In 2011, I bought my first (and, to date, my only) horse, Pearl Moon, a 9 year old, 14.3 hand grey Arabian mare. I had a lot of plans for us, mostly endurance riding plans, some other plans, many visions of galloping along beaches, hills, etc... Fast forward three years to an image of me standing in the driveway of the boarding barn she was living in, watching someone else pull their trailer out of the driveway with Pearl in the back. Yep, the one thing I never planned for happened - I had to sell her. I guess I should have foreseen this. I was sixteen when I got her, and would be heading off to college just a few years after, but I wasn't sure where I would be going, whether I would be in state, could maybe lease her when I was in college...Basically, I didn't consider what would happen when I went to college at all. I was devastated to sell her, but it turns that, in a way, it was the best thing for us both.

Owning a horse is very different from riding other peoples' horses. When I was two, my dad bought his horse, a grey gelding named Quincey. Quincey lived at our house with a few other boarder horses, so I knew generally what it was like to have horses around. After buying Pearl, however, I quickly discovered that having my own horse was completely different. I was her main rider, I decided what to with her and when, etc. I could see first hand how she progressed, figure out how to best work through issues, experiment with tack... Best of all, the moment when she clearly understood things that we'd been working on for a while, when something 'clicked' with her, was so much more rewarding when I knew that it was a result of hours spent just the two of us. For example, when I first bought her, she had trouble backing up under saddle. The previous owners said they had trained her to back up, but she always put up a bit of a fuss; head tossing, little crow hops, flat refusal... I worked for a while with her on this, putting in a little session before or after a ride, and she didn't seem to improve much. Finally, one day, it just clicked with her - she knew what I was asking for, and she backed up perfectly. From then on, she backed up well more or less every time I asked her. We had come to an understanding. The same thing happened with practicing going through gates mounted, encouraging her to keep pace rounding a corner on the trail (she always wanted to slow down and see what might be around the corner before going around it), side stepping, trailering, and more. All of these things were practiced for hours and hours, and often the result was a single move done over the course of a few seconds, but each victory meant another step in our relationship. To non-horse people, these small things seemed like just that - small, almost inconsequential things. When Pearl backed up easily the first time I asked her for the first time, I could barely contain myself. I said to one of my friends, "Pearl backed up! Seven whole steps! She didn't even think about refusing, just did it!" She looked at me, clearly trying (and failing) to understand why I was so excited, and said, (rather unenthusiastically, I thought), "Wow, that's great." When I told another friend, this one a friend from the barn, however, she cried, "That's great!! Finally! I'm so happy for you both!" That was the response I had wanted originally, and that friend was able to give that enthusiastic response because, as a horse owner, she understood how hours of work can culminate into an extremely rewarding five seconds.

Me and Pearl on her first 30 mile LD ride (LD=limited distance endurance ride). This was our only endurance ride, and my farthest one until after I sold her.

Working with Pearl as much as I did (I saw her nearly every day for three years), we grew to know each other really well, and she became more like a friend than just a horse. When riding, I could usually tell if she was going to spook or balk before she did, and could therefore encourage and correct her before the situation came out of hand. I knew the things that scared her, and we worked through her fear together. I knew her favorite post-ride treats (dates) and that she would be very appreciative if we stopped for a grass eating break in the middle of a ride. She, in turn, knew not to crowd me, to stand still for saddling, to be polite when I was doing ground or in-hand work, and not to ask for a treat until after a ride. She tested new riders, seeing just how much she could get away with, but after I had owned her for a while she knew to stop testing me. We got to know each other, and I learned just how wonderful having a bond with a horse can be. I had never had that kind of relationship with a horse before, and it opened up a whole new kind of riding for me. If anything, I became more horse obsessed than I had ever been before.

Pearl listening intently with one ear to my mom - she and my dad were Pearl's other two riders.

Giving up Pearl was hard. I stressed about how her new owner would treat her, would she know that Pearl likes this and hates that, would Pearl would get along with the other horses... Finally, I had to tell myself to stop. Pearl was better off in many ways, chief among them that now she was in a pasture with other horses, free to run and graze and move around at will, living the way horses were born to be. My first year at college, Pearl lived in her stall as she had before, but she got out less often. I agonized over her lack of movement from afar. The situation wasn't great for either of us, and now, knowing that Pearl has space to move, an owner who takes good care of her, and other horse buddies, we are both better off. Therefore, I think I can say the transition was very good for her, and, over the past two years, I've realized that it has been good for me too. I'm riding less (not every day, like I was when I owned Pearl) but now I am riding with new people, learning new things and seeing new places every ride.

Hi.

Oct 9 On Riding, part 1

Oct 9 On Riding, part 2

Oct 5 November Cakes