His Name is MerryLegs

His Name is MerryLegs

I anxiously awaited more photos.  She promised to send me some over the weekend.  Her farrier was coming out to trim, and she would get them, then.  When the photos finally came, they weren’t the best.  There were, what appeared to be frost spots on the pictures.  She claimed it was 28 degrees below zero.  Wow, her farrier must be a tough guy.  Our farrier has cancelled on us when the temperatures were below zero.  What does 28 below feel like?  She said it had gotten as low as -45 this winter—and that doesn’t figure in the wind chill.  It must be awful.  Here in Cleveland, the record low, ever, is -19.  This was a particularly cold February, and we did see a few nights nearly that low.  How can anyone live in a climate like that.  Canadians must be crazy. 

Back to the pictures.  They weren’t the greatest, but I couldn’t see anything wrong with him.  Of course, I know how camera angles can distort horses.  I have struggled with that on my own pictures—sometimes their heads look huge—and sometimes they have pinheads.  Tilt the camera—and they look like their legs are stubby.  Horses don’t always cooperate, either.  Standing still can be a challenge.  But when I put all the pictures together to average out the distortions—I found that he is a beautiful horse.  He is a big, stocky palomino with a super, fluffy winter coat—and a beautiful eye.

She told me I could email her farrier and get his opinion, so that was my next step. 

Of course, I forwarded the photos to Ellen, who was getting just as excited as me.  And speaking of excitement—sometimes it seemed like Kevin just couldn’t contain himself.  Other times, he would be very quiet about it—not wanting to influence my decision in either way, I think.



And the Trainer Says…

I sent out the email to MerryLegs’ trainer.  I told her how I liked a horse that wasn’t lazy and unmotivated.  This was my biggest concern.  His owner made me think he wasn’t, but she didn’t actually ride him.  Mingo was a very quiet, sleepy horse, and he drove me crazy.  For many people, he would have been the perfect horse.  My older niece simply adored him.  They were the perfect pair from the very first ride, and I am so glad I had him so she could enjoy him on trail rides.  I loved Mingo, and I still miss him.  I had him from birth—he was really my baby—but he didn’t suit me for a riding horse.  I need a horse with a work ethic—not a crazy, wild horse, but one that is willing to move. 

MerryLegs’ trainer told me about his training and then she said the magic words.  She said, ”I cannot imagine that Merrylegs would be a lazy horse, and I'm sure he can work!”  Do you see that exclamation point she put at the end of the sentence?  So, not only was he handsome and friendly, but it sounded like our personalities were a good fit.  She even said that, too.

She said I should restart him from the beginning, since it has been so long, but he should pick it up fast. That sounded good—it was what I was thinking of doing, anyway.

I took a few deep breaths, and decided…

That I should sleep on it.  I would make my decision the next morning.

I Slept on It

The following morning, I sat up in bed and said, “I’m getting a new horse.”  It was just that easy.

So, I went to work, put a few hours on the job—just giving myself time to change my mind.  When that didn’t happen, I typed up an email, leaned back and looked at it for about a minute.  I typed up an email, leaned back and looked at it for about a minute.  I hovered the mouse over the send button, paused and------click.

I took another deep breath and sat there, just enjoying the feeling of overwhelming happiness.

Unfortunately, I then had to go back to work.

So, now I am back to waiting while we make the arrangements.  I am waiting for a big Palomino Morgan that is nearly 6 years old, green broke and currently lives in Canada named MerryLegs—after the little pony in the story “Black Beauty.”

The adventure begins…

The Conversation

The Conversation

First, I have to tell you about me and telephones.  I just can’t join this world where everyone seems to be attached to their smart telephone.  My main phone is my land line.  Believe it or not, my home has the old fashioned rotary phones that came with the house.  I am certain they are older than I am.  The voice quality is great, and my family never had one ounce of problems with them over all these years.  To save money, I discontinued my long distance service.  I use my cell phone for that.

I have real problems with cellphones  Where most people have the fancy smart phones, I have a cheap flip phone that I buy prepaid minutes for.  I only buy minutes about once a year, and I spend a fraction of what most people spend.  I tend to forget it, drop it and a few times I have lost it outside.  Sometimes I find them, and sometimes they still work, even if they get caught in the rain.  If it rings in the house, and I’m not around—Maggie, my dog, will grab it if she can and chew on it.  She did break one phone.  My previous dog, Pollie, was frightened of it, and would have anxiety attacks if she heard it.  Consequently, I usually have my phone turned off—and I don’t even know the number.  I have several spares, so if I lose one phone, I can just activate a new one. 

Judging by the emails I was getting, I could tell that the woman who wanted to give me the horse liked to talk.  I bought more minutes and activated my phone for international calls.  I am quite an introvert, and tend to get nervous when I first call people.  I took a deep breath and dialed the international code, followed instructions and dialed her phone number.  It said there was no service!  Was I in a dead zone or was she?  Talk about frustrating.  I tried a few more times, and finally it worked.  The phone was ringing.  What was I doing?

I don’t know if she noticed the few seconds of silence when she answered the phone—though I have perfect phone manners, I forgot what I was supposed to say.  Finally, I blurted out, “Is this Mrs. Shoes?  This is Judi.”  I did notice a couple of seconds of silence on her side, as she processed what I said—and then I was hit by a barrage of words.  Non-stop words.  An avalanche of words.  It was like talking to Kevin when he was wound up about something.  I immediately felt right at home.

To make the long story, short, she told me how much she wanted her horse to have a good home; where he would be well-trained, used, loved and cherished.  Where he wouldn’t be thrown away to the perils of the world—and we all know there are a lot of them for horses.  She liked the way I trained.  She has even used clicker training with dogs, so she understood the concept—something it haven’t found to be common in the horse world.  I will leave her to give you her side of the story.

She reassured me that he was a great horse with a good mind.  He just needed more training.  She said she would send me more pictures. 

She convinced me of her sincerity.  All she wanted was the best for her horse—the wasn’t a scam or someone trying to get rid of a useless horse.  This really might be as good as it sounded.

And then…click…nothing.  I ran out of the international time, I think.  Either that or I simply lost the signal, again.  I tried calling back, and I got the same message as before. 

I had so much to think about…

The Risks of Getting an New Horse

The Risks of Getting an New Horse

Choosing a new horse, whether you buy him or he is given to you, is a very risky endeavor.  All the riskier when you are like us, and plan to get a horse for keeps.  Ellen and I are just not the kind of people who can pass our animals on to an unknown future.  It doesn’t take very long, and we are so attached to our animals that we can’t let them go down an uncertain path.  So, when we choose, we choose carefully.

Who am I kidding.  We were all fairly certain Ellen would buy Dante when she went down to West Virginia.  I was far from sure that Cole was the right horse for me when I visited him—but I was feeling so out of sorts after losing Mingo, I bought him anyway.  Cruiser was love at first sight—but seriously, they called him Satan—I bought a horse named Satan!  The fact that it was less than 2 weeks after Brandy died probably influenced my decision, too, don’t you think?  With Kevin and Starry, it was love at first sight, too.  Ellen looked at few horses before choosing Ranger—and the main reason for saying “yes” was that they said he could cross water.  Mingo, I had from birth, so there was no choosing there.

Now, should I choose this horse?  He sounded so good, but we had a problem—distance.  He lives in Canada—and not the just-across-Lake Erie Canada.  (I live at the border—Cleveland.)  He is in Manitoba.  I didn’t even know where that was on the map!  I would be getting a horse, sight unseen.  But then, if we would have gotten Cruiser, Ranger, Starry, Cole or Dante sight unseen, it wouldn’t have made any difference. 

With Cruiser and Cole, I couldn’t even take them for a test ride, as they had never been ridden.

Sometimes, you just have to follow your guts.  If things seem right, they might just be right.

The owner of the horse sent me a lengthy reply to my email.  So far, everything sounded hopeful.  At the end of it, she gave me her phone number and encouraged me to call.

I thought it might just be time for a conversation.

I was no longer thinking of my upcoming medical test.  Now, I was being kept up at night by the lure of a Canadian horse.

A Free Horse

A Free Horse

Now, just because a horse is free, doesn’t mean taking him is a smart thing.  I've done this free horse thing before.  My first horse, a Morgan named Brandy, was given to me by my aunt.  I had ridden him a number of times when I was a kid--mostly in the arena, and I thought I knew what I was getting into.  My aunt sure knew what I was getting into, but she wanted to get rid of an expense. 

He was way, way too much horse for someone of my little experience for trail riding.  He was a barn-sour, hard-mouthed horse who was a confirmed runaway.  He nearly killed me.  That day he spun around to go home and galloped down the middle of the street certainly frightened me enough to give up trail riding him for the first year I had him.  He had a Morgan iron neck—that you couldn’t bend.  Pull all you like on the reins, he would bend his nose to his chest to evade them.  He had an agenda, and that was too get home ASAP.  Nothing was going to get in his way.

I actually found the woman that owned him before my aunt.  She got him as a 2-year-old.  Once she started riding him, she would race him—and she ruined him.  He got so clever, that he learned to twist his jaw to break his curb chain—making it harder to stop him.

  

She sold him a few years later to my aunt for an old truck, a used saddle and $50.00.  My aunt successfully showed him in jumping.  He was a very bold horse who just loved to jump--and she claims he was jumping 4 foot jumps with 8-foot spreads—and he was just a little guy.

   

When I got him, we were both 21.  The only way to keep him at a walk on the trail was with a death grip on the reins—and sometimes that didn’t even work.  If he got faster than a walk, there was no way to stop him. He was horrible.  I asked my aunt for advice--and she told me I could sell him.  I gave up entirely and only rode in the arena--until I got so bored that I tried again the following spring.

   

This time, I had a plan, and it worked.  I was young and determined.  Within a few months, I could ride him everywhere at most speeds--with a loose rein—and he was relaxed and willing.  (Still couldn't go faster than a walk on the last mile home.)  I learned so much from him.  In the end, it was a wonderful learning experience that no doubt helped make me what I am today, but it sure would have been a lot easier if I had a more suitable first horse for trail riding.

So, would pursuing this free horse be a good thing, a bad thing, or as in Brandy’s case, a bad thing that turns into a good thing?  My head was spinning…

I sent an email asking for more information. 

Things on my mind

Things on my mind          

This year has been a tough one for me, medically.   Don’t worry, yet, there may be nothing wrong with me.  No reason to panic until it is time to panic.  I just had a medical screening test that had positive results, and there have been complications with getting to the bottom of it.

I know that I shouldn’t get too worked up about it, and most of the time, I was doing fine—but I am still human.  My imagination sometimes gets the best of me.  So, while my brain was on a roller coaster, I get a comment on my blog…

It was from one of my blog readers.  She asked me to delete it, so those of you looking for a clue (achieve1dream) save your time and don’t go back through the comments.  She realized I was looking for a horse, recognized that I like Morgans and a lightbulb turned on over her head.  She had the horse for me—and she offered to give him to me.

I was floored.  Why would someone do this?  She never met me, never talked to me, never even left a comment on my blog before.  I started to dig around, found her website, saw who she wanted to give me, looked up his pedigree, dug around as much as I could.  This could potentially be a terrific horse—he was a Working Western Morgan!!  And a Canadian one!!  And she wants to give him to me?  Sounds too good to be true.  The pictures didn’t show much, but they showed enough to get me excited. 

I had to sleep on this.

I no longer thought about my medical predicament.  Thank goodness that was out of my head.  

A New Adventure Begins

A New Adventure Begins

I have been looking for a new horse since last spring when Cruiser flew off to greener pastures.   I would have liked another Morab, since Cruiser and Cole turned out to be such wonderful horses, but that didn’t seem possible.  The Great Recession seemed to have wiped out the Morab breeders.  I found plenty of older Morabs from before the recession, but I didn’t want in older horse.

My second choice was a Morgan.  It was a close second.  After experiencing Cole who is mostly Morgan and Dante who is entirely Morgan, I was starting to think that they may be better than a Morab.  After all, I am getting older, and Arabs can be awfully energetic at times.  So can Morgans, but they seem to use their energy in a more sensible way.  Also, my very first horse, Brandy, was a Morgan.  Ranger is quite likely a Morgan cross.  How could I go wrong with one.

If I were to get a Morgan, he would have to be an old style one.  The modern Morgans are beautiful, in their own way, but the traditional Morgan has always made my heart skip a beat. 

Just like with the Morabs, I was limiting my chances of finding one.  Morgans are a small breed to begin with, and only a fraction of them are what I was looking for.  Most of the breeders had horses that were yearlings or younger—too young for a boarding stable.  None were close to home, either.  Most of them were the wonderful Working Western Morgans—horses I didn’t even know existed until I started my search.  They were all out west, of course—and still too young.  I was leaning towards them.  By fall, I gave up looking and planned to wait until spring.  Maybe some of the yearlings would then be unsold 2-year-olds.

A few weeks ago, one of my blog readers left a comment on my blog… 

Cole in the snow

Spring is nearly here.

The weather is looking up, Daylight Savings is this weekend and I am dreaming about trail riding, again.

Just dreaming. I won’t be on the trail this weekend. We had a mini thaw followed by a deep freeze, so there is ice everywhere. We won’t be able to get out of the barn, and when we do, I don’t know if we will be able to get down the hill because it takes a long time to melt. Then, there is the frozen river, but with next week’s warm up, that should be starting to thaw. Of course, it will then be too high to cross. Still, things are finally looking up, and I am dreaming about trail riding, again.

And dreaming about something else…

Something big…

Really big…

In the meantime, I will share with you a picture of me on my little Cole Train.

Things are happening...

"You did what?" Stormy, my sister's cat, gasped.

Update on Ranger

Update on Ranger

A few months ago, Ranger was having trouble breathing, and the vet said he was starting to get COPD. We started dunking his hay, and he has been improving slowly.

Previously to soaking his hay, he acted like he wanted to snort and couldn’t. Within a short time, he got his snort back. Gradually, his breathing got quieter and quieter. Sometimes, we can barely hear it at all.

Another good sign—he had been slowly losing weight. We increased his grain, and he stabilized. Well, the last few months, she has had to lengthen his girth by several holes. Some of it might be his yak-like coat, but not all of it. He has had this coat since November. He is liberally shedding, right now, so we’ll see what he looks like when he loses all his fuzziness.

Ellen has been working lightly with him all winter. On the real cold days, she leads him for a half hour—preferably outside. He is a great horse to lead. He walks at a fast, steady pace with perfect manners. Now and then, he might get a little spooky, but that’s about it. If you want good exercise, you take Ranger for a walk.

She has ridden him in the arena sporadically. The first few times, he started out very unsteady, and she was quite disturbed about it. When she led him in the arena, there was no unsteadiness at all. One week, when it was simply too cold to go outside, she rode him 4 times inside. By the third time, the unsteadiness disappeared. She now thinks it was caused by the cataract he has in one eye. When she led him, he just depended on her. When she rode him, it must have taken him a bit to get his bearings with uncertain vision in one eye.

They recently celebrated their 20th anniversary, and since he was an unpapered auction horse, we don’t know how old he was when she bought him. We are very happy that he has shown improvement and look forward to taking him back out on the trail this spring.