Author: pegasus8mywings

Through my years of being actively involved with horses, I have often been the recipient of two questions: (1) Why, if you pay to board your horses, do you spend so much time at the barn doing the things that are covered in monthly Board? (2) What is your affinity with mares?

Now before the first question causes any undue concern or anxiety of forthcoming response and content, I will embark on addressing that one first in order to put everyone’s mind at ease.

The answer is simple…that is not only the way I am programmed and wired by design but circumstantial events led me on the evolutional path to being a more integral and interactive part of my horses care . Often times, I would not get to the barn (after work) until feeding time, which presented a challenge in the ability to ride before dark. Therefore, I offered to feed my own horse(s) after riding and turn them out for the evenings when done. This not only allowed me to ride in the afternoons and evenings but also eliminated unnecessary burdens for anyone else.

Prior to the present facility where I now board my horses (home, if you will), I boarded at the facility where I grew up riding for many years…formerly known as Cannons Point Hunt Stables. Eventually, it closed to public operations but extended family, who owned the property, invited me to stay on. Since I was only one of several extended family members to remain, my time already dedicated to the care of horses in the evenings eventually developed into early morning care, as well. Although, there was no board to pay, those that remained were left to furnish their own supplies and care for their own horses. In time, I had my routine down to a science and began to look forward to the early morning drives, sipping on that first cup of coffee in the morning. There was something ritualistically healing about getting a jump start on the slumbering world.

If you have been keeping up with my blogs, you will also know that most of my equine companions thru the years were young when acquired. Therefore, I have always felt that the more time you spend with the tiny tikes of this sport, the more well rounded they will be in later years.

During the recent venture of finding a horse for my niece, my brother made one firm request…the horse MUST have a sweet personality like mine. I responded by saying that can be acquired by the time you spend with them.

Another consideration is that I enjoy the groundwork…yes, even mucking stalls can be a therapeutic diversion from my otherwise hectic schedule. The more time I spend with my equine companions, the more I get to know them and the more readily I am able to recognize and assess early signs of stress, fatigue or illness.

For an example, I may detect a loss of “brightness” in one’s eyes during morning chores and determine that perhaps that one may either need the day off or perhaps a nice leisure trail that afternoon will once again stimulate the brightness I have come to expect from that horse.

Another one may have rubbed quite a bit during the evening from seasonal bugs and I may determine that it is time to give that one another oatmeal bath. Therefore, I am able to conclude that I need to exercise the easiest horse after work, so as to have time to administer the oatmeal bath to the one with the new hairless spots throughout their coat.

In time, I get to know the horse(s) like the back of my hand and instinctively know when the time comes to implement a certain protocol. Although one may not be “lame” by the technical definition of the medical term but something simply does not feel quite right…then I know it is time to call in the chiropractor.

With regularity, I am able to determine if that horse has consumed their regular daily water intake. If not, I watch them closely for lack of hydration. If they did not clean up all of their grain, I begin to analyze and search for answers…did I add a less than palatable supplement that day, or is this perhaps an early sign of gas colic? I have one mare that has less than comfortable transitional cycles that resulted as she aged. Now I know to watch her closely Feb/March and again Sep/Oct to know when she will require that single dose of Banamine.

If there is an exception to the normal routine that team members are responsible for, I prefer to carry out the task myself instead of having the team alter their routine…and add yet another “boarder request” to their agenda. If I know the horses will have a light schedule that week due to travel, appointments, etc., I will cut their feed slightly. Instead of having team members alter the Master Feeding chart multiple times, I simply mix their feed according to my own specifications to save them that extra step.

The same goes for buying horses…I do not ever want to be thought of as a “tire kicker”, as I am all too familiar with these prospective (or rather non-prospective) buyers. Ditto for boarding at a facility…I never want to be thought of as the boarder that the owner/operator wants to run and hide from when I am seen approaching.

There are several categories in which one can classify boarders: (1) the one who simply pays board and MAY show up once a month to check on their horse (2) the boarder who  possesses a negative attitude about procedures & policies and/or is always for looking for the opportunity to complain or make unruly requests and demands (3) the boarder that makes daily visits but who prefers to remain in the background quietly tending to the reasons that brought them there in the first place.

I have learned to anticipate the next question in this series, “…then why don’t you simply have your own barn, instead of boarding”?  First, let me say that I have researched and studied this possibility thru the years, especially since my parent’s property allows for “agricultural zoning” due to categorization of original estate property. We even went as far as measuring distance from nearest distant house, clearing property, and having plans drawn up, building permits, etc… The simplest answer is that I do not want to be “married” to the daily responsibilities. Although I DO spend a good deal of time at the barn, my job/career (you know, the subject that pays for the described bottomless pits) includes undetermined hours and traveling. Then, there are the human dependents at home that can derail your plans in a sudden moments notice. Finally, you may have a sudden whim to totally disconnect from daily routines, once in a while, to enjoy an Epsom salt soak, a glass of wine, unwinding with Billie Holiday…all while contemplating the original idea you had of having dependents (human and animal alike) in the first place. Last but not least, the visions of my mother sneaking out to feed 2-3 bags of carrots a day to the horses and having them overdose on fructose…and my father scrutinizing over every hair out of place was simply too much for my imagination to bear.

My second answer to the last question is that I enjoy the social camaraderie you gain in a boarding facility. I have met some of my favorite peeps thru the years at the barn. While it is true that I work with all kinds of personalities in my line of work – clients and colleagues alike – I find it especially rewarding to be a part of a barn family/community. If you are fortunate enough to be a part of an amazing horse community, as I am, you will always have a strong support system.

I realized that I did not want to become stagnant by isolating myself in the “world of having your own barn”. As any horse rider/owner can testify, this is one of the few sports where you never quit learning. Just when you think you know everything there is to know about owning a horse, there is always a “new illness” or injury to learn about. Additionally, there will always be an updated or new technique for handling a challenging situation. I cannot speak for others, but I LOVE learning…whether you can finally afford that lesson you have not had in 25+ years (when Junior’s braces come off)…or with any luck, there may be the once again occasional show or event when Senior graduates from College.

There came a time when my daughters were younger that I temporarily re-homed my horses to better handle an ever growing demanding schedule. When the girls were at the age when 20 questions becomes trendy (you know…ask the same question 20 different times and ways with the hopes of eventually receiving a satisfactory answer), “how come you moved the horses so far away instead of somewhere closer?” I would realize that the answer to this question is “out of sight, out of mind”. I had to know that it would be impossible to drive to the barn at 5AM to complete morning chores when they were 5-6 hours away. It would be the only way to sever years of habitual patterns.

Now, this is not to suggest that every horse will gravitate towards your regular presence. If there is one that routinely pins their ears back at the mere sight of a mortal…just know that if one day you are suddenly greeted with ears forward…game face is on and you are about to become ravishing dinner…lol!

Back on track (no pun intended)…when it was time for the horses to return home, I remember my mother saying to me, “promise me you will not marry yourself to the horses as you have done in previous years…I do not wish to see you burning the wick at both ends.” My agreement to her lasted only a few weeks until I found myself, once again, hands on deck. I recall her saying, “it has to be in your wiring…there is no other explanation”.

Does all of this mean that I am the better person for my choices? Absolutely not! In fact, as ironic as it seems, the horse(s) belonging to the occasional visitor always seem to be the one(s) without any health issues. My only attempt to explain this irony is that perhaps the horse with the same routine day in day out trumps the one with the daily diversions of schooling sessions, weekend shows or clinics, etc…, that can alter the delicate flora of these magnificent creatures.

Long story short, aside from my wiring…I would have to respond by saying I do what I do because I would rather be “in the know” sooner rather than later. If an issue arose during the night, I would rather tackle it head on at 5AM rather than discovering an issue when the lights go out at 9PM. Finally, there is a great deal of satisfaction that comes with being involved in the welfare of your furry and feathered (reference to homestead here) friends.

In the meantime, the land that was cleared some years earlier now sport young saplings obscuring the “once upon a time” vision that was created. The plans / drawings continue to sit on the drafting table collecting dust and the dream that Millie Wilcox had of watching horses frolic along the Black Banks River have long now faded. Do I have any regrets of not following thru with every horse owner’s dream?  ABSOLUTELY NOT! Will I, one day, revive/reinstate this dream? Perhaps…when the day comes for me to return to the original homestead to care for elderly parents…OR…when it is time to retire the once “tiny tikes”. However, until then I will continue to look forward to my daily ventures thru the briar patch (impasse) that I established years ago…to no fault of anyone else other than myself. I may not always roll out of bed at 5AM with a smile on my face and I may envy those that are able to keep that dividing screen in place… but who would deprive my mother or my descendants the opportunity to design my headstone with an etching of a pitchfork on it?

Part 1

As I was organizing photos into photo albums – a project that was long overdue – I came across some photos of (bunny Cappuccino) Cappy’s litter of baby kits. Flashbacks of the harrowing experience of 11 additional homestead members not only made me shudder at the memories of the naïve and miraculous event…but also brought about a new idea for the HOMESTEAD MEMOIRS blog.

Before I begin, let me preface the blog by sharing my story of the unplanned arrival of 11 bunny kits on the homestead some years back. One afternoon, I was just beginning to finish up watering plants, when my oldest daughter ran outside to tell me that there were some strange hairless looking things moving around in the bottom of Cappy’s cage. At this time, we had 4 rabbits…two females and two males…one couple per child. As we were waiting until they were old enough to be altered, they were housed in their own separate accommodations. After-all, I knew enough about rabbits to know they can multiply by simply looking at one another. Dismissing the possibility of baby bunnies, I told my daughter to stop pulling my leg and to go back inside and get started on her homework. The dismal reality started sinking in as my daughter became relentless in trying to get me to come in and look at the strange embryonic aliens in Cappy’s cage.

Still convinced that the girls were pulling a prank, I indulged their creativity and humored them with a quick glance in Cappy’s cage. I was totally unprepared for what I saw next…

In total disbelief and as a confirmation to my findings, I looked at the girls and proceeded to ask, “how did this happen”? They shrugged their shoulders and each replied in perfect harmony, “I don’t know”. I said, “well, this did not happen all by itself”. Silence. “I tell you what, then…since we do not know how this happened, both of you are grounded until one or both of you remembers”.

After school the next day, the oldest daughter finally came forward and admitted that she and an undisclosed friend (during a sleep-over) got all of the rabbits out to play at the same time. What was worse is that the youngest daughter was aware of the incident and, yet, claimed she knew nothing about it.

In the meantime, I moved Cappy’s cage to my shower lined with straw to give her more room when she was not nursing. Despite my best efforts, we lost what I would later learn was the “peanut” of the litter. A good friend of mine who had a farm in Tennessee advised me to leave Cappy alone…that she was perfectly capable of caring for all of the kits…and if she neglected to feed one or more of them that Cappy would instinctively know there was some abnormality or handicap with that one. The next day, I noticed that Cappy avoided nursing, yet, another kit described as the runt of the litter. I would isolate Cappy and the smallest kit to ensure feeding.

As the hairless embryonic creatures grew, they became recognizable baby bunnies with fur in a vast array of colors and patterns. I took them into the vet when I felt they were old enough to identify the gender of each baby. When leaving the vet’s office, I carried with me two boxes, each one containing an even ratio of specific gender species. Upon arriving home, the males went back into the shower and the females went into my garden tub.

I knew I could not feasibly keep all ten rabbits…so I set out to find homes for them. I knew for certain, I would keep the runt (Hopscotch) since I had grown so attached to him during isolated feedings with Cappy. I reluctantly allowed the girls to choose their “pick” of the litter (Oreo). Fortunately, the involved friend and her mother picked one out to take home with them. As the word spread that I had 7 rabbits left to find homes for, I would be taunted with jokes about rabbit stew and hungry pet snakes to feed, etc… Eventually, I coached myself into keeping the remaining 7 rabbits for their own welfare…WHEN OUT OF THE BLUE…rescue angels came from the heavens above and agreed to take the 7 remaining rabbits.

The next day, 2 of the (now 6) rabbits that were does went in to be altered…and Cappy was upgraded to a hutch with extra amenities and rewarded a gilded crown for her accomplishment in keeping 10 out 11 kits alive and healthy. I, on the other hand, vowed that I would never unknowingly go into the breeding business on the homestead again but instead made each of the girls sign a contract that ONLY “planned parenthood” is allowed on the homestead from here on in. If either or both of them are ever found guilty of this criminal act again, they will be extradited to the far realms of the earth.

Part 2

As a proud – and humble – mother of two daughters, I count my blessings every day that I have managed to survive the journey of parenthood…at least to this point. Every parent will agree that there is no verbal testimony or written documentation that completely prepares one for the navigation thru unchartered territory.

As my daughters – 3 years apart – began encroaching on their puberty years, it occurred to me that the “dreaded” topic of discussion was upon us. Up to this point, I had been able to skirt around the “where do babies come from” question with composure and creativity.

That evening, I alerted the girl’s father that the “talk of doom” (you know…the one that leaves every parent stumbling for the right context without faltering and leaving the messenger feeling inadequate or inept on such a delicate subject). His response was “OK…let me know how it goes”, all the while he tried not to succumb to laughter which would have reinforced the numbing apprehension that had already overcome me throughout the day. Realizing that I would be on my own – with no support – in this matter, I immediately set out to fetch a glass of wine as I rehearsed my speech for the umpteenth time that day.

I knew that in today’s world of school education, peers, social and entertainment media, etc…my daughters would learn about sexual issues. However, I could not avoid my responsibility, as their mother, to engage them in a discussion that hopefully would enlighten them and make them aware of accountability, responsibility and safety measures.

Finally, I found the courage (after a second glass of wine)to approach the girls as they were beginning to settle into bedtime mode. As I went to each of their rooms to summons them into the living room, they responded by asking if they were in trouble. By this time, their father had retreated to the garage so as to be conveniently indisposed for emergency back-up. I began by saying, I think it is time that we have a talk…

The oldest, probably due to my fidgeting recovery from anxiety, immediately said, is this about where babies come from? In complete awe, I said, as a matter of fact it is…why? She then looked at her sister and with a mischievous grin said, “uh, mom…we already know about the birds and the bees”. Dumbfounded, I said “you do”? The youngest replied, “yes, mom…now can we go and finish watching our TV show before bed time”? Not knowing if I felt more relieved OR more frustrated that I spent so much time and emotion building myself up for this milestone and only to have been robbed and cheated of this historical moment…I asked them if they had any questions before I allowed myself to feel defeated. They replied, “no, mom…we got this”. As they quickly moved to escape the confines of discussion, I was assured that my efforts were duly noted. However, it was their retreating statement that rang an unfounded truth to my ears. The oldest turned around before disappearing from the room and said, “we live on a farm, don’t we”? I began recalling our ducks and chickens as winter started rolling into longer days of Spring, rabbits displaying their natural reproductive abilities…I realized that prior observation had been a significant key to their knowledge on the subject.

When their father came back in, he asked, “how did the talk go”? I smiled and said, “it was a piece of cake…I don’t know what I was so worried about”. I head out to make certain all of the homestead animals are secure for the night. Suddenly, on the way back to the house, I stop in my tracks. After a few seconds pass, my pace quickens as I ran back into the house scrambling for pen and paper. When located, I began to jot down a “to do” list for the next day. #1 call pediatrician to see if it is too early to schedule appointments for the girls with OBGYN #2 schedule appointments with OBGYN #3 inquire about birth control for the girls #4 have reply ready for OBGYN when asked reason for inquiry #5 Make “NO MORE HOMESTEAD VACANCIES” sign to place at Front Door for when girls get home from school the next day.

Moral of the story: if you are worried about having this pivotal conversation with your arising children, simply establish a homestead.

Photo of 9 baby bunnies (10th one had already gone home with undisclosed friend and her mother)

Rewind to Early 2018…at a family gathering, my brother said to me “Katie and I want to buy a horse”. How do we go about it? He preceded to to inquire…Craig’s List? My mother started laughing and said to me “Oh, lord…you better help him before he makes a huge mistake”. I laughed it off, As anyone who knows Trace, knows he has had a vast array of interests in prior years ( boats, airplanes, jet skis, an imported car from abroad, Real Estate, etc…). I figured this statement of interest would fade away in a few days so I paid it no mind.

In the following days, I began receiving ads for prospects and the realization that Trace was serious about this conquest, I relentlessly agreed to assist him on this painful journey. Might I add that he was very narrow minded about what he wanted and set a meager budget. I replied by asking “how soon do you expect to have a horse within your given parameters? These parameters started out with one color request and a firm price budget. I stared at him and began to wonder what I had just signed up for…lol.

Now mind you this venture would be different from any of my own ventures to buy a horse. Due to budget restraints, mine would only be under saddle a few weeks at best. As long as their heads and tails were on the right end (and approval of general confirmation and personality), they passed my inspection. Since prospects had not been in work long enough to sustain any hidden issues, I would usually forgo a Pre-purchase exam. In fact, I relied on my instinct in purchasing my last 3 horses and bought each of them sight unseen (other than a single photo and perhaps a video). Although I would not openly recommend this protocol to others, this tactic always worked for me and never once did I regret any of my decisions.

Having said this, I knew this journey would be quite different. Anyone in this sport knows that finding that perfect in-between match (not a baby or a senior with one foot in the grave) can be a costly investment. Once I explained to Trace that a safe, sound, pretty, talented horse that is ride/show ready for a beginner simply does not exist unless you are willing to stretch that frugal budget just a bit…lol.

So the journey exhaustively begins reviewing ads, making phone calls, exchanging e-mails and texts…all the while, I would receive numerous “No’s”, a few “maybe’s” and the rare “yes”. One day I was to look for a grey, the next day it was a palamino. By the time, Spots and Chrome came around…I threw my arms in the air and threatened to abort the mission if the winds contiued to change directions on a daily basis. By the way, who was this horse for anyway…Trace OR Katie? Sensing my frustration, he agreed to open up the possibilities.

I EVENTUALLY came across a cross that I absolutely loved within given guidelines. The most beautiful horse broken to drive AND ride. Price was good, the color was right, young enough for Katie to grow with, large enough for Trace to ride, quiet, safe and no a single blemish…in other words, a horse I would have bought without a second thought! Trace responded by saying “Beautiful and has your name written all over him but I don’t want a Buggy horse…ugh!!! Despite my efforts to convince him to reconsider and the fact the horse can drive is only a bonus for investment purposes, we were back to the drawing board.

This went went on for several weeks/months. I finally found a prospect that I felt my brother would approve of. Trace was all over over it…But…I was not feeling the warm and fuzzy feeling that I felt when buying my horses over the years and that concerned me. At this point we enlisted Allie, barn owner and trainer, to jump on board with with her expertise. She set out to try the horse and preceded with negotiations, etc. Although Trace ultimately decided not to precede with this prospect due to some undisclosed concern…we were making progress.

Fast forward, I finally came across an ad I had seen earlier but did not fit Trace’s initial requirements. By now, the owner had sent the horse for further training. There it was…the undeniable, long forgotten warm and fuzzy feeling! Still slightly more than Trace’s purchase price, I sent him the ad this time around. He actually made an inquiry and sent me photos and videos. Let me just preface the rest of this story by saying I picked up the phone, called Trace, heartbeat pulsing outside of my chest, praying Trace would agree that THIS WAS THE ONE!! When he answered the phone, his demeanor was too relaxed for this historical moment. I thought “oh dear”…I can tell I will never convince him that he would be crazy not to consider this horse. Fortunately, he liked the videos enough to ask Katie her opinion…she not only liked her but she loved her! It would not have been fair to break Katie’s heart including her on every single consideration…so we limited her consult to the few we felt strongly about.

Although it took some creative up-sell on my part, I finally got Trace on board…three for three…we had reached third base without injury to one another!!! We immediatly contacted Allie. She wasted no time in evaluating the bay 6 year old, 16.3 Canadian Warmblood, Cali. The rest is history…

The morales of this story: (1)always keep an open mind (2) never sign up for a partnering journey with Trace and expect to retire sane (3) do not give me money to go into a candy store with instructions to only purchase a bottle of water (4) Trace is now a reformed educated horse buyer (5) Trace has now joined my world of poverty as a horse owner

Now that Cali is in her forever home, I can finally retire for the evening without the anxiety of any incoming late night texts of horse ads. I am 20 minutes into REM when I suddenly arise and much to my dismay find myself uttering the surprising words to myself, “I wonder what the status is on that Beautiful “buggy horse”?….

An Era Gone By

When my brother and I were watching my niece take a riding lesson last week, my brother made a statement that hung with me and has had me reminiscing about the days we grew up riding. He asked me why kids today do not have the same opportunities to experience riding and growing up at the barn as we both did when we were younger. I knew where he was going with this question and responded the only way I knew how. As unfortunate as it is, in today’s world, there are too many liabilities and lawsuits to allow the carefree privilege we were allowed…but privileges we were both extremely lucky to have.

Rewind about 47 years, my parents signed me up for riding lessons at a local stable when I was 5 years old. Little did they know that it would not be a passing phase and the sport would eat holes in their wallets. However, they managed to keep me enrolled in lessons when it proved to bring me out of my shell, teach me responsibility and most importantly keep me out of “street trouble”. My brother soon followed suit and although he was a complete natural, I had to work hard to coordinate my, tall, lanky and leggy stature on top of a horse (Ponies were never in the cards for me). I am still convinced my brother did not enlist in riding for his natural talent and abilities as much as he did for flirting and playing with the female contenders of the sport.

As I have assisted with teaching my own girls to ride our horses…parent/child instruction is no easy feat and one I would not recommend…it has occurred to me that they will never know the value of the blood, sweat and tears as I and so many others learned while riding under Linda’s tutelage.

Now the stables where I grew up was perhaps an ordinary stable in the day…but not so much in today’so world. Not only was the barn a boarding and lesson facility but it was a breeding facility, as well. It seemed like a mare delivered a baby every Monday…and soon the facility would house as many as 80 horses at one time.

In between weekly lessons, Linda would encourage you to practice as often as your schedule would allow between school and other activities (this offer is not extended as readily now as it once was). Little did unsuspecting students know that this invitation would include riding “barn babies”. In other words, once a filly or colt was old enough and it could walk, eat, drink and breathe, you were assigned a death warrant. Having said this, let me mention that there were no human fatalities while growing up at the barn. However, when a student came in from riding their assignment for the day without any broken bones, you were then invited to join Linda on a Fox Hunting venture for the weekend. Once you and your project passed without incident, that riding assignment was put up for sale and you were given another project…and more often than not, that would mean you would be the first one to accomplish getting on the horse. In our world in the 70’s, “green” meant show-accomplished.

I will say that anyone who purchased a pony or horse from Linda would be assured their new partner would be totally bomb-proof when leaving the only home they ever knew up to that point. Linda had 4 children of her own (not including all of the children that she took under her wing thru the years). She had 3 boys who would have paint wars in the nearby woods and a daughter who excelled thru national rankings in the horse show world.  On any given day, she would have students galloping thru alligator ponds, jumping picnic tables, pump houses, canoes and anything that would stand still long enough, playing Cowboys and Indians, or hiding go seek bareback. There was nothing considered too extreme as long as you wearing a helmet and boots. Did I mention the peacocks that would fly out of the trees when you rode under them, the boars, cows and wild horses you would encounter on trail or perhaps the neighbor on the adjacent property choosing your lesson time to practice target shooting?

Eventually if financial resources were in the cards, you would graduate to leasing an available horse of your choice, which meant you were responsible for that horse until it sold. I had many broken hearts when my “lease horse” would sell. Finally, the time came when my parents presented me with a horse of my very own Christmas 1982. My parents were adamant about me being old enough to drive before owning my own horse so that I would be able to tend to the daily tasks without having to rely on them to for transportation (until that time, Linda or one of senior trainers provided transportation for students). Now, this first horse did not come on a silver platter or without a cost…and was also a “barn baby” but simply purchased from another barn.  I had to complete an 8 hour work schedule at home every weekend, while maintaining homework and finding time to ride…and attend the seasonal show or event.. if I was competing over the weekend, the work load had to be made up during the week. I know now that my parents were capable of supporting the “cause” but they instilled in me that hard work goes into any dream or goal. Two more hours were added to the schedule when they provided me with a horse trailer. The most challenging rule was that my brother and I had to choose another sport in addition to riding to explore other potential interests ( I chose tennis and Trace chose baseball). By this time, there were not enough hours in the week to get everything done…but my determination prevailed. Eventually, my parent’so investment carried me successfully thru 3-day Training Level ( by this time, Linda pursued an interest in eventing with her students).

Fast forward another few years, I now understand that those 8-10 hours of weekly chores hardly touched the true expense of having a horse until I was financially on my own. The only way I could afford to buy a horse was to buy them young before training expenses would elevate the selling price. This would mean I would spend more time training than I would be competing. But there is something to be said about the connection you acquire with a horse from death warrant years thru the accomplished years. In the end, as I have spent time (and continue to spend time) with my senior equine companions, I realize how fortunate I am to have been a part of every milestone shared with my horses.

In all fairness, there was one exception in between the death warrant years when I was able to afford a seasoned show horse…but only because the previous owner encountered unfortunate health issues. Trainers would always have to remind me that I had a “show veteran” and to quit  doing all the thinking for the horse…just sit back and have fun! What a concept…and one that would take some time getting used to.  At this time, Linda phased back into hunter shows, as her daughter was doing extremely well on the hunter show circuit.

Hind sight, if given the opportunity to go back to the days of old, would I? Absolutely and without a doubt! Linda provided to her students thae ability to play hard as long as you worked hard…and there was always work to be done with vast acreage as a playground and many mouths to feed. I feel extremely lucky to have had Linda not only as a mentor and trainer but for providing her students the opportunity to experience what today’so generation may never get to experience. She gave us access to to a variety of disciplines and some of the greatest trainers in those disciplines.

After all, how many children today can say that they were allowed the opportunity to hop on a horse and play Cowboys and Indians, while clearing out the banana spiders for the riders behind us? Who else spent time in the hay barn with the “secret barn society”…if for no other reason than trying to evade the fact that no one rode the infamous bratty barn baby, so as to maintain self preservation for the one day. Who else spent the hottest summer days eating watermelon Linda would provide, playing under the sprinklers, dunking one another in the water troughs, galloping away from the historic plantation ghosts, racing horses down “suicide trail” and merely being kids…all while surviving to tell the stories? I would venture to say not many…but those of us that did in the 60’s and 70’s will always cherish the memories of an era gone by.

Regardless what decade you ventured upon Cannons Point Hunt Stables, everyone in some form or fashion was was shaped by their experience there…whether you were a student, lessee or boarder. Some have continued with competing, some have gone to have their own barn, manage a barn, give lessons, own a horse or horses, ride for leisure b/w other obligations, have children or grandchildren riding or may have taken a sebatical for family, health or financial reasons…but in one way or another, Linda not only helped to shape who we were then…but who we are today.

Dedicated to Susan, David, Solon and Don Jon in loving memory of their mother, Linda Lucy Long Linton (LLLL)

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton