The first one that came to mind when I read the title:
Late November 1998 I was at the barn by myself because the trainer and other groom had already left to go race. I had the last jogger out on the track, there was only one other person jogging at the time. It had been snowing all day, the track was covered in fluffy, pretty snow, and it was so quiet and peaceful. Normally when you jog you can very clearly hear the hoofbeats, but that day they were muffled. The horse I had was normally a bit of a looky loo who would wonder the track if you weren’t paying attention, but that day he was just so calm and easy.
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Three moments come to mind - two with a little gaited mare I owned. The first with her; riding with a sidesaddle group in the 2009 Presidential Inaugural Parade. The second - riding with another sidesaddle group in the Circus Parade in Milwaukee WI. We camped out on the lakefront with our horses just a few feet away. It was awesome. (So where the parades.) Third moment - current horse - just finished our very first “hunter” show season - second to last show - finally managed to get a lead change on the final line - I was grinning from ear to ear.
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My filly, lying down sleeping in the field and dreaming. Me sitting beside her, leaning on her, and just chilling. Getting a phone call, which I let go to voicemail telling me I didn’t get a job I’d interviewed for. Tears welling up and then realizing it couldn’t get any better than where I was at. (I ultimately ended up getting that job, and then leaving it after 3 months because it wasn’t for me.)
That’s the first one that comes to mind. I’ve had many, many others. I am fortunate.
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I remember swimming with my awesome mare in the Chesapeake Bay. I also remember riding in the mountains on a trail ride and it was so steep and no actual trail that I got off her and sent her up the hill. I held her tail and she basically pulled me up. I remember riding thru the woods at an area Battlefield park on a hazy summer day and hearing trumpet calls. I was sure I was being transported back in time to the Civil war. hehe… well not really transported, but it sure was one of the weirder things I have had happen when I have been riding.
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Another one for me was more recent than the one with Double Shot.
I was a marshmallow fat, marshmallow soft, couch potato working my way past 156 pounds, looking at myself in the mirror, and getting desperate. I knew I needed an activity that I could do, and love doing in order to change things. So decided to get back into riding.
I found a gal who was leasing beginner horses, and decided to ride her elderly, slo-mo guy named Ringo, a grade quarter horse. He and I would mosey around her arena, sometimes just standing in the shade of a tree, with me pretending to post so I could try strengthening my legs. I sometimes rode him bareback.
BO had another gelding who was a mischievous trouble maker named Red. I got to the barn one day and forgot to be ABSOLUTELY SURE that Red’s gate was closed - the one that opened to the arena - so this was my fault… and…
No helmet.
Ringo and I were doing our mosey thing, and then I realized that Red was following us around. My thought - “Dang! I didn’t make sure…” so I thought that maybe Red wouldn’t follow us back into the stall/pen area; well, he followed us in and then BIT RINGO ON THE BUTT. Ringo started like he wanted to dash, but I pulled him back, and, old has he was, he still had that QH STOP!! His butt went under him and bareback me went flying. I bounced, by my ribs, off the top rail of the fence, hit the ground flat on my back, and came out of the “landing daze” looking straight up at Ringo’s sheath! I also saw the underside of a very tucked in tail. Red was behind us, trying to put his “innocent horse face” on.
Once I had a chance to think about what all happened, and could have happened, I fell totally in love with Ringo. When I landed on my back, I remember him moving, and I think he stepped over me protecting me from stupid Red. He could have stomped all over me, and yet, made sure not to.
He developed heart troubles and passed August before last. He was a good horse, and the view I had from the ground is still there…
http://i1199.photobucket.com/albums/aa462/Hetep-heres/Public/Ringoface_zps35b5ce1d.jpg
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Lovely head Ringo had.
Not as dramatic, but horses do look after you:
I have a horse now that, a while back, feeding them alfalfa flakes under the shed, something scared a young one, that jumped and would have mowed me down.
I was standing by my older horse, that must have felt it before it happened and turned his butt around and sent the young one in his spook somewhere else, not over the top of me.
He was clearly watching out for me that time.
He was thanked properly, he is a sweetheart.
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Too many to list, too many horses with great heart, put out superhorse efforts on my behalf. Sometimes asked for, sometimes not asked for nor expected.
Recent- my TB mare, just starting her jumping career. Went to a couple of 2’6" schooling shows, low level clinics (all that was available in this remote area). Then took her to a jumper show at a fall fair, 3’ level the first time. She won or placed high in each class, superhorse. The next year, without much exposure inbetween, did the 3’6" division at the same show, including the “3 Bar” competition, just for fun. I had jumped her over a 4’ vertical at home, which she thought was fine, to prepare. The class kept on going up, each round, and she kept jumping clean. When the last jump in the line went to a 4’6" oxer, the middle jump was at 4’3" and the first one was 4’, we were still alive and in contention. We approached the first one, and she flattened out a bit… too much. We hit the first jump, hard. She landed hard, almost on her knees, mixed up with the fallen pole. I was OK, still secure, and dropped my hand to allow her to escape from the line of jumps. I didn’t want to pull on the rein to do this, our balance was so sketchy at that point. But did she pull out of the line? NO. She picked herself up, straightened her line, took the ONE remaining stride to the 4’3" center vertical, then the two strides to the big oxer, clean over the last two. This was NOT my plan, I would have never asked her to do that. But she has a big heart, the courage of a lion, and focus, and intensity. We ended up second in that class, but it was an unbelievable day. I put my hand on her dark bay hide, and could feel the sizzle of a superhorse eminate from her body.
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Two special horses
Hi -
I don’t have much experience with horses, but am starting too - at an advanced age of 53 !
I volunteer at a therapeutic riding program and had the joy of leading a horse Driftwood through the woods with the instructor and a small horse crazy child on him - what a wonderful experience, the child was so happy and Driftwood was a perfect gentleman - did not put a hoof down wrong - just the joy on the child’s face and her excitement was wonderful.
The other time, I was grooming a horse named Elizabeth and the way she was snuffling me was priceless ! Her eyes were soft and she was so good - it was almost like I could not believe it.
These are memories I hold in my head for the days when things are not so good.
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So many good memories!
I had dozens of wonderful, fabulous, memorable rides on my first horse, Ace. I’ve been thinking about him a lot because he is getting to the end of the road (happily living safe and peaceful at my parents’ farm until he is ready to go). We had a great trail ride once, just a perfect fall day, beautiful scenery. We had spectacular gallops through the fields–including a few days where he saved my butt when I did stupid teenager things. We had some amazing shows; he would jump anything, and he always took such good care of me. Our first time at the State Fair show, the first time I ever showed in a coliseum arena, I was about to die of nerves and he just clocked right around. Did I mention this horse was the closest thing to perfect a kid could ever hope to have?
There was one summer my trainer was trying to sell a young event prospect who needed miles over cross-country fences. We went out every Friday that summer, her on the young one (who I later bought and still own!), me on one of her older jumpers, and a friend on her young mare. We galloped and jumped and had a grand time that year!
Later in the fall, my friend and I took my old horse and her daughter’s old horse out for one last trail ride before winter came on. I think it was the last time I jumped Ace before he was retired. We went flying across the fields and jumped everything in front of us. At the end of the ride we climbed up to the top of a big bank complex and looked out over the fields. It was wonderful.
I also have, for some reason, a very distinct and crisp memory of a particular ride on my current horse, in the indoor arena at the barn where I was boarding at the time, cantering and jumping. Horse was just so responsive and we were just “as one” at the moment. It was great.
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I had been doing ground work for about a week with a very hot, very nervous, very aloof (as only a mare can be) older mare. Comes an early, warm, spring day. Picked manure out of paddock, popped myself up on a rock to enjoy a sit-down in the sun. Comes the mare to check me out. She slowly approaches, closer and closer. Soon her eyes are getting drowsy. Soon her nose is touching my knee. Soon her head is resting on my knee and getting uncomfortably heavier and heavier. but I do not move.
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I may have told this story before, but it always comes to my mind first. I was divorced, after a long (25 years) and difficult marriage when I first met King. He was a lesson horse, ornery as all get-out, and he’d become quite angry about being a lesson horse. He actually had to wear a muzzle because he would bite, kick or otherwise attack anyone within reach. He was just a very angry, sad, mean old horse.
Well, I guess that made him just my type! We fell for each other almost immediately … he actually fell for me first. Everyone always said that King had my number from day one, and that he played me like a fiddle!
He was a good intermediate-ride and, despite his personality problems, a valuable lesson horse – so I had to work and wheedle long and hard to finally buy him (at an astonishingly high price, I might add, hence the moniker of “King’s Ransom”). I bought him in early October, the first year after my divorce.
Well, Christmas rolled around and I was facing my first Christmas alone. I had basically run away from home and an abusive relationship in January that year, so I was still living in an apartment. No beautiful tree, no beautiful home and yard. My adult kids were coming to visit – but not until late in the day. I was facing the first Christmas morning of my 46-year-old life ALONE. for the very first time EVER, I would wake up alone in a place that was not my home, with absolutely NO ONE to share Christmas morning with.
When it hit me. I HAVE A HORSE!
And even though the barn was definitely closed on Christmas day, I got permission to go out anyway. I woke up on that frosty morning as excited as a child on Christmas morning. Slipped into my riding gear, and without so much as a cup of coffee, I skedaddled out to the barn.
Of course, I was the only human there. I remember tacking up in the cold, my breath and King’s rising in little clouds around us.
We went out into the arena, warmed up and then … we had the time of our lives! I remember the silence, the crispness of the air, the fog our breaths, and the pounding of his hooves as we cantered around the arena. We were not supposed to jump, but we did! We jumped everything in sight. We laughed out loud (oh, wait, maybe that was just me … but I’m pretty sure King was laughing, too!)
When we were done, I jumped off and held his head in my hands and knew that both of us old coots had just had the best Christmas of our lives … that we both were as happy as any child on Christmas morning.
That was the day I realized that if you are lucky enough to have a horse, you are lucky enough.
Still the best Christmas ever.
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The summer I turned seven I went to stay with my Aunt and Uncle in Oklahoma, and my parents and siblings would pick me up on their way to the East coast. They lived in the country, and had horses. For one summer of my life I lived with people who loved and cared about me, I got to ride around the huge yard, and had many loving relatives close by. It was wonderful to ride all of the time, and to have four horses that waited outside the yard in the morning to say hi to me.
It was the best summer of my life, and it helped me through the other years with my parents, who didn’t really care at all. I wish I could have told my Aunt and Uncle how much that summer meant to me, but they were gone before I could.
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JanM, I don’t know what your spiritual beliefs are, but according to mine - Your Aunt and Uncle know…
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Love this thread! Here are a few of my favorites…
Growing up I had the opportunity to do a few amazing moonlit rides in the snow. The most memorable was bareback trail ride on a friend’s palomino percheron mare(think Marilyn Monroe/Mae West). The snow was untouched and the woods so quiet, for a moment I’d swear we were the only ones in the world.
A few memories with my mare. A few years ago, during a nasty colic, my bossy, know it all mare wouldn’t let me walk away while she felt bad. If she couldn’t touch me with her nose, she’d pitch a fit, but the second she could touch me she calmed down. Post colic surgery, she had to be on stall rest. I used to put up her stall guard and sit outside her stall with a book so she’d have company. She loved to hang her head over me and try to steal book & chair the second I stood up.
The other moment with her was really watching her have a moment with DH. Last year I made the difficult decision to step down her activity level because it felt like the best thing for her. Instead of being my 1.10 jumper, she became DH’s teacher. Watching them have their first special horse show in the 0.85’s brought tears to my eyes. She just radiated joy and kept DH safe. He stepped up for her and rode the best course for her not for his competitive streak. It was so hard stepping back and letting her become daddy’s girl but watching them made it feel right.
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As a teenager I worked for the Parks and Rec Dept. Each summer we were loaned a few ponies to conduct programs for various groups of kids. The kids ranged in age from groups of preschoolers to early teens, from all different walks of life. Many had never been near a live horse (or pony) before. We talked about how horses and ponies are like people, or different, learned a few parts of the horse and let each child help groom. Then each participant got a short ride on a lead rope.
With one group of young children a mother had brought her older, handicapped son along with her younger child. The look on her face when we asked her if her older son would like to have a ride will always stay with me, as well as the look on his face as we gently got him onto the pony. He couldn’t speak, but it was clear that we made his day. He certainly made mine.
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Too many wonderful memories to list here! A few come to mind right now:
When I was a student, I was in charge of the University therapeutic program. A string of ponies, and kids with various handicaps (physical and mental and both) coming in 3x a week. It was just amazing how the kids transformed in just a few sessions with their ponies. One mother, once, took me aside and thanked me, crying, for everything I’d done for her 7 yo autistic and severely handicapped daughter. She said she had never seen her daughter smile before coming to the program.
Many other great memories of swimming, jumping all kinds of stuff, galloping flat out on the track and in fields, just playing around bareback with a halter on her, with my sweet little Morgan mare.
Wonderful memories of sane, smart horses on treks (or, how to avoid falling off a cliff or getting bogged down in quicksand), of Ottbs’ “lightbulb moments” (Oh, you want me to JUMP this? Alrighty then!) etc. etc.
And I hope, many, many more wonderful moments to come, that will turn into fond memories!
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My best-ever horse has passed on but I often dream about her.
About 10 years ago it started to snow on Xmas eve. I jumped on her bareback and wrapped a fleece quarter sheet around me/over her butt. Then we headed out to the trails. It was so quiet, with that “hushed” noise that snow makes when it falls. The snow was falling in soft, beautiful flakes and I was warm from sitting on her bareback/quarter sheet. I know this sounds cheesy, but it was almost magical for me. It was one of the best times I ever spent with her, and I cherish the memory.
Also, not my horse, but I was in Tucson in October for work. I haven’t spent that much time in that part of the country and it was beautiful where we were staying with the mountains and the view. On the last day my meeting ended early and I had the opportunity to go on a sunset trailride in a national park. The scenery was breathtaking and as we headed back to the barn the moon came out over the mountains. My horse, a Rocky Mountain Saddle Horse, was lovely and so safe and comfortable. It’s something special that I will never forget! It totally made up for all the stress of work and my crappy boss. 
ETA - here’s a picture I took on the Tucson trail ride. That’s the guide ahead of me. I was wearing a helmet of course! https://scontent-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/q84/s720x720/1390529_10151635824465213_1348875481_n.jpg
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I have one horse now who is an11 yr old Walker, and recently put down my 24 yr old gelding. The best memories are simple things, like hand grazing them in summer after a nice ride and a cool shower. My older one would always raise his head and want me to pet him and reassure him I was there, then back to eating it was! I loved seeing his cute mug hang over the fence waiting for me with nickers and his tongue hanging out (no incisors).
Just leading them into their stalls at night, adjusting blankets, feeding a few treats, and seeing them do something goofy that makes you laugh is priceless. I loved this summer when I had been hand grazing both boys before it was time to head in for the night. I went to bring my older guy into his stall while the younger one was still outside- I figured he wouldn’t go anywhere. And then I hear ‘clippity clop, clippity clop’ and find him meandering his way into the barn and into his stall on his own, apparently he missed us
As nice as showing and ribbons are, those aren’t the memories that really matter. I thought they would but after having lost my older one now, that is not what comes to mind or makes me smile. It’s the love and the relationship we share(d).
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this is such a heartwarming topic.
For me, remembering my childhood mare, Angel (a seal brown Arab/Saddlebred cross, beautiful, levelheaded, game, and affectionate–a perfect horse as I know now!)and I riding to White’s Farm in June-- bareback, and only a halter, as kids love to do–down a suburban street, across a minor highway, to the open space of the Farm—cantering through the hock-high unmown grass there—wildflowers, and birds flying up from ground nests, the incredible sweet smell, the blue sky, my wonderful horse companion and her joy in movement… real ecstasy, and only now that I’m much older do I fully know and appreciate it!
I dream about Angel still.
I love and cherish my 2 horses of middle-age, and have wonderful moments of different kinds with them, but the childhood moments are of a different order.
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I learned to ride when I was 43. I briefly took lessons at one barn that abruptly discontinued their lesson program, and found my way to another, wonderful place where I have my own horse today.
One of my fondest memories is the first time I really “got” how to lope. I had been struggling on my usual lesson horse to get the feel of it and, frankly, to get my somewhat timid middle-aged self brave enough to move that fast, so my instructor wisely put me on a been-there, done that ex-show horse, a blue roan Appaloosa named Rebel. After a walk trot warm up, my instructor told me to pick a lope and go one time around the arena. I cued Rebel, he smoothly rocked into a lope, and all the pieces of taking this next step fell into place for me – physically, psychologically, and emotionally. It felt so wonderful and I was so in tune with Rebel that instead of stopping after one time around the arena, I went around four times with a big grin on my face. My instructor didn’t stop me either. Rebel retired a few years after that and passed away a couple years ago – loved that guy. He’s the main reason why I own an Appaloosa today.
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