 |
 |
|
This is being written with a heavy heart and a measure of shame. The first thing I try to do is match up horse and potential rider. What long term goals they have for a horse what size of mount they need or want etc.. A very nice couple came to see my colt. After talking with them we agreed he wouldn’t be the horse for them, they wanted a smaller mount and also wanted to start riding sooner than he would be ready. That was fine. While on my property they expressed an interest in a yearling filly who is a welsh/quarter cross. She has been handled extensively and is very calm and quiet. Well on her way to being bombproof. She is a bay/wh with a blue eye making her a pretty little horse at a reasonable price. She will mature between12-14hh, making her an ideal size for the lady in question. They were very happy and we made arrangements for them to pick her up the following weekend. Now, I don’t own a trailer, and unfortunately neither do they. They gave me a call asking to pick her up early. They had arranged with an experienced horse woman they know to borrow a trailer. I said that would be fine. I went out and caught the filly, groomed, brushed and picked her, had a little cry and said my private good-byes. Upon arrival, I immediately had misgivings. The horse trailer they had the use of was approximately two feet off the ground and wasn’t equipped with a ramp. It had dual swinging doors and a divider in the middle. As many of you know, this was not an ideal trailer to use with an inexperienced horse. The filly was willing to approach it and was very calm, (although a bit stubborn, I must admit) until the experienced horse woman tried to hurry things along with a stock whip. After two blows I (inside the trailer) realised she was striking the horse and raised my voice to tell her not to use the whip. The filly was quite rattled and unwilling to enter the trailer leaving her hindquarters exposed, understandably so. Now the fun began. We had no way to make a safe ramp and daylight was dwindling fast. We took the filly into the barn and backed the trailer right to the door. Thinking to use the barn door as a chute of sorts. The filly (Ojibwa) was frightened, sweating and completely unnerved by our attempts. She simply did not understand what we were asking her to do. After placing her front hooves (manually) upon the trailer, we tried to gently push her hindquarters into the trailer. She began to enter and at the last minute changed her mind, reared and backed out. The experienced horse woman was knocked to the ground, (she had been behind the barn door) cutting her finger and losing her shoe. Ojibwa had knocked her head into the metal stall divider and had lost a bit of hide above her eye. Definitely not a good training session on loading for my filly. Thankfully no one, man or beast was seriously injured. They left with an empty trailer uncertain they wanted the filly and I was left with a frightened, bleeding young horse who will remember her harrowing experience for a long time I am sure. The Lesson I learned was this..if you have a young inexperienced horse for sale, borrow a trailer (if you don’t own one) and practice loading and unloading before you ever consider a sale. Also, there is a lot to be said about having the right tool for the job. A low sitting, open end stock trailer would of posed no problems. Most importantly I learned a lesson in assertiveness. My first instinct was that particular trailer was not suited for the job at hand. It turned out that I was correct. I should have had the courage to say "This is not a good trailer to use and I’m sorry to have wasted you a trip but I am unwilling to risk the physical and mental well being of my animal for the price of a sale." Hindsight is 20/20, right? Ojibwa, I am sorry and very ashamed of myself. I was thinking of the lovely black and white filly I am buying on payments and how much closer your sale price would get me to having her paid off. Now, I just feel shame. Darcie Conlon Oct./00 P.S. A fine neighbour of mine heard about this incident and very generously brought over a stock trailer for me to use to train my filly and weanling. I will be sure nothing like that happens on my shift again. A special thank you to Mr. Graham. |
The Barbedwire Weed…
And you thought it wasn’t organic…Ha ha ha ha!!! I have finally figured it out ….
alas my friends it is not a happy theory I am about to share.. Our family moved
to this farm just 3 years ago and the amount of cleaning to be done was substantial.
Now that is almost to be expected as it had sat unused for almost 2 years. What we
hadn’t been expecting was the barbedwire weeds we got for free in the deal! Now I
know some of you may be scoffing, thinking to yourselves… barbedwire weeds??
Click Here to read the rest of the Barbedwire Weed.
The Christmas Gift
| The snow fell softly as the
morning sun tried to shine through the grey blanket of clouds. Becky
pulled on her mittens and smiling, jammed a toque onto her head. She went
out the back door headed for the small barn partially hidden by bare
lilac bushes. The path she walked on was well worn which was surprising
since there were no animals owned by Becky's family living there. No, the
barn was empty. Becky had dreamed of owning a horse ever since she
could remember. She had, over the years, bought everything she felt
she would need to care for a horse. She had first
purchased a book on general horse care and equine first aid. Next was
a halter and lead shank. Buckets, brushes and even a used blanket were
slowly acquired over time. Her father and mother had learned all the parts
of a bridle, as all she wanted for birthdays was horse tack. On her 8th
birthday she asked for a headstall. On her 9th, a snaffle bit and reins. For
her 10th a bareback pad complete with cinch and stirrups. Becky was
like a sponge. She read every single book or magazine on horses she
could find at the library. She also had an advertisement posted on the
bulletin board at the shopping mall asking for any used horse books or
riding equipment for sale at a reasonable price. She didn't get many calls,
but the few she did receive were beneficial to her cause. Becky entered the barn and looked around with a happy smile. Everything was ready. She had fresh clean straw in the box stall and extra squares stacked neatly in a tie stall. Just yesterday their neighbour Mr. Hoan had brought six round bales of hay which were tucked away nice and dry in the hay shed. There was only one item missing...a horse. Since Becky had been saving every penny possible, she now had $139.73 to spend on a horse of her own. She knew it wasn't much but surely at the sale today she might be able to buy an older horse or maybe a foal? Becky's best friend Lori owned a beautiful gentle mare named Sweettooth she got at a sale for only $200 because the mare had been so thin even the meat man wouldn't bid on her. Maybe she would get lucky?! The morning seemed to drag on forever. Her father rwent over to Mr. Hoan's to borrow a small horse trailer and Becky and her mother made coffee and sandwiches to take. The horse sale started at one o'clock and Becky was eager to get under way. Finally her father pulled into the driveway and honked the horn. Becky's mother had one last reminder for her not to have her heart set on buying a horse today. Becky knew she didn't have much money, but she would be thrilled to find a plain looking horse with a kind disposition. Keeping her fingers crossed Becky climbed into the truck and they started down the road. Approaching the auction market Becky's stomach began to flip-flop and her hands were damp with sweat. Here she was, three days before Christmas hoping to find a friend for life. She was almost eleven years old and knew she could handle the responsibility of a horse. Would there be a horse for her? Becky closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. When she opened her eyes they were parking at the horse sale. Becky was crestfallen when she looked around the parking lot. All the horse and stock trailers were shiny and new, not rusted and old like the one kindly Mr. Hoan had lent them. She knew fancy trailers usually carried fancy horses with fancy prices. Well, she would look around anyway. Becky's parents went into the sales pavilion to find seats while Becky went straight to the holding pens out back. Oh, the horses were magnificent! Quarter Horses, Arabians, Appaloosas, Belgians and a small assortment of grade crosses. At the end of an alley was a pen with a sign "For Slaughter Only." A few sickly, dejected looking mares with long hooves and ribs showing were sharing the pen with a few scrubby foals. One of the foals looked better than the rest. It was a colt, sorrel in colour with a wide blaze adorning his face. Becky looked through the slats and saw he had poor legs. All his legs were turned out. Her heart dropped. The sorrel colt was the only foal who looked reasonably healthy, but Becky didn't know if he would ever be sound enough to give a full days ride. Well, she would just have to see.... The sale started at one o'clock sharp with the horses
selling unbroke around $1000 and broke horses with papers going
between $1500 right up to $2700. Becky sighed wistfully. Becky noticed
an older lady sitting not far from her who looked familiar. Maybe it was
someone whom she had met at her school or the local pool where she took
lessons? Dismissing it from her mind, Becky decided to have one last look
outside to see when the last pen was due to be run through. Approaching the
pen she saw two men standing there talking. She overheard them discussing
the horses they were going to bid on. The slender man closest to her said he
would take all the old mares from the P.M.U. barn and heard the
shorter man say he would take all the foals if they didn't sell for more
than $200 each. Becky could no longer see the colt for the tears that welled
up in her eyes. She heard someone approach and felt the corral slats quiver
as the person leaned up against them. Discreetly wiping her eyes,
Becky looked over to see the lady who had looked familiar standing
there. " Hello, Becky" the lady said. "Hello," said Becky " Do I know
you?" "Well, I was talking to your parents and they told me your name.
We met last summer in the library. Do you remember? I was reading a
horse care book you were looking for." the lady replied. " I do
remember you! You were reading about laminitis, right?" "Right Becky,
that was me. My name is Mrs. Blake. now, why don't you tell me why you look
so upset?" she asked in a quiet voice. "Well," started Becky, " I
wanted to buy a horse today, but I think the men who were just here are
going to buy it. I don't have much money, but I'm still going to bid." Becky
said with a brave voice. "Which horse are you interested in Becky?"
Mrs. Blake asked. "The sorrel colt over there." Becky replied pointing. Mrs.
Blake looked to where Becky had pointed and sadly smiled. " Do you
think a blind colt with poor legs is the horse for you?" Becky's heart
clenched. Blind? Blind was something she hadn't considered. With her
heart in her throat and tears again Right then the auction workers came to take the pen of horses into the ring. Becky said a silent good-bye to the colt and went to find her seat. The old mares sold to the meat man for about $500 each. The foals went for $215 each. Becky's last ray of hope went dim when the bidding started at $100. No horse for Becky this Christmas. She tried to be brave and even told her parents she was all right and the money would be saved for a horse next year. The next two days Becky tried to keep busy. She helped her mother kill and clean the turkey and found herself doing extra house cleaning without having to be prompted. Both her mother and father were cheerful and somehow that made her sadness worse. Christmas eve came and her mother and her had lots of last minute details to get ready for the big feast the next day. Her father was humming as he went to bed early and her mother was laughing into the telephone as she spoke with relatives who would be arriving the next day. Becky had promised herself she wouldn't be sad during the Christmas supper. She forced a smile as she hugged her mother goodnight and went up to bed. She said her evening prayers and with no one to know, fell asleep with but one small tear slowly sliding down her cheek. The sound of a vehicle door closing woke her Christmas morning. Rolling out of bed, she went to her window to see who could of arrived so early. She could just see the back of a trailer parked down near the barn. Scooping up her jeans and socks she came flying down the stairs only to find the house empty. She tugged on her pants and socks, slid into her boots and was out the door as she put on her coat. Coming around the lilacs, Becky could hear voices talking and quiet laughter. There was Mrs. Blake holding the lead shank of a beautiful Quarter Horse mare. The mare was a bright sorrel with a flaxen mane and tail. Three white socks and a perfect blaze down her face. The mare saw her first and nickered a greeting. Her parents and Mrs. Blake turned to find Becky, standing there, still in her nightgown, with her mouth and her jacket wide open. " Merry Christmas, Becky!" sang all three together." Wh.. ...wh...what?" stammered Becky. " Mrs. Blake wants you to have Peanut, honey." said Becky's mother, grinning ear to ear." Wh...wh..how...?" was all Becky could manage as her throat was very constricted all of a sudden. " I can't find the time to ride Peanut as much as she needs and I decided I would like you to have her, Becky." Mrs. Blake said with a smile. Becky couldn't find any words to say, so she just closed her eyes and said a prayer of thanks. When she opened them, Peanut took a step toward her and Mrs. Blake raised the shank to give Becky the best Christmas gift ever. A gift from the heart. Darcie Conlon , Conlon Paints, Sask., Canada. |
What I am about to share is near and dear to my heart.