Horses are more than hashtags...

Social media is always issuing challenges - #thischallenge and #thatchallenge and leave us not forget #makesureyoujointhischallenge. The other day, I gave in, posting this photo of Sport, shown as The Highwayman, on the stadium course at Great Falls, Virginia for the #frontviewchallenge.

Stadium at Great Falls, Virginia - #frontviewchallenge

Then, not long after I met the #frontviewchallenge, the #myhearthorsechallenge was issued and how on earth could I not throw this in? Sambora, shown as Stuff of Dreams, on the cross-country course at Commonwealth in Culpeper, Virginia

Sambora, Stuff of Dreams - #myhearthorse

Sambora was undoubtedly and undeniably my "heart horse". Whenever I was asked what she meant to me, "Sambora is the axis upon which my world turns" was my immediate reply. When, in 1996 she delivered her firstborn, Sambora's Riches, a second definition came into play:  Sambora was my heart and Riches the blood she pumped through me.

Then, I started to think about the incredible horses we had at The Hideout in Virginia and here at Hideout Ranch in Southeastern Arizona - the amazing, funny, fabulous, athletic, talented, steady, loving horses who came from a variety of places and people to live with us in the desert, wander through the mountains, touch guests in an indelible way. Every little horsegirl's dream is to have so many horses she could ride for a month before repeating. I used to say, "When the hardest decision I have to make in the morning is which horse to ride, it's a good day."

Craig would reply, "I pick my horse based on my mood" when asked by guests how he decided which horse he would ride on any given day. There were days, mostly when going cowing, he and guests would almost do "Rock, Paper, Scissors" to determine who would take Ike. For me, my choice would be depend upon what the day might entail. Cowing? Kachina. Loping? Bascom, Exploring? Chisum. So, this is how I arrived at my own hashtag challenges, thinking of each horse and what they brought out in me, what I connected with in them, what we were together. I'd like to honour each one as I can...

Sport, my BigMan (he was 16.3 and really dwarfed me) was unable to come with us to Hideout Ranch from Virginia, but he has always been my spirit. He taught me so much about patience, determination, giving, giving back, trust, belief, joy. The BigMan, #myspirithorse... 

Sport, The Highwayman - #myspirithorse

Sammy's firstborn, Sambora's Riches, was "born" at the same time Sambora was named. I named them both for Richie Sambora, guitarist for Bon Jovi, and Riches was alive for me a full nine years before she actually hit the ground. She is the blood Sambora, my heart, pumped through me. My own heart's blood, as it were. Riches, #myheartsbloodhorse...

Sambora's Riches - #myheartsbloodhorse

Doodle was my 40th birthday present from a woman whose horses I cared for in exchange for a small barn and pasture for my crew. Sambora was teaching the bulk of lessons, and Jocelyn thought she needed help. On New Year's Eve, we drove up to the auction in Thurmont, Maryland. Walking around, I saw a young girl working a medium blood bay pony out in the dimly-lit parking lot. I pointed the pony out to my friend and, after an incredible performance shifting effortlessly from walk to trot to canter and over a hand-held rail in the arrow aisle between the bleachers as she went through, my friend was the highest bidders and I had my pony. 

At that point, she was called "Samantha" and her original name was "Molly". As I had Sambora, ergo a "Sam", this feisty little blood bay Welsh-cross pony mare became "Snickerdoodle" or, more affectionately, "Doodle". Sport was easily twice as big, but Doodle would never admit to being small. Ever. Kinda like me, in fact. Hence, Doodle is my #IamTOObig horse...

Doodle - #myIamTOObighorse

When Sam was carrying Riches, we (horses, dog, cats) all moved to an Arabian breeding farm in Bluemont, Virginia. I lived in an unbelievable stone cottage built in the 1740s and had my horses a few yards out my front door. The Arabians were magnificent creatures, and watching my dark bay Warmblood foal racing around with her BFF, a stunning chestnut Arab filly, each bursting with the exuberance of new life, filled me with wonder at the miracles they were. 

Years later, my friend (whose farm it was), contacted me with this question:  "Do you want a Montanha baby?" 

Um, yes!

As Fate loves her twists and turns, the gelding she was talking about was out of that stunning chestnut Arab filly Riches ran races with as a baby, and to strengthen the "coincidences", his registered name was Arizonha. Apparently, as a baby, Arizonha had very big feet and just loved to swim, earning him the barn name, "Ducky". Following Hideout Ranch custom, he had to have a name associated with the West. In order to keep my promise to retain his pet name, this big, handsome chestnut National Champion Arabian became "Blue Duck".

He was elegance on four hooves. Fast. Smooth. Solid. And proud. Very proud. He took to his new life completely, actually leading the trail his inaugural excursion off the ranch. Blue Duck was so bold and brave at Horseshoe Canyon his first time out, Craig said, "He's doing great! I think we should switch horses at lunch."

"Well, I don't!" was my swift reply. He looked at me, his blue eyes curious as to why I was so possessive. Well, when I put my left foot in the stirrup and swung my right leg across his back, Blue Duck was mine. Simple as that. He was mine. And his pride became mine as well - #mypridehorse

Blue Duck, Arizonha - #mypridehorse

In March of 2015, we had a frequent guest come stay with us to experience life as a wrangler. Not wanting to haul his Quarterhorse gelding from Michigan, he bought a delightful grey gelding who, in strict adherence to Hideout Ranch custom, was named "Logan" for a Sackett cousin. (See:  https://asthegateswings.blogspot.com/2020/07/how-sacketts-settled-at-hidout-ranch.html)

Logan could be anxious and spooky, but he wanted so badly to please and be rewarded it was easy to look beyond his insecurity (he needed a confident and competent rider to support him through his unease) and fall in love. And I did. Everyone who came in contact with him did. Logan and I had some interesting rides, to be sure, but we pushed through and he received plenty of rewards. Losing him (and Wyatt) to the random cruelty of lightning was crushing as he was #mydarlinghorse.

Logan - #mydarlinghorse

These are just a few of the horses with whom we were entrusted with clever hashtags summarising their role in my life. I've far from finished, but these stories are ready to be read...