I’ve told the
story of the Buck Brannaman Clinic—a definite high point of my riding (uh-hum)
career. Over four days, the master took frightened, confused, or just
inexperienced horses and explained to them the right way horses should be and
do.
He
helped one or two….dozen….people as well.
When
not working and learning, my beautiful Tripp shared a paddock with another
gelding, separated from the paddocks around them with temporarily-erected
electric fences. The horses all visited across the lines, but learned to not
get too close to those hot wires. However, Tripp, used to staying with three
temperamental mares at home, instantly took to his gelding buddy, who liked
Tripp as well, and as they grazed on that amazingly green, lush grass, I never
saw them farther than ten feet from each other.
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| Tripp in Pasture |
The
problem with vacations? They end. As his newfound friend moved to the barn
where he would spend an extra night at the farm, leaving the next morning,
Tripp watched, eyes huge, panic spreading over that beautiful face. I so wanted
to explain to him that in just a bit our ride home would arrive, that it would
be okay, that I knew he loved his new friend, but once home, he would, again,
adapt to his normal life.
Instead,
Tripp threw back that gorgeous head and called out a heartbreaking whinny, so
anguished and despairing, tears filled my eyes.
He stood, crying over and over into the distance, his grief a physical
thing…..
Eventually,
our ride did, indeed, arrive, and we made it back home. Of course, he
recognized his barn, his pasture….but that wrenching cry stayed in my memory.
He knew the horses here; he came here as a young colt, around two years old,
and knows the rhythms of the days here, the people who so love and care for
him, the horses in his pasture and those around him change a bit now again.
But, really, the farm is home.
Still…..
And
so, I spoke to the kind folks at the barn, and these wonderful, kind people and
I got together—and Ghost Ryder came.
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| Ghost Ryder |
Ghostie
works in the camp sometimes, students ride him as a lesson horse. Rarely, I
even climb on that big boy myself for a very different-feeling ride than Tripp
gives me. But, his other big job involves being Tripp’s friend. It took time—any
new home takes adjustment for the horse coming in, and guaranteed, his new home
here at the farm raised GR’s standard of living by light years. But, also, when
a new herd member arrives, always strata shifts, they have to work out just who
rules the roost, er, pasture above all others, who has first say at the hay
pile, and so on, generally with the girls shifting everyone around at their
whims. Ghost Ryder learned patience (Tripp and the girls all have their own
ways of things), and he learned good things like how to eat carrots. I wonder
what it felt like for this horse who had so obviously NOT had all the food he
wanted—after all the medical folks cleared him--to eat to be able to graze whenever
he wanted; he had arrived here nightmare thin. The folks here, his rescue angels, improved his lot, and he learned that people bring good, sweet things. Even after his difficult past, he still doesn’t push others aside; “a patient horse,” that’s
our Ghostie boy.
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| Tripp Waits for Ghost Ryder |
And…..at
the end of a ride with Tripp, I walk him back to his pasture where five horses
wait. I love to watch them interact with each other. Frequently, not always,
but often a stunning grey horse lifts his head and lets out a soft call. Other
times, he just keeps on munching grass. But, always of late, after I removes
Tripp’s halter, after he rolls in the dirt so he can scratch that…….one…….spot,
rolling, rolling back and forth, these two geldings, my Tripp and my (not
really mine, but sort of) Ghost Ryder
move calmly, unhurriedly till they stand together, the other horses know, of
course, where everyone else is. But my (sort of) two boys hang out…..Tripp has
a buddy.
Thank
you, Ghost Ryder.
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| Ghost Ryder & Tripp |
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| Ryder & Tripp Under the Trees |
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