His Name Was Indie
After eight long years, this was the straw that finally broke the camels back.
Indie was just shy of 16 hands when I bought him as a three year old. Who was I kidding thinking he'd stay in that size range. No, not Indie. He surpased both his parents and at the ripe old age of 7, my Hanoverian gelding had finally maxed out at 17.2 hands.
It had become a tradition, and a bad one at that, that every year Indie would decided to spook at random objects or sounds and buck me off. I'm a decent rider and all, but let me tell you, there was a lot of muscle in that dressage caboose.
He and I had a love/hate relationship. Indie won me the title of Reserve Champion for Region 2 USDF and even won me a trip to Germany to train at one of their farms (another story for another day).
But on a warm day - April 29, 2013 to be exact, Indie decided I was no longer necessassary as a rider on his back.
I can't tell you much more than that since I remember nothing from that day, only what my parents remember seeing during that fateful ride. I was knocked unconscious as he bucked unrelentlessly, bouncing around in the saddle like a rag doll before even hitting the dirt. I didn't know my name let alone the date, but the hospital sent me home anyway. Apparently, I was a difficult patient. After fourteen weeks of labored breathing due to severely fractured ribs, I knew Indie had to find a new home.
Don't worry, this story has a happy ending. Thankfully, a lovely woman thought him to be her perfect dream horse, and to this day he leads a wonderful life with her in Florida. And I, well I have a fabulous 16.3 hand Hanoverian mare named Bellatrix. She is my dream horse.
Warm wind blows past my auburn hair blowing the thin strands away from my face, leaving them standing up in every which direction. Upon the grassy field I stand in close embrace, petting Grace along her silky smooth mane, my hand slipping over the glossy surface running down the length of the great chestnut beauty. She nudges me with her wet black nose and shakes her giant head with a gentle huff to dust herself off, for the dandelion seeds are blowing in the sunset breeze, landing on her in feathery white wisps, tickling her delicate senses. She lets out a loud sneeze and walks towards the trough to gulp down freshwater from the nearest pond.
“Stand up” I yelled
“stand up or your dog meat”
I had five minutes left, if I didn‘t catch her she would be left for the dog tucker man in the morning.
The mare was in a corner, If she bolted I’d be flattened, this was do or die.
She was a pretty mare, good confirmation, sound, nothing wrong with her that a bit of good grass and a hoof trim couldn’t fix, she’d just been dumped. Literally dumped, the owners had left the country, the mare and her donkey companion had been turned out on a couple of acres of scrub land behind the rubbish tip.
I could see every muscle in her neck, she was tensed up ready to flee. It had taken the best part of two hours already. Sweat ran down my face, a fly landed on my nose, I daren’t swat it, if I moved she’d bolt. Forcing myself to relax, I began humming a tune under my breath, then took my eye of hers and slid my glance down her neck to that sweet spot by her withers. The mare began to relax, I stepped forward and scratched her under her mane, slid the rope over her neck and put a loop over her nose. Gerry, the truck driver jumped down from the rail he’d been sitting on a brought over a head collar.
“Thought we’d be going without her, she’s a wild one”
“no” I said “just scared, wouldn’t have dared block a wild horse like that”
“council will be glad thats sorted, now your just got to get her loaded”
“no problems” I replied
The mare walked quietly by my side to the truck, I sent her up the ramp and she went in without hesitation. I clipped the partition down and jumped out a Gerry put the ramp up.
“not a second to spare, you do cut it fine girl, dropping them at your place?”
“yes but go in the far gate, I should beat you there“
“what’s happening to them“
“donks going back to her breeder, the mare starts her new training next week”
“does she have a name”
“none that I know of currently, but tomorrow she’ll be Claire”
One more fight with an instructor,
Once more I'm mad,
She said to my face,
The other girl was better.
I stayed for as long as I could,
Made it through the end of summer show,
Won four ribbons,
But then they closed,
And I am without a barn again.
Spent two months looking,
For a place with friends,
But mainly horses,
Who needs friends?
Eventually I found one,
A place that was well kept,
But lessons were busy,
I wasn't sure If I would like it,
Until that second lesson on a wednesday.
Met a bunch of girls,
Who seemed a lot like me,
They liked horses,
Enjoyed a laugh,
And liked to compete and have fun.
Now I'm settled,
Until once again the devil on my shoulder started edging,
As we got a new rider,
In an already large group of 5.
Trying not to have negative thoughts without talking,
But her ponytail was too straight,
She wasn't smooth with a tacking a horse,
And then I started being competitive,
When she got in line in front of me,
And I couldn't be a show off.