Affairs with mares in my life

Of all the certainties that I have learned in my 63 years, none is more definite than the notion that people who have horses really love them. That is certainly true for me, although I can confess that my own passion is incredibly over matched by the absolute devotion--even obsession--that so many people enjoy.

Because I know that millions have a love affair with their horses, just as I do, I am hoping that in this space I can share with you some of my own experiences; experiences that often guide my life and have such a great impact on its quality. I share the belief expressed by Winston Churchill (and often attributed to Ronald Reagan) that the outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man.

There is just something about a horse; so large and strong; so graceful and soft, and my God their beauty can be breathtaking. When you sit atop one and race across an open field or along a mountain ridge or through the woods you can field the energy beneath you as the wind blows over you. It is so soothing and exhilarating both at the same time that you often forget potential disaster is only a foot slip or unsuspecting spook away.

Today, my wife and I live on a small horse farm that sits on 55,000 acres of the Withlachoochee State Forest in west central Florida, not too far from the Gulf of Mexico. In July, 2006, when we closed on the farm, we had only three horses that we had boarded in Jacksonville. Getting our own place and living with our own horses was a big step for us, especially when you consider that my wife taught second grade for 38 years and had never spent a single day around horses before she retired.

But, here we are, and as the days passed during the last year, we have added a horse here and a horse there. In fact, we woke up about a month ago and counted 21 different horses on our ten acres. And, did I mention that we also started with two dogs and as "farmers" soon found ourselves with five, plus a cat?

Now, I know from talking to others that what happened to us has happened to many others. It becomes an addiction. Just one more, okay? There has to be some kind of group therapy out there, a 12 Step program, for people like us.

Our "herd" is made up of gaited horses, mostly Spotted Saddles and Tennessee Walkers. We also have a couple of minis, a 16 month old filly, six month old colt and another filly how is four months old. When I started riding and for the first nearly 25 yeas, I rode quarter horses and paints. But broken bones and creeping age caused me to discover gaited horses and it has extended my life.

Let me make it perfectly clear that I am no cowboy. I don't ride to show, and you could not pay me to race around barrels at break neck speed. I ride only for pleasure. That has been my only motivation since I got a late start in the saddle back in about 1980. And, it has been so much pleasure; riding with friends through forests, tip toeing on ledges 13,000 feet up the Rocky Mountains on a horse you just met, or prancing among the tree tops in the Great Smokies.

Horses happened to me because I reached an age in life when I knew that I had to find something to do that would get me outside and exercised. Golf was out of the question. Too boring and too little patience on my part. In fact, today I own a home on the 13th fairway of a golf course, but I don't own golf clubs. No way I was going to become a runner, either. I claimed asthma as my excuse, but it was more like laziness that got in the way. Nope to tennis, too.

And, so I thought, what about horses? I'd never been around them as a kid or young adult. In fact, I had a respectful fear of them that dictated distance between us. But, why not try? So, on one spring weekend in 1980 I rented a horse and went on a beach ride along the Atlantic Ocean in North Florida. I fell more in love with what I got to see from that seat on top of the horse than I did with the horse, enough so that I decided to give it a further go.

Now, you have to understand that one of North Florida's great and legendary cowboys is a friend of mine. His name is Elmer Rudd and he has raised world champion quarter horses all with names and pedigrees that equine academics would recognize instantly. Elmer even sold Roy Rogers Trigger II. He has belt buckles as big as waffles, and his hands are the size of an elephant's ear. So, I of course called by cowboy friend Elmer and told him I wanted to buy a horse.

"Whoa. You don't know that," Elmer said to me. "You don't know anything about horses. Come out here to the ranch and let's talk." And, so I went to Rudd's 4E Ranch and we talked. Try it out first, before you spend a lot of money, he cautioned.

Then, Elmer took me to one of his barns where he introduced me to a solid black and very shiny stallion (another confession: I did not know it was a stallion, and even if I had, it would have meant nothing to me). Ride this guy, said Elmer, to see if you really like it. He's a nice horse and his owner owes a ton of money in back board. Elmer then sold me a used saddle for $150, showed me how to put it on from the left, gave me a quick lesson in cinching up and then gave me quick instruction on putting a bit into his mouth. With that, he basically said, good luck.

I can remember things about those earliest days that should have driven me away from horses and toward something like badminton. One day, when I was riding this shiny black horse down a road near Rudd's ranch, we came to a pasture where there were three other horses. They ran toward the fence and started whinnying. My horse responded and pulled his head toward the three, who by now were pressed up against the fence. Old friends, I thought, letting my horse work his way toward the three horses and the fence.

Wrong. I learned later, after I got up off my backside and finally got control of my horse again after about 30 minutes, that one of the horses was a stud and the other two were his mares. My own stallion posed a serious challenge...but remember that I did not know anything about horse behavior, much less stallions. You can bet that this story was told over and over again around the farms and ranches in North Florida for some time.

On another occasion, I took my 8 year old son out to the ranch to show him the horse and watch me ride. I saddled up, walked the horse and then started into a great cantor. It was great, and I knew that my son had to be impressed. Then, I hit the ground with a huge thud. What I later learned was the "D" ring on my used saddle broke, causing the saddle to quickly roll sideways to the left, slinging me to the ground. I was momentarily knocked out and when I came to, the horse was standing over me. It was not his fault. My son was horrified.

Now, it is time for my dinner on this Tuesday night at the end of October. The horses have been fed. The sun has almost set behind graying clouds and soft winds that move the grass like the waves of the sea. And, so, I am going to end this for now with an ambition to start again, maybe tomorrow.