that belonged to friend of said friend. I fell in love with him and he happened to be for sale so my husband and stepsons bought him for me for Christmas. It was a huge surprise! But once bitten it’s hard to give it up.
I’ve had 5 horses over the years, all TWH because I love the breed, and currently have two; two have since passed; and one I sold.
They have added so much to my life!! Couldn’t imagine it any other way.

[ZuzusPetals]

@NoSuchPerson

while riding along on an ottoman.

This is so lovely

[ZuzusPetals]

@McGurk

I remember stealing a seat cushion and folding it over the arm of a sofa for a saddle, and fastening wire coat hangers to the edges for stirrups so I could “ride” the sofa arm.

I gave two friends “riding lessons” with a similar set-up. It’s an appalling memory — those poor girls! But it’s so sweet to read this.

[furlong47]

Definitely not genetic… an uncle by marriage had a horse when he was younger, and my mom’s brother and sister took some lessons when they were kids, but it didn’t really stick. In early elementary school when all the girls were infatuated with ponies, I actually thought it was dumb. Well, joke’s on me

Probably around 4th or 5th grade I made a friend who was more into horses, and about the same time I somehow ended up reading The Island Stallion and some other Walter Farley books, and Flame was the one that did it for me.

My parents wouldn’t pay for regular lessons, but I could go to Girl Scout riding camp for 2 weeks per summer. (Eventually worked there.) After a few years of that I found via newspaper ad a barn with a barn rat/working student type gig. I was there bartering work for riding until after college when I could finally pay for lessons on my own.

[Mango20]

I always loved the horses we’d see when camping at Assateague every year, and then I had the good fortune to move right next door to a riding school when I was almost 7. My entire life might have turned out differently if my parents had moved us somewhere else.

[Bluey]

My Grandfather was a horse nut, would call his wife out of the house for her to admire his last purchase.
Once she was not coming out fast enough, he walked the horse in the house and paraded him for her to admire around the farm kitchen table.

My father also loved horses, well all animals.
In the war he was an officer in the artillery and his little band would use mules to carry the dismantled big guns and supplies from one spot to the next.
Those were “their” mules, as important as the soldiers in the war.

As a little kid, I was hoisted on our ancient small Belgian after plowing to walk back to the farm house and when they could not find me I was in the horse’s stall, having a conversation with said horse.
I felt so big when at around 10 I was finally left alone to plow with the horse, as soon as I was big and strong enough to lift said plow in the ends and switch furrow to plow going back.

Grandma used to say I was not just half horse, but 99% horse.
Not sure that was a compliment.

[risuenaVT]

My mom tells me that I have always loved horses and riding was the one physical activity that I stuck with.

I don’t actually remember most of it, but in preschool I had a friend whose mother was a riding instructor and would give me lessons (still remember my first fall, off of Jet, a jet black pony who was very appropriate for a five year old, my elbow landed like two inches from a pile of poop, and five year old me was very upset about landing that close to poop!).

[glitterless]

My mom had a horse, so I was born into it.

I have 2 siblings who are not into horses at all despite being raised around them. It’s funny how that works. I’ve seen the same in other families.

My only child daughter is also not into horses. I had so many dreams of us riding together and hoped she’d be horse crazy as a teen. Unfortunately she’s more into boys and TikTok. I suppose I might have saved some money, though