A little girl lives a quarter mile up my road, on a three-acre plot with a battered farmhouse and tumbledown fence. She runs to the mailbox when I ride by, and she calls me “Highness” when she thinks I cannot hear. It is embarrassing, but sweet. I have not been an adult too long to …
From horsemanship to horse stories, these are The Sweaty Equestrian readers’ favorite posts of all time.
Alrighty, then. Having survived Day 1, Ledger and I donned our tights and tack for Saturday’s LD. I’d made a tentative plan to ride with friends from the day before ~ the ones with the young Arab and the adorable mule ~ having first extracted a promise that they wouldn’t wait around for me if …
Friday, September 3, 2021. In the forest near Centerville, Idaho. Early. Breakfast goes down on a queasy stomach. I slept some, between long bouts of tossing and turning. I’m not super nervous ~ Ledger has good training, I know these trails, and we’re only going 25 miles ~ but first rides are first rides, and …
A Knight’s Tale: Ledger’s First Ride at Old Selam Read More »
I paid less than $400 for Aaruba. His breeder wanted quiet Arabians, and Aaruba wasn’t. No, Aaruba was the plain gray, high-headed, wide-eyed, last straw that sent his sire to the vet for gelding. I first saw him on the kind of windy, muddy day that whipped his mind to wildness. Still a leggy four-year-old, he flashed about the makeshift …
Over a decade ago, when I had to unexpectedly retire a young endurance horse, I wrote this post on how to respond when a dream collapses.
Snow fell on the farm today. I found myself out in it, bundled in thick gloves and a hood, because the water tanks needed filling. The horses’ coats, bejeweled with ice, stood out from their round bodies. Whinnies caroled as I tossed extra alfalfa to keep them warm. I rested my elbows on a paddock …
Autumn. The skies have rained and blown for weeks. Blankets have been on and off the horses. Salted mashes consumed. Saddles nestled in the tack room, waiting. And then, yesterday! Dawn broke still and the farm floated alone in a heavy cloak of fog. Mist froze on branches, wire, hay, and manes. I warmed a saddle pad …
There’s something about being on a horse that makes people want to say hello. I do most of my conditioning rides on the grid of agricultural roads surrounding my farm. Just about everyone who passes in a car, driving a tractor, or riding a motorcycle offers a wave. Once in a while, someone stops to …
My first job was at a small, shabby horse farm in the valley below my childhood home. The driveway peeled off from a curvy, gravel road lined with hotwire paddocks, all nibbled bare and dotted with broodmares. The barn was creaky and drafty, with packed dirt aisles and a radio tuned to the country station. …