Why Haflingers? – Part 1

So if you read my earlier posts, you may remember that I have major confidence issues with horses right now. I love them, but I’m just a little nervous around them.

I didn’t start out as a nervous rider almost twenty years ago (I can’t believe it was so long ago!). I begged and begged for riding lessons, and finally my mom gave in and found me a riding teacher. I still remember those first lessons. A local girl was home from college for the summer, and she was giving lessons on her older Morgan horse. His name was Star. He was boarded at an Arabian horse farm, and I stared with wide eyes at all of the beautiful horses. Everyone there rode saddle seat, so I was introduced to the wonderful world of horses riding saddle seat. It was so much fun.

I remember that I was only able to take four lessons with Star. I learned to post the trot, and learned about diagonals. The absolute best part of the entire summer, though, was on my last lesson, Star’s owner got on behind me, took the reins (I grabbed mane!) and we cantered around the pasture. It was the best thing that ever happened to me up until that point in my life. I was in heaven. But it was short lived, and after only four lessons, I was back where I started.

I continued begging, and my mom would pay for a few lessons here and there. Part of the problem was the small town we lived in. There were no true lesson barns. Finding a place to ride was difficult. I rode for awhile with a well-known quarter horse trainer’s wife. She taught me to ride hunt seat. I rode a really nice young gelding at that barn. I remember my mom asking how much they were asking for him (which made my heart leap into my throat), but the woman said he was $10,000. My mom gasped in shock and my heart dropped. There was no way we would be buying him.

Every Christmas, a horse would be the #1 thing on my list. Every year, I woke up hoping for the halter under the tree that signified my parents had bought me a horse. I just got toy horses and books. I loved those toys and books, but they just weren’t the same as a real horse.

Things finally started looking up when my mom agreed to let me lease a horse for 4-H. She called our local extension office and found the name of a 4-H leader who ran a horse club. The woman knew of a lady who wanted to lease her horse for the summer, and that’s how I met Spook. He was a thirteen year old appaloosa gelding. I was fourteen that summer. He had a major stubborn streak, but looking back on that summer, he was a great first horse.

I did some really stupid stuff with Spook. I remember dismounting one day and somehow getting my foot stuck in the stirrup and falling on my head (with foot still in stirrup). He stood like a rock while I dislodged my foot, and looked around like he was embarrassed by my stupidity. And then there was the time it was 90 degrees outside and I figured he would enjoy me dumping some of my bottled water on his head (while I was on his back). A quickly raised head and small jump made me realize that was a bad idea. He was a good horse to make a few mistakes with and live through them

We went to the fair that summer and had a great time. It was my dream come true! Spending a whole week, night and day, with my horse. He was very personable, so I had a lot of fun hanging out with him. We did okay showing, too. We did showmanship and hunt seat classes. He wasn’t a show horse, but we had fun anyway.

I leased Spook the next summer as well. Again, it was a blast. My mom bought me a saddle of my own, which was very exciting. At the end of that summer, though, all the 4-H advisers told my mom that I had outgrown Spook ability-wise and I needed to find a different horse for the next year. I was sad to stop leasing Spook, but excited at the possibilities that lay ahead.

I had been taking weekly lessons with a quarter horse trainer (not with Spook, but on lesson horses). We had heard about him from my best friend’s family, who had sent horses for him to train in the past. They said he was great, and he seemed nice and competent. He told my mom that the best way to get a horse was to buy an unbroke two year old and let him train it. Then it would be worth a lot of money. It would be an investment of sorts. Not knowing any better, we did what he said, and started looking at two year olds.

The trainer suggested we buy a gelding that one of his buddies had for sale. It was a two year old gray quarter horse named Smoky. He was cute, and I liked him when we went to look at him at the breeder’s farm.

So we bought Smoky and he was transported straight to the trainer’s barn. Smoky was so stressed out by the trailering that he injured a teenager who was helping load him, and she had to go to the hospital. I should have seen it as a sign. Instead, I figured he was just a baby and he would get better with time.

I remember going out to the trainer’s with my mom to watch the trainer ride Smoky. The horse was foamy with sweat he was so nervous, and it wasn’t even warm out. I didn’t know anything about training, so I figured this was normal. I trusted the trainer. He said Smoky would grow out of his nervousness. I believed him.

Three months later, I got to ride Smoky for the first time. It went okay. He was still nervous. The trainer “rode him down” first, so he wasn’t terrible, but he made me nervous. I didn’t get to go to the fair that summer because there was no way I would be able to handle such a spooky horse at the fairgrounds. I was waaaaay overfaced.

Smoky wasn’t just a little nervous, though. He would totally run people over when he was scared. He would totally panic, and be nearly impossible to calm down at times. He bolted with me about 5000 times that first year. The trainer would say, “He wouldn’t do that if I was riding.” One time I got off and told him to ride, then. So he did. And Smoky bolted across the entire arena. Yeah, whatever.

Riding was really scary. Eventually, I quit going out to the barn. Smoky was still in full time training, so he wasn’t neglected. The next summer, I ended up getting the opportunity to go to Interlochen Arts Camp, so again I didn’t take Smoky to the fair. It would have been a nightmare anyway. I wasn’t too sad I didn’t get to go. During this whole time, though, the trainer kept saying that Smoky would calm down as he got older. And we kept believing him.
Finally the $hit hit the fan the next spring. I finally told my mom I was terrified of my horse. I tried to hide it from her for a long time because I had tried for so long to get my own horse. It was hard to admit that I didn’t want to spend time with him. My dreams had always involved bareback rides through the woods, doing the silly classes at horse shows, and just lounging around with my horse. And somehow I ended up with a horse that wasn’t even safe for me to lead to the arena by myself. The younger working students at the barn weren’t even allowed to handle him.

So we sold Smoky. The trainer called my mom one night and said some people had stopped by and offered $2000 for him. That was the exact amount we had paid for him two years earlier. The trainer said he thought that was a fair offer, so my mom took it. Two years of full time training down the drain. Ugh. And this is why my mom hates horses. They’re a money pit.

I heard years later about a terrible accident involving Smoky. Apparently, he was tied in a trailer and spooked at something. He managed to break his halter, then get out of the trailer under the butt bar. I heard that he hurt his back legs really badly and it was questionable whether he would ever be sound again.

I lost track of him for awhile. He had quite a few owners over the next few years. He was sold at auction twice. One of those times he sold for $10,000. He was a great mover. Too bad he was crazy.

This last fall, though, I googled his name and found his current owner and trainer. I emailed them, and they seem really nice. The trainer said he still spooks big and they call him the “special needs child” at the barn. So much for growing out of it, I guess. But the owner assured me that he has a home for life. I am so glad he found someone who appreciates him for his craziness.

The trainer offered to let me take one of his broodmare/show horses to the fair that summer, and I took him up on it. We had a good time, but my confidence was smashed. After the fair, I went to college and quit riding for five years. Nothing like five years to solidify a fear.

To be continued…

~ by haffiegirl on February 21, 2008.