My new girl

Courtesy of the BLM

I have started on Yet Another New Chapter. Remains to be seen if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

On November 28, 2011, my best friend (Hi Lisa!) and I picked up my new American Mustang. Saxby. She's named after my favorite coffee shop. I started out to name her "Starbuck" but got nervous about the "buck" part.

This is her in July 2011. Her original home was the Triple B Herd Management Area (HMA.) She went to the  National Wild Horse and Burro Center at Palomino Valley (PVC,) Nevada,  after the July 2011 Triple B gather. According to the Bureau of Land Management, the PVC is the largest preparation and adoption facility in the country.

I adopted Saxby in Oct via the BLM's online internet adoption program. I was really looking for a Kiger Mustang but their auction wasn't open--it's only run every three or four years--and I was offended that this pretty grulla filly had no bids. Offended! So I bid on her. Minimum bid, no big deal. And then somebody else bid on her! I adjusted my high bid, being on a budget and all, since by this time I kind of wanted her bad. Bidding soon out distanced my high bid. I slept well knowing that the pretty little thing was probably going to a nice home.

Weeks later I got an email from Patty at the BLM. I was the third highest bidder on a grulla filly, the other two bidders had reached their limit of horses. (To which I say, how can you reach your limit on horses?) Did I still want the horse? Wow. I had to think about it. I already have two, an oldster and a younger oldster. YES! I wanted her. Yeah!

So at the end of November we all-me, Lisa, Jess, and the two girls-trooped to the BLM's Pauls Valley Oklahoma holding area. And this is what we saw.

The holding pen has six foot fences. And she really looked like she might try to jump that fence! My Saxby corral has five foot fences. I immediately had a panic attack. I seriously almost passed out right there in the parking lot.

Lisa picked me up off the gravel, dusted me off, assured me that we could handle it and we trooped into the office. Pat and Gary-the great guys at Pauls Val-mentioned that she was indeed wild, I signed all the paper work and we trooped out to get her on the trailer. Easy peasey!

Lisa has decided that Saxby is a Right-brain introvert. I am extremely excited and looking forward to the challenge of using Parelli Natural Horsemanship methods to develop my new partnership.

And then what happened? Or, my first horse!

Once my dad retired from the Air Force, he went home. To Arkansas. Which us kids thought was a great idea. My mom, a California native, wasn't too sure about the Arkansas thing. But that was a stand-by-your-man kind of time, so she came along as well. We ended up on 80 acres in Center Ridge Arkansas, right by Woolverton mountain. We lived on a dirt road! Again, kids were thinking "Awesome!" And mom was thinking, "I'm not so sure about this."

My biggest disappointment was that there was not a horse on the property the minute we got there.  As a matter of fact it took way too long to get a horse. Seemed like Forever but was probably only a few months later, we got a pretty silver dapple Shetland pony--named her Merrylegs, of course--and her white filly. The filly was mine, I named her Juney Moon. Get it? White? Moon? It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Not my Merrylegs but a good example of silver dapple

For what it's worth, everything on the farm had a name. All the cars, the tractor, the various farm trucks, chickens, cows, cats, and dogs were named. It was a big thing for the family.
Merrylegs was "broke to ride," even my brother, who had no interest or experience in horses, could ride her. That was when I took a nap or was working with Juney Moon. The rest of the time I rode poor Merrylegs. I say "poor Merrylegs' because she was way too little for me. I'm sincerely glad that there is no actual proof of those rides, since in my memory Merry was a little bigger than real life and I was a little smaller than I probably really was.

My Art of Riding book today!

My horse training tool box contained everything learned by reading The Art of Riding: Concise Handbook for Beginners and Advanced Horsemen by Lt.Col M. F. McTaggart and something called lunging. My dad helped by taking a whip and chasing the pony around for a while until she caught on that if she went in a circle she wouldn't get in trouble. Ah, the forgiving nature of the horse.
Even as a nine year old, I felt the training methods available were harsh. Unnecessarily harsh. But I didn't have access to resources that felt the way I did.
I have always felt a deep connection to the horse, like they knew me even though we didn't speak the same language. All my horses have had manes wet with my tears the times that I felt no one understood me or my burdens were too heavy and retreated to the comfort of the barn.